Chapter 35
William’s kiss is hard and demanding, and I meet his lips with equal fervor. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I tilt my head back, savoring his taste, some bittersweet spirit on his breath. His hand winds to my nape, then claws into the base of my hair, loosening my tendrils from their updo. I encircle my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him as if we could melt into one. Now that he’s in my arms—mine and no one else’s—I don’t want to let him go, even for a breath.
He steps in even closer, urging me to step back. Without breaking our kiss, I let him guide me step after step until my backside comes up against the edge of the billiards table. Only then does he release my lips, hoisting me up and propping me on the edge. With unexpectedly gentle motions, he removes my spectacles.
“Is this all right?” he whispers.
My vision blurs, but I don’t mind it if it means removing one more layer between us. “Yes.”
He sets my lenses aside and brings his lips to my neck. My lashes flutter shut as he trails kisses over the high collar of my lace blouse, then along the edge of my jaw to the corner where it meets my ear. Then his lips are on mine again, and I’m already open for the sweep of his tongue, the sharing of breaths. He lifts the hem of my blouse, untucking it from my skirt before roving his palms over the front of my corset, rounding the curve that covers my breast.
I’ve never had anything other than neutral feelings when it comes to corsets, but I hate them now. Hate the thick material for hampering my ability to feel more of his touch. His fingertips wander to the top of my corset, running over the lace trim and making my skin pebble when I’m finally graced with his skin against mine. I arch against his hand, signaling what I want from him.
His smiles against my lips. “Feeling greedy, Weenie?”
“Yes. I want you to touch me. All of me.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch.” His hand slides to the back of my corset and begins tugging at the laces. I move my fingers to my collar and undo my buttons with clumsy haste, uncaring if I pop them off my blouse entirely. By the time my blouse is open, William has untied my corset. I shrug off my top and let it slide down my arms to the billiards table beneath me. William’s fingers come to the front of my corset, unhooking the top clasps until the garment gapes open. He slips his hand beneath the structured ivory brocade and cups my breast, his thumb circling my nipple, hardening it to a stiff peak. I brace my hands on the table and arch back. My other breast crests the top of my corset, and he takes that nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, and I throw my head back with a moan. I want him to lift my skirts and step closer so I can hook my legs around him, gain some relief from the heat coiling at my center.
His teeth graze my nipple as his mouth leaves my breast to trail over my collarbone, then up the column of my throat until our lips meet again. My hands leave the table to find the clasp at the back of my skirt.
William steps back, his heavy-lidded eyes drinking me in. I expect him to unclasp the rest of my corset to see me fully bare, but instead, he takes another step away.
“Lay back, love.”
I do as I’m told, falling back until I’m propped on my forearms. Just when I think he might help me out of my skirt by tugging the waist down, he lifts it from the hem instead, baring my calves. His expert fingers find the laces of my boots, and he holds my gaze while he removes them. Then my stockings. Finally, he trails his touch up my bare leg to my knee, then my inner thigh. His eyes are still locked on mine as he reaches the outer hem of my panties. He strokes the silk covering my already slick center. His grin turns wicked as he watches my lips part. My forearms turn to jelly at his next stroke, and I let myself collapse fully onto the table. But there’s still a layer between us. I want his skin on mine.
“More,” I beg, voice breathless.
He gives in to my demand, sliding the flimsy silk down my hips, my legs, and drops the undergarment to the floor. Then he hikes my skirt higher and glides a finger straight over my sex, parting my seam. My lashes flutter shut and I release a soft moan.
“You’re aching for my touch, aren’t you?” William whispers. With his free hand, he braces my knee, gently guiding my legs wider. “How long have you been aching for me?”
“A while.”
His thumb slides up my folds, then glides over my clit in achingly slow circles. Pleasure shoots through me, and I roll my hips, yearning for a deeper touch. He stills his hand. His voice deepens, turns taunting. “How long is a while?”
He’s torturing me on purpose when all I want is more of him. All of him. I want him on top of me. Inside me. Yet he’s still standing at the edge of the table between my legs, fully clothed while I’m half undressed, only the most vulnerable parts of me—my breasts and my sex—bared. Yet his hand remains unmoving over my center, even as I rock my hips against his fingers. I open my eyes to scowl at him and find a ready smile on his face.
“William, please,” I bite out.
“Well, you asked so nicely.” He steps in closer, leans over me, and drops his mouth between my legs.
I gasp as he slides his tongue over my folds in a languorous sweep. Every nerve at my core is on fire, and he stokes it with every brush of his mouth, his tongue. His fingers work in tandem, parting me, filling me, coaxing moans and whimpers I didn’t even know I could make. Release builds hotter inside me, and I run my hands through his hair, rolling my hips against his mouth. My thighs tremble in anticipation of my orgasm?—
He pulls back, slowly, tauntingly, drawing his fingers out from inside me as he lifts himself away.
My voice snags on a whine. “What are you doing?” I say through panted breaths. My entire being thrums on the precipice of the release I almost had.
He steps back, and I lift myself on my forearms to keep my eyes on him. A corner of his slick mouth quirks as he undoes his already loosened cravat, then the top buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. “I recall promising you torment.”
I blink a few times through the haze of my arousal until his voice echoes through my head, words whispered in the hall outside my dormitory bedroom.
I’ll tease you, torment you, until you’re begging me, whimpering and whining like one of your blushing heroines.
I arch a brow. “Haven’t you made me whimper and whine enough?”
He shrugs off his waistcoat, then his shirt. My gaze locks on his toned torso, the flex of his muscles as he tosses the article to the ground. “Oh, love, we’re just getting started.”
