Page 21 of A Curse So Vile
The entire time, her fingers tousled his hair, encouraging him as though he were her pet. He rather liked the thought of that, which was hard to reconcile because of what this woman meant to her.
Fiona’s life.
He made short work of the buttons on her vest, sliding the garment off and casting it aside. With her breasts freed, he sat back on his heels, admiring his lovely master.
Her lively green eyes seemed too innocent for her sharp tongue, and the few stray freckles that graced her cheeks almost made her look girlish. But he knew better. Brenna was hard and demanding. She’d never suffer disrespect. Not from him or anyone else.
His eyes moved down, following the delicate curve of her collarbone to the valley between her breasts, two perky mounds he hoped she’d share with him.
Has there ever been a lovelier woman?He thought not.
Her breasts were pale white, whereas the rest of her skin was tan. The contrasting shades of her flesh pleased him, making him feel as though he were looking at something he ought not to, which was silly. She was practically begging to be touched, but before he could do so, she took them away from him, covering them with her hands.
I wish those were my hands,he thought, his hunger for her growing with every passing moment. She chuckled when she saw him pouting. His desire was a game to her. A game he was happy to play.
He sought answers in her beautiful face, finding her brow arched, her eyes darting to her waist.
Knowing that Brenna wanted him there, kneeling, undressing her, turned his cock to steel.
His fingers went to the delicate hem of her panties, sliding along its band. Her body tensed under his touch, turning his cock into a raging fist.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she bent ever so slightly at the waist so that the peaks of her breasts gently grazed his face.
“My water is getting cold,” she said with a disapproving look on her face.
He slid the thin layer of fabric down her hips and over her thighs, revealing a sexy patch of curly hair. Her feminine scent mingled with sweat, overwhelming his senses and escalating his passion for her.
She stood up again, lifting one foot to reveal the last of her clothing: her socks.
He drew down her sock while he stared at the silky hair at the junction of her thigh. Then she brought her other leg up, and he pulled the remaining article of her clothing off so that she was standing naked before him.
Every inch of her body was a perfectly molded sculpture, from her graceful swan neck to the gentle slope of her breasts to the high arch of her feet. He didn’t deserve to be kneeling before her, as every inch of her was superior to him in every way.
“I have lavender oil in my bag. Be a dear and fetch it for me.”
As he obeyed, she turned, showing off the fullness of her buttocks.
Thinking was no longer an option at this point. He wanted so desperately to please her, he could think of nothing else. He belonged to her now.
“Ah, the oil?” Brenna said when she noticed his pause.
It took a moment for her words to register. “Ah, yes. The oil.” He pulled the cork from the glass vial and added several drops to the filling basin.
As she stepped into the tub, he caught a glimpse of the delicate flesh between her thighs. It was perfectly pink, and he could think of nothing so alluring as the thought of tasting her.
“Wash my hair,” she instructed.
He pulled a chair to the side of the tub and did as he was told. Brenna’s emerald-green eyes shone wickedly as he struggled not to ogle her.
“Does this suit you, m’lady?”
“It does.” She handed him a cup, and he rinsed away the suds.
“Heartlander maidens would envy your hair.”
She held out the bar of soap to him, her eyes shifting over the rest of her body as a smirk curled on her lips. “Finish the job.”
His throat grew so tight he could barely swallow. He had pleased half a hundred women in his life, possibly twice that, but they hardly meant anything to him and all of them paled compared to the sharp-witted beauty that lay before him.