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Authors: Moriah Densley
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and her eyes dropped closed. He thought her breath sped. It seemed she was responding to him. A surge of triumph accompanied the realization.
He experimented with teasing her; stroking her lips, toying with her earlobe, grazing his fingertips along the winged shape of her collarbones. Finally she opened her eyes and met his gaze with a smoky desire even his blundering adolescent self understood.
He dipped his head until he was only inches from her face. He held the distance, stunned by the force lulling him in.
Alysia wanted him to kiss her. He knew it.
“May I?” The gruffness of his voice sounded odd to himself.
“Yes.”
He slid an arm under her neck and cradled her head. Slowly he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers. Experimentally, cautiously. He caressed the apple of her cheek and down her throat with his lips, and back again until he coaxed her to part her lips. He closed his mouth over hers, and she answered with the same movement. He kissed her lips slowly, then again deeply, reveling in the luxurious softness of her mouth on his.
The slow burn became consuming. He hadn’t imagined that when he kissed Alysia, he would also taste her; a honey, cocoa and spicy nutmeg flavor she always smelled of after breakfast. He moved his mouth hungrily on hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.
He was surprised how naturally the act came, like a conversation. Andrew pursed his lips on her bottom lip and gave it a gentle nibble. She answered with a breathy sigh that made him feel wild.
Feeling daring, he teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, and when she opened her mouth in a gasp, he kissed her as though he was a starving man — desperate, rough. He had no idea where it came from; he couldn’t help it. She raked her nails across his shoulders and kissed him back the same way. She liked it, then.
Acting on impulse, he trailed kisses from her chin to the corner of her jaw, and when he sank his lips into the soft spot where her ear joined her neck, she erupted in a naughty-sounding moan. The single most erotic noise he could imagine. Delighted with his discovery, he kneaded her neck with his lips while she tilted her head and arched her back, offering herself.
He experimented, brushing feathery kisses up and down her neck then attacking her with wild, deep kisses and playful nips with his teeth. She loved all of it; she writhed beneath him, gasping appreciatively all the while. He learned where the nerves on her neck were, where they traced down in sensitive lines.
He made her shudder, made her rise and curl herself around him. Finally as he dotted slow open-mouthed kisses down her neck in a line past her collar and dangerously close to the lace edging of her shift, she exclaimed in a wordless sob and melted into him, meeting every line of his body with her own. He understood then he had conquered her, and that he could have done anything he pleased with her. She would not have protested. She wanted it, would perhaps even beg for it.
Andrew kissed her lips again, incredulous, pondering his newfound power. He resisted the urge to let his hands roam where they shouldn’t, and he banished the thoughts reminding him that kissing was in parody of another act. If he didn’t cherish her so… if she were not so young… If only they were married, then he would gladly give in to the slow burn he finally identified as arousal. If only.
The pleasure of kissing her would be enough for now. He wouldn’t be greedy. The sheer ecstasy of the moment was more sublime than he had imagined. And he had indeed been long imagining this. Andrew grunted in satisfaction and let his mind float away while he submersed himself in the act of kissing his soul mate.
****
The women went to Worth’s in London for Elizabeth’s wedding gown fitting. The men had gone out hunting that morning and Alysia supposed she had the manor to herself. She sat alone in Lord Courtenay’s favorite salon.
He experimented with teasing her; stroking her lips, toying with her earlobe, grazing his fingertips along the winged shape of her collarbones. Finally she opened her eyes and met his gaze with a smoky desire even his blundering adolescent self understood.
He dipped his head until he was only inches from her face. He held the distance, stunned by the force lulling him in.
Alysia wanted him to kiss her. He knew it.
“May I?” The gruffness of his voice sounded odd to himself.
“Yes.”
He slid an arm under her neck and cradled her head. Slowly he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers. Experimentally, cautiously. He caressed the apple of her cheek and down her throat with his lips, and back again until he coaxed her to part her lips. He closed his mouth over hers, and she answered with the same movement. He kissed her lips slowly, then again deeply, reveling in the luxurious softness of her mouth on his.
The slow burn became consuming. He hadn’t imagined that when he kissed Alysia, he would also taste her; a honey, cocoa and spicy nutmeg flavor she always smelled of after breakfast. He moved his mouth hungrily on hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.
He was surprised how naturally the act came, like a conversation. Andrew pursed his lips on her bottom lip and gave it a gentle nibble. She answered with a breathy sigh that made him feel wild.
Feeling daring, he teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, and when she opened her mouth in a gasp, he kissed her as though he was a starving man — desperate, rough. He had no idea where it came from; he couldn’t help it. She raked her nails across his shoulders and kissed him back the same way. She liked it, then.
Acting on impulse, he trailed kisses from her chin to the corner of her jaw, and when he sank his lips into the soft spot where her ear joined her neck, she erupted in a naughty-sounding moan. The single most erotic noise he could imagine. Delighted with his discovery, he kneaded her neck with his lips while she tilted her head and arched her back, offering herself.
He experimented, brushing feathery kisses up and down her neck then attacking her with wild, deep kisses and playful nips with his teeth. She loved all of it; she writhed beneath him, gasping appreciatively all the while. He learned where the nerves on her neck were, where they traced down in sensitive lines.
He made her shudder, made her rise and curl herself around him. Finally as he dotted slow open-mouthed kisses down her neck in a line past her collar and dangerously close to the lace edging of her shift, she exclaimed in a wordless sob and melted into him, meeting every line of his body with her own. He understood then he had conquered her, and that he could have done anything he pleased with her. She would not have protested. She wanted it, would perhaps even beg for it.
Andrew kissed her lips again, incredulous, pondering his newfound power. He resisted the urge to let his hands roam where they shouldn’t, and he banished the thoughts reminding him that kissing was in parody of another act. If he didn’t cherish her so… if she were not so young… If only they were married, then he would gladly give in to the slow burn he finally identified as arousal. If only.
The pleasure of kissing her would be enough for now. He wouldn’t be greedy. The sheer ecstasy of the moment was more sublime than he had imagined. And he had indeed been long imagining this. Andrew grunted in satisfaction and let his mind float away while he submersed himself in the act of kissing his soul mate.
****
The women went to Worth’s in London for Elizabeth’s wedding gown fitting. The men had gone out hunting that morning and Alysia supposed she had the manor to herself. She sat alone in Lord Courtenay’s favorite salon.
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