Page 28 of Impeccable
Her hand on him was the only place they touched, but it was as if they were bare against each other. Perhaps it was the way he stood before her, effectively pinning her to the dresser. She knew she could move, and he would allow her to. Part of her wanted him to hold her there, to take her in his arms and kiss her, then toss up her skirts and make her come.
Her sex fluttered with want, a sensation she never felt this early in an encounter. It typically required work to arouse her to this level. With Gregory, it was effortless. He had only to look at her, to be close—and not even that close. She was fairly certain he could be on the opposite side of the room, and she would want him just as fiercely.
Perhaps, then, they should get to it.
“Do you want to eat?” she asked, her voice suddenly husky.
“Do you?”
She considered making a ribald jest, but didn’t want to have to explain it. “No. Gregory, how much do you know about what’s to happen?” She knew he could kiss, but what else could he do? What else had he done?
“If you’re asking whether I am aware of the mechanics, I am. It’s hard not to notice animal behavior if you spend any time outside on an estate.”
She thought about that a moment. “Do you think…that is, are you expecting to enter me from behind?”
“No. I mean, I’m aware it’s typical for the gentleman to be on top. However, I also know that Icouldtake you from behind. If you wanted that.”
God, she wanted that and everything else. Right this second.
She’d never craved specific acts. She knew better than to expect anything. Her job was to see to her employer’s pleasure, not her own. Granted, some of them took that into great account, notably Lucien, but it was still transactional.
“I do have an idea for tonight, but it’s neither of those things.” She’d thought to ride him so that she could show him how to set the pace, as well as how to control things. However, she began to wonder if she would actually need to teach him that. He exuded sensual confidence. And here she was, a quivering mess of tension.
He held up his hands and smiled. “I am at your command. I am rather desperate to touch you, though, so I do hope your commands will come soon.”
That made her laugh—short and light, a release of stress that calmed her somewhat. “Take off your boots. If you’re warm enough now.”
“I am.” He left her, and she wished she’d kissed him before he’d gone.
She watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. His feet were rather large, but that made sense because he was tall. Usually, large feet indicated a large cock, but not always. In any case, size wasn’t the indicator of pleasure or skill that many thought it was.
“What’s next?” he asked.
“Your coat.” When he’d removed the garment, she moved to take it from him. There were more hooks on the wall on that side of the bed. She hung it there, then moved to stand before him.
He looked up at her. “Waistcoat?”
“In a moment.” She squeezed between his knees, and he spread his legs. Holding his gaze with her own, she unknotted his cravat. “You wear this plainly.”
“My valet is always trying to get me to try something fancier, but I don’t like fussy.”
“I don’t either. I prefer simple.” She gave him a slow, seductive smile—not because it was a part that she was playing, but because she was entirely in this moment with him. “It’s also easier to remove.”
“May I touch you?”
“Not yet.” She wanted him to, but feared that when he did, she would begin to lose her control. That in itself was a terrifying thought. She almost never lost herself completely. In fact, she could count the precisely two occasions, and they’d scared her enough to work hard to avoid it. Still, she wondered if she could do that with him. This was different.Hewas different.
Pulling the cravat from his neck, she pivoted to hang it on another of the hooks.
“You needn’t be so careful with my clothing,” he said.
“I’m always careful with my things.” Because for years, they’d had very little. Carelessness meant not having two stockings to wear.
“I appreciate your concern.”
She began to unbutton his waistcoat. He leaned back to give her more access. When she opened the garment, she brushed her knuckles against his abdomen, partly to see if his muscles there were stretched taut as she expected them to be in this position. He was hard, with spectacular ridges. She could hardly wait to remove his shirt. To touch him. To kiss him.
Whatwasshe waiting for?
