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“Truly?” I whispered in a scandalized tone. “They enjoy that?”
Isabel nodded and sipped sagely at her cup of tea. “Look up at them while you lap it off your fingers. They like that best.”
I settled back into my chair with an expression of what I’m sure must have been puzzlement. “I had no notion that they found those sorts of things pleasurable.”
Isabel quirked a smile. “Remember what I have said, and you should have no difficulty fulfilling your wifely duties.” Her eyes twinkled. “As well as filling your mouth.”
I gave a rather unlady-like giggle and raised my saucer of tea to hide my mouth. In the company of anyone else I would have felt embarrassed, but Isabel and I had known each other since childhood. Our respective family’s manors were adjacent to each other, and we had grown to be fast friends over the years.
We lapsed into companionable silence for a moment as we both sipped tea and meditated on the strangeness of men. “I never did congratulate you,” Isabel said suddenly, interrupting the silence. “On your engagement.”
Her voice carried an odd note to it, one I never had quite heard before. Nevertheless, I gave a polite nod and said in a mock formal tone: “Thank you, Miss Elliot. I expect to be very happy with Mr. Steele. He is a fine gentleman.”
Isabel sipped at her cup of tea and smoothed her skirts with a free hand. Ever since she had been young, smoothing her skirts had been a nervous habit of hers. I frowned. “Is anything the matter, Isabel?”
She glanced up at me and smiled a sweet smile. “Of course not. I am delighted that my dearest friend is soon to be happily wed.”
I remained silent and glanced down at my cup of tea. I traced a fingertip along its rim; a nervous habit of my own.
“Do you remember when we were children?” Isabel said in a strange voice, her gaze turned to the light streaming in from the window. “When we used to play house, and I would be the man and you the woman?”
I nodded slowly, unsure what she meant. “We were both very small.”
She turned from the window, her eyes resting on me with an unsettling intensity. “I was unsurprised when your engagement to Mr. Steele was announced. You have always been very lovely. Even all those years ago.”
I glanced away and smiled uncertainly. “Thank you.”
She turned back to the window and spoke a moment later, her voice regaining its light tone from earlier in our conversation. “When he kisses you, be sure to open you mouth. And moan a little. They like that.”
“Like this?” I said and pantomimed opening my lips, thankful that the strange moment had passed.
“No.” She shook her head, locks of dark hair swishing softly. “Try to move your lips more.”
I tried again, but only earned a bemused smile for my troubles. taksim escort “You really are quite innocent.”
“Well,” I said, a little crossly, “show me then.”
She frowned and lowered her saucer. “What?”
“Show me,” I repeated. “You seem quite schooled in these things.”
She stared at me. “You want me to kiss you?”
I laughed, and tapped my cheek. “You are my dear friend, Isabel, and I expect I will never learn otherwise.”
A strange look had come over her face, but she set her saucer of tea down and leaned towards me. Her hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and then with the utmost delicacy, she planted a kiss on my cheek, soft, red lips sending a shiver through my entire body.
Her lips lingered, stroking the skin of my cheek before pulling back. “And that is how it is done?” I asked with a breathless little giggle.
She nodded, still only inches from me, close enough that I could smell the scent of her perfume. “That is how it is done.”
“It is the same on the lips?”
Her gaze met mine, her eyes seeming to search for something. Her breathe tickled my cheek when she spoke. “Do you want me to show you?”
Her perfume was a heady scent (roses perhaps?) and I found it difficult to articulate thought. Her gaze seemed to pierce my very soul. “Isabel, perhaps…”
Her slim finger slipped under my chin, and her lips pried mine open with a gentle but urgent need, tongue slipping in. I gave way before her, a faint moan escaping me.
Her lips grew more urgent at the sound, milking mine as if she were trying to suck all of me into her. “Isabel…” I mumbled, trying to draw away, to get a breath in, but her lips were insistent, pleading.
“Isabel,” I tried again, this time jerking my head to the side. I succeeded in parting our lips, but she only whimpered softly and began to kiss the dip of my throat, hand shifting to cup my cheek, tip it back and give her mouth greater access. “Someone might see.”
She nibbled the line of my jaw, trailing kisses up to my ear. “You asked me to show you,” she whispered, teeth gently nipping the lobe of my ear. “You wanted me to.”
“Please,” I gasped, the sound reverberating in my throat and tingling against her mouth as she kissed down the line of my throat, “Isabel, the maid is only a few rooms over…”
I tried to continue, but was cut off with a sudden gasp as her free hand slipped free the sleeve of my dress and caressed the pale curve of my shoulder, my instinctive jerk away caught by the tightening of her fingers, nails biting into my soft skin.
Her lips fell to my collarbone, nipping gently along the line of bone. My cup and saucer had fallen to rest on my lap when she had first leaned towards, and now they clattered against each çapa escort other as she reached my shoulder, her lips molding themselves to the flawless skin of my shoulder.
