Ghosts of Winter (22 page)

She made a deep, throaty sound of arousal, so remarkable a departure from her usual restraint, hearing it made my temperature increase further still. I couldn’t hesitate to consider what I was doing, I just wanted her with a real insatiable hunger. Her hands pulled me tighter to her body, and I felt the pressure of the swell of her breasts against my own chest, her thighs fitting close to mine, as I slid my hands lower, yanking her shirt out of the waistband of her trousers, desperate to have access to the skin underneath. I pushed one hand under the fine silk and felt, even more perfect, the flesh of her smooth, warm back. As I traced her spine she shuddered, her hand twisting tighter in my hair and her kiss becoming ferocious. Her free hand slid over the curve of my hip, caressed my buttocks, and she trailed it up my body to reach my braless breast, barely shielded from the squeezing of her strong fingers by my thin T-shirt. I felt my nipple harden as she rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, and a huge wave of pleasure swept through me.

She was pulling at my cardigan, and the air was cold on my arms as she removed it and threw it onto the floor. I moved my hands over the perfect expanse of her back, my fingers encountering the clasp of her sports bra. I fumbled with it eagerly, satisfied when it released and was no longer a barrier to my caresses. We were still kissing, with mutual passion, as I began to unfasten the buttons which held the front of her shirt. I quickly had them all loose and pushed my hands inside and beneath the undone bra, feeling the pliable weight of her perfectly firm breasts, stroking my fingers over them, weak with arousal as her nipples stiffened under my touch and she made that animal sound in her throat again.

Our hands continued to explore as our kiss subsided to a gentler intensity, slower but more deeply satisfying. I felt her reach down to loosen the fastening of my jeans. Apparently it resisted her efforts, and she eased her mouth away from mine to look down at what she was doing. She undid the button and zipper and ran her hands slowly over the place where the waistband had previously covered my hips. I gasped with the pleasure of her touch, at the consuming strength of my desire to have her move that touch lower.

She looked into my eyes, her own dilated pupils larger still through the lenses of her glasses, which rested on cheeks flushed a beautiful rose pink. She took a deep breath and leaned her forehead against mine.

“What are we doing?” It wasn’t an expression of any real doubt, more of pleasant surprise.

“You brought the mistletoe, you tell me.” My lips were so close to hers, I just wanted to kiss her again.

“I think this goes beyond a Christmas tradition.”

“Just when I thought I’d found one I like.” I couldn’t resist pressing my lips to hers. She responded with her own kiss, then pulled back once more, smiling slightly.

“So this is okay?”

“Do I seem like it’s not?”

“Is this okay too?” She slid her hand into my open jeans and cupped my sex through the thin fabric of my underwear. I caught my breath.

“Oh, yes.” My entire focus centred where her hand was pressing gently.

Anna smiled a teasing smile. “Shall we drink some more wine?” She slid her hand out of my jeans and moved half a pace away from me. Strangely, though I missed the contact, I wasn’t disappointed. I didn’t want to rush anything with Anna. Pausing to drink delicious wine and savour the anticipation was a perfect suggestion.

I reached for my glass as Anna did the same. The silky-sweet liquid was perfection in my burning mouth. We were watching each other now, and I knew her gaze, at once playful and a little shy, mirrored my own. She took another sip of her wine and I watched the way it moistened her lips until she licked over them with her tongue. The pressure between my thighs was becoming exquisitely uncomfortable, urging me to seek relief. Yet it was fun to slow things down.

“Would you like a chocolate?”

“Love one,” Anna said. I could see in her expression she was pleased we were playing the same waiting game with each other. I reached for the box and opened it. The neat rows of chocolate were confectionary perfection, each an individual work of art. The warm smell of rich cocoa reached my nostrils. I offered the box to Anna. “Lucky dip,” she said, choosing one at random and slipping it between her lips. “Mmm, rose crème.” Even those words sounded unbearably erotic to me. “Your turn.”

