Every scrap of control and every tenet he’d built his life upon these last ten years.
He couldn’t kiss her, but if he only bent the rules slightly... if he pleasured her and not himself... that would be acceptable.
As long as he didn’t take his pleasure, he could give her what she desired.
He trailed his fingers along her inner thigh, over the fabric of her shift.
Her soft moan was musical.
How would she sound when she came? Would she burst into song like a bird?
Grasping her braid in one hand, he worked the ribbon free and began untwining until her hair was free. The fragrant waves of hair slid down her back, slid over his hands.
Slight feminine curves. Warm, floral scent.
Everything he’d denied himself.
He ran a finger down her dressing gown. Slipped inside the sash to loosen the knot.
He opened the dressing gown.
A plain muslin shift like thousands of garments worn by thousands of virgins and this one set him aflame. Had his cock hard and his balls heavy.
His last mistress, years ago now, had imported the finest silk lingerie from Paris. She knew it had set her off to advantage.
Mari in her plain white shift was far more arousing.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, holding his breath.Say no. Tell me to leave.
“More than anything.”
He shaped her waist with his hands, marveling at the perfect, scrolling indentation that led to the curvature of her hips. He reached behind her and traced the pronounced valley dipping down her back, taking his time, prolonging the pleasure of discovery.
When he cupped her bottom, squeezing gently, her eyes widened and she made a small noise, half-moan, half-protest.
He jerked his hands away. She was an innocent.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you stop? It was just becoming interesting. Touch me again.”
He smiled, remembering his thoughts during the tableau. She was a goddess. He was hers to command.
He unbuttoned the top buttons of her shift and slipped his hands inside.
Her breasts were small, yet plump, and fit his palms in a new way. A perfect way.
She gasped, melting into his arms.
She weighed hardly anything but he wasn’t going to be able to give her pleasure standing like this. His knee was beginning to go numb.
He lifted her into his arms and brought her to a chair.
No beds. No gazing into her eyes.
No kissing.
Her pleasure, not yours.
Those were the new rules. And he would follow them, clinging to his tenuous grasp on sanity.