His kiss was becoming more ardent, more desperate. Her coat had fallen open, and where he had tightened his grip on her, his hand was now closer to the embroidered band of material across her breasts. The backs of his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her throat, and the jolt that she felt sent him groaning to0—the tips of his fingers grazing the top of her cleavage. It was as if the clock had been instantly rewound and she was back where she had always been a decade before.
The drenching rain had soaked the fabric of her dress and undergarments; both were now thin and clinging to her body. Rose felt Will begin to move one finger across the bare skin above the band of her bodice as she arched in his grip, putting more of herself within his reach. She heard him chuckle against her lips, a deep, resonant, glorious sound that she had waited so long to hear again. Then his lips left hers and began to trail down her neck into the hollow at the bottom of her throat. His touch was like gossamer, barely there, just a trail of tingling heat. He started tracing circles with his tongue on her exposed skin. He moved his hand to capture one thrusting breast, closing his fingers around her nipple through the wet silk. She wanted that feeling to last forever. Rose could not contain a sound that was half-human, half-animal.“Harder,” she whispered against his wet hair, his top hat long toppled. “Touch me harder, just like you used to.” She was arching in his arms as he obliged. He was squeezing her breast so hard it was almost painful as his lips moved to the tiny gap at the top of her cleavage and started sliding slowly, purposefully, downwards. Her bodice was being pushed aside by his mouth as he rained kisses on her now-fevered skin. Then, his fingertips were inside the top of her bodice, pulling it down and clear to expose her whole breast. Rose gasped as his lips closed around her bare nipple, which was now so taut it was aching. She writhed with pleasure.
“Easy, easy,” he murmured against her breast. “You like that.” It was a statement and not a question. He knew she did. The more Rose writhed, the more he sucked on this most sensitive part of her. He was moving his fingers in tandem with his lips, tracing circles against the soft underside of her now naked breast. Inside her, the nerve endings in places he wasn’t even touching exploded. Her other breast was aching, equally; the nipple yearning for his fingers, his lips. But in this awkward pose, she knew he could not reach her there. He seemed to read her mind.
Without his lips leaving her breast, she felt herself being lowered slowly to the ground.
He sank to his knees as he laid her on the wet grass, finally releasing her nipple to kiss her lips, hard, once more, lying full-length next to her and crushing her breasts against his chest. Her soft curves were blending with his hard contours. She wrapped her arm around him, feeling his back muscles play against her fingers as she pressed him closer to her, even trying to pull him over atopher. She wanted to feel the weight of him holding her. He followed her lead and rolled towards her, unconcerned about the wet and mud, but he kept his entire body weight suspended on straightened elbows, his face only a foot or so away from hers.
She tried to pull him back down towards her, but he resisted. “I just need a moment,” he laughed, “to catch my breath.”
Water dripped off his hair onto her face. She wrinkled her nose and laughed. For a while, neither of them moved. Years of unspoken conversations flowed between them in that suspended moment.
She could feel the cold, wet chill of the ground against her back, but he was grinning at her, warming her. He shook his head so that more drops of water fell on her face.
“Hey,” she protested, laughing, and reached to push him squarely in the chest, but by pushing his torso up and back, she forced his hips into sudden, direct contact with hers, and both their eyes widened. The hardness of his manhood through his breeches was obvious. He didn’t move away, but instead, held her gaze with hooded eyes as he pushed himself even more closely against her thigh, through the folds of her dress. She felt him shudder with pleasure as she raised her hips to meet his. They stayed there, melded together, their labored breathing mingling with the sounds of nature around them, until he brought his chest back down to rest against her breasts as he buried his head in her hair and began to kiss her neck.
“You taste so wonderful,” he said breathily against her skin.
“Will,” she breathed out softly.
“Say my name again,” he murmured.
Behind them, Will’s horse neighed as if he was speaking for her. Will lifted his head and laughed. “We have an audience.”
For one moment, Rose looked panicked, but Will laughed again. “I meant the horse!”
But his words had broken the spell. That moment of alarm had made her realize what they must look like, literally rolling together in the mud, lost in carnal desire.
“You know we can’t do this,” Rose said sadly.
“But we are,” his lips descended on hers, and he kissed her into silence. For a moment, she surrendered to the sweet, salty taste of his full lips once more, but then, reluctantly, she pulled away.
“Anybody might see us!”
Will swiveled his head in all directions. “There’s nobody here.”
“We can’t know that!”
“What would they see? Nothing more than they would have seen ten years ago when you were never so nervous.”
She looked at him then, taking a moment to commit everything she saw, everything she felt to memory. She noted the throbbing of her body, the rivulets of pleasure running through her, the tingling where his body touched hers. He arched an eyebrow at her intense stare, and then she moved before her resolve broke.
“You need to let me up,” she said, pushing against his chest.
For a brief moment, he resisted, his deep brown eyes locked on hers. It was clear he didn't want to let her go, and Rose felt the same way. She wished she could stay there forever, rain or shine, with him holding her and watching his smile. She wished she could go back in time to those carefree, fun-filled days she sorely missed. But she pressed harder against his chest, and the gentleman within him, no matter how frustrated, yielded.
He tipped sideways, allowing Rose to put a space between them as she smoothed her wet hair back from her face and straightened her sodden and muddy dress.
“Look at the state of me,” she said plaintively.
“You have never looked more beautiful to me,” Will smiled. “And I am certainly no oil painting myself.” The whole of one side of his jacket, breeches, and boots were coated with mud.
She knew the passion of the moment was broken, but they sat side-by-side in the rain, both breathing a little faster than normal.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” Will asked her softly.
She didn’t look at him.