Page 23 of Love Letters & Lemon Drops

"Here," I murmur, putting my hand over his and moving it higher, to exactly where I want it to be.

A moan escapes me as his fingers brush against my entrance, which seems to give him the confidence to continue. If I had any doubts about his assurances that there'd never been anyone else, they'd be gone now. Unfortunately, I don't have enough experience myself to be able to guide any better than I already am.

"There," I say as he finds the right spot. "Keep touching me there."

He makes a sound that seems like agreement and does as I ask, making the pleasure curl up inside me. I reach down and grasp his wrist in my hand, hoping to keep him going.

"Sola?"

"Don't stop," I murmur. "Please, don't stop." My words are hardly out when the release crashes over me. My whole body begins to shake as pleasure courses through every part of my body. It's never felt like this before, even when I've done the same to myself.

He doesn't stop, prolonging the release for longer, until I collapse back on the bed, breathing heavily and trying to regain some semblance of thought.

Arthur shifts on the bed, sitting up.

I push myself upwards, wrapping my arms around his chest. "Are you all right?" I ask.

He nods. "Are you?" He looks at me with concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine," I promise. "More than fine. That felt better than when I've pleasured myself."

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Want to find out?" I ask, running my hand further down. I'm not really sure what to expect from this part, but it makes sense that I should be able to make him feel as good as he's done for me.

Arthur swallows hard, but manages to nod.

I shuffle closer, finding the ties of his breeches. He groans as my hand brushes against something hard, and a dull ache starts to build inside me in response. I fumble with the ties until I manage to get them undone, and his hard length springs free.

"Show me?" I whisper, not entirely sure what to do.

He guides my hand to his hardness and lets me wrap my fingers around him. He moves it up and down, giving me the right idea about what I should be doing.

He lets go of my hand, which I assume means I'm doing the right thing. I stroke slowly at first, causing a guttural sound to come from his throat. I watch intently, completely caught up with what I'm doing, and how good it feels to be able to give him pleasure like this.

"I'm close," he murmurs, his voice strained and his face screwed up with what I hope is pleasure.

"Do I need to do something different?" I ask.

He shakes his head as he thrusts into my hand and erupts, covering my hand. He closes his eyes and lets out a groan, leaning back into me as he empties himself.

"Do you have a cloth?" he murmurs.

"Yes."

"Where? I can get it."

"The pitcher by the window," I say, a little confused.

He nods and gets up to fetch it, bringing back the entire bowl. He pours water into it and soaks the cloth, slowly cleaning us both. He tucks himself away and shuffles back to rest against the wall, opening his arm so I can go to sit with him.

I lean my head against his shoulder and let out a satisfied sigh. "So, that was unexpected."

He chuckles. "It's not what I intended when I came to see you."

"But it was fun," I assure him. "And not the end of it, I would think."

"Certainly not." He turns and looks at me with an intense expression on his face that fills me with all kinds of thoughts and feelings I didn't know I could have.

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