1. The Hothouse Flower


    Date: 9/14/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: FeliciaGreene, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    me. I am greedy, feasting, my fingers digging into her back as I bite and suck. I feel her hands tracing behind my back, deftly unlacing, pulling at my corset to loosen it. I bite a little harder; she laughs, her hands stilled, and I feel a liquid jolt run though my body. She begins again, and soon my purple silk lies disheveled on the grass. We are almost one flesh, nothing but a layer of damp linen between us, and as I kiss her I can hear the quick beating of her heart. We pull at each other's shifts, as clumsy as puppies, laughing and kissing and tearing at fabric until my bare, wet skin is shivering under her hands. For a moment I want to fall to the ground, let her take me, but my hunting instinct reasserts itself. I push the woman to the forest floor, her body white and gleaming in the shadows of the trees, and as she pants and twists beneath me I lower my head to her sex. I smell her scent, sweet and ripe, a flower that I have always wanted but could never name or grasp. Beneath a downy cloud of blonde curls her inner lips glisten, unfolding like the petals of an orchid, impossibly soft. I have no knowledge, no experience, nothing but vivid fantasies and secretive reading of forbidden books, but I drink as deeply as any street prowler, any libertine Parisian rake who makes his whores squeal. The woman's back arches; her thighs clamp around my head. I am lost in forbidden flesh, lapping at her very center, every slick of nectar against my tongue another jolt to my ...
    fingertips, my nipples, my sex. The woman's cries come as if from far away; they are velvet on the ears. When I find her most secret place, that nub of pleasure that brings me so much dark delight at home in bed, she shudders so abruptly that at first I fear I have hurt her. Then comes her moan, a joyous, delighted cry of release, and I lick and suck until I feel her hands on either side of my head, restraining me. I am pulled to the woman's breast; she kisses me, panting still, before letting her head fall to the grass. She smiles again, her teeth so very white against the pink of her lips. Her teeth are curiously white, for a servant. Her skin smells sweet too; perfumed, in fact. I'm sure I can smell jasmine, and a woody musk that could be sandalwood, but the woman's hand begins tracing circles against the small of my back and I lose the ability to reason. Her hand dips lower, lower and ever lower until my thighs open of their own accord and her fingers between probing. The pleasure is so intense that I cry out, burying my head in the woman's shoulder as her expert fingers lay me open. She strokes and presses, pulling at my inner lips, touching me with such consummate skill that I believe she must have done this before. I think of other women in my place, legs splayed, naked breasts open to the sun, and it makes my own desire seem even more debased. I want to take her as a man would; I want her to take me as a man would. I move my own hands down her body, finding her wet and ...
«12...6789»