the shades. When he had performed this task to his satisfaction, he turned to look at his wife.
She was wearing a blue seersucker shirt-dress and sandals. Her long hair, which reached halfway down her back, was tied loosely at the nape of her neck with a blue ribbon. She looked back at him, raised a black eyebrow and said, “Well? Are you going to show me what you’ve been making such a fuss about for the last six months?”
He tackled her. She was standing next to the bed, and his rush toppled her backward so she was lying on the white Martha Washington bedspread with him on top of her. She began to laugh. He growled and bit her ear. She laughed harder. “I love your subtle technique,” she got out breathlessly through her mirth.
“Oh, so you like subtlety?” He slowly pulled the ribbon out of her hair, dropped it on the floor, and bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth opened under his and her arms went up to circle his neck. Always before, she had put a barrier between them, always there had been the awareness that she would let him go so far and no farther. Today the barrier was gone.
When he raised his head and spoke, his voice was husky and his breathing uneven. “And now,” he said, “let me see what I’ve got here.” He began to unbutton the front of her shirt-dress. She lay perfectly still, gazing up at him out of darkened eyes. In a minute he had skillfully bared the upper part of her body; her skin was flawless, her breasts perfect. “Almighty God,” he muttered. “You’re so beautiful.” Very gently, almost tentatively, he touched the single small beauty spot that lay near the nipple of her right breast. His light touch sent an electrifying sensation through her entire body.
“Kit,” she whispered. “Darling.”
He bent to kiss the beauty mark and his hands began to move caressingly on her body. “My princess,” he said. “My beautiful Irish witch.” He unbuttoned the rest of her dress and then his hands were tugging on the elastic of her half-slip and panties. Instinctively she stiffened and he began to murmur endearments again while his mouth and his hands touched and caressed her. There was extreme tenderness in his voice and in his hands, and sweet cajolery, and the hypnotic quality of rising passion. When Mary’s body arched up against his, he released his hold on her only long enough to tear off his own clothes.
She clung to him, swept along on the tide of rising desire. Her brain, that sharp, critical, well-trained arbiter of her life, was swamped by the purely physical sensations Kit’s touch aroused. He was murmuring to her and blindly she obeyed his instructions, needing him desperately to assuage the throbbing ache he had created within her. He loomed powerfully over her and she held him tightly, heedless of the pain, stunned by the unexpected searing intensity of the pleasure. He was saying her name over and over; dimly she heard him through the waves of sensation that were sweeping her body. “I love you,” she whispered as she felt them coming to rest. “I love you.”
They lay still together for a long minute and she ran her hands over the strong muscles of his shoulders and back, feeling the light sheen of sweat that clung to him. His heart was hammering; she could feel the heavy strokes as she felt the heat of his body and the laboring of his breath. She was a little awestruck at the thought that she had been able to do this to him. And when she thought of what he had done to her....
After a while she murmured, “Do you know, this is the first time I’ve ever understood Anna Karenina?”
He laughed, a soft dark sound deep down in his throat, and raised his head to gaze into her face. The look he gave her was brilliant, full of amusement and triumph. “I hope you’re not planning to throw yourself under a train?”
Her lips curved and she felt her heart turn over with love. “You know what I mean.” She traced the outline of his mouth. “I never understood
She was wearing a blue seersucker shirt-dress and sandals. Her long hair, which reached halfway down her back, was tied loosely at the nape of her neck with a blue ribbon. She looked back at him, raised a black eyebrow and said, “Well? Are you going to show me what you’ve been making such a fuss about for the last six months?”
He tackled her. She was standing next to the bed, and his rush toppled her backward so she was lying on the white Martha Washington bedspread with him on top of her. She began to laugh. He growled and bit her ear. She laughed harder. “I love your subtle technique,” she got out breathlessly through her mirth.
“Oh, so you like subtlety?” He slowly pulled the ribbon out of her hair, dropped it on the floor, and bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth opened under his and her arms went up to circle his neck. Always before, she had put a barrier between them, always there had been the awareness that she would let him go so far and no farther. Today the barrier was gone.
When he raised his head and spoke, his voice was husky and his breathing uneven. “And now,” he said, “let me see what I’ve got here.” He began to unbutton the front of her shirt-dress. She lay perfectly still, gazing up at him out of darkened eyes. In a minute he had skillfully bared the upper part of her body; her skin was flawless, her breasts perfect. “Almighty God,” he muttered. “You’re so beautiful.” Very gently, almost tentatively, he touched the single small beauty spot that lay near the nipple of her right breast. His light touch sent an electrifying sensation through her entire body.
“Kit,” she whispered. “Darling.”
He bent to kiss the beauty mark and his hands began to move caressingly on her body. “My princess,” he said. “My beautiful Irish witch.” He unbuttoned the rest of her dress and then his hands were tugging on the elastic of her half-slip and panties. Instinctively she stiffened and he began to murmur endearments again while his mouth and his hands touched and caressed her. There was extreme tenderness in his voice and in his hands, and sweet cajolery, and the hypnotic quality of rising passion. When Mary’s body arched up against his, he released his hold on her only long enough to tear off his own clothes.
She clung to him, swept along on the tide of rising desire. Her brain, that sharp, critical, well-trained arbiter of her life, was swamped by the purely physical sensations Kit’s touch aroused. He was murmuring to her and blindly she obeyed his instructions, needing him desperately to assuage the throbbing ache he had created within her. He loomed powerfully over her and she held him tightly, heedless of the pain, stunned by the unexpected searing intensity of the pleasure. He was saying her name over and over; dimly she heard him through the waves of sensation that were sweeping her body. “I love you,” she whispered as she felt them coming to rest. “I love you.”
They lay still together for a long minute and she ran her hands over the strong muscles of his shoulders and back, feeling the light sheen of sweat that clung to him. His heart was hammering; she could feel the heavy strokes as she felt the heat of his body and the laboring of his breath. She was a little awestruck at the thought that she had been able to do this to him. And when she thought of what he had done to her....
After a while she murmured, “Do you know, this is the first time I’ve ever understood Anna Karenina?”
He laughed, a soft dark sound deep down in his throat, and raised his head to gaze into her face. The look he gave her was brilliant, full of amusement and triumph. “I hope you’re not planning to throw yourself under a train?”
Her lips curved and she felt her heart turn over with love. “You know what I mean.” She traced the outline of his mouth. “I never understood
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