Of Midnight Born (23 page)

She coiled the girdle around her hand, then let it slide off into a neat circle on the corner of the bed. She put one foot up on the edge of the mattress and slowly pulled up her skirts, past her knee, where her woolen stocking was tied in place with a worn garter. She pulled on the edge of the bow, loosening the knot, then dropped the garter atop the coiled girdle. She slanted a look at Alex, then inched the stocking down her calf, past her ankle, and lifted her foot off the bed to push it down over her heel and off her toes.

She was distracted momentarily by the sight of her own feet, and checked them over to be certain there were no unseemly spots. They looked remarkably good, considering the length of time they had been untended. She repeated the stocking routine with her other leg, then stood facing Alex.

There was a faint smile curling his lips, and his eyes were gleaming.

She knew of no attractive way to remove the white surcoat, so she did it in the usual way, straight over her head. She folded it neatly once it was off, the silk garment still precious to her as a link to her mother.

She stood before him in her tight pink underdress, and one by one undid the buttons that molded the material around her forearms, still feeling embarrassed but beginning to enjoy the look in Alex’s eye. When that task was complete, she swept her hair around to one side, twisting it over her right shoulder to hang down her chest, and then went to Alex and turned her back to him.

“I cannot reach the lacings,” she told him. It was only partially true. She had managed well enough on her own in the past, but it didn’t seem to fit the mood to twist awkwardly in front of him, her arms bent at unnatural angles as she struggled with the cords.

He stood to untie the knot, and she could hear his breathing as his fingers worked at the cord, then loosened it as it crisscrossed down her back.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping away. She looked at him over her shoulder, commanding him with her eyes to resume his seat.

His smile was crooked and rueful this time. “You are growing sure of yourself,” he said, sitting down.

She flashed her eyebrows up and down, a saucy response requiring no words. She flipped her hair back behind her, and with it concealing most of her body she pulled the underdress down over her shoulders, off her arms, then down past her hips, letting it drop to the floor.

The cool air of the room sank through her thin linen chemise, the loose garment all that she wore now. She stood still, her body unaccustomed to freedom from the tight
heaviness of her dress. She raised her arms to the side, no wool pulling at the movement, the chemise unsticking from her body, the creases falling loose. Her breasts felt weighty on her chest, unsupported and unbound, and she could feel the cool air rising up her chemise, drying the slight dampness beneath them.

She reached up to the thin ribbon drawstring below her collarbone and tugged it loose. Already low on her shoulders, the chemise gave in to its own weight, the neckline gaping wide and sliding off her body. It caught for a moment over her wrists and hips, and she brushed it past, the garment falling to join its sister around her feet.

Her chin rose, her lips curling in a smile, her eyes narrowing like a cat’s as she felt her body nude in the air for the first time in hundreds of years. She did not need to look down to know that her breasts were still high and full with youth, her limbs long and strong, supple with muscle and the layer of silken fat that she had not completely lost, despite the deprivations of her last months alive.

She forgot that she was taller than she was supposed to be, bigger boned, stronger than a lady, and felt instead the glorious freedom of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. She spread her arms, like wings drying in the sun, and felt the stretch of unencumbered muscles.

She let her arms float back down to her sides, and then, her chin high, turned to Alex, feeling her hair brushing at her shoulders and buttocks.

“Good God in heaven,” he said beneath his breath, and rose to his feet. His hands held a fine tremor as he reached out to touch her, his palms over her breasts. He stepped closer, kissing her lightly on the lips, putting his face beside hers, his breath touching her cheek, then her neck. He laid light kisses on her shoulder, then cupped her breast in his hand, holding it as if raising water from a stream to drink.

She put her own hand on the back of his shoulder to balance
herself as he laved her breast with his tongue, making her unsteady on her feet. His other hand went down around her hip to her buttock, stroking and massaging. The pressure of his mouth on her breast had her arching backward, and she brought her other hand around to his shoulders as well, afraid she would fall over. Her legs began to quiver.

