New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
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"Are you warming up now?" Tom asked. His fingers fumbled with the laces of your corset. Your breath became heavier with each brush of his fingertips. The confines of your clothing was frustrating and unbearable.
"Tom, for God's sake," you panted, desperate to be rid of of it all. He was having more difficulty than you expected. You supposed it was only fair. He didn't have to endure the daily routine of bodices and bloomers. How nice it must be to be a man, only shackled with trousers and waistcoats and the occasional tie.
He finally got the last lace loose and your corset slipped off of you, dropping to the floor. His hand caressed your shoulder and traveled down your spine with a tender touch. You shivered at the contact. The warmth of the fire didn't seem to lessen any of your the nerves.
You took a deep and quivering breath. His intoxicating scent held you captive, making your head and heart swoon. It always had, from the moment it first engulfed you in Father's automobile.
You turned around to face him, bare breasted and notably unabashed. You wanted him to see you as you should be, revealed and released of any restrictions.
His face was flushed and guileless as his eyes roamed over you. An intense heat come to your cheeks and you wanted so badly to divert your eyes from shyness. But the way he gazed at you filled you with a sense of confidence that was unfamiliar but most welcome. You loved the way he drank you in, how his soft eyes traced your curves in wonder. You forced yourself to keep your own eyes on his, meeting them with matched desire and devotion.
You boldly took his hand and placed it over your breast. His breath hitched and a smile crept across his handsome face. Your own lips spread with delight and a satisfaction that little old you could garner such a reaction.
You hooked your fingers in his suspenders and slid them slowly off each shoulder. Your hands moved to his waist and tugged to free his shirt. He stepped back and lifted his flannel and undershirt over his head. He reappeared with a untamed mane of curls and the most beautiful masterpiece you've ever seen.
His body was just how you imagined: slender and toned and covered in the muscles of a man that worked for everything he ever owned. Just the sight of him, standing there bare chested and chiseled sent a spark sizzling to your loins. You wanted his hands there again, the way they stroked you against the tree, how his fingers enticed you in the river.
You placed his hand on your breast again and pressed your lips against his cheek. You moved them down to his jawline, feeling the prickle of a day's worth of stubble. Down your lips drifted, to his neck and across his throat. You wanted to taste every inch of that delicious skin.
He let out a soft groan and massaged your breast tenderly. He pinched your nipple playfully and you nipped at the flesh on his pec in response. He tensed beneath your teeth.
