“Now your cravat and shirt,” she whispered, a naughty gleam in her eyes.
He shouldn’t do it, but he did. She’d already seen it all, anyway. He undid his cravat and tugged his shirt over his head.
“Unfasten your breeches,” she said. He could hear a transformation in her voice from shy and hesitant to brave and bold. He could reward that boldness. And he did, stripping to his bare skin.
He adopted the pose he’d used for his portrait, only standing instead of reclining. Shoulders proud, stomach muscles tensed, both hands covering his privates, gazing out into the distance or, in this case, the rough plank walls of the inn.
“I like that pose. But it’s not quite right. I believe your hands were at your sides.”
“I don’t have a fig leaf.”
“I know.”
He dropped his hands by his sides, and his cock sprang forward, pointing directly at her.
“Oh. My.” Her eyes grew huge in the flickering firelight. “You’re even bigger than Kenwick.”
“Pardon?” he choked out.
She giggled. “I saw his unfinished portrait. There wasn’t any fig leaf.”
“I don’t suppose he was in a state of arousal.”
“No, he wasn’t. I suppose I can’t compare you until you’re not aroused.”
“Not likely to happen with you in that bed.”
“May I... explore you?” She licked her lips, staring at his cock.
Hellfire and damnation. He was being tested.And he was going to fail. Miserably. There was no way he could refuse a request like that.
He lay down beside her on the bed.
“I want to touch your—” she glanced down, and he held his breath “—chest.”
That hadn’t been what he was hoping for, but he’d take it. He’d take anything she chose to give. A warm soft hand over his heart. The brush of her lips against his.
He willed himself to remain still and allow her to explore.
“I might even wish to explore a little lower.” He tensed the muscles of his abdomen as she used both hands now to touch him, caressing his stomach, his hip bones.
“Do with me what you will,” he said, flinging his arm dramatically over his eyes.
She laughed. “Your virtue is my prize.”
“Afraid to say that my virtue has long fled. But yes, I’m your prize. Have your wicked way.”
He fervently hoped that her prize was his cock.
“This... this is what I seek,” she growled. And thank the Lord! She circled his cock with her fingers. He nearly came right then and there. Something about a good, innocent girl daring to explore him so freely, pretending she was a marauding pirate.
He would do anything, endure anything, for this woman. She really could have him any which way she wanted. Have his body. Pulsing and eager for her touch.
Have his heart. Damaged and rusty with disuse but ready to beat again.
Damn. He was in the grip of lust. And the grip wasn’t quite tight or rough enough.
“Don’t spare me,” he said, sliding his hand over hers, wrapping her fingers tighter and showing her how to move her fist up and down.