He returns to me, stepping to the outside of my legs and lifting my back the rest of the way off the table. I wind my arms around his neck as he pulls me against his chest, drawing me fully into his arms. He smiles down at me, then lowers his lips to mine in a slow kiss. The taste of me on his tongue sends a strange thrill through me.
Our momentum shifts as he strides across the room with me in his arms. Then my back presses into something soft. As he pulls away slightly, I see we’ve moved to the couch. His fingertips come to the front of my corset, finally unclasping the bottom closures and freeing me from the garment. I’m already sliding my skirt down my hips when he tugs it the rest of the way down.
He pulls back even more, his body propped beside me on the couch, and lets his gaze sweep over me. His eyes follow the trail of his palm as he glides it down my neck, my breasts, my stomach, then skates past my center and down my thighs. When his eyes return to mine, I lace my hands behind his neck and pull his mouth to mine. His kisses are soft and light now, and I take my turn to explore his body with my touch. My hands rove his chest, then his back, rounding the curve of his still-clothed backside until I palm the front of his trousers. His length strains against his fly.
“You’re aching for my touch, aren’t you?” I say, using his own words against him.
He rocks against my hand in answer, a groan building in his throat.
“How long, William? How long have you been aching for me?”
“It feels like a fucking lifetime,” he says against my lips, and he finally undoes his trousers and lets me shove them down his hips.
Our kiss deepens, but as I try to wind my legs around him and pull more of his waist against me, he hardly budges.
“More,” I beg, fisting his firm length and delighting in the hiss of pleasure he releases. “I want you. I want you so bad I can’t take this anymore.”
He brings his lips to my ear. “Then say it again, Edwina. Tell me you don’t want anyone else to touch me but you.”
I pull my head back and meet his eyes. “I want you all to myself.”
“How much of me?”
My breaths grow sharp and heavy. Then, gently, I push my palm against his chest. He obeys my silent command, lifting away from me. I shadow his every move, not letting more than an inch of space between us as I guide him into a seated position on the couch and straddle his hips. His erection is firm against my inner thigh, so close to where I want it but not close enough. I raise myself slightly, then bring my mouth to his. He lets me take the lead as I kiss him. “These lips are mine. This…” I stroke my palm down his length, then guide him toward my entrance. He bites his lip as the tip of his cock enters my slick warmth. Then, in a slow move, I lower myself onto him and take him fully inside me. As I rise back up the length of him, my next word comes out with a gasp. “Mine.”
He pulls me against him, burying his face in my neck as I guide our rhythm, riding his cock and rocking my hips to hit all the places I’m learning I like. The way he fills me, stretches me, feels like he was made for me. Pleasure writhes through my very being, cresting as he cups my breast and circles my nipple with his tongue. My release builds all over again, but this time I’m the one keeping it at bay, slowing my pace just when I think I might fall. Our bodies grow slick with sweat, and William’s grip on my hips tightens. The way his hips rock harder, I can tell he’s close too.
I draw back and meet his eyes, drinking in the tormented need written over his face. “What about me, William? Do you want me all to yourself? Do you want to keep me from touching another man? From kissing him? From riding him like this? From taking all this pleasure you’re teaching me and using it with someone else?”
His expression darkens, and his grip on my waist holds me in place. “Don’t even say those fucking words. I want you and only you. I want my scent coating every inch of your skin. In your hair. I want you so fully wrapped in me that every fae male will smell me on you for miles.”
His possessive words send a jolt of excitement through me. I rock my hips, the only move I can make with him holding me in place. It’s enough to make his lashes flutter. I take on a taunting tone. “Your scent may keep fae males at bay, but what about human ones? How will you keep me to yourself when humans have such weak senses?”
He draws one hand away from my hip to cradle the back of my neck. Then he brings his lips to mine without kissing me. “I’ll ruin you for every man who comes after me,” he says against my mouth. “I’ll fuck you so deep, satisfy you so thoroughly, you’ll never be able to touch another without thinking of me. I’ll reach a place no one ever will again.”
His other hand leaves my hip to splay over my upper breast. My heart. “Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”
I draw my tongue over his bottom lip. “Yes.”
He kisses me firmly, then guides me off his cock. I’m granted a glimpse at his length, slick from our shared arousal, before he turns me around to face the back of the couch. I brace my hands on the ornate wood above the floral cushion. He embraces me from behind and brings his lips to my ear. The tip of his erection finds my center. “Say it.”
I swallow hard, angling my head over my shoulder to meet his hungry eyes. Then I arch my back, lifting my hips and widening my legs. “Ruin me.”
In one stroke, he enters me to the hilt. I gasp, clutching the back of the couch as he fills me deeper than before. Deeper than I knew was possible.
Then another long stroke out. There he pauses, and I know what he’s waiting for.
“Ruin me, Will.”
He thrusts into me again.
“Ruin me.”
He picks up his pace and I meet him stroke for stroke, slamming back into him with every thrust of his hips.
“Ruin me. Ruin me.” His fingers slide down my front to circle my sensitive clit, and my refrain slips into a whine, then a moan, leaving only my mind to carry my chant.
Ruin me.
Ruin me.
His other hand grips my breast, but the way my heart slams into his palm, it feels more like he’s clasping the treasure that lies behind my ribs.
Love me.
Love me.
Release builds inside me again, and this time, neither of us do anything to prevent its crash. I grip the couch harder, my moans growing louder, more frantic, while his throaty groans reverberate through me, increasing my pleasure. Finally, the tight coil of need unravels from my core, melting over his fingers, his cock. And as I cry out my climax, his rhythm drives harder, faster, his orgasm chasing mine until it spills inside me.
Together we ride the falling wave until we’re both spent. Until he slips out of me from behind and pulls me to face him, cradling my head against his chest as we collapse over the length of the couch.