Page 135 of Her Beast

She tossed her head like a willful filly but obediently flicked open the button at her wrist that held the short gloves closed.

Malcolm was breathing heavily by the time she’d slowly tugged off all ten fingers and tossed the gloves onto the settee.

“Look at me, Julia,” he said when she lifted her bare hand to the button at her throat.

Her fingers trembled, but she met his gaze.

“Are you wet and swollen—between your legs?”

Her hands froze and her lips parted.

“Are you?”

She gave a jerky nod.

“So am I.”

Her gaze dropped to his lap.

Malcolm pulled the placket tight against his shaft, the crown pressing against a dark, spreading stain on the black wool.

When her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip he stopped being amused by her innocent reactions and had to bite the inside of his cheek until he bled to keep from saying the things he wanted to say—ordering her to do the things he wanted her to do.

Patience.

Already he was moving too fast—making her disrobe for him like an experienced courtesan. But they had so very little time together.

Her fingers resumed their work on the few buttons of her bodice and once it was loosened, she gave a slight shrug to shift the garment off her shoulders before carefully pulling off the skintight sleeves and then laying the bodice over the back of the settee.

Her throat flexed as she swallowed and then swallowed again, but she held his gaze as she bent her elbows to reach the closures at the back of her waist.

Malcolm’s fingers twitched to help her—to peel her from her clothing like a ripe, juicy fruit from its skin—but he made himself wait.

Patience.

Once she’d unfastened the skirt, she slid her hands around to the front and untied the tapes that held the petticoat, cage, and bustle, letting the heavy garments fall to the floor with an audiblewhooshand leaving her standing in simple white undergarments.

As much as he adored the wicked black gown, Malcolm was ridiculously grateful that she’d not strayed from her original simple style when it came to her chemise, drawers and corset. She would look good in anything, but unadorned virginal white suited her beauty like a plain frame suited a masterpiece.

“Come here,” he said. “I am dexterous enough to pull a few tapes and remove the rest.”

Her blush, he saw now, spread from her cheeks to the tops of her lush, full breasts.

Malcolm’s gloved hands looked enormous and obscene pulling the narrow white tape that held up her petticoat.

He let the garment slide to the floor. Leaving her only in her drawers, chemise, and corset. Malcolm stood, towering over her, her eyes wide but filled with anticipation and desire as she looked up at him.

He had to bend low to kiss her, caressing her mouth gently, teasing and playing with her lips and tongue before her hands landed softly, like butterflies, on his shoulders. Malcolm slanted his mouth and plunged into her, thrilled when she responded just as eagerly, her fingers tightening and pulling on his coat.

All too soon the thin skin on his left side began to burn from bending so low, so he straightened up, her lips clinging to his as he pulled away.

He closed his hands around her waist, easily spanning the front of her body before pushing lightly on the boned fabric, so the hooks and eyes separated.

The sensual sigh of relief she gave made him throb with need and his mouth watered as he looked at her plump, dark-tipped breasts thrusting against the thin chemise.

He tossed the corset aside without looking, earning a nervous giggle from Julia when the garment knocked against a brass statue of Priapus and set it wobbling.

“Oh goodness,” she said, her gaze fixed on the big cock and balls with legs. “I didn’t notice that before.”

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