“You,” he said. “The sight of you with champagne dripping from your bodice. I wanted to…”
“Tell me,” she murmured. “What were you thinking?”
Bridget remembered how she had felt. She had felt deliciously vulnerable before his gaze and the chill of the air. She remembered being conscious of her nipples hardened and pressing against her stays. It had felt like waking up and discovering that she had a new capacity feelings which had been previously unknown to her.
He moved closer still, and his warm breath came in puffs of air beside her cheek. “I was thinking,” he murmured huskily, “about how much I wanted to pull your bodice down and undress you right there.”
He let the back of his hand brush against her right breast, and she gasped in surprise. A shiver of anticipation traced the path of her spine. She arched her back, silently bidding him to touch her—really touch her.
“Show me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Show me what you wanted to do.”
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “Are you certain?” he murmured.
“I am more certain than I have ever been of anything in my life,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Show me, Anthony.”
He cupped her breasts in his hands. She gasped at the pressure of his strong hands. Anthony pressed himself against her, and Bridget felt his hardness through his trousers and the skirts of her gown. She clung to the fabric of his jacket and pushed her body against his. Anthony’s arms were well-muscled and strong, and Bridget felt the muscles in her stomach tighten with need of what was to come.
Anthony drew Bridget’s sleeves down her arms and reached beneath her gown, stays, and chemise. Deftly, he freed her breasts. Bridget shivered as the wind swept over her and rose gooseflesh over the newly exposed skin. His thumbs traced circles over her nipples until they rose to tiny, hard peaks. She groaned, and his mouth found hers, silencing her with a hot, fervent kiss. His hands continued to explore her body, moving over her breasts, her shoulders, and collarbone. Her hips bucked, and an ache built between her legs. She clung harder to his coat, and the soft fabric of his jacket brushed against her breasts, sending a fissure of desire curling through her.
Her chest ached for air. She turned her head and broke the kiss, panting. Anthony’s lips fell against her cheek. Fora heartbeat, he let them linger there. Then, was kissing her everywhere. His mouth landed on her jaw, her neck, her throat and breasts…
“Anthony,” she moaned. “Please.”
She took his hand and brought it between her legs. His fingers pressed against her entrance through the fabric of her gown. Then, Anthony was grabbing great handfuls of the fabric, drawing them up to expose her legs. She trembled as he gathered all the skirts in one hand and held them at her waist.
His other hand lowered. He pressed a finger inside her, and Bridget whined with need. “Please,” she gasped between ragged pants for air. “Please, I need you inside me.”
“I ache to be inside you,” he murmured.
He kissed his neck and pressed another finger inside. Bridget gasped, her hips lurching of their own accord. Her inner walls clenched tightly around his fingers, as he drew them in and out, and Bridget’s body grew taut. She moved with his movements, bucking and arching and pressing. Bridget threw her head back as he kissed her neck hard. Bridget felt her release curl tighter and tighter inside her, and then she burst apart. White spots danced in her vision as the feeling of utter bliss swept through her like a fire sparking to life.
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Anthony!”
His hand shook as he unbuttoned his fly, and his manhood sprang forth. Bridget looked, flustered and fascinated at the sight of it. She had never seen a man’s member before, but he looked large to her. It seemed impossible for him to sheath himself inside her. When he removed his fingers, Bridget’s inner walls clenched and ached for him to fill her again.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Anthony kept one hand at her hip, holding back her skirts. With the other, he took hold of his manhood and guided himself toward her. Bridget shivered when he pressed against her entrance. Her muscles were tight as he slowly sheathed himself inside her. Bridget groaned, and a low moan tore from Anthony’s throat.
“Bridget,” he said raggedly.
She shifted, silently urging him deeper. Anthony drew himself out and pushed back in. Bridget’s legs shook. She had never felt so alive before. Her body responded to him without any conscious thought. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment for her entire life and she simply had not known. She gasped as her muscles tightened once again. Her cries rose in the air as he dove into her again and again. Anthony was her entire world—every scent, sound, and touch.
“You are so beautiful,” he gasps between pants for air.
Bridget’s laughter shuddered. “Oh, Anthony!”
Her thighs shook, and she shouted in ecstasy, as she came once again. Anthony grasped her tightly, his fingers clenching her hips as if he were a drowning man and she his salvation. His legs trembled, and a rush of warmth and wetness spread inside her. Bridget gasped, her thoughts scattered.
That was his release. She felt marvelous, as if she were something more than human. Breathing roughly, she clung to him. Bridget would not lose her virginity to a man she did not love. Her first time would not be with a man who spared no thought to her needs or desires. This was perfect, so perfect. Bridget felt as if she were soaring.
“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”
Bridget felt lighter than air as she lifted her face to his. Suddenly, her thoughts came to an unpleasant halt. She felt as though she had been thrown unceremoniously to the earth.
Anthony stared at her with an expression that could only be described as horrified.
