She finished for him, hesitantly, “Eat me… that is what you said. I still don’t understand.”
“You will, Esme. You will.”
With that, he flipped the hem of her gown up to her waist, exposing her nakedness, and in one fluid move spread her legs and knelt between her thighs.
“Toste! Nay! Oh, this is scandalous, even for you. Eek, what are you doing?” He pushed her feet up so that her heels touched her buttocks, then shoved her knees wide apart. She was fully exposed to his scrutiny there, and scrutinize he did. “This is not what I agreed to. A foretaste, that was all. This is definitely not a foretaste.” She spewed forth some words then that would definitely earn her a fortnight on her knees in penance.
Toste just chuckled.
She tried to sit up and push him away, but he held her down firmly with one hand pressed against her belly. The other hand was already examining her woman-fleece.
Then he touched her.
And she was wet.
Could anything in the world be more humiliating than this?
Could anything in the world be more bliss-inspiring?
She had not known she had such a spot there, but Toste had known. That was clear by the way he played that particular piece of flesh. Just when she was becoming accustomed to that play-torture, he inserted a finger inside her. Just one. But her eyes went wide and met his in question.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly from side to side. In truth, she could not speak. Her inner muscles spoke for her, though, by clenching and unclenching around his finger, which was moving in and out of her. Then he stopped. The brute stopped.
Esme could swear that every fine hair on her body was as stiff as a bristle. Her breasts ached for more of his suckling. And her nether parts had become one long continuous throb. If she were not in this condition, she never would have allowed what he did next. Leastways, that was what she told herself.
Still on his knees, he reached under her and lifted her by the buttocks so that her hips were raised off the ground. Then he showed her—God’s bones and Mary’s breath, he showed her—just what he’d meant by foretaste and what he’d meant when he’d misspoken her name. With his tongue and his teeth and his lips, he teased her woman folds till they were engorged and she was one keening wail, for what she did not know. Every part of her body, but especially her breasts and woman-place, reached and reached and reached for something beyond reach.
Then it came. Crashing over her, under her, through her. Such sheer, glorious pleasure as her body had never known. She must have swooned for several seconds—and Esme never swooned—because when she regained her senses, she lay spread-eagled and exposed before the still fully clothed Toste. The only thing that saved her from total and utter shame was the fact that he was clearly aroused and fighting his own lustsome urges.
“You were beautiful, Esme,” he said huskily.
“Thank you.” What else could she say at a time like this? “Now are you done?”
He laughed. “Yea, I am. For now.”
“So, you will stay and help me regain Evergreen.”
“Nay, Esme, I will not. I must needs leave on the morrow, but I will do all in my power to help you when I return.”
She jerked into a sitting position and tugged at her gown so that her breasts and lower region were at least partially covered. “You never intended to stay, did you?”
“Now, Esme, you are being unreasonable.” He sat up and watched helplessly as she adjusted herself more fully. Once, he reached out a hand to pick some straw from her hair and she slapped him away.
“Unreasonable?” she shrieked. “I’ll tell you what is unreasonable. You thinking that I would allow you to do all those… things to me without the possibility of your staying. You tricked me.”
“You enjoyed those things” he said accusingly.
“Yea, I did,” she admitted, standing clumsily and brushing off her gown as best she could. “But it will never happen again. Never.”