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“Yes?” she asked sweetly.
“If you sat on top of me…” but she was experimenting with rubbing a little harder, and the words died in his throat.
Still, she heard what he said. “Would you like that?” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“But you won’t leap on me, or something of that nature? Because,” she felt silly telling him again, but it had to be said, “I really don’t wish to become messy again. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I will not do anything you don’t ask me to do.”
Satisfied, she pulled up the silk of her dressing gown and straddled him. He groaned out loud this time, and Roberta froze. Suddenly, she was feeling his muscles with a whole other part of her body. It made her feel feverish, hot, as if she were melting.
When he had kissed her breasts earlier in the evening—it was shocking to remember it, and yet the memory sent a twist of liquid heat down to her thighs—he didn’t just touch her with his tongue. He suckled her, as a babe might its mother, at least so she thought. It was a strange idea and yet…She lowered her head to his chest.
It wasn’t at all like being a baby. He twisted under her mouth, and made a hoarse groan, and the sound sent another wave of liquid heat down her body. So she suckled harder, and he writhed under her.
Which had the most peculiar effect on the place between her legs.
“Roberta,” he gasped, “would you please ask me to touch you?”
“No,” she said immediately, straightening up.
His eyes were fevered with desire, but there was a lurking smile too. “I can’t stop moving if you do that,” he said, his voice rasping.
“All right,” she said, her fingers brushing over his nipples again, just to see what he would do.
What he did was arch up, which made him rub against…
She gasped and clutched his shoulders.
“Not that!” she cried.
“No?” his eyes were so disappointed.
“No.”
“Sometimes I can’t stop it,” he whispered achingly. “When you touch me, Roberta, I feel mad, out of control.”
That was a very pleasurable thing to hear. So Roberta kissed him again, and a groan tore from his throat and he was moving under her. That was rather pleasurable as well though not, of course, in the way that Selina was talking about.
“May I touch you?” he gasped.
“No!” But she wanted to touch more of him, even…even that part of him. So she moved backward, careful not to touch him, and sat on his legs instead.
Damon instantly propped himself upon his elbows, watching her. That part of him was like smooth velvet, hot to the touch, jerking against her hand.
“Don’t you have control over it?” she asked curiously.
He groaned. “Normally I do. That was an aberration.”
“What aberration? Look, every time I touch it, it moves.” She cupped her hand around him, and he fell flat back and that hoarse sound came from his throat again.
One had to wonder, Roberta thought, what he would do if she—of course, she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t done, she was sure. Except that she had a fragile memory of something Selina said…something about just this subject.
She’d thought it was disgusting at the time, but now, looking at Damon’s rigid face and the way he was breathing quickly and harshly, she rather thought that it would give her a great deal of pleasure to make him mad, as it were. Perhaps even lose control.
She tried touching her tongue to it first. It was smooth and hot on the top. Just like the rest of Damon…sleek and muscled. She actually licked it. The sound he made sounded almost like pain. She jerked up her head.
“Is this wrong? Should I not—”
“Oh God, please don’t stop.”
He tasted clean and slightly sweet.
“I think you are designing this whole night to make me understand my limits,” he gasped.
She smiled and tasted him again.
“Roberta.” Damon’s voice was strangled, dark, coming from some deep place in his chest. “Don’t you want me to touch you at all?”
Confused, she sat back up. “What?”
“This is about your pleasure,” he said, up on his elbows again. “Yours. If you’d let me touch you, the way you’ve touched me…”
Roberta thought about that. Her body didn’t have to think about it. She shivered all over instantly.
“Please? Please, Roberta, may I touch you?” The aching sound in his voice made her shake even more.
“All right,” she whispered. “All right.”
In one smooth movement, he sat up and lifted her off his legs. “You tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
He gently pushed her backwards. “Tell me what would give you pleasure.”
“Oh!”
“Shall I kiss you here?” He put a finger on her wrist.
That seemed acceptable. Roberta nodded. He didn’t just kiss, though, he nuzzled her wrist, and licked it.
“Your hand?”
Something like an assent came from her throat and he was kissing each of her fingers, and then swirling his tongue around the tips of them, and even suckling them, which against all commonsense made her shiver. He pressed a kiss into her palm.
“Where next?”
She blinked at him.
“If you don’t tell me, I suppose I could just make a choice for you?”
There was something violent and tender in his voice that made her lose her head. “Here,” she gasped.
“Where?”
Her hand touched her breast. “Here.”
“I’ll have to untie your dressing gown. May I?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Because I could kiss you straight through the silk.” His large hand pulled the frail silk taut against her breast, and there was her nipple, puckered, straining against the fabric. Roberta could feel herself turning crimson, but she was so hot it hardly mattered.
She tremblingly untied her dressing gown.
“I’ll take that as an assent,” he said, a tone of deep satisfaction in his voice.
She didn’t tremble or gasp when his mouth came to her breast. She shrieked. It was a small shriek, but still—
Roberta clapped a hand over her mouth.
He was laughing, of course. And then kissing her again, sweet and rough, and her body arched toward him precisely as his had toward her.
“Oh,” she said, helpless in the face of delight. “I…” but the words slipped away from her. He was moving from one breast to the other, expert and slow. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it another moment, he would move back to the other breast, and his rough fingers would replace his lips.
“I can’t—I can’t—” Roberta said, those little screams building up in her throat until she couldn’t keep silent. She couldn’t—
“Roberta, may I kiss you in other places?”
“Wha—”
His fingers trailed down her body. “Just to demonstrate,” he told her, his fingers leaving a fiery trail. “I’d like to kiss you here.” The sweet mound of her stomach, so different from his.
“Here.” Her hip.