Page 50 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“Well, you’re about to be,” he replied, tossing her other stocking on the floor. Anne flushed as she tucked her bare legs beneath her. She was now wearing nothing but her shift, which was made of whisper-thin white linen. The rosy pink of her nipples was just visible through the delicate fabric. She ducked her chin, unable to meet his eye.
Michael grasped the hem of her shift, then paused. “Would you take down your hair?” he asked. “I want to see it hanging down to your waist, the way it looked...”
She was already reaching up to undo the pins. “The way it looked when?” she asked, surprised.
He cleared his throat. “Nothing, just… I’d like to see you with it down.”
She didn’t have time to contemplate this further, because as soon as her hair came tumbling down, Michael began to draw her shift up. He pressed her back onto the bed as he peeled it over her head, so that she ended up lying naked before him, her arms splayed up over her head, her hair spilling around her on the pillow. Up until this point, Anne had been amazed by how natural it felt, being with Michael. Kissing Michael. Undressing Michael, even. But being completely bare before him suddenly made her feel intensely vulnerable. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Anne. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes just a slit. And what she saw was... ogling. There really was no other word for it. She could read Michael Cranfield’s face, and what she saw in his eyes in that moment was arousal. Fierce joy. Wonder. And worship. All for her. She began to relax.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, stroking his hands up her legs, as if he couldn’t help himself.
“I am not,” she protested.
“Perfect,” he insisted, groaning as he caressed her hips.
“I’m not. I’m too tall. It’s... unwomanly.”
“Too tall.” He snorted. “You look like a goddess. Just look at your legs—” He trailed off as he caressed her from her ankles all the way up to her hips, drawing a groan from them both. “I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Anne could hear the longing in his voice, and his eyes held nothing but sincerity. Which was shocking, because... Michael thought she was beautiful? And what did he mean, he’d always thought so? That… that didn’t make any sense…
She didn’t have time to contemplate that, because Michael lay down beside her and took her into his arms, and everything resembling a coherent thought fled as his bare chest pressed against hers. She imagined this was what it felt like to be struck by lightning, if being struck by lightning were the most pleasurable sensation on the face of this earth. She began to tremble.
Then he started kissing her again, and this time, his hands were everywhere. She’d thought her skin was starving for his touch back on the bench, but that was nothing compared to the craving she felt now. He took her breasts in his hands, and the pleasure was so acute, her whole body jerked. “Yes—oh, God, Michael! P-please—”
He kissed her jaw, then worked his way down her neck and collarbone. Anne lay there panting, wondering if it was possible to die of longing as he kissed the soft swell of her breast. Just when she was sure she couldn’t take it anymore, he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
It was every bit as good as she had imagined it would be. She cried out and her hips bucked off the bed. Her response seemed to please Michael because he gave a growl as he redoubled his efforts.
She realized that she hadn’t been touching him, which seemed like a waste, given that those broad, gorgeous shoulders were within arm’s reach. So she began running her hands over him. Admittedly, there was little art to what she was doing, as she was halfway out of her mind, but Michael didn’t seem to care. He’d moved his lips to her other breast, and his hands were stroking down over her stomach. She knew it was time, that any second now he would reach down and remove his breeches and take her. For the first time in her life, she was eager for what she knew was about to happen. She spread her legs for him.
But instead of reaching for his waistband, Michael groaned and settled his hand between her thighs. Anne stiffened. What was he doing? His fingers searched between her folds until he found whatever he’d been looking for. And he started to rub her, gently at first, but then with slowly increasing speed. And… oh, God… that felt good, that felt really, really good. But... why were her legs shaking? Her pleasure was mounting so quickly she felt almost... out of control. Was… was this supposed to be happening?
“Michael?” she asked.
“Yes, darling?”
“I... I think something’s wrong.”
He immediately froze. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her body was already protesting. “No! Please don’t stop. It’s just… I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m worried that I’m... going to explode. I’ve… I’ve never felt like this before.”
His expression suddenly became one of pure masculine satisfaction. “Good,” he growled. He slid down her body and buried his face between her legs. And oh, oh, oh—if she had thought his hand felt good, it was nothing, nothing compared to the pleasure of his tongue swirling over that sweet little spot! She didn’t even have time to contemplate what he was doing before her world came apart. Her hips surged up off the bed and she started writhing as everything between her legs began to pulse. She heard herself crying out as Michael gave her the most pure, unadulterated pleasure, sensations so beautiful she had never imagined they could even exist.
As she came down, he slid up beside her and took her in his arms. She was beyond words, but she made some contented babbling sounds as she snuggled against his chest, running her hands across his warm, smooth back, down to the waistband of his breeches.
His breeches?
That was when Anne realized that she had been so far gone, so lost in the pleasure he was giving her, that she had done absolutely nothing for him. He hadn’t even taken his breeches off yet!
She began fumbling for the buttons of his placket. He rolled onto his back and smiled, seeming to enjoy the sight of her ministering to him.
Or at least, attempting to minister to him. She wasn’t making much progress with those buttons. To be fair, it was tough going—the breeches were fitting him rather snugly due to the extremely large bulge in front.
