Free Promise of Pleasure by Cheryl Holt

thought she should at least try to sound affronted.
    “Let me go.”
    “No.”
    “You’re a bully and a fiend.”
    “I admit it. What fun would life be if I wasn’t?”
    He dipped down and kissed her, and immediately, it was apparent that it would be nothing like the embrace they’d shared in the forest. There was an urgency about it, as if they were in a hurry, and she shut her eyes and reveled in the moment. Her foolish pride soared at the recognition that Jordan Winthrop would go to so much trouble merely to dally with her.
    His tongue flicked out and slipped inside her mouth, and they engaged in a merry dance that teased and cajoled, and she was astonished at how easily she knew what was required.
    When he roamed his hands over her body, she roamed hers over his. When he shifted positions to get more comfortable, she shifted, too. When his torso dropped between her thighs, she spread her legs to give him greater access. He started an unusual flexing, his hips moving with hers, her skirt and petticoat a soft cushion against which he could thrust and push.
    He began massaging her breasts, rubbing them in slow circles. The sensation was so titillating that it was painful. His crafty fingers pinched her nipples, squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure so that they ached and throbbed.
    “Oh, stop, Redvers. I’m begging you. I must catch my breath.”
    “No. And it’s Jordan to you.”
    “Please?”
    “If you call me Jordan, I’ll do as you ask.”
    She scowled, then gave in. “Please, Jordan?”
    He pretended to consider, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    She whacked him on the shoulder. “You are such a beast!”
    “Yes, I am. You shouldn’t forget it.”
    He dipped down again, and though she assumed he’d kiss her on the mouth, he descended farther so that he was directly over her chest.
    “Have you ever had a lover, Mary?”
    “No. How could I have?”
    “I’m delighted to hear it. Let me show you something.”
    “No.” She was begging again. “Don’t show me anything.”
    “You’ll like it. I promise.”
    One hand continued to torment her breast, while the other was lifting her skirt, and very quickly, he was sliding his fingers into her drawers. With no hesitation, he tangled them through her womanly hair and glided them into her sheath.
    To her surprise, they fit perfectly, and she was stunned by the discovery. As he stroked them back and forth, she was even more stunned. The movement was mesmerizing, as if it was precisely what she’d been craving without even knowing it.
    He’d aroused her to a fevered pitch, and of their own accord, her hips bucked against his palm, as if intent on pulling him deeper.
    He chuckled. “You are just what I’ve been needing.”
    “How could that be? I don’t have any idea what’s occurring.”
    “Don’t worry. Your body will take you down the proper road.”
    The tempo increased, and with his thumb, he caressed a spot she’d never noted before. It was extremely sensitive, and she arched up, trying to escape the stimulation.
    “What are you doing to me?” she asked, panting and stammering.
    “I’m giving you sexual pleasure.”
    “Well, I don’t want it!”
    She felt peculiar on the inside, as if she was about to explode. There was a tension building, and she knew there had to be an end point, but at what cost? Would she survive it?
    Suddenly, he bent down and nuzzled at her breast, biting her nipple through the fabric of her dress as his thumb flicked out again and again.
    She shattered and cried out, being so overwhelmed that she couldn’t fret over whether someone might be out in the hall and overhear. She’d never experienced anything remotely similar. In a life that was all drudgery and tedium, he’d opened a door to an entirely new land where exotic conduct was allowed and encouraged.
    “What was that?” she queried as her pulse slowed and she could talk coherently.
    “The French call it the ‘little