“Quality smut from a ravishingly good author.”
Emma had listened to the clip-clopping of the horses in the street for sometime before they had helped her drop off to sleep.
Half-awake, she had heard the door click shut, but then remembering she was sharing Delilah’s room she had closed her eyes again.
She was woken next by a rustling. It was not very loud and would probably never have awoken her if not for its rhythmical nature and the fact that it was underpinned by the lazy squeaking of a bed.
She opened her eyes and they settled on Delilah’s corner of the room.
There was a fullish moon and its light was squeezing through the narrow skylight. Slowly, Emma’s eyes began to get accustomed to the dark.
She could see the pale curve of one of Delilah’s legs. It was outside of the bed clothes and moving.
Delilah had bunched up the bed clothes and squeezed them under her.
“What are you doing?” Emma spoke before she thought. Her voice sounded very loud in the dark.
Delilah did not stop.
“Have you ever been with a man?” she growled.
“When I desire it, I do this.”
Emma turned on her side to see her more clearly.
“You really do not know?”
Delilah’s eyes flashed in the dark at her.
Her hand went down and lifted her silk underwear. Now Emma could see the skin on her hip and buttock.
“I have the pillow and bedding under me. Between my thighs.”
Delilah’s buttocks were small and round. She squeezed her thighs together, getting her mount in just the right place.
Delilah curled a finger in front of her mouth and bit it gently as the pleasure began to increase.
She was looking straight through the darkness at Emma.
Emma heard her panting quicken.
Delilah’s buttocks began to move faster in an almost circular motion.
Emma watched mesmerised.
“It is gorgeous,” gasped Delilah, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Emma’s mouth was dry.
Underneath the bed covers she held her hands to her excited stomach as she watched Delilah push some hair behind her ear and then ride on, her eyes closed.
Suddenly, Delilah’s body rammed hard, her legs straightened and her mouth opened in a silent cry.
She turned her face to Emma and fixed her eyes on her, as the pleasure coursed through her being.
Deilah lay for sometime, her face in the bed. Then she lifted herself up and buried herself under the covers.
Emma did not know what to say. She wanted…
“That word ‘oui’,” she said at last. “That’s French that is. Is that what language you speak?”
Delilah had turned away and may already have been almost asleep.
“Only when I pleasure myself,” came the reply.