Emily parted her lips and Simon's tongue slipped into the warmth of her mouth. She could taste the brandy he had been drinking. At the same time the scent of him filled her head. She tightened her arms around his neck and instinctively tried to arch her hips against his.
"No," Simon whispered, breaking the contact with her mouth. "This time we will do things very slowly." He unfastened the bodice of the gown and pushed the gossamer fabric to her waist.
Emily had her eyes closed now but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her breasts. It burned her, branded her, heated her blood. The big pillow on which she reclined was like a great, fluffy, golden cloud. She was sinking deeper and deeper into it as Simon let more of his weight come down on her.
"You have beautiful skin, Emily. Soft and delicate and made to be touched." Simon trailed a string of small, damp kisses down her throat and over her breast. His teeth closed gently over her nipple and his hand slipped beneath the lowered bodice of the gown.
Emily sucked in her breath. She twisted beneath his hand, already aching for a more intimate touch. "Simon?"
"No, not yet. I told you, this time I am not going to rush things. This time I will stay in control of myself and you will go wild, elf."
He tugged the emerald ballgown and the thin petticoat she wore under it off over her head. Then he reached down and deftly untied her garters. His hand slid intimately along the curves of her legs as he slipped the stockings off.
Emily turned her flaming face into his pleated white shirt, clutching at him. Simon laughed softly and cupped her buttocks, squeezing gently.
Emily was aware of the feel of the gold satin under her back and hips. It was a wonderfully pagan sensation. "Do I look like a harem lady now?"
Simon smiled slowly and combed his fingers through the triangle of red hair at the top of her thighs. "A very rare and unusual harem lady," he agreed. "You would bring a very high price, indeed, if you were to go on the auction block."
She looked up at him through her lashes, feeling deliciously wanton. "Would you sell me?"
"Never," he vowed, voice darkening abruptly. His fingers tightened possessively in the red curls. Then he drew back slightly.
Emily's eyes flew open as he pulled away. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing at all, my sweet. I am just going to get a bit more comfortable." Simon tugged off his shirt and the dangling cravat. Then his hands went to the fastening of his breeches. In a moment he was gloriously naked. The firelight gleamed on the muscular contours of his shoulders and thighs, revealing his full arousal.
"Pashas generally take their clothes off when they make love to one of the members of their harem," Simon said as he came back down beside Emily.
Emily giggled as she felt herself being pushed back down onto the pillow. "I must warn you, my lord, I will not tolerate any other residents in this particular harem. Only myself."
"So I am to have a harem of one?"
"I fear that is the case. I do not intend to share you with any other female." She smiled wickedly. "Nor do I think you will need any other."
"You intend to keep me quite busy, then?" He slid his palm warmly along her thigh and looked down at her with a gaze that brought a flush to her throat and breasts.
"Very busy," Emily promised huskily. She curled her fingers in the hair on his chest, loving the crisp texture as well as the sense of strength in the powerful muscles beneath his skin. "Simon, you are so beautiful," she said in wonder.
"No, elf, you are the beautiful one. Your breasts are perfectly suited to my hand." He cupped one briefly, grazing his thumb over the nipple until she shuddered. "Your mouth fits mine perfectly." He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, druggingly until she wriggled in his grasp. "And the insides of your thighs are softer and warmer than anything I have ever known." He eased his hand between her legs.
Emily gasped as she felt Simon's fingertips touch her with scalding intimacy. She clutched at his strong shoulders and strained against him. A deep, aching sense of need was blossoming swiftly within her. Her whole body began to yearn for the explosive release she had once before experienced at Simon's hands.
"Not yet," Simon muttered. He caught hold of her fluttering hands, stretched her arms out over her head, and pinned her wrists. Then he leaned over her and kissed her eyelids. "I vow this time you will not drive me mad. This time I will be the one in control and you will learn to enjoy this business of making love."
"I do enjoy it, Simon. Honestly, I do." Emily lifted her hips, seeking his warmth. She was truly aching for him now.
"It will get even better," he promised. Still holding her wrists above her head, he reached down and spread her thighs widely apart, settling himself between her legs.
Emily tightened her legs instinctively and struggled to free her hands so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close.
Simon looked down at her and smiled slowly. "I am going to release your wrists now, but you must not move."
"Do not be silly. I cannot stay still," Emily said, panting.
"Then I shall give you something to aid you." Simon scooped up his cravat from where it lay on the carpet. He looped the large length of white silk around the clawed foot of the heavy settee which was just behind Emily's head. Then he placed the ends of the cravat in Emily's outstretched fingers.
"You must hold on very tightly," Simon told her as her fingers clenched instinctively in the silk.
Bewildered, but anxious to get on with things, Emily obediently grasped a section of the starched, white silk in each hand. "Now what?" she demanded impatiently.
"Now you must tug very hard on my cravat whenever the urge to move becomes overwhelming. Do not concern yourself. You will not pull the settee over. It is very heavy and the cravat is made of very strong silk."
Arms stretched above her head, Emily glared up at her husband. "Bloody hell, Simon, I do not want to play with your cravat."
"Do as you are told," he instructed with a deep chuckle. "You are a harem lady, remember? Harem ladies always do what they are told."
"But, Simon… Oh." Emily moaned and her fingers tightened obediently around the strip of silk as she felt Simon's tongue in the very center of her soft, curved stomach.
"Remember, just pull very hard on the cravat when you cannot stand it any longer." Simon eased himself lower, his hands closing firmly around Emily's hips. He held her still as he kissed the inside of her thigh.
"Simon." Emily froze with shock.
"That's better. You are not moving at all now. You are stretched as taut as a bowstring. Beautifully arched and straining for my touch." His hand moved down the length of her and she shuddered. His mouth was on the inside of her thigh now.
"Simon."
"Tug harder on my cravat," he ordered softly. Then he kissed her again, even more intimately. "Harder, Emily."
The riot of sensation that threatened to swamp Emily was startling and confusing. She felt as though she were sinking below the surface of a warm sea. She could hardly even breath now, let alone try to think. She obeyed Simon's murmured commands blindly.
Emily seized the white silk in a fierce grip and tugged at it with all her might. The twisting, tightening feeling in her lower body grew more intense.
"Pull harder, Emily. You must use all your strength now. Tug just as hard as you can." Simon's finger slid into her moist passage and he sucked gently on the small, erect nub of exquisitely sensitive feminine flesh.
"Bloody hell." Emily was in the center of a sensual storm. She responded to Simon's softly murmured orders, hauling violently on the handfuls of silk. The harder she pulled, the more she felt as if she were going to burst into flames at any second.