Page 5 of A Scoundrel Under the Mistletoe (Wicked Widows League)
“ M rs. Sinclair, please lie down on the chaise,” Moses said gruffly. In the past, he didn’t need to guide his models through pleasuring themselves. He enjoyed watching a woman explore her desires, of course, and reminded himself this was not for his pleasure. “Position yourself in a way that allows you to touch yourself, as you were before. You must feel comfortable, relaxed.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded as if summoning her courage, and gracefully arranged herself on the plush chaise.
As she stretched out, her thick, wavy hair fanned around her, framing her lovely face. She looked up at him, her uncertainty shining through her eyes. “Like this?”
“Beautiful,” Moses replied, his eyes fixated on her every move. He moved to stand near her feet. He reached for her far knee, posing the leg to lean against the back of the chaise. “Bend this leg.”
He watched her expression, noting whether she was comfortable baring her most intimate part to his gaze. Her lips had a gentle curve upward, encouraging him to continue. He ran his hand down her other thigh, pressing outward to part her legs even more. “Let this leg hang off the edge. Yes, like that. Exquisite.”
Taking in her entire pose, he licked his lips. He’d love to lie between those pale limbs and part her curls, tasting the moisture he saw there. But this time was for her. Later, perhaps. Let her learn what her body is capable of in her own hands.
“One last thing,” he said, and brought her far arm up behind her head. “This lifts your breasts. Are you comfortable? Would you like another pillow?”
She shook her head. “How do I look?”
He realized his study of her position had him concentrating so hard he was frowning. He relaxed into a grin. “You are a goddess of passion, my sweet.”
Tension left her body at his words, and she smiled. Her right hand began to explore her body, her fingertips tracing gentle patterns across her skin. As Moses stood above her, she circled her nipple a few times before pinching it. She gasped.
“Very good,” he said in a low growl. “Try different things to see how it makes your body feel.” Moses, for his part, endeavored to maintain his stoic composure, focusing on his role as the teacher. The sight of her vulnerability and growing desire stirred something within him, but he had a duty to guide her through this moment.
“Let yourself experience the pleasure, Mrs. Sinclair,” he encouraged, low and husky. “Trust in your own touch, and embrace the desires that come.”
She closed her eyes, and her fingers trembled slightly as they reached for her other nipple, which had already begun to harden in anticipation.
“Go on,” he urged gently. “Feel the warmth and sensation coursing through your body.”
As she began to tease her nipples between her fingertips, a soft moan escaped her lips, the sound both vulnerable and intoxicating.
“Good,” Moses growled, his groin tightening with desire as he observed her. He could feel the heat rising within him and wished for a moment he could join her.
“Does it please you?” Mrs. Sinclair asked.
“Immensely,” he admitted. His breath hitched as he continued to watch her. “But remember, this is about you, Mrs. Sinclair. Focus on the pleasure that you can give yourself.”
Her hand swept across her stomach, circling over the pooch of flesh around her navel. “Is this...acceptable, Mr. Russell?”
“More than acceptable,” Moses confirmed, forcing himself to maintain a modicum of control as his desire threatened to consume him. “You are truly captivating, Mrs. Sinclair. A vision of beauty and sensuality.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his gaze for a moment before her lids closed again.
As she continued to lose herself in the pleasure, Moses endeavored to commit every curve and nuance of her body to memory, determined to create a masterpiece that would immortalize this moment of intimacy and discovery.
“Mrs. Sinclair,” Moses said, breaking the silent stretch, “I want you to stroke your stomach more. Feel the softness of your skin beneath your fingertips.” He couldn’t hide the arousal evident in his voice, just as he couldn’t ignore the tightening sensation within his breeches.
With a hesitant nod, Joy followed his guidance, her hand gliding across her torso, fingers brushing against the delicate white skin. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Moses answered, his eyes never leaving her. “Now, continue lower.”
Her breathing shallow, she moved her hand further down, hesitating for a moment when she reached the dark curls between her thighs.
Then she began to touch her feminine core, tentative at first, but growing more confident as she dipped a finger between her nether lips. With each gentle caress, her body responded in kind, her breath hitching, her moans soft and sweet.
“Mr. Russell, is this...satisfactory?”
“Exquisite. Keep going, Mrs. Sinclair. Spread yourself open to me. Find the knot of pleasure you seek. Let yourself experience the depths of your desire.”
Her left hand came down and she adjusted her legs wider. Her fingers stroked, spreading moisture and she gasped when one brushed her clit. Her hips rocked.
Moses couldn’t tear his eyes away, his desire for her building with each sensual stroke of her fingers. “That’s it. Just like that.”
“I never thought I could feel like this.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted, his own breath quickening. The urge to join her was overwhelming, but he wrestled with his longing.
As Joy’s pleasure intensified, her body responding to her touch, Moses marveled at the transformation before him. The quiet widow he had met only hours ago now boldly explored her desires, casting aside her inhibitions. This side of her, secretly adventurous and unafraid, was intoxicating. “Such a beautiful sight,” he said, his words unintentionally spilling forth.
Joy’s breaths came in ragged gasps and he knew she was getting close to release. She seemed to draw strength from his words, her movements growing bolder, more assured.
Unable to hold himself back, he knelt beside her, close enough to inhale the scent of her passion. He licked his lips again and fought to keep from touching her. She was on the verge of her orgasm and he couldn’t wait to see her experience it. “Good girl, that’s right.”
The fire’s golden light cast an ethereal glow on Mrs. Sinclair’s trembling body. Her breaths came in heavy gasps, her chest heaving as she reached the peak of her pleasure. The intensity of her climax sent gooseflesh over her skin. Her hips rocked, and her hands stilled when she cried out.
Moses, entranced by the vision before him, almost forgot his purpose. He blinked and shook his head, trying to refocus on the task at hand. Taking up his sketchbook and pencil, he began capturing Joy’s vulnerable and sated state.
“Stay still, Mrs. Sinclair,” he instructed, desire evident in his tone. “Let me capture this moment, this transformation.”
“Very well, sir,” she replied, her breath gradually steadying as she lay there, the last tendrils of her passion dissipating.
As he drew, Moses couldn’t help but notice the difference in her expression. Her eyes, usually bright with intelligent humor, now held a smoldering fire that spoke of unbridled desire.
“Your artwork,” Joy whispered, “does it often involve such...intimate explorations, Mr. Russell?”
“Rarely,” he said, not looking up from his sketch. “But you are no ordinary subject. Your willingness to explore your desires...it is inspiring.”
“Would you not like to explore this further with me?” she ventured, her eyes alight with curiosity and anticipation.