She slipped the sleeve off my other shoulder, only my corset now keeping my modesty intact. Her hand pressed against the flare of it just above my hip, fingers flowing upwards along the line of my curves, caressing them even through the stiff fabric of my corset.
Her mouth continued to fall, small kisses pressing against my bared bosom, meeting her hand as they both reached the swell of my breasts. She paused there, hand cupping their faint outline, eyes still closed, seeming to breathe in my scent. Sensation tingled along my entire body, made each rasp of fabric against my skin unbearable. A shameful moan escaped my lips, my breasts straining against the tight confines of my corset, aching to be touched, stroked, kneaded, to have her teeth nip their erect tips.
Without opening her eyes she drew back and knelt before me, face upturned. Only then did she open her eyes, gazing up at me, supplicating me as if I were a goddess. “You’re beautiful.” she whispered, her hands slipping between my legs, “so beautiful.”
I sat stock still in the chair, back rigidly straight as her insistent fingers pried my legs apart, spread them like I was a common streetwalker. Though my skirt still preserved my modesty, the sensation of having my legs separated, leaving me so exposed, made me feel vulnerable. With trembling hands I lifted my saucer up and took a sip of tea, its taste barely acknowledged by my tongue. “Miss Elliot, this is most…”
Her fingers trailed along my calves, catching the hem of my skirt and lifting it up with them, hooking it behind my knees, leaving my most private parts on display to the entire world, vulnerable to any wayward glance. I took another impotent sip of tea
“You have no idea.” she breathed, her eyes never leaving mine as her hands disappeared under the veil my skirt formed, spreading my legs until they pressed against the armrests of the chair, “how long I’ve wanted you.”
Her mouth closed the last few inches and enveloped the mound of my womanhood, every thought in my mind giving way before the raw sensation of her soft lips kneading my pink folds, slick and gloriously warm tongue pressing against the length of my slit.
“Isabel, please,” I gasped, my legs twitching uncontrollably, framing the top of her head as it pressed against the fork between my legs, “this is most…”
Her tongue flitted between the fold of my lower lips, teasing the delicate flesh, each stroke kindling the growing warmth there. Her hands laid themselves on the taut tendons where my legs met, stilling the after twitches and pressing them outwards, offering more of bakırköy escort me to her.
“This is too far,” I panted, the cup of tea clattering on its saucer, back aching from the tension of keeping it rigid, hips shying away as her hand brushed against the base of them. “Please…” My voice faltered as the tip of her tongue pushed into the deepest folds of my sex, poked into my opening, the rocking of my hips belying my words. “You are my dearest friend…”
Her thumb pressed against my rear passage, fingertip testing my resistance. “Please,” I whispered again, my breath coming too fast, no longer sure what I was begging for. Her thumb continued to press, and with a sickening lurch it pushed into me, one digit at a time, each knuckle stretching my circumference. “Don’t,” I gasped, the filigree carved into the arms of the chair biting into my legs as they pressed outwards, desperately trying to relieve the tension.
“Don’t,” I whispered desperately, her tongue stroking upwards, settling on the crest of my mound, teeth nipping at the bud there. “”Isabel, I think I’m… I’m… please…”
Tea spilled over the rim of the cup, my entire body shuddering with the savage thrust of her fingers at my opening, the thumb in my rear passage twisting, scraping my insides.
“Don’t stop,” I whimpered, “Please, Isabel, don’t stop, don’t…”
I came with a strangled scream, hips jerking wantonly, bucking under her mouth. Sensation like I had never felt before crushed me, caught my chest in a vice that forced the breath from me, all that mattered the lap of her tongue.
Her mouth stayed on me after I’d finished, the liquid dribbling from my sex smearing her face. After a long while her fingers slid out, and then her thumb with a slick pop, nail catching against my rim, wracking my body with a shudder.
With still twitching hands I laid the cup of tea and it’s saucer on the table, and as if in mutual consent she drew back from between my legs. She gazed up at me, chin smeared with my juices, “I love you,” she whispered, her eyes trying to catch mine.
My hands busied themselves rearranging my skirt, drawing it back into place. I didn’t meet her gaze. “This has been most delightful, Miss Elliot.”
She only stared up at me, ridiculous now in her position on the floor. Most unlady-like.
I smoothed the creases of my skirt, my hands regaining their steadiness. My voice was its normal, pleasant tone. “But it is nearly supper, and I really think we have wasted enough time here.”
“I love you.” She repeated in a whispered voice.
“And I you,” I answered, leaning forward to dab at the moisture dribbled on her chin, my eyes finally meeting hers with warm, but firm politeness. “You are my oldest and dearest friend. And always will be.”
I rose, as moment later so did she. The fork between my legs tingled with a deep ache as I walked to the door, but it did nothing to change my normal gait.
In fact, within the hour, a few at most, I’m quite sure it would be forgotten.
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