Chapter Eleven: Him

Trembling hands rested oppressively on my breasts, lifting my shirt up to my nipples, made turgid by the touch. I threw my head back so quickly that from the blow I felt my neck creak. Inexperienced hands caressed each patch of skin with possession and eagerness, making the center of my sex hot and begging for mercy to be satisfied.

Edmund was pure ardor.

Had I been in that clandestine condition a month earlier, I surely would have called myself stupid more than a hundred times, painting myself as the most deranged of deranged women. It had to be said, though, that rigor and failure changed people, so if the only way was to let off steam in sex, I was quite willing to indulge Edmund's touch that sent me over the edge.