“I can’t believe you are denying me that view,” he said from the folds of the material.
“This will be better than the view,” she promised as she moved to straddle him, settling herself down onto his buttocks, with only the fabric of her drawers between them. A loud groan came from the pillow and she smiled. She wanted to play with him, but she wondered how much she was actually torturing herself.
She put some fragrant oil on her hands from the small bottle and then started spreading it in large swirls across his broad shoulders. “Is that nice?” She asked him. Nothing intelligible came from the pillow.
She had waited so long to properly touch him again, but this was not the same body she had touched before. She could feel the line of each muscle extending out towards his arms as she ran her hands over his shoulders. The muscle was hard beneath the soft skin, but she could feel him physically relaxing as she rolled it between her fingers, kneading the tension out of the tissue. She swept her fingers across his muscles from the middle of his back to his shoulders, then pushed her fingers up into his hair to spread the oil there, encircling his neck with both hands.
“If you intend to strangle me, I would die a happy man,” Will said from beneath her. He wiggled his lower half against her legs and the warmth between them.
She pressed hard with her fingers to knead the muscles of his neck. His skin was so warm, and he was arching beneath her touch. She took her time, enjoying the way he reacted, but also the feeling which was swelling inside of her; a hot, aching fullness rising up from where her skin met his buttocks, all the way up into her chest and shoulders.
She began to work her way down the indentation in the middle of his back, kneading either side of his spine and fanning her fingers out to wrap around his sides. She heard him groan again, and it emboldened her to go lower, to where two dimples were indented, just above the waistband of his drawers. She took more oil and spread it there, the heat of her fingers and his skin creating a warmth so close to where she wanted to touch him most.
She shuffled herself down, so she was sitting across the backs of his thighs. Here, only one layer of fabric separated their bodies, and he felt hotter still. She allowed her fingers to trail perilously close to the band of his smallclothes as she used the palms of her hands to knead the muscles in the small of his back. She had no idea how to massage, but it was as if her hands did, moving in circles and swirls of their own accord, all the way up to the bottom of his shoulder blades.
As she leaned forward to reach up his back, her corset grazed his skin. He froze beneath her hands, so she did it again, deliberately letting her breasts graze him with each run from his waist to her shoulders. She longed to free her breasts to touch his naked back, but she didn’t dare.
However, the next time she brought her hands back down to his waist, she paused. She realized she was holding her breath, and so was he. Very gently, she took her hands from his back and placed them on his buttocks. She heard him gasp as she took one rounded buttock in each hand and held it. The fabric was so tightly fitted across his skin, it may as well have not been there. She could see every curve of him through it. But suddenly, that was not enough either. She moved her fingers up to his waistband and slowly pulled the fabric of his drawers down, exposing his buttocks bit by bit. Rose gulped. She had never seen him naked here. An involuntary tightening was pulsating between her own legs as she drank in the sight of him. He did not protest, but every inch of him had gone taut. She pressed the ruched fabric of the pulled-down drawers at the tops of his thighs against her, then cupping his naked skin with both hands. He flinched beneath her fingers, causing her to jump as well. She smiled. Now they were getting even. He had repeatedly pushed her to the brink of despair. Now she planned to do the same for him. She took out the bottle of oil and poured some on the top of his buttocks, where his cheeks separated, and let it run down between them. He flinched again. Then she began to spread it across his entire behind in long, leisurely strokes, pushing upwards and outwards.
Will gasped. “Rose!”
She didn’t stop. The feel of him, the excitement of touching him, was fueling an excitement in her that felt as if he was touching her and not the other way around.
She moved slowly, softly, rhythmically, closing her eyes to heighten the feel of him beneath her fingertips. She shuffled even further down his legs, taking the material of his drawers with her, to be able to sweep from the top of his thighs to the small of his back and occasionally all the way up to his shoulders, to his hairline, letting her bodice trail against his skin all the way up his buttocks to his back. The oil was making his skin not just warm but hot with the friction of the massage.
All of a sudden, Will reared up off the mattress, span around, and grabbed her, pulling her down on top of him, on top of his manhood, which felt like a steel sheath against her leg.
“Stop,” he gasped. He was trembling against her.
She tried to move against the hardness of him, but he stopped her doing that too, holding her so tightly the only thing she could move was her head. She could feel the skin of his stomach scorching her bare middle. Her breasts were being pushed half out of her corset, and he lowered his face there, burying his head in her skin as he gasped hard in his chest. Rose waited, feeling a pulsating of her own, all the way from between her legs up to her chest. Slowly it calmed, and apparently, so did he. He raised his gaze to hers, his look dark, intense.
“Why did you stop me?” she asked softly.
“It was going to stop one way or another,” he laughed ruefully. “But the other way was going to cross every boundary we have set.”
He looked down at her breasts, then held her a little away from him so he could see all the way down to the waistband of her drawers. He drew a finger down the line of her stomach to her belly button and then lower. Then he looked back up to her, crushed her back into his arms and rolled over on top of her. He was shaking his head as he went.
“Lord, you are irresistible.”
He squashed her into the mattress but then rolled his lower half a little sideways, so only his chest was pinning her down.
“We are playing with fire, Your Grace.”
She smiled back at him. “I like fires.”
He stared into her eyes with an unfathomable expression and then began to raise himself from the bed. She put a hand on his arm.
“Stay,” she said softly.
He looked back at her. “Are you certain?”
She was more than certain. He was leaving the next day, and she had no idea when he would return, perhaps not until after she was married to Ernest. She wanted this night with him, at least.
“Just lay with me and let me hold you. I want to feel your skin against mine.”I want to imprint you on me so that I can never forget this moment for the rest of my life.
He looked at her, and then she saw the acquiescence in his eyes before he spoke.
“Can I remove these?” He pulled at the waistband of his drawers.