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He then effortlessly slipped the shoe on me, but it felt as if he was caressing my whole foot the entire time it was happening. He then extended the left one to me, and I put my right foot down. I did my best to balance, but had to reach out to the wall to steady myself. Again, I felt a gentle but purposeful touch from Kerry’s graceful hands as he placed the second shoe on my left foot. I had never worn any shoes with a heel higher than wingtips, and I felt intoxicated as I replaced my left foot on the floor, now appreciating the full effect of how both elevated heels enveloped my lowest extremities. I also became acutely aware that Kerry, still kneeling in front of me, had his head no more than a foot from my groin, but his attention was clearly directed at my feet. He continued staring at them while I managed a, “You like?” My voice drew Kerry’s gaze from my feet, but very slowly, all the way up my legs, pausing at my cock, up my basque-clad chest and to my eyes. “Very. ‘A little,’ she admitted. Marcus gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘You’ll do great, of that I have no doubt.’ Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a flask and took a fortifying drink. Turning back to the window, his wife pointedly ignored his indulgence. ‘I fear I’ll do something to embarrass you,’ Joan said quietly. A heartbeat passed as she waited for Marcus to say something, the butterflies in her stomach taking flight. Marcus considered his wife, the light from the carriage lantern highlighting the long line of her neck where it met the curve of her shoulder. He knew the flavor of the skin just there, knew that it tasted different than bend of her elbow, the underside of her breast or the back of her knee. He ached to touch her, to press his lips to her skin and inhale the scent of her. Unfortunately, he knew that once embarking on that particular path he would be unable to stop until he was buried to the base of his shaft and there was no time for such detours – no.
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