“You, too, Alex,” she said hoarsely to him. He moved his kisses up her neck, the pressure harder as he held her close to him, pressing her naked hips against his clothed ones. “Let me see
you
naked,” she said, and brought her hands around to his chest, sliding them inside his jacket and pushing it to the sides.

He stepped back and yanked at his clothes, showing none of the slow deliberation he had asked of her. Her body tingled as she saw each bit of his body unwrapped, knowing that it soon would be pressed against hers, skin to skin. Her lips crooked as he hopped on one foot, removing stockings, her own reaction surprising her. She had not thought there would be room in her for humor during lovemaking.

The smile lasted but a moment, as that was all it took for him to divest himself of the remainder of his clothing. Her eyes moved down his body, familiar to her yet not, its angles and lines endlessly fascinating and new. Her gaze came to rest on his manhood, engorged and pointing upward toward her. She felt a flush of answering wetness deep within her, a contraction of muscles that said her body knew where he belonged.

She closed the short distance between them, her arms going lightly around his chest, and they held each other, their bodies lightly touching. She looked into his dark sapphire eyes, level with hers, as he gazed back, holding her eyes with his own for several long moments. It reminded her of when they had passed through each other in the hall, each learning the nuances of the other’s soul—only this time it was an intentional learning, anchored in what was real and possible.

She broke their gaze and closed her eyes, laying her head upon his shoulder, her face tucked into his neck. She could feel the hair on his chest brushing her breasts and nipples, a soft tickling that made her move against him, increasing the sensation. He laid his own head against hers, his hands going up and down her back, stroking her, calming her remaining nerves at the same time he aroused her. His manhood was a warm rod against her lower abdomen, his thighs strong and rough with hair against her own smooth legs, scissored between them.

Some primal part of her knew that this was right, this was how a man and a woman should be together, skin to skin, body to body. Clothing and the shyness that went with it were mere obstacles to overcome.

As if given some silent cue, they separated and went to the bed. Alex took her folded clothes and set them on the chair, then pulled back the covers, revealing the clean sheets, their bare whiteness a silent invitation.

The truth of what she was about to do began to send sharp jabs of nervousness through Serena. She had no cares at this moment for what was morally right or wrong; it was the sheer vulnerability of laying her body open to the intimate touches of a man that made her hesitate, a quiver working through her nerves to betray her hesitation.

As if sensing that she needed help in making that motion of acceptance, Alex wrapped her in his arms again, and kissed her gently on the lips. His lips caught and released hers, distracting and soothing her as he pulled her with him slowly down onto the bed, his hands stroking over her back and down her buttocks to her thighs.

She let him persuade her, let him take charge, needing the assurance that he knew what he was doing and would guide her.

She lay beside him, feeling him shift as he shoved the covers down to the foot of the bed; then, with his arms
around her, he rolled her on top of him, her thighs parting over his. Her hair draped in a curtain around their faces as she lifted her head to look down at him.

“Kiss me, Serena,” he told her.

She obeyed, tilting her head to the side and lowering her mouth to his, mimicking the gentle way he had kissed her. Alex shivered.

He broke away then and moved her body up until her breasts were near his mouth. She supported herself on her elbows as he reached down and let his fingertips play with her from behind, stroking her lightly, and the pleasure of it made her forget the awkwardness of the position and turn her cheek against the crown of his head. Her lips parted as she breathed, her eyelids shut. All her concentration was on those fingertips, and the swirling, stroking patterns they made on her. She felt him touch the opening to her core, his fingertip gently exploring the sensitive, untried flesh.

He rolled her onto her back again, and kissed his way down her body, swirling his tongue in her navel, making her smile at the playfulness of the gesture. She loved the look of the top of his head, the black waves of his hair so dark against her skin. She brought her hands down to run them through his hair as he trailed kisses over her stomach, making her squirm with the sensation.

