Then something unexpected happened. After untying the woman’s drawers, the man lay down on the floor and brought her atop him. Just when Florence thought the man might kiss the woman’s lips, he wriggled lower until the woman straddled his face. “What on earth . . . ?” Florence whispered.

A soft chuckle sounded behind her. “Say goodbye to your delicate sensibilities.”

Florence swallowed. The woman was . . . sitting on the man’s face, his mouth and lips feasting between her legs. Florence had never dreamed anything like this was possible. Her one serious lover, Chester, certainly hadn’t kissed her there. Was this . . . Did everyone do this?

The woman rocked her hips, her hands molding her breasts, squeezing them, as the man pleasured her. Her eyes were closed tight, her face slackened in bliss. Florence had never seen a woman in such a state of euphoria before, like she’d been drugged. Her own core was slick and swollen, jealous of the attention, throbbing insistently between her legs as she observed the couple.

I’m aroused just from watching.

Actually, aroused was a tame word for what she was experiencing. She was on fire. Burning alive. Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades, her clothes confining and uncomfortable. Her chest heaved, each exhalation pushing her breasts against the hard whalebone of her corset, cloth dragging across her nipples. God, I’m dying. They would find her here weeks from now, expired from lust.

Soon. She’d soon leave, return home and ease this awful craving with her own hand under the covers. Until then she had to keep a level head.

“Do you like what you see?”

Clay was behind her, his voice a dark whisper in her ear. She shivered and tried not to melt into a puddle on the floor. “I had no idea,” she rasped.

“He’s eating her. Licking her juices. Sucking on her clitoris.”

Florence gasped for air, the raw words sinking into her bones to weaken them. Her knees nearly buckled. She was dying to ask him if he’d ever done the same but her mouth had gone dry. Speaking felt like too much effort.

“There’s nothing like the taste of a woman’s arousal,” he continued. “Sharp and spicy, utterly delicious.”

Oh, sweet Lord.

A buzzing built in her ears, as if she could hear the blood coursing through her body. Craving gnawed at her, and she wondered what Clay would do if she spun around and pressed her mouth to his.

“Or when her thighs shake around your head,” he said. “When her tiny bud hardens and swells on your tongue right before she comes.”

Florence placed a palm on the wall to steady herself. The pounding of her heart echoed between her legs, a steady beat of desire that only grew stronger. Needier. Hotter.

“She’s climaxing. Watch.”

As if she could look away.