I chose my own chocolate and put it on my hot tongue, letting it melt a little before I chewed to discover the centre. “Caramel,” I told her, as the bittersweet taste of burnt sugar crept over my taste buds. I reached for her, and our mouths met for the briefest of moments, a chocolate-sweetened kiss that left me wanting much, much more.

Anna smiled a smile suggesting she was feeling exactly as I was and sat down on the edge of my camp bed. She gestured to her side and indicated that I should join her. “It won’t take the weight. Stand up a moment.” She did as I asked and I grabbed the sleeping bag and extra blankets I’d been using and pulled them onto the floor, spreading them out.  “Do you mind slumming it on the floor?”

“Not if you get me some more wine.” Anna lowered herself gracefully onto the blankets.

I reached for the bottle and topped up both of our glasses. I sank down next to her on the floor. She took a sip of her wine and leaned in to kiss me, flooding my mouth with the sweetness of the wine once more. I put my own glass to the side untouched, and she did the same, as we reached for each other again. She easily pulled my T-shirt over my head and trailed her tongue down to my nipple, sucking hard when she reached her target. I felt a warning twinge between my thighs and pushed her back. I didn’t want this delicious anticipation to end anytime soon.

I fell on her throat, kissing and running my tongue over her warm skin. Her pulse throbbed close to my lips, and I nipped her skin gently with my teeth. She moaned and reached for my head, pushing me lower until I was nibbling softly on the warm flesh of her breasts. I smelled the combination of perfume, like fresh lemon and heavy leather all at once, mixed with the essence that was so uniquely Anna. Determined to play her at her own teasing game, I pulled back.

“You’re wearing different perfume.”

“You must have a very sensitive nose.”

“I love to smell you.”

“You’ve been smelling me since the first day we met.”

“True.” I blushed a little at the knowledge she had noticed. “What’s this perfume?”

“It’s called Jicky, it’s French, and it was created in eighteen eighty-nine.” Her tone was flirtatious and alluring, as though the innocent words were a tease.

“Is it very expensive?”

“Incredibly.” She sounded as though she relished every syllable of the word, rolling it around in her mouth.

“Is everything you own expensive?”

“Absolutely. I have high standards, you see, as I’ve told you before.” It was impossible to miss the seductive challenge in her words.

“Do you really?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s hope I live up to them.”

“So far, so good.”

We could have spoken about anything in those moments, and it would have been intensely erotic. The effect of this conversation was to turn my insides into magma which I knew would have to erupt before long.

Anna seemed to be studying my breasts. She dipped a long finger into her wine and reached out to rub her moist fingertip over my swollen nipple. My chest rose and fell heavily, since it was perfectly clear her mouth would soon follow her finger. Her tongue swept firmly over my hardened flesh, and then her lips began to tease. I ran one hand through her smooth, soft hair, as my other stroked over her shoulder to her back.

When she sat up again, her glasses were slightly askew. I grinned and straightened them for her. She was truly beautiful, and I had to kiss her again. I pulled her to me firmly and pressed my mouth to hers, my tongue penetrating her, as she kissed me back with just as much enthusiasm.

She moaned louder this time, and I felt light-headed. We’d reached the point of no return, there would be no more teasing or drinking wine. Suddenly her kiss strengthened as she snatched control from me and pushed forward, forcing me onto my back on the floor. I submitted willingly, her mouth still on mine, feeling the warmth and weight of her lean body above me.

I reached down to loosen her trousers, slipping my hand inside far enough to feel she was completely shaven. I was so close to touching her wet heat when she stopped me. “Not yet.” She sat back and helped me out of my jeans and underwear, her eyes all over my newly exposed nakedness. She trailed a finger from my breasts, circled my navel, and slowly slid it between my thighs where I knew she would feel the copious evidence of my arousal. She took her glistening finger and slipped it between her lips, her eyes on mine. I could barely breathe. “Better than the wine.”

“Even the expensive wine?”

“Absolutely, but I’d like another taste, to be sure.” Her hands pressed against the inside of my thighs as she moved between them, bending her head lower. For an excruciatingly long time there was only that pressure of her warm hands on my legs and the caress of her breath against my swelling wetness. Then her mouth was on me, gentle teasing mounting gradually into firmer sweeps of her tongue. When she took me between her lips and sucked, I was lost.

