Page 78 of A Most Forgettable Girl

This was not really a kiss, she thought, wide-eyed, as he licked and sucked her there with wanton abandon. Or if it was a kiss, then it was not the innocent kind she had anticipated from him. This one made her squirm and wriggle in his grasp. James groaned around his mouthful, sending a reverberating sensation through her core.

Gunnilde caught hold of the hand resting beneath her breast and dragged it down her belly. As she ran his hand over the hair between her legs, he released her breast and looked down, panting hard.

“Touch me here,” she blurted.

His eyes flashed. “How? Show me.”

She slid two fingers over his own, guiding them into her cleft. Finding herself so wet already, Gunnilde blushed. Was he shocked? When she dared venture a look at his face, his gaze was riveted to the place where their combined fingers disappeared between her legs. He did not look shocked so much as awestruck.

He breathed in raggedly. “This is how you touch yourself?”

She cleared her throat. “Sometimes.”

After the slightest hesitation, he mimicked the same circling motion as her own. “Tell me if that is right.”

“A little harder.”

Once he had the pressure right, Gunnilde withdrew her own fingers, trusting him to the task’s completion and giving herself over entirely to sensation.

“This feels nice?” he rasped, his gaze very intense.

She nodded her head. “Yes. Oh yes,” she breathed, her eyelids drifting shut. She didn’t want to shut them. The most handsome man at court was currently looming over her with his fingers working between her legs. If Gunnilde closed her eyes she would find it hard to believe such a thing was happening to her.

He thought she was a seductive siren who tempted men from the straight and righteous path with her buxom person and ungodly hair arrangements. Gunnilde’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. But no, it was real. James Wycliffe’s expression was one of rapt concentration. He whispered her name in a sort of awe. The wave crested and she gave a choked cry.

James’s fingers stilled at once as though he knew. Slowly he lowered his head to press a reverent kiss her brow. He murmured something she did not quite catch, though strange to say, she thought he had thanked her.

“Now you show me,” she requested once she had caught her breath. “Show me how you do it, James.”

24

James settled back on his haunches and gazed at her as she propped herself up on her elbows. Gods, her breasts! He needed to stop staring but, oh gods, the way they bobbed and jiggled. He wanted to hold them while they did that. He would wager it felt extraordinary.

Gunnilde’s expectant gaze drew him out of his reverie. Show me how you do it, James. She meant how he pleasured himself, he realized in sudden panic. “I can’t,” he admitted, blowing out a shaky breath. “If you were to touch me like that right now, I would burst.”

Her eyes widened. Was that too frank? Gods, even the sight of her in this moment was enough to set him over the edge. He gave his head a quick shake. “I’m way too close.”

“To your pinnacle?” Gunnilde enquired, glancing down at his manhood which was spilling out of his braies in a frankly indecent manner. It looked swollen and angry, so engorged was it. James was embarrassed she should have to see him like this. His aroused state was hardly pretty, as hers was. It must be jarring and rather off-putting. Mayhap he should draw a blanket round his waist to cover himself?

“I would not mind,” she said frankly. “When you say burst...?” she started to query but then catching sight of the look on his face, she bit her lip, curling her fingers into her palms as though curbing an impulse to pet him. An astonishing notion occurred to him, that Gunnilde might actually want to touch him there.

It could not be true, he told himself, feeling light-headed. She could not voluntarily want to touch him right now. To pet it. His mouth turned dry. It had to be wishful thinking on his behalf. It was the only explanation. “It’s very impressive, isn’t it?” she said in a hushed whisper. There could be no mistaking the direction of her gaze.

James shut his eyes for an instant to draw strength. He might have known she would be encouraging. His cock throbbed so proudly, it felt like the damn thing had its own heartbeat by this point. His head swam. “You think so?” he asked in a choked voice.

“Oh yes,” she agreed admiringly. “It’s ever so big and has such ruddy coloring.”

Was it possible to pass out from an abundance of lust? If so, he felt perilously close to it.

“Well, if you do not wish me to touch you...then”—she gave a small cough—“perhaps you would like to...to...” She seemed to cast about for the right phrasing. “Have a try at consummating our marriage?” she suggested politely.

“If I would like to...?” he repeated numbly. Consummating our marriage seemed like such a cold way to describe what he wanted to do with her. He felt like he was burning up with desire for her from the inside out.

Seeing the question in her eyes, he swallowed down his torturous thoughts and nodded his head. “Yes,” he groaned. “Gods yes, I want to. If you...?”

She nodded and lay back down. “You need to take off your braies,” she reminded him as he started to awkwardly clamber back up over her.

“Oh.” He froze and then struggled to get the damn things off. Gunnilde giggled at his ridiculous haste and muttered curses. Strange to say, her mirth did soothe him a little. Once divested of the plaguey things, he flung them over the edge of the bed.