The Faerie's Honeymoon by Emma Holly Page A

didn’t begin until her waist. After Belle had her top half naked, she wriggled the dress around and slid the tab down herself.
    Daringly, she’d gone double commando. Dropping the dress to the floor left her in nothing but real silk stockings and a lacy black garter belt.
    Abruptly, Belle saw the advantage in not having dressed up much for him before. Though Duvall’s expression barely grew less sullen, a significant lurch of motion within his trousers said she was gaining ground. Her exposed nipples budded in reaction.
    “You could leave those on,” he said grudgingly.
    “These?” Belle slid her index fingers under the stretchy lace that strapped garter to stocking. “You’re sure they won’t get in your way?”
    No doubt he knew she was teasing, but his Adam’s apple bobbed all the same. “I can work around them.”
    He seemed to be planning strategies even then. His gaze was locked on the juncture of her labia, where her clitoris had begun to swell and swim in moisture. His attention made the knot of flesh throb harder, the ache stretching from it deep into her pussy. Belle pressed her thighs together, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to get him off the mark and ready for ravishing.
    “Maybe I could help you with your shirt?” she said huskily.
    “Stay where you are,” he refused, his fingers going to it himself. His tone wasn’t an order, but it streaked through her like it was. Belle’s already erect nipples went diamond hard.
    Duvall’s attention zeroed in on them. He wet his lips, then looked into her eyes. His tuxedo shirt was pleated and hugged his chest perfectly. His fingers flipped open the collar button. “Grip the bedpost in your left hand.”
    That was an order, and meant to wind her up. Because she’d promised to make this easier on him, she obeyed without protest. And why wouldn’t she, when she enjoyed it so much?
    “Good,” he praised, his shirt open to his diaphragm, his gaze blazing hot on hers. “Put your right hand on your pussy. Stretch your clit out and squeeze it for me.”
    Fire flew into Belle’s face. Touching herself in front of him wasn’t something she had experience with.
    “I need distracting,” he said when she hesitated. “I don’t want to be too nervous to do this.”
    If he’d been lying, discomfort would have furrowed his brow.
    “Please,” he added, and that settled it for her.
    Belle dug between her lips, pulling her clit and hood out between two fingers and her thumb. Slippery as she was, she had to hold on snugly. “Do you want me to rub it?”
    Her question came out breathy. Duvall had been flushed already, just as she was, but at the sound of her voice, fresh color washed into his cheeks. Both of them were getting amped up by this.
    “If you need to rub yourself, go ahead,” he said gruffly. “I know it’s hard to wait sometimes.”
    It was hard to wait, and she was extra excited. Belle really couldn’t refrain from doing what he’d given her permission for. His hands curled into fists as he watched her fingers move in small back and forth motions, massaging her clitoris from either side. Belle wasn’t prepared for the sensation’s intensity. Doing this in his presence felt illicit - and incredibly personal. She pulled the reddened button out farther, which strengthened what she was feeling and allowed him to see more. Duvall couldn’t tear his gaze away. Nervous or not, the distraction was working. His chest rose and fell as the last few buttons on his shirt magically released themselves. The zipper on his nice black trousers was distended, the outline of his cock stare-worthy.
    Despite the pressure on the teeth, he didn’t open that.
    “Whenever you’re ready for your massage, say the word,” she offered with a ragged laugh.
    He wasn’t ready to be amused. He removed his cufflinks by hand, then freed his arms from the pristine white garment. His chest was a treat: layered muscles, tapered shape, with a line of dark hair diving