The part of her that burned with need for him was pressed against his chest, and she could feel the top of her sex rubbing against his skin as he moved, the friction rough with his chest hair. She liked the way she was hidden against him, and yet so intimately revealed.

He slid lower, and her eyes widened as he lifted her thighs over his shoulders, his face between them. She squirmed, embarrassed, but he held her still, looking up at her from between her legs, commanding her with his eyes to submit.

“Alex, please,” she pleaded, feeling exposed.

He looked down at her, and she felt his fingers parting her
folds, moving aside the curls that covered her, the air cool on her damp warmth. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, unable to watch.

Suddenly a warm, wet touch stroked her, and her eyes came open. The stroke came again, then centered on her most sensitive point, an infusion of liquid heat surrounding the working of that magical touch. She looked down, seeing only the top of Alex’s head, but knowing now that it was his mouth he used on her, exchanging kisses with her sex as he had with her mouth.

Thoughts of embarrassment fled from her mind as his tongue and lips massaged and suckled her, the sensations overwhelming her ability to think or feel anything but pleasure. She dropped her head back down, her eyes closed, her neck arching. She didn’t care what he did to her, as long as he kept on doing this.

The pleasure built inside her, making her strain her muscles against him, as if reaching for that peak she knew existed. Just when she was sure it was in sight, he took his mouth from her.

She wanted to protest, but already he was moving up her body, his hips holding her thighs wide. He rested one elbow beside her, and with his other hand brushed a few stray hairs back from her face. He looked into her eyes, then reached down between them, and a moment later she felt something hard and blunt pressing against her.

Alex kissed her gently on the mouth, and she was aware of her own faintly salty, woodsy scent on his skin. When he raised his head, he looked into her eyes again, as if asking her to trust him, to stay there with him as he completed this act they had begun. She clung to that look, keeping her own eyes wide open as he pressed harder against her, her body reluctant to open to this new force.

She felt a burning pain as he pushed his way inside her, and clenched her jaw hard against it. He held still, half in
her, and kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, and then her mouth. He pulled out slightly, then moved back inside her, deeper this time. The hand that had been directing his manhood moved up to tease at the nub of her sex, creating new pleasure to mix with the pain of his entry.

She didn’t know whether she wanted him to stop or to continue, his fingers creating a maddening desire in her for the blunt force that was burning its way inside her. The stretching discomfort of his entry was somehow also the answer to the tingling desire roused by his fingers.

As she gradually grew accustomed to him within her, he began to move more easily, his thrusts longer and faster. His hand left her, his weight coming down on both arms now on either side of her. He shifted his hips, moving them up her body slightly to a new angle, and slowed his strokes. She found herself moving against him, his position allowing her to massage her most sensitive places against him, the discomfort not absent but mingled with the pleasure.

She wrapped her arms around his back, and entwined her legs with his, joining him stroke for stroke, her muscles tensing once again in pursuit of the peak. His thrusts grew fast and hard, and she urged him on with her fingers digging into his back, her hips rising to meet him.

He reached down and touched her, setting her off just before he himself reached his own peak. He clasped her to him, squeezing her tightly as he held himself within her, his mouth finding hers and kissing her frantically between gasping breaths. She felt the pulsing waves of his release in her delicate flesh, the waves mingling with the rhythmic contractions of her own pleasure.

“Serena,” he said into her hair, still holding tight, and then he relaxed on top of her, his weight greater than she had expected, pressing her down into the mattress. A moment later he rolled to his side, taking her with him. He was still inside her. “I didn’t mean to crush you,” he whispered.

“You didn’t,” she said equally softly. “If you have not noticed, I am not a fragile little thing.”

He smiled and kissed her. She felt his manhood begin to withdraw from her, softening now that it was spent. It was a peculiar sensation, and when she wriggled slightly it came all the way free, nestling between them as she tucked one of her thighs between his. They rested that way, the silence between them warm and full.