Page 7 of A Scoundrel Under the Mistletoe
Joy turned to the artist. “The women in your other portraits...they appear so...wanton in their pleasures.” She paused as she searched for the right words. “Yet you have sketched me with such...such innocence. Why?”
He regarded her, his eyes revealing nothing of the thoughts that lay behind them. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words. “I drew what I saw. The difference is you, your enjoyment of your touch. They didn’t stop when you did.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I didn’t enjoy it as much as they did?” She didn’t understand.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Your husband must have been a beast. Would you like me to show you?”
Her nipples tingled at the thought of him touching her. She bit her lower lip, then nodded. “Please.”
Chapter 5
“Mrs. 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?”
