Vixens. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.
Charles Stuart digested this statement, amazed.
“Have I shocked you, Your Majesty?” she said. “I am so new to England and to the royal court that I hope I have not offended you with my bluntness.”
He finally managed to find his voice again. “My dear,” he told her, “I do not believe I have ever met a more candid lady than you. I can but hope that I am as skilled a lover for you as my reputation would have you and the rest of the world believe.”
“From the moment I was introduced to Your Majesty,” Fancy told him, “I had not a doubt.”
He turned her about and began to unlace her bodice with adept fingers. “I think, my dear Fancy, that you will prove a most dangerous woman when you have grown up a bit more.” Then he dropped a kiss upon the curve of her delicate neck. “Your scent is intoxicating. What is it?”
“It is night-blooming jasmine, Your Majesty,” Fancy said. “My grandmother and her old maidservants distill it themselves. I love it.”
“As do I,” the king replied. The bodice unlaced, he turned her about again, and drew it off, laying it carefully upon a chair. “Now, my dear,” he told her, “it is your turn. Will you remove my coat?”
Fancy’s slender fingers painstakingly undid each of the carved gold buttons with their paste jewel centers that held the king’s claret velvet coat closed. Stepping behind him she pulled it off, and set it upon a second chair.
The king turned about so that he was facing her. “Now, together,” he said with a small smile, and he began to untie the ribbons that held her dainty lace-trimmed chemise closed. Fancy smiled back at him and loosened the ribbons holding his shirt closed. The garments removed, they were both naked to the waist. The king spun his companion around, and his hands as quickly cupped her two breasts. The twin beauties were perfectly round globes of firm, soft flesh. He closed his dark eyes briefly and allowed his other senses to take over.
His touch was so gentle, Fancy thought surprised. It was almost reverent, as if he were worshiping her. She had thought she might feel fear at first, but rather she was relaxed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. Eyes wide she watched as he caressed her bosom. His thumbs, like velvet, rubbed her nipples causing them to pucker sharply. His palms were warm and fondled her tenderly.
“Beautiful,” the king murmured in her ear. “Your breasts are the most beautiful I have ever seen, my dear. What perfect treasures you offer me. They are indeed fit for a king.” He turned her around and, lifting her up, lowered her just enough so that he might kiss the spheres he was so obviously admiring. His lips were moist and hot, and she could not refrain from a quiver as excitement raced through her body.
He lowered her so that her feet were once again upon the floor. His hands cupped her heart-shaped face and he drew her so close that the tips of her nipples, just the tips, touched his broad and smooth chest. Then he began to kiss her—long, slow kisses with his big sensuous mouth. Again, and again, and yet again his lips took hers deeply. Her head spun with each kiss. At one point she wasn’t even certain she was breathing. It was without a doubt the most delicious embrace she had ever in all of her young life experienced. Her late, and not lamented, husband had certainly never kissed her like this. Fancy sighed deeply.
He laughed softly, and her eyes flew open to find him smiling. “You like being kissed,” he noted with understatement. Two of his fingers ran lightly over her lips teasingly.
She nodded kissing the fingers.
“What else do you like?” he asked her. “If we are to please each other, I would know.”
Fancy shook her head. “I don’t really know,” she admitted.
“Then we must try to ascertain that information,” the king told her seriously, but his dark eyes were filled with amusement.
“I suppose we must,” Fancy agreed cheerfully.
“It will be difficult in all those petticoats,” he noted.
“Then I must remove them, but should you not also remove a garment, Your Majesty?” She felt bold enough now to tease him.
“I am of the exact same opinion,” he acknowledged. Sitting down upon the bed, the king removed first his shoes and then, standing up, his claret velvet breeches, even as Fancy struggled from her heavy skirts, and her several petticoats. “You are still wearing your shoes,” he noted.
Fancy sat upon the edge of the bed and boldly held out first one foot to him and then the other. He drew the greenish-blue silk slippers with their turquoise and pearl buckles from her slim feet and set them aside. Then he knelt and taking a foot in his hand began to massage it between his palms. Her eyes widened with surprise.
“What delicious little feet you have,” he noted, and he began to cradle her other foot, rubbing it with strong fingers. “And you wear silk calecons. How charming! But they must come off, my darling.” His big hand slid up her legs, beneath her lace-trimmed drawers, drawing them down and off. Only her silk stockings with their green and blue vines and her silver garters remained to give the illusion of modesty. His hands smoothed over her bare thighs. His eyes admired the thick dark bush of tight curls between them.
“Turn about, Majesty,” Fancy said softly.
The king stood, grinning. Seating himself again, he removed his stockings and garters. Then standing once more, he pulled off his silk drawers before kneeling before her once more. “Lie back,” he said, and when she complied with his request, he began to undo her garters. Then he slowly rolled her stockings from her shapely legs. His hands slid over her calves and down her ankles.
Fancy was trembling with excitement. These last few minutes were the most thrilling she had ever known. If he did nothing more, she would have been satisfied, but then suddenly she realized that she wouldn’t be at all. Even knowing what was to come, she welcomed it, for she had never imagined that a man could be so tender with a woman. He gently spread her milky thighs, and his dark head pushed between them. She drew a hard, sharp breath as he did so, and then a far more audible gasp of surprise as he parted her nether lips with strong fingers, and she felt the tip of his tongue touching her in a most incredibly intimate manner.
A man who had always been sensitive to women, the king raised his head a moment, asking her, “This has never been done to you?”
“No,” she whispered, “but I do not think I want you to cease.” She heard him chuckle as his head was once again lowered. At first there was just the sensation of his broad tongue stroking her. But then he seemed to find the most sensitive spot hidden within those folds of moist and sentient flesh. The movements of his tongue became more sensuous, and then as she responded with growing ardor, which was evidenced by her little cries, the tongue flicked relentlessly back and forth over that aching bud until she felt a distinct snap within her body and a wave of warmth, coupled with pure pleasure, swept over her.
The king’s body was now covering hers. His manhood began to insinuate itself into the warmth and drenching wet of her love passage. He had meant to draw out his love play a bit longer, but her delightful enthusiasm had roused him more quickly than he had been roused in a very long time. She was as eager and as willing as he was. Then a look of complete surprise came over his face. He had just found his forward passage very much impeded. He drew back slightly and pushed gently ahead once more, but the previously easy path was most definitely blocked. “You are a virgin!” he gasped, and he struggled to maintain control over himself.
“No!” Fancy cried, “I cannot be!”
“We will not now debate the point,” the king said through gritted teeth. “This will pain you, but only briefly, I swear.” Then he thrust through her virgin shield in one quick motion, burying himself deeply within her love sheath with a groan.
It stung. There was a quick sensation of burning, and then it was gone. She felt him inside her, but the feeling was not at all unpleasant. He began to move on her now with slow, masterful strokes of his manhood.
“Oh!”