“Why don’t you undress me yourself? Then you can open or close them as you wish and control the pace. But you will have your hands to help you make the decision . . . whether or not to peek.”
“That seems like a—wicked suggestion.”
But he could see the light of excitement in her gaze, the appeal of the proposition impossible for her to ignore. He slid off of the bed to make it easier, making a quick and subtle business of removing his shoes and stockings first, refusing to allow her first intimate impression of him as being stark naked with a rampant erection wearing his white stockings.
“Come to me, Haley.”
She moved closer to the edge of the bed, kneeling to face him as an equal, and he waited until she reached out to splay the long, soft blades of her hand against his heartbeat. For long seconds, they remained there and he allowed her to drink in the desire of his eyes until she was finally emboldened to slide a hand up to remove his cravat and slide her hand inside his collar, just below his throat.
“Your skin is hot.” She spoke softly, her eyes falling to the small well at his throat to watch the pulse there as it jumped at her words while her fingers skimmed the small triangle of smooth flesh she’d discovered.
“Buttons, Haley, I beg you,” he whispered back. “I’m not sure my wicked suggestion will hold if you don’t move a little faster.”
Despite a flash of mischief in her eyes, she obeyed him and her fingers began the powerful ritual that released each button in turn. She lingered in the small thatch of thick, soft hair on his chest, absorbing the texture with a smile, then tracing its path downward with each fastening she released. But he noticed that the grace of her fingers deteriorated as she approached his stomach, no doubt her nerves getting the better of her. Galen took mercy and guided her hands and pulled his shirt out of his pants to try to ease her past her hesitations.
She reveled in an exploration of his chest, delicately trailing her fingers over each indentation and rise as if memorizing his body before she pushed the shirt back off of his shoulders and slid it effortlessly from his arms. Her cheeks colored, but she relentlessly began to trail her fingernails lightly across the muscles of his shoulders and his stomach, rocketing pleasure through him. When her palms grazed the sensitive crests of his nipples, his entire body stiffened in reaction.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Not even close.” He kissed her, drawing out her tongue to tease and taste her, inciting her to move faster. “Your touch gives me great pleasure.”
Her hands had come to rest on the rippled plane of his stomach, and Galen watched her consider her virginal strategy at how best to proceed. In the meantime, his own hands began to mirror the movements she’d made, and Galen decided that while he’d allowed for a game so that she could undress him at her leisure, he’d never said one word about keeping his hands at his sides.
He pressed his palms over the hardened peaks that beckoned him to touch, and he was rewarded by a sweet gasp and an involuntary shudder that pushed the round orbs against him harder, as if they, too, wished to protest the indolent speed of the proceedings.
“Y-you’re distracting me, Galen!”
“I’m sure that was my intent.”
She tried to ignore his words and the electrical arc between his touch and her body’s core, sure her wits were already scrambling to take in this new world of sensual delights. She could feel his every twitch and reaction as she continued her venture of learning his body. The slow movement of her fingers transmitted the heat of his flesh to hers, and when she added the lightest drag of her fingernails to the game, it set off a catch in his breathing and made his heartbeat increase. Haley marveled at her new power to affect him with the softest pressure of her hands. Like their first kiss, she didn’t want to rush, wanting nothing more than a languid foray into this new world—for even more than a simple kiss, this exchange held far more meaning.
But her own body was fighting her, fueled by the taste of bliss he’d given her in Bellham’s garden, and she could feel her thighs getting slick in anticipation. Haley trembled, but not with fear. She felt like a horse straining at the slips, eager to be off and finally know true freedom—to give herself up to this delicious and dangerous path, into his hands, yielding her innocence and entering into an intimacy that should have, by rights, been only her husband’s privilege. But she wanted Galen, and no other—and there was no turning back.
Her fingers dipped below the line of his waist, and at the realization of the size of his anatomy, outlined by the cloth and pressed against the buttons, she bit her lower lip and hesitated.
“Haley, a man can die from this kind of torment,” he noted in a sage growl that made her smile.
