Touch Her

An excerpt from
THE WATCHMAN
(Immoral Virtue, Book 3)

Jameson drew Elizabeth backward, toward the wall behind them.

She did not resist, yet did not yield. Her step awkward, stumbling, her back to his chest, the shackle at her ankle clanking angrily.

He held her firmly, and though fully clothed he felt the heat of her naked body against his.”You do this for Giles?” he said softly, his arms around her, his gaze on Giles standing there before them. “So your pleasure might rouse his?”

Her slow full breath failed to calm her trembling. “Aye.” Her small hands reached back and clutched at his legs behind her, her fingertips digging into his thighs, high near his hips. Her grip firm. Panicked. Resigned.

“Calm, Elizabeth,” he said and rested back against the wall. “’Tis only pleasure you will feel now.” He set his legs between hers then widened his stance, forcing her legs farther apart. Allowing Giles this most intimate view of her. “Pleasure which bears no shame,” Jameson said, “nor challenge to honor.”

She still trembled in his embrace but did not try to stay his hand as he smoothed it firmly over the front of her silken hip and on to that sensitive crease where her thigh met her unshaven mound.

“Open your eyes,” he said, his own shifting from her to Giles, who watched her closely. “See how he looks at you.”

He strummed his fingertips through the tight red curls veiling her treasures, bringing Giles’ attention there. “You please him, Elizabeth. Your beauty and abandon.” He dipped into her heat, a light brush of his fingertips between her swollen nether lips. Moist she was, despite her unease.

His fingers wetted, he circled them gently over her tiny nub. Held her more firmly as she bucked. Continued with light strokes against her, barely touching, an unrelenting tease against this tender bit of her. Enough to make her tense further. To desperately knead his thighs. And then he combed his fingers through her sweet tangled thatch, spoke softly to her. “Did he touch you this way?”

She made to speak but no words came from her lips, just the softest sigh.

He looked at his friend, saw the tight set of his jaw, certain it was as much from want as frustration, for Elizabeth’s discomfort was plain despite her brave efforts. “Was it the sight of her, Giles, the feel of her which roused you?” He kept his voice low, calm. “The sound of her sighs?” Unwilling was he to stir this air so tense. “Tell me.”

“You ordered her bound to the great oak,” Giles said, taking his gaze from her for only the briefest glance at Jameson. “Yet her eyes pleaded for mercy, and I sought to provide it, to prove her innocence.”

“How Giles? Show me.”

“You are as the oak to which I secured her,” Giles said, “spread wide, full against the bark, as I touched her, as I felt her heat. Her passion.” He gripped her arms, his fingers biting into her flesh though she did not cry out. “Turn to him, Elizabeth,” Giles said, and she complied without hesitation. Her lovely body, soft full breasts, gently rounded hips, there willingly before Jameson. And then Giles grasped her wrists, and raised her arms, flattening her hands to the wall on either side of Jameson, forcing her body against his. The feel of it, the softness, threatening his control.

Giles’ gaze lingered on his as though knowing Elizabeth’s effect on him, sharing it now purposely.

“Touch her as you did, Giles,” he said. “Touch her…now…rouse her well in these moments before dawn.”

Giles wasted no time. He leaned into her, threatening to crush her to Jameson. And then he shifted, his gaze full on Elizabeth from behind, his hand reaching down where Jameson could not see. Yet from her whimpers, her heavy breaths, he knew Giles fingers lay buried deep inside of her.

“Tell me, Giles,” Jameson said, his own voice thick. “Be she cold and dry…as the witch…or does she drip for you?”

“She is as a leaf drenched in morning dew,” Giles said. “Chilled as though eager for warmth.”

Her sighs, her body writhing against Jameson’s roused Jameson further. “Warm her, Giles,” he said. “As you did before. Show me.”

Giles’ free hand smoothed over her waist to her hip, brushing over Jameson’s hand gripped there. And then he smoothed upward again, the strength of Giles well controlled. He cupped Elizabeth’s breast. Held her as though she were most fragile, flicked his fingertips over her nipple until it stood firm and proud as she. The paleness of her flesh blushed beneath his touch, gentle though unyielding as he squeezed, caressed. Her fullness molding itself to his hand, the softness of her flesh a clear pleasure for Giles. The agony of his friend’s pleasure clear on Giles’ face. His lips thin, brows gathered.

Her back arched, her head tipped back. That luscious mouth opened and she sighed, her hips shifting in time to Giles’ caresses.

“Yes, Giles,” Jameson said, “See how she writhes for you.”

Masturbation Monday memes created by the lovely Kayla Lords. All other images in this post were purchased from depositphotos.com

Summary

Article Name

Masturbation Monday Week 65 - Touch Her

Description

“’Tis only pleasure you will feel now.” He set his legs between hers then widened his stance, forcing her legs farther apart. Allowing Giles this most intimate view of her as he stood, as bare as she, before them.

Author

Arla Dahl