Kensington Brava
Trade Paperback
May 2004
ISBN: 0-7582-0401-9

       Jancie was radiant as she came down the aisle, her dress remade with touches of lace and ribbon and Lujan's wedding gift, a single perfect diamond, around her neck. She touched it, thinking it was the symbol of everything, of her life before, as a kitchen girl, of her future life, as Lujan wife's—everything about her life related to diamonds.

       A diamond mined at Kaamberoo?

       It didn't matter now. She was about to become the mistress of this house of secrets. Kyger stood as best man, and Mrs. Elsberry attended her with beaming affection. And at Mrs. Elsberry's feet, Emily regally sat on her haunches, watching everything with a keen and eagle eye.

       And Lujan, so handsome, so rakish in severe black frockcoat and vest. Jancie could see only him, no one else, as she stepped up onto the dais that had been built for the ceremony, and Hugo relinquished her arm.

       The words were simple, the ceremony quick.

       Keeping yourself only unto her...

       Till death...

       Do you take...?

       I do...

       Words that echoed through time immemorial, no less profound because Lujan the libertine was making that promise to her. He meant it as he said it, and she believed their union would work.

       The wedding ring had belonged to Olivia. More diamonds. Beautiful sparkling round cut diamonds—

       Do you take...?

       I do...

       Owww, Emily said adamantly.

       I do...

       Till death us do part...

       ... I do...

       And now she waited for him, dressed in a beautiful nightgown of the most delicate and translucent white lawn, which Lujan would remove about one minute after he joined her in the bedroom, Jancie thought, as she gazed at herself in the mirror.

       The material felt like a feather against her skin, draping over her body and pooling around her bare feet.

       In the mirror, she saw what Lujan would see—and it was a transforming moment: the dirty girl had turned into a swan, her neck encircled with a diamond, her eyes luminous with secrets, her long dark hair curling wildly down over her shoulders and onto her breasts, her nipples protruding against the gauzy bosom of the gown, the spill of fabric over her hips and thighs, revealing and concealing both. Her heightened color, the sultry beat of her heart, her rising excitement as she anticipated the first moment he caught sight of her—

       That ultimate moment— the waiting was the hardest and the best thing about it—she wanted, she didn't—that soaring moment of knowledge and culmination—

       Her breathing felt constricted. But it wasn't as if she didn't know things. Dirty girls knew things. They gossiped, in great and graphic detail. They had spied on the tuition girls as they let their boys fondle and kiss and do other things to them. They knew what to expect, even if they had no idea about the mechanics of it.

       They only knew the kissing and fondling felt good. Really good to let the boys take such liberties.

       Even she, dirty girl that she used to be, knew that.

       And now she would know everything ...

       "And Lujan will be my teacher," she whispered to her reflection, shivering a little as she folded her arms under her breasts. The diamond shot color in the dim light.

       The door opened behind her. Lujan, bare chested, naked, easing his way in. Transfixed by her image in the mirror, as she was by his naked body, his jutting erection.

       She couldn't stop staring at him; she dropped her arms almost involuntarily as he came up behind her. He slipped his arms around her, a gesture as familiar to her as his face.

       She knew this. Day by day, on her walks, as she perused the bookcase in the library, he had come up behind her in just this way and slipped his arms around her tight, hard, possessive, pressing against her, making no demands.

       But never with his penis so real and hard, rubbing against her bottom.

       "So —" he murmured in her ear, as he nipped it and swiped his tongue over the lobe. She felt good, she smelled sweet and hesitant, a hot, yearning, reluctant virgin, the kind he ate for breakfast in London.

       But this one was now his wife, and his choice, and he must savor this once-in-a-lifetime delicacy.

       And then teach her and train her to service him perfectly. A blank slate, his Jancie, willing, wanting, waiting to be filled with the knowledge of his preferences and pleasures.

       That part especially would be so gratifying. He had already started the instruction in a most subtle way, in all the months he had touched her and aroused her in the garden, when he kissed her in the library, when he held her like this, moving his hands slowly, teasingly to her breasts, cupping and stroking them until her body felt boneless, and then letting them go.

