Lift Your Skirts
This is my first WipItUp Wednesday post. I hope you’ll visit the other WipItUp bloggers this week for some more sexy, steamy posts.
This is an excerpt from the final book in my Immoral Virtue trilogy – a dark erotic tale which takes place during the witch hysteria of the 17thC.
(Immoral Virtue, #3)
“You have been of great aid to me,” he said softly, “a light in this long dark night.”
Warmth filled her as he held her, an arm around her waist, a hand flattening to her back, bringing her closer to his heat.
“These tests,” he said his gaze, down at her, pained, “are most difficult. Truth, uncertain, hardens the heart. Yet you, Abigail, remained true even as I feared the night would change you.”
“I feared the same,” she said, needing him to know. “Here, this night, as so many were examined… I confess to you… Jameson… I lusted. Even when your hand… rested upon the others…upon Mercy…” The sight of it seared through her mind. His hands caressing Mercy’s breasts, his fingers gliding into her. Her sighs and writhing… “I did not want to see it… did not want to feel…” She searched his eyes, hoped her words would not anger him.
His gaze was gentle upon hers. “Feel what, Abigail…tell me.”
“Jealousy,” she said, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “Desire… ’tis shameful, I know, yet I…”
“You have much to learn,” he said, tipping his head so close to her she felt his words upon her own lips. “For there is no shame in pleasure, only in lust unrestrained.”
She closed her eyes, waited for his kiss. Ached for it. But it did not come this time.
She opened her eyes again, looked into his.
“…is a gift of nature.”
“There is much more to know,” he said.
Mercy knew all. She had pleased him, humored him, aroused him… had aroused Abigail herself, as well. “My desire to know more is great,” she said, surprised by the boldness of her own words, her own desires, “should you wish to show me.”
He tipped his head to nuzzle her neck, her cheek, his breath hot upon her flesh, his lips exquisitely tender against her, skimming over her face, to her lips, lightly grazing them, withdrawing.
She wished to take more, give more. Touch her mouth to his again, taste him, seek his taste of her.
His hands, so strong so gentle, smoothed over her back to her hips, the slight pressure of them turning her to face the wall. “Lift your skirts, Abigail,” he said. “Show me this desire you speak of, for I wish to feel it, rouse it further in these minutes we have.”
With a slight glance back at him she gripped her skirts in her hands, lifted them, hesitating. The wanton display he sought shameful to her, yet she ached to please him, to have him please her. To give him all she possessed. All she was.
She drew her skirts higher, the fabric brushing her flesh, sending tingles through her. Then a slow lick of cool air caressed her calves, her thighs, rousing her.
Her heart felt too large for her chest. Filled it, leaving scant room for air, as she raised her skirts to her waist, fully exposing herself to his eyes.
And then his hands, hot they were, cupped her bare buttocks. “Lean forward, Abigail. Bend only at the waist and press your hands to the wall.”
IMMORAL VIRTUE Trilogy
Book 1 – The Mark
Book 2 – The Accused
Book 3 – The Watchman