each day, Anne gifted Frederick with a kiss. He would trail the back of his index finger down her cheek, smile that smile that tilted upright more on the left side, lean in, and brush his lips across hers so sweetly and tenderly that it stole her breath. And though she loved these kisses and looked forward to them every day, she soon discovered that his innocent touch kindled a need within her that she had no way of containing and no idea how to quench.
One afternoon, perhaps a dozen sweet kisses into their afternoon interludes, one particular kiss that started off as sweet and innocent lasted but a moment before Frederick ventured to take matters one step further by tilting his head and licking at the seam of her lips. The move was so tentative that it was apparent he expected her to be shocked by his action; he was soon shocked himself.
Anne had never felt a more wonderful phenomenon than Frederick’s tongue seeking entry into her mouth. She fisted her hands in the fabric of his jacket, pulled him even closer, and returned his tentative lick with a desperate one of her own. He made an incoherent noise deep within his throat, and in the next moment, her cautious lover disappeared. The large hands that had been trailing slowly down the slope of her back descended suddenly to the curve of her bottom where his fingers flexed, squeezing her tightly. He used this hold to pull her into his body even more, though she had not known they could be closer than they were. That was the moment she felt a sharp prodding to her stomach.
Anne gasped into Frederick’s kiss, and he jerked away with harried apologies dripping from his glistening lips. But Anne refused to give up her hold on his jacket, and he was forced to either stop his retreat or tear the fabric from her fingers. Anne stared down through the space between their bodies and felt her eyes widen.
Frederick’s fawn-coloured breeches barely contained a hard length that strained against the fabric so fiercely Anne wondered if it would rip.
Arousal
, Anne’s brain supplied, and she realized she was staring at the evidence of his desire for her. Something molten unfurled deep within Anne’s belly, and she heard a husky sound escape her parted lips.
“Oh, Anne,” he whispered in a low, distraught voice. “Darling, I am so sorry.” A few moments of awkward silence followed before he cleared his throat and with a self-conscious breath of laughter said, “I am trying to make it go away, but with you giving it so much attention, I haven’t a prayer of succeeding, darling.”
Like a scolded schoolgirl, Anne jerked her head up to meet his eyes. “Oh!” She felt blood stinging her cheeks. “I am not supposed to look at it, am I?”
That tilted smile of his made a broad appearance, and his hands, which had moved from her bottom to her upper arms when he had tried to step away from her, squeezed her gently as he tilted his head back, revealing a tantalizing corded length of throat, and emitted a deep rumble of laughter. His eyes met hers once again, brimming with amusement. “Anne, you can do anything to it that you want. Looking is the least licentious option.”
“
Anything
?” Anne realized the breathless whisper had, indeed, come from her mouth instead of staying inside her head like she had intended when his smile lost its mirth and his fingers flexed again, this time almost painfully.
“What did you have in mind?” The words were so quiet as to almost not exist.
“May I — ” Anne took a deep breath and forged ahead. “May I t-touch it?” Her focus had trailed down from his face as she stumbled over the words, and so she was looking at the
it
in question when she finished.
His arousal kicked up beneath the fabric of his breeches, and Anne felt her mouth go dry with absolute
want
.
Frederick’s ragged intake of air sounded somewhere above her head, and then he trailed one of his hands down from her upper arm to tug her hand up to his lips. She focused
Learning to Kill: Stories