       He had taught her then to want him, to hunger for his touch, his kiss, his need. His expert stroking of her breasts. And now, he had come to the final step, the pleasure part: he had only to impart to his beautiful willing virgin what would please him carnally, and then seduce her into doing whatever he wanted when he wanted, and she would be perfection.

       The thought of it was enough to keep him hot, stiff and pulsing for hours.

       Maybe all night.

       The challenge was irresistible.

       "Do you like this?" he whispered, beginning his slow sensual assault on her neck. "And this?" As he moved his mouth to her shoulder. "This —"

       Moving his fingers upward to touch one taut nipple. "This?" Tweaking it under the breath of material that covered it, and feeling her body jolt as sensation shot through the nipple tip right to her very vitals. —

       "I like it," she breathed as she tried to get control of her trembling body. This was familiar, this she knew from all their assignations all these months when he had finally come to touch her, to make love to her breasts and nipples. "I like— it—" as he cupped her breasts and began stroking each nipple with his thumbs. She watched him in the mirror, fascinated by very movement, every stroke, every subtle touch, and the glimmer of the diamond between her breasts.

       This she knew, and she knew there was nothing to fear. He had touched her like this before, but never so close to the skin.

       The pleasure was indescribable. The sensation was indefinable. She only knew she didn't want him to stop, but if he didn't, something was going to happen—she didn't know what.

       She didn't know so much. Except—and she hadn't been prepared for this part—she loved this— this unexpected thickening pearl of sensation that centered in her nipples but skirled downward between her legs, and the lofting feeling of pleasure coming from—where?

       His fingers, her nipples so tight, so hard, so sensitive to his touch—? It took nothing at all for him to arouse her to a hardened peak. Her breathing grew shallow, thick. She knew this, but never so nakedly and her boneless body just melted against him, and she gave herself into his hands to do with whatever he would.

       This was the moment of ultimate surrender. She felt the heat and heft of his penis pushing insistently against her bottom; she saw him easing away the material from her breasts, felt the first full force of skin against skin, watched as his fingers touched her naked nipples. Manipulated her nipples. Surrounded them, squeezed them expertly with his fingers, as she watched helplessly in the mirror, a slave to the pearling feeling, her body writhing and squirming with a sudden awful need to get away from his relentless stroking and tweaking.

       Her hips gyrated wildly against his hard length, operating wholly on instinct, and she grabbed his thighs and gripped them hard to brace her body against his erotic thrusting.

       But he wanted her nipples and only her nipples: he pulled at them gently, twisted them, squeezed them in incremental pulsations that made her knees go weak and stole her breath.

       Who could have known such carnal sensations in existed that one small hard naked nub? Or that he would begin his maiden assault on her there—in such a familiar way, and with both of them watching every second of his handling of her breasts in a mirror—?

       This was so lusciously unexpected. This wasn't how she had envisioned their initial coupling, but as he massaged and caressed her nipples, she couldn't remember anything wanting anything more, couldn't feel anything other the molten pleasure skeining irresistibly through her body.

       And the excitement—he felt it too; there was an urgency in the way he thrust and bumped against her buttocks. The way she answered in kind, writhing and rubbing against his heat and hardness. The greedy look in his eyes as he watched her in the mirror, watched her undulating body, her bouncing naked breasts, the glittering diamond with which he'd bought her, his pumping fingers on her tight hard responsive nipples.

       And the other wonder was how she affected him, how her body aroused him, the way her nipples elicited the most primitive sounds from him as if he couldn't get enough of feeling and fondling them.

       She felt a mad hot urgency to press something naked and hard between her legs. Something like—him—

       She clawed at the skirt of the nightgown, she felt him ease back to give her purchase to spread her legs so that he could poke his iron hot penis between them, so she could just— shimmy— down onto his hard shaft—and position herself just so— God, he was so hot, thick, rigid—just right, between her legs—

       Breathless, watching herself in the mirror, canting her body forward slightly so her breasts fell into his hands as he palpated her nipples, settling her slit on his poker-hard penis— she was beyond thought, immersed in sensation and moving wholly with her heart and her soul—

       She caught her breath as her naked woman flesh grazed the heat and hardness of his penis. Oh yesyesyes yes yes— perfect, perfect fit, the heft of him enfolded by the naked heat of her—

Kensington Brava
May 2004