“If you get to your knees, I could press my face into you. I could find nirvana there, I am certain. We could find it together.”
I pulled harder.
“Should you refuse to see me afterward,” Ewan pleaded, “please allow me this one gift before.”
I swallowed hard then rose to my haunches, bringing the lower section of my gut to the opening. Ewan touched me there. When I got to my knees, Ewan’s hand did not move, but circled instead, gently fondling me, like I had stroked myself before.
“Hurry,” I implored.
“Is your immediacy brought on by nervousness or wanting, Pennsylvania?” Ewan cocked a brow to convey his Scottish cheekiness. “It is better not to rush,” he said.
“Under…circumstances conducive…to sweet, romantic foolery…between a stable hand and his…debutante female…perhaps. We are not…in a hay loft, Ewan…certain that…the master of the house…shall not be home anytime soon. These circumstances…are far…removed from those.”