“Then let’s see if we can save your life,” she whispered back, and he gasped in ragged shock at her words. But her eyes were on the buttons as she gently tugged to unfasten his breeches and began to free him at last. His sex was so large, the head of him was pushing up at the very waist of his pants, and Haley marveled at her first glimpse of the dark purple head of it, like a plum. When the buttons gave way, his cock sprang forward, heavy and hot into her hands, jutting proudly, so taut and rampant from a nest of black curls that she forgot her intentions to close her eyes at this critical moment.
Haley had seen male statues, Greek ideals of male beauty, and not always with the modest fig leaf placed “just so”—but nothing of cold white marble had prepared her for the sight of Galen’s male prowess. Rigid and virile, with every breath his cock bobbed and pulsed, a living part of him in a colorful display that demanded admiration. Velvet soft skin in a darker hue was stretched over a thick molten steel core, and Haley knew its purpose. She forgot her maidenly shyness and openly stared, her own inner muscles clenching in desire, hungry to consume and hold this part of him inside of her. . . . Her hand reached up to trail from the outside of his thigh, working up the courage to touch what her eyes were devouring. Curiosity was making her more and more eager for experience—but the sheer size of him made her wonder at the practical logistics.
Perhaps it doesn’t actually go all the way inside . . . or . . .
Haley looked up at him shyly, instantly aware that he was reading her thoughts.
He slid his trousers the rest of the way down, kicking them off with a practiced grace, and Haley held still and took in the view of her own Adonis, naked and unashamed. His untamed curls were pushed back from his face as he returned to the bed, and his emerald green eyes glittered in the lamplight. Long muscular lines and smooth skin were highlighted only by a black swirl of hair on his chest and the thatch around his sex, and Haley admired the lean shape of his thighs and calves and even the tight swell of his bottom. There wasn’t an ounce of softness on his body, and she marveled at how different he seemed, and yet, how some part of her recognized and joyfully welcomed every difference.
Galen’s desire insisted that the time for maidenly hesitation and leisurely study had drawn to an end. He returned to the bed, a panther on a merciless prowl, eager to feast on his delectable prey. Haley sighed at his first touch, and he lifted her up by her arms to kiss her in an assault that indicated the last of the civilized world melting away from his reach. He lifted her into his arms to taste her mouth, pressing her body against his, and pushed her back onto the bed.
The barrier of her chemise added to the sweet friction but also tantalized him as his cock sought the molten notch between her thighs and her hard little nipples pushed against his chest in searing points that begged him to take all he wanted.
And God help him, he wanted all of her.
He lifted off of her with a groan, hating to end the kiss and lose the heat of her body against his, but his impatience with the chemise brooked no more delays. He pulled it up over her head and flung it off the bed onto the floor. Galen leaned back, kneeling above her, and was sure that no man had ever been faced with such a vision.
Her hair was fanned out beneath her head, trailing off the edge of the bed in mahogany soft curls, and she was looking up at him with such innocent lust, such unpracticed wanton that he almost spent himself. She was completely bared for him and put up no resistance as he untied the ribbons of her garter and peeled off her stockings to press open her thighs and allow him to survey the spoils of his conquest.
He drank it all in, surveying the bounty of Miss Haley Moreland sprawled across his bed. Her narrow ankles and curved calves, dimpled knees and pillow- soft thighs, willowy figure with its pert apple-sized breasts and tight little coral nipples thickened and hard from arousal just beckoning a man to taste and suckle pure ecstasy. But he stared for an extra moment at the sweet sight of her sex; ripe pink flushing to red, her thick soft lips were already slick, and he watched as a trail of clear honey dripped from her, coating the glistening flesh underneath her dark brown curls.
Nothing was hidden from him, and Galen reached out to run his fingers up into the sensitive flesh, instantly eliciting a moan from her as he dipped his finger into the hot well of her core to spread the viscous soft evidence of her arousal up over the tiny jutting button of her clit.
“Galen, please!” She reached for him, eager for the comfort of his arms, and no doubt remembering the particulars of their embrace earlier at Bellham’s.