“Oh God, Anna…” I cried, as the intense focus of painful, hot arousal burst and overwhelmed my whole body. She didn’t move her mouth away, drawing out my climax with her tongue until I was nothing but a shuddering mess. Then she curled her body around to lie with her cheek on my stomach, as I tried to recover my breath. I ran a hand over her shoulders, which were still enveloped in the silk of her shirt, and stroked her hair. When I could finally speak again, I murmured, “Well, you’ve certainly set a high standard.”

She raised her head and smiled her satisfaction at me.

“Don’t you think you can live up to it?”

“I didn’t say that. I have faith in myself.” Spurred to confidence by everything that had passed so far, I reached for her waistband. “Take these off.” Her naked figure was smooth and sleek, all of her skin pale pink and irresistible.

“Now come up here, I’ve wanted to taste you for nearly as long as I’ve been smelling you. Let me prove I can meet your standards.” Pleasure and aroused anticipation dominating her expression, she knelt over me and bent to kiss my mouth. She parted her thighs and put one knee next to each of my shoulders. Her thighs were warm on my cheeks as she lowered her body slowly, and I reached for her with my tongue. Her taste was far more intoxicating than any wine, and I lost myself in proving I had it in me to far exceed the standard she had laid down.

We were occupied with each other until well after it was dark outside. Anna agreed, twice in a row, I did live up to her standards and set out to raise the bar herself. I thought about nothing and nobody else, captivated by how intense Anna’s usually carefully hidden passions could be once unleashed. Sensations and urges I’d thought dead in me were revived, stronger than I’d ever known them before.

We finished the wine, ate half of the chocolates together, and fulfilled our physical desires in as many ways as we could think of. Eventually, still entwined and on the floor, we pulled one of the blankets over us and relaxed. It wasn’t long before Anna was asleep, one leg slung over my body, breathing steadily. Listening to her breaths, my mind thinking lazily over everything we had done, I was soothed into sleep myself.

Winter Manor, 1751

Lord William Fitzsimmons Winter leaned on his ornamental walking cane and gazed up at the façade of Winter Manor. Though late in the evening, it was June and only just dusk. The half-light made the house with its pale frontage appear ethereal, as though it might vanish if he were to blink. He looked with awe upon his creation, a thing of classical beauty, following the strict lines of ancient Greece, his dream land. He could not transplant himself to the Greece of Socrates, but at least, in Winter, he could capture a little of the perfectly proportioned style of those times.

He’d inherited Winter Manor from his father five years previously, and the house which had occupied this spot had been a small, dark, and tiresome Tudor residence. He despised insular, rambling buildings and ordered its demolition almost immediately. For most of the period of the construction of his new home he’d sojourned in his London town house, relishing his ability to speak to his acquaintances of his impressive country house in the North. His good friend, Sir Robert Hodgson, who studied architecture as one of his many scholarly pursuits and understood his desire for Greek beauty, had sketched the plans for the building on his behalf, and had undertaken to supervise the project, for a quite extraordinary fee. Lord William rather liked paying over the odds for his house. It made him feel indulgent and decadent.

He had been in the North for a month now, ensuring the finishing touches of his new home were undertaken to perfection. Overall, he was very pleased though well aware he’d allowed the more baroque aspects of his nature to run wild in the interior décor of the house—the sweeping luxury of curves and silks was hard to resist. He looked up to the clock tower, its curvaceous design at odds with the rest of the house. It was the one part of the house that broke the rules, his rebellion, and it made him smile, feeling rather wicked.

The bitter smell of burning reached his nostrils, and he watched as two male servants lit the torches he’d had placed between where the driveway exited the avenue of trees and where his friends’ carriages would stop in front of the house. They would begin to arrive any minute, and Lord William was excited. It was his first house party at Winter, the first time he’d been able to entertain friends as master of his own country house, emerging finally from his father’s shadow. He’d invited only his closest friends today, and planned to unveil the house to his acquaintance at large at the ball he would hold in August.