Page 15 of At Her Will

A lovely word for orgasm. She slipped the tiny buttons along the right side of her skirt to reveal her leg, the loosened fabric sliding away from it. Reaching up, she curled her fingers around his tie. When she tugged him forward, his eyes held fire. “Put your hands on my knees.”

She parted them beneath his touch. She also took her hands away to brace her arms on the bench again. As she leaned back, she flexed her foot, dropping the shoe from it so she could put her stockinged sole on his thigh. The other foot, still in its stylish heel, was planted beside his opposite knee. “Bring your mouth as close between my legs as it can get without touching my panties. Then be still, until I tell you otherwise.”

He'd left his suit coat in her car, so when his back curved, she watched the dress shirt stretch over muscle and his shoulders. As his hair, jaw and ears brushed her inner thighs, sheer lust tightened her nipples and gave her gooseflesh on her arms, the small of her back, her neck. When he was so close a twitch from her might have pressed her cunt against his lips, he stilled.

The moist heat of his breath made her want to close that miniscule distance, but she didn’t. Lifting one hand, shesmoothed it over his curved back. The shirt had a softness to it that added to its fit. At his collar, she trailed her nails along his nape. As she inhaled the masculine scent of his aftershave, the light touch of oil in his hair, she detected some rosemary in it.

“Think about your breath. Draw it in, draw me in. Then exhale, knowing the heat of your breath is stroking me. Making me wetter and making me want you even more.”

“I right here, Mistress.” His voice was muffled, slightly hoarse.

“Yes, but the wanting is part of the pleasure. Isn’t it?”

The puff of his breath as he spoke made her inner muscles contract and her lower belly flutter. She bit back a moan as he followed her direction, and his breath’s stroke became more rhythmic. She noticed his grip on her knees had constricted and suspected he’d recognized the order to keep them there served as a restraint. His shoulders lifted and lowered with each breath. Her body wanted to move in that same dance. She’d lift her hips and rub her damp pussy against his wet, so close mouth.

But this was a blissful test of the possibilities. She reined herself back, though her arousal was intense enough she might have to pull off the road and finish herself before she arrived at the privacy of her own home.

“Are you aroused, Rev?”

“Yes ma’am.” A half chuckle, strained.

“Sit back, stand up and show me. It’s my turn to look.”

He did so with reluctance. She was taking him away from where he wanted to be, but it also might be the first time he’d displayed himself to a woman this way. She liked the thought of that, enjoyed seeing the internal battle to meet her desires without self-consciousness, and settle into it.

Yes, Lord and Lady, the man had been blessed. The generous evidence of his cock against the slacks made her ache to put her hands on his thighs and play. Knead, squeeze, stroke, all whilerequiring him to stay still, until his body started to tremble with the effort.

Instead, she lifted an approving gaze to his. “You did well. How do you feel?

She saw heat and strong male desire. “Like I hoped to feel.”

“And how is that?”

“I've pleased you. Created desire in you.”

“And in you.”

His lips creased in a smile. "They the same thing."

The honest answer rocked her. When she shifted, intending to reclaim her shoe and get up, he lifted a hand.

“May I help you?”

At her assent, he knelt—with some effort, given his erection—and guided her foot into the shoe. His touch was strong on her ankle and heel. When he stood, offering her a hand to rise, she could tell he’d recognized it was the end of the moment, and she wanted to move to the next. He showed no attitude about that, even while that strain to the fabric of his slacks told her he was ready to serve her.

The man was acing the test for her preferences.

“The doing is new to you. But not the thinking about it.” She touched his cheekbone, straight as a sword under the smooth skin. Her thumb followed his nose to the curve of the nostril, the rougher skin above his lip, along his jaw. Shaved, but the hint of the beard was there. “‘I dream of kneeling. For her.’ Tell me about that.”

The tiny muscles around his eyes creased. The irises showed sparks from his emotion, like moving water when the sun’s light struck it through tree branches. Giving him time with his answer, she started them walking again, her hand curved in the crook of his elbow, their bodies brushing.

“For a long time,” he said at last, “maybe since I became a teenager, I’d think of the Virgin Mary when I kneel. Or sometimean angel with a face like lightning, and wings so strong, but hands so delicate, resting on my bowed head.”

Rev looked at her. “Always female. I feel the power of God in it, but the power of earthly desire, too. Like it something right, that desire to kneel to a female spirit that’s another face of God. Of Love. I want her to tell me what I can do for Her, how I can serve Her.”

“How does that gel with your family? The preacher is your cousin, right? Witford? And your aunt Tisha was sitting on that bench near him.”

He nodded. “I never told anyone about it. Seemed too private, and didn’t affect what they need from me. I didn’t even tell Teena Joy. She the aunt that raised me, Tisha’s sister.”

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