“What do you want?” he whispered, wickedly hoping for a certain answer.
“Kiss me, Galen,” she begged innocently, her hands trying to pull him up to guide him toward her pouting lips.
Ah, just what a man wants to hear!
“Your wish is my command.” He let his breath fan over her damp flesh, giving her the first hint of exactly where this “proper kiss” was going to land. As exotic as an orchid, but far more beautiful in Galen’s eyes, her skin tightened at the hot sweep of his exhale, and he watched the colors deepen as her body anticipated what her mind had yet to grasp. He spread one of his hands over the soft swell of her belly to hold her in place and kept the other free to augment his “kiss” when the time came. Galen gently pulled his mouth up her slit, tracing the folds with his tongue before settling his mouth against her bud to use the pressure of his tongue against her clit, darting up and down the miniature bundle of nerves beneath her skin and circling, faster and faster, until he was lost in the dance of it. The sweet, musky taste of her arousal was as intoxicating as any wine for him, and Galen savored the scent and flavor of her sex as she began to sigh and moan in mindless pleasure.
Her hips bucked beneath him, but his hands held her in place while his mouth ensured her willing captivity. Galen increased the speed of his tongue but softened the pressure to draw out her journey to the culmination of this act.
She sighed again, writhing to increase the contact of his mouth, wordlessly begging for him to give her more of what her body was screaming for. Galen drew his fingers up to circle the tight pucker of her nethers before sliding a single finger upward into the welcoming wet of her channel. The tight grip of her muscles encircling the slight thickness of his finger made his cock surge with new heat, at this foreshadowing of how incredibly tight and sweet her body would be for him.
He moved his finger, withdrawing it and then driving it forward to press against her, again and again caressing her with each stroke, deeper and deeper. He curled his finger against the textured walls until the pad of his index finger found the juncture inside of her he sought. He changed the pressure of his hands, and his mouth, using them together in concert to elicit the first hint of a tremor through her body.
Galen lifted his head to catch his breath and appreciated the view he was afforded from his vantage point between her thighs. She was a goddess spread out before him, and her scent was in his nostrils and in his mouth, and she was about to spend at his command and it was a power he’d never known. In the past, he’d seen almost obliquely to his partner’s enjoyment, but never had he unraveled a woman’s desire and focused on her climax alone with such intensity.
You’re mine!
He lowered his mouth with renewed vigor, enjoying his delicate feast and the lush bounty of her body. He wanted to drive her past reason and control, past words and logic, and bring forth the passionate temptress he’d recognized from the very first time he’d seen her. He mastered himself, and sought to master her with his tongue, his lips, his fingers pressing up into her saturated inner muscles, all working together in a rhythmic dance as old as time, and she was helpless against it. She cried out, a long, sweet cry that echoed through him in triumph as she bucked and trembled, flooding his mouth with the salty-sweet rush of her orgasm.
“Galen . . .” She spoke his name, breathless and unsure. “That . . . wasn’t . . . a kiss. . . .”
“Wasn’t it?” He lifted himself up on his elbows and crawled up to cover her body with his, his throbbing erection jutting against her soft belly. “Are you sure?”
She blushed furiously, but her gaze never dropped from his, and Galen admired her anew for that forthright fire in her sea-colored eyes. Ever so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, willing her to open to him and taste herself on his lips.
Haley met his kiss, her mouth already parted, and when he hovered for a moment, drawing the satin of his lips across hers, her tongue darted out to shyly sample all that he offered.
The gesture ignited him as no other had.
Suddenly, the kiss was a bruising connection and he moaned at the sweet hunger of her lips against his as she matched his need, clinging to him with an unbridled lust that affected him to his very core.
Her thighs parted instinctively to accommodate him, but Galen knew what she did not—that her virgin passage was so small that he wasn’t going to risk hurting her unnecessarily. Better to work her back to another peak before breaching her maidenhead, although she was wet enough that he considered it briefly, especially when the little minx innocently began to trail hot kisses down his throat and then back up to nip at his ear.