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exquisite, when you do that. Are you sure you’re not a seasoned courtesan with a hundred wicked tricks at your disposal?”
    “No…not that…” She clenched herself around him, loving the way ripples of pleasure seemed to flood her entire cleft and tug on the center of her pleasure, “Just a quick study, with a hitherto undiscovered aptitude.”
    “God almighty…I’ll say so!” Ethan jerked inside her, starting to thrust, moving in and out and creating a whole new arpeggio of sumptuous tingles. Even without her spectacles, she could see him gritting his teeth. “I…forgive me…you feel so particularly wonderful that I’m not sure I can hold on all that long.” He slid a hand beneath her buttocks, pressing her against him for a series of fast, deep lunges that bumped him hard against her most sensitive part.
    Lucy’s heart seemed to turn over. Could she ever have asked for a more thoughtful lover for her first time? She didn’t think so. The Ladies’ Sewing Circle had discussed the shortcomings of men, as well as their finer qualities, and it seemed that some gentleman just took what they wanted without reference to their partners. Ethan Oakley, however, considered her pleasure above his own.
    “Why hold back at all?” She hugged him harder, tucking her head in against his neck and kissing him there, her tongue lapping at the sweat of his exertions. “You’ve pleasured me already…and well…I’m hoping that we’ll do this again. More than once…”
    “By heaven we will, you goddess! We will!”
    As if taking her permission, Ethan began to thrust furiously—to fuck her, as he growled so eloquently in her ear along with a wide variety of other robust and thrilling epithets. The words were exciting, and rude, and held a power of their own that only added to the intensity of the moment. Lucy found herself murmuring some of them back to him, much to his obvious delight in her sensual prowess.
    Of course such a rambunctious ride could never have lasted long, and within a few moments, the sensations tightened and gathered and swirled like whirlpool. Ethan cried out incoherently, his body pounding her, and at the very last second pulled out abruptly to release his essence against her belly. Almost at her own crescendo, Lucy jammed her parted thighs around the tensed muscle Ethan’s thigh and rocked her puss against him until she reached the dazzling peak. Flexing her legs, she thrust against him almost as hard as he’d thrust into her, and soared again and again, shouting his name as she spent in glorious waves.
    After a moment, they fell back against the bed in a tangle of limbs, their chests heaving, sweat and sensual fluids drying on their hot skin. Lucy’s eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t regret the absence of her spectacles. She was too exhausted and too dazed to look at anything, and she could see everything of Ethan with her mind’s eye.
    And she would see him thus forever, lying over her, eyes brilliant, face a vision of male beauty, contorted by passion. This was but a temporary liaison, a brief idyll out of time, she accepted that; but at least she had that vision, and these hours, to remember. Far better to have at least known pleasure and passion—and perhaps a form of love, even, however fleetingly—than to have gone through life never knowing, never feeling.
    As she wound herself around him, silently thanking him for his grace and kindness, Ethan stirred, then drew himself into a sitting position and looked down at her. She could discern a slight frown on his indistinct features.
    “How do you feel, dearest?” He brushed her hair back from her brow, fingers tender and careful, and then stroked her cheek.
    “Wonderful. I feel perfectly glowing. How about you?”
    He laughed, clearly amused by her assertive manner. Perhaps he wasn’t used to forceful modern women who asked questions, and asked for what they wanted, even if that included sexual servicing.
    “I feel the same.” He