He laughed—sparkling delight in her picking up the fantasy he had initiated.
“You are to watch the night while you feel my touch,” she went on, wanting him to experience the same sensory pleasure he had given her.
“I shall pretend I’m on guard duty,” he said, lifting his head to gaze steadily out to sea, a smile still quirking the corners of his mouth.
“Yes. Like the Beefeaters at Buckingham Palace.”
“Have you been to Buckingham Palace?”
“You mustn’t talk, Peter. Just focus on feeling.”
She started unbuttoning his shirt, lightly running her fingernails down the gap of bared skin from button to button. He remained silent, except for the slight hissing sound of quickly sucked in breath. She smiled, knowing he was excited, and probably buzzing with anticipation of her next move.
Being passive could not be natural to a man like him, but it did force his mind off action and onto response, which would surely heighten every sensation she stirred with her touch. She wanted this night to be as different for him as it was for her—a wonderful memory to be cherished in the secret archives of their minds, something separate from their real lives but so intensely real it would never be forgotten.
The shirt slid easily off his shoulders and down his arms—such broad shoulders and powerfully muscled arms. And his chest was magnificently male. Satin-smooth, taut skin—marvellous to touch, feeling the strength of the man pulsing underneath it. Her hands glided over its living warmth, glorying in the freedom to roam over his splendid body. Her fingers tugged teasingly on his nipples, drawing them into hard nubs. The impulse to kiss them, suck on them, drove her straight into doing it.
She heard him growl and his hands were suddenly raking through her hair, holding her fiercely to him. A wild elation at his need for her burst through her mind, but she broke his grip, wanting to carry through what she’d set out to do.
“You’re breaking the rules, Peter,” she cried.
“Erin…” It was a groan of protest.
“I haven’t fully undressed you,” she pleaded.
His chest heaved as he regathered himself, his hands falling back to his sides, his body stiffening with resolve.
“It will be good,” she promised huskily.
Good…
The word bounced around the fragmented edges of Peter’s completely blown mind, not finding any relevant echo to what he was feeling. His entire body was a furnace of desire. Never had he been so aroused by a woman’s touch. In fact, no woman had ever touched him with such exquisite sensuality. The intensity of feeling was such that he wanted to crush her flesh to his. Waiting was hell, yet there was a compelling fascination in what she would choose to do next.
It took every ounce of his control to hold still as she undid his jeans, slid her hands under the waistband of his underpants and slowly peeled both garments down, freeing his erection, causing the muscles in his butt to clench. Normally he shoved these clothes off as fast as possible. It was strange having them removed almost ceremoniously, standing here in the night air, having his body gradually bared; thighs, knees, calves, feet.
Were the princes of old ministered to like this by their valets?
The whimsical thought amused him until the answer took his breath away. No. Not like this. Not with soft hands stroking his legs, exploring every inch of them, making his skin leap with sensitivity, his muscles rock-hard. The roar of the ocean filled his ears. Or was it the roar of his own blood, rushing through his body?
She was circling his groin now, fingers playing with his pubic hair. He stared at the stars in the night sky, trying to repress the urge to explode into action. She was building a level of excitement that went beyond his experience and he wanted to know how far it could go. Would go. He had to hold himself in check, let the erotic assault continue.
A crescent moon…should be a full one for this fantasy. Though what he was feeling was no fantasy. She slid a hand between his thighs, cupping him, fingers gently squeezing, other fingers stroking the length of his shaft, gliding over its tip. She kissed it. He closed his eyes as a tide of incredibly sweet pleasure swamped his entire body.
She kissed his navel, kisses running up his chest as she pushed herself upright, her breasts brushing over him, her stomach pressing against his erection, her hands gliding up over his shoulders, linking behind his neck.
“Was it good?” she asked, her voice lilting with her own pleasure in him.
His eyes snapped open. Her face was lifted to his, her beautiful smile tugging on his heart again, releasing him from her rules of play. “This is not the end,” he said, his hands whipping out to seize her, crush her close, his mouth crashing down on her smile, plundering it for all she would give him.