“Steady. I have you.”
And oh, did he have her. And she apparently had him. Her hands were tangled in his hair while her face was crushed against his cheek. Her eyes were welded shut, so her other senses were heightened. As if she needed a heightened awareness of her breasts pressed roughly against his solid chest and her honeypot nuzzled right up on his groin. Yes, she could feel it. And he was as hard as she was soft.
There was nothing safe to say at that moment. There was nothing safe to do. No safe way to move away, so she whispered into his jaw the only thing that had finally come to mind. “I thought you didn’t make bets with ladies?”
“Not unless I know I’m going to win,”
“And are you going to win?”
He nudged his nose behind her ear, then down under her jaw to tilt her head.“I think I already have.”
She felt the soft scrape of his stubble against her cheek, and then a warm, soft mouth pulling on her bottom lip. He paused.
As she felt his breath mingling with hers, she knew that she could stop him from going any further. She could refuse his delightfully wet invitation and push away. But her body would surely resent her more for rejecting the summons than accepting it.
She sighed and parted her lips. Against all odds, she pressed herself closer to him.
There was no restraint left. He darted his tongue into her mouth and she entangled herself in his. His hands roamed up her back and up along her ribs. She could feel his thumbs inching closer to the side of her breasts.Yes, yes, yes.
She rolled her heat over the bulge in his breeches and could feel the lightning surging within her. It wasn’t enough to feel him rock hard beneath all these layers.
He groaned and pulled his mouth down her neck, nipping at her shoulder. His tongue trailed her decolletage and swept almost within reach of her nipple.
Oh my god!That tongue was about to wrap itself in her nipple, and if that happened she would lose all control.
“Jonathan,”
“Sweet, delicious, Margaret. You taste like peaches and custard.”
“We’re in a tree,” she moaned.
“Hmmm… yes. Something about a change in perspective. I completely agree.”
Amidst talking, he kept licking her breasts and now she was panting, heaving her breasts at him. They ached to be free of the layers and the dratted corset caging them in.
“Jonathan, I… you…”
“Mmm… I agree.”
She needed to stop, but her body was begging for more. She rolled onto his arousal again and felt the heat swell in her body. It flooded her core and found release out through her limbs.
“Yes, Margaret. Take me. Use me. I’m yours.”
“Johnn–Jonathan,” she whispered. Her body went still. The throbbing, the humming, the aching savagely persisted. The relentless yearning to be with him and of him.
But she had to stop.
MARGARET HAD STOPPED. Why did she stop?Jonathan was as hard, as thick, and as long as the oak tree they had just climbed. He only wished Margaret had finished climbing him. But then again, maybe a tree wasn’t the perfect place for this to happen. For their first time.
Jonathan slid his hands up and down Margaret’s back. “It’s ok, darling.” He kissed her temple and into her hair while she rested her head against his chest.
Together they slowed their breaths until they matched inhalations and exhalations, deep and slow. Looking out into the small forest of trees that quietly enclosed them, he reflected.
His arms were wrapped around her, and she fit perfectly against his chest and in his lap. She brought out a character in him that he couldn’t identify, someone light, carefree, even playful. Up until Margaret, the last three years had drudged along. He had resigned himself to not knowing anything of his past, and then one morning his mind breathed existence into the name Chatsworth.
If nothing else, coming to Chatsworth to discover Margaret was worth it. Her breezy, impulsive, yet determined nature, was calling something out of him. And he was desperate to answer the call.
“Shall we make our way down?” He nudged her hair with his chin.
