The Scandal of the Vicar's Wife by Quenby Olson

Author:Quenby Olson [Olson, Quenby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: World Tree Publishing
Published: 2022-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

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Julia had no concept of time, of anything else in the world progressing beyond the four walls of Alexander’s bedroom. She did not kiss him sweetly or delicately, but instead with her fingers pushing into his hair, with her lips parting his before their tongues met and her body arched against his.

His arms moved around her, his fingers blindly seeking out the buttons at the back of her gown. She startled at the realization of what he was doing, and she tried to pull away from his hands and out from the circle of his embrace at the same time. “No,” she said, and broke their kiss. Her hands slid down from his head, her palms flat against his chest. She didn’t push him away, but she held him there, placing that infinitesimal amount of space between them.

“I’m sorry.” His own hands fell back to his sides. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Now that they’d come to it, she wasn’t sure how to say it out loud without feeling like a fool. But she didn’t want to undress in front of him. She didn’t want him to see her body, the marks on her skin from the times she was with child, the heaviness of her belly and bosom, all of the evidence that she simply wasn’t a young woman anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of her to tell him to take off his clothes when she couldn’t bring herself to remove her own, but the shame Frederick had instilled in her while he’d been alive… Well, it lingered. How he had never cared to see her naked, how he had advised her to eat less when her hips and waist had begun to thicken. How she had stopped checking her reflection in the mirror for fear she would find some new fault he would eventually point out to her.

She sighed. “I don’t… I don’t want to undress for you. Not yet.”

He nodded. No complaints, no arguments. Just a simple acquiescence to her wishes. “But, may I…?” He reached for her, but waited for her to step toward him rather than close the distance himself. When she went to him, his hands grasped her above the waist, his thumbs beneath her breasts.

She buried her face in his shoulder as his caresses moved upwards, his thumbs gliding over her nipples, hard enough for her to feel it through the fabric still between them. Before Julia could stop herself, her tongue slipped out to taste him, the salt and sweat of his skin, the warmth of him even fully undressed as he was.

And then he was down on his knees in front of her, his hands sliding over her hips, her legs, before they delved beneath the hem of her gown.

“What are you doing?” The question tumbled out of her, while her hands wavered in the air before they found their way to his shoulders for balance.

He gave her no reply. His answer was to show her what he was doing, what he intended to do.

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