Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
Silky Touch
D iana looked up at him. He was hovering above her, bare-chested. The flames in the fireplace cast sharp shadows on the angles of his face, making him look so dangerous. The way his eyes bored into hers, heavy, consuming, made her stomach flip.
She was a mess. A trembling, shaking, panting mess. Her limbs were weak, her nerves alight with something she could barely name—something deep and aching, something that coiled tighter the more he touched and kissed her.
“I want to show you, Diana,” he growled. “I need to show you.”
“Show me?” She was dazed.
“Yes, show you, My Lady,” he murmured as he leaned closer.
His eyes flicked to her lips as if he hadn’t devoured them already. As if he would starve for them for the rest of his life.
Diana had never felt so wanted, so desired, so cherished in her life. Here, at this moment, she was the most important thing to him.
“Oh, the things I want to show you, Diana. Let me,” he purred against her neck.
“I am all yours tonight,” Diana gasped.
James straightened and kneeled between her legs, his sanity one moan away from snapping. She was doing this to him. She was the one driving him so close to the edge.
Oh, the power . Diana was drunk on all the sensations.
James’s lips curled into something dark, something smug, something triumphant. “You are, wallflower. You are mine. Tonight.”
One finger touched her lips, toyed with her lower lip, and traveled down her neck to her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts. His jaw ticked, his teeth raking over his lower lip.
Diana’s eyes fluttered shut. She writhed under him, arching into his touch. He didn’t stop till he reached her ankle.
His fingers curled around the hem of her dress, and he pulled it higher, his knuckles grazing the little hairs anywhere they touched. Slowly, like they had all the time in the world. Reverently, as if it was an unexplored land he needed to map carefully. And still, he was nowhere near where she was burning, where she needed him most.
“James, I need…”
James was on her again, his hot chest squishing her breasts, one hand pinning both of hers above her head. She gasped, and her body arched to meet him. Every cell in her body longed to touch him, to be touched by him.
“I know what you need, My Lady.” He licked her upper lip.
Diana let out a soft, desperate sound. He chuckled, and that dark, pleased sound that rumbled in his chest made her quake with anticipation. The promises that sound held.
James dipped his head to her neck, pressing his lips to her rapid pulse to seal his promise.
“But not before I make you tremble with want, with expectation. Not before I wring every ounce of desire from your beautiful body, Diana. You gave yourself to me.”
He hooked her leg around his waist and ground his hips against hers.
“I will do to you every”—his hand squeezed her thigh—“wicked”—a long pull on her nipple—“delectable thing I have dreamed of.”
Diana writhed under him, not knowing what was worse—his torturous hand, his scandalous tongue, or his shameful mouth.
“Anything, something,” she begged.
She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but she knew that if he touched her there, she would explode. And if he didn’t, she would die.
“Patience.” James chuckled.
Frustration rose inside her, but before she collected herself, his hand moved up and spread over her thigh, which was a quivering mass. He drew patterns on her skin as his lips brushed her temple.
Diana let out a soft, choked cry, her hips bucking on instinct, her body seeking more—seeking him .
He chuckled again. “So eager, so responsive, my little student.”
Diana knew she should be furious at him. But there was nothing else in her body other than the liquid heat that coiled low in her belly. Only he could free her from this torment.
But he was taking his time. His fingers lazily ghosted over the back of her thigh, kneading her flesh. Branding his touch onto her skin. Then, ever so lightly, he traced the edge of her drawers. A feather-light touch that made her twitch and hold her breath.
“You so desperately need me to touch you.”
“I do, My Lord.”
Almost there.
Diana bit her lip to stop herself from cursing, almost losing control. And then she felt the barest brush of his fingers through the damp fabric between her thighs.
“Ah!” she whimpered.
“That’s it,” he praised in a sinful voice.
He didn’t withdraw his fingers. Instead, he pressed more firmly. And although it was nearly not enough, Diana was writhing under him. Again. And again.
James rested his forehead on hers, swearing under his breath, inhaling through his nose deeply.
“So wet for me, My Lady.”
Diana would have blushed if she was not burning already, if she cared at all how beyond the lines this was. Her mind, her ever-wondering mind, had shut down, and her body was claiming the pleasure it was owed.
His fingers pushed the silk aside. Time came to a standstill. This was it. She knew it. The point of no return. He would touch her where she hadn’t been touched.
She expected fear, panic, shame. But the only thing she felt was a shift in her body to accommodate his exploring fingers.
The first stroke there shattered her. An unintelligible sound left her lips, a sound she never knew she could produce, so low, guttural, and almost devastating.
James leaned up, one hand still keeping her arms pinned above her head. She knew why. If she were to touch him, he would throw all caution out of the window. She could see his handsome face tight with restraint, his lower lip permanently trapped under his teeth.
“More!” she begged shamelessly.
“Just like that. Let me hear you, My Lady,” he groaned.
His fingers mapped her core. He slid a finger into her heat, and she was wrecked. The sounds were wet and sinful.
She lost all control. She ached for his touch, her eyes hooded, her jaw slack, as she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. The pleasure was too sharp, too much. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own, chasing each stroke, each wicked, teasing thrust of his fingers.
And then James withdrew his hand.
“God! No!” she sobbed.
“You are trembling, Diana.”
“James.” Diana fought to free herself.
“Tell me, My Lady,” he whispered in her ear. “What do you want?”
“James, please.” She arched her back, seeking some friction.
“Please what?”
“Give me what I need, please!” Diana all but screamed.
“And what do you need?”
“I…”
“Say it.”
“Touch me!”
James chuckled and moved lower, releasing her hands. Diana’s breath caught as realization dawned on her.
He can’t be ? —
“Oh, I will do so much more.”
He didn’t even let her think about more. He was already there , his shoulders wedged between her thighs.
“James, what…?”
James let out a dark, satisfied sound that sent shivers down her spine. Then, he looked up at her. “I told you, My Lady. I need to taste how sweet you are.”
Diana was ready to protest, to say something—anything. This couldn’t be happening. Till it was.
His mouth was on her. She screamed. He growled against her, but he didn’t stop. He devoured her with long, torturous strokes.
Diana lost all control of her body. She arched her back and pressed her head into the soft pillows. Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling into the brown curls as he teased her, leading her to something unfathomable.
He was drinking her in like a starved man, all his being devoted to her. His fingers were tight around her thighs to keep her exactly where he wanted her. The muscles in his back were tense as he struggled to keep himself in check.
She was lost, her modesty in shambles as his tongue teased her relentlessly. The air had rushed out of her lungs, and her heart couldn’t keep up with the rest of her body. She was climbing a peak that would kill her, yet she didn’t care.
“Yes!”
She could feel him smile against her, and she ground against his devilish lips. Higher, and higher, faster and faster, harder and harder. Her body was a bow ready to snap.
What was happening to her?
And then he did that with his lips.
Diana shattered. Her entire body bowed off the settee, her vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
“James!” she screamed, shaking, writhing, gasping.
She was swimming in a sea of bliss, her body reduced to nothingness, unable to even blink.
James rose to his knees between her legs, his lips glistening. The look in his eyes was soft, warm. He leaned into her, his weight comforting. Then, he pressed his lips to her forehead, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on her hip.
“Breathe, Diana,” he whispered, his voice rough with reverence.
Diana looked at him and mustered whatever strength she had left to cup his cheek in her hand. His eyes lit up, and he grabbed her hand and kissed the pulse on her wrist.
“By the way, My Lady.” He smirked. “You taste delicious.”