Without stopping to think, she grasped her loosened chemise and pulled it off over her head, tossing it aside. A blush crept into her cheeks at being thus exposed to him, but Mary stood her ground, tilting her chin as she gazed up at him. Royce’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her bared breasts, and his nostrils flared as if he could not draw enough air.
Almost reverently, he curved his hand over her breast, caressing the satiny skin and lingering over the hard button of her nipple.#p#分页标题#e#
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes following the movements of his hands over her pale flesh. “Marigold … you are lovelier than any flower could ever hope to be.”
He bent, surprising her, and spread the blanket out on the floor. Then he swept her up in his arms and laid her down upon it, going to his knees beside her. Untying the drawstring of her petticoat, he drew it from her. He slid off her slippers and stockings, his long fingers lingering over her skin as he moved the plain, practical lisle stockings down the length of her legs. He paused now and again to press his lips upon some entrancing bit of skin he had just revealed, and Mary jerked in surprise even as another tendril of heat uncurled in her abdomen.
His gaze still on her, Royce stood and divested himself of his clothes. Mary watched, both embarrassed and entranced. She gazed at the wide breadth of his chest, the lines of muscles and bones, the softer plane of his stomach, the blond hair that V-ed down his chest and led from his navel down to the proud, pulsing staff between his legs. She glanced away, blushing fiery red.
Mary was not entirely ignorant of what went on between a man and a woman, as many gently reared girls were. She had, after all, spent some of her early years on a farm, and they had lived in a small town, never far from the land and animals, so that she had picked up a general knowledge of how the young came into being. Moreover, she had often enough had to help out in the tavern serving drinks, and though the daughters of the tavern owner were generally treated with more respect than the ordinary tavern wench, Mary had heard enough of the men’s talk and jokes to figure out the basics of the marital act.
Still, she had never before actually seen a naked man—much less one in a state of arousal—and it was a startling sight. But not, she realized as her eyes crept back to look at Royce again, an uninviting one.
He kicked his clothes aside and lay down beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. He gazed at her for a long moment, his hand gliding slowly over her body, sending shivers through her. Mary closed her eyes, basking in the pleasure and heat, loving the faint roughness of his hand on her skin. Her senses were heightened, alive to every new feeling that swept through her.
He bent to kiss her, his mouth moving against hers in a slow, delicious fashion, enticing and arousing her. All the while, his hands stroked and caressed her, exploring the curves of her body. Mary twisted, a small moan escaping her. Royce smiled and began to kiss his way down her body, skimming over the tender skin of her throat and tracing the line of her collarbone, his tongue delving into the delicate hollow. His lips moved ever downward, crossing the quivering orbs of her breasts, coming at last to the nipples. His tongue circled one hard button of flesh, caressing, then lashing it with tiny strokes before his mouth settled on the bud, sucking gently.
As his mouth worked on her breast, his hand slid down her body, caressing her stomach and hips and legs. With each movement he drew closer and closer to the juncture of her legs, until finally his fingers slipped between her thighs. It did not startle her as much as that night in the smoking room, but the sensation, she found, was even sweeter. Expertly he stroked and teased until she groaned, her legs moving restlessly apart.
Mary swept her hands over his arms and shoulders, wanting to touch him everywhere, her fingers digging in helplessly whenever he brought her to some new height of pleasure. She was panting, her skin slick with sweat, and deep inside need coiled, tight and desperate, aching for release. She could feel the hunger in Royce as well, in the harsh rasp of his breath, the taut contraction of his muscles, the dampness of his skin.
“Please …” she murmured.
His answer was a groan. “God help me, I have to have you.”#p#分页标题#e#
He moved between her legs, slowly, gently probing at the tender flesh, moving up until he met resistance. He hesitated, his eyes going up to hers.
“No. Don’t stop.”
He thrust inside her, and Mary let out a small gasp at the slice of pain. He went still, burying his head in the crook of her neck. She could hear his breath rasp in and out of his throat, but he remained motionless until she relaxed. Then he began to move within her again, and the last whispers of pain receded before the need gathering and pushing inside her. Rhythmically he stroked in and out, and with each movement, the hunger, the urgency within her grew.