Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
T he cool stone made Matilda gasp as Christopher pressed her against the rough wall, his lips capturing hers with a hunger that made her pulse race. His kiss was fierce, demanding, like a man starved of air, and she responded with equal fervor. She had been desperate for him since leaving his office yesterday, and now, the intensity of his need ignited her own, leaving her trembling with anticipation.
The damp chill of the grotto wrapped around them, mingling with the heat radiating from their entwined bodies. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her curves against his hard frame. She clutched at the rich fabric of his coat, using him for balance as her knees threatened to buckle.
His lips left hers to trail a line of kisses down her neck, the scrape of his stubble a delicious contrast to the softness of his mouth. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat to his ministrations, as the muted trickle of water somewhere in the grotto provided a faint, rhythmic melody to their stolen moment.
"I cannot help myself," Christopher murmured. "I must feel you."
Matilda nodded, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Words failed her as his hands moved to the hem of her gown, bunching the fabric and exposing her legs to the cool cave air. The sensation made her shiver, not from the chill, but the anticipation thrumming through her veins.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close as he worked to push aside the layers of undergarments and skirts in his way. His warm hand finally found her bare skin, and she exhaled a shaky breath when his fingers grazed the sensitive flesh between her thighs.
"You’re so wet, Matilda." His lips brushed her ear as his hand moved higher. "You’re a naughty little minx."
She moaned as he stroked her, his touch unhurried but maddeningly thorough. Heat pooled at her core as his fingers found the sweet spot that made her tremble. Needing him closer, she hooked one leg over his hip, granting him better access.
His eyes widened at her boldness, and a wicked smile curved his lips. "I cannot get enough of you," he growled. His fingers pressed deeper, teasing and stroking with practiced skill.
Matilda clung to his shoulders, her breaths mingling with his as pleasure coursed through her. "More," she gasped, closing her eyes to revel in his touch. "I need you, Christopher."
He groaned in response, his free hand gripping her waist as his fingers plunged into her slick heat, his movements echoing the rhythm of their shared desire.
Her climax came swiftly, taking her by surprise as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, the keen echoing off the stone walls, and he captured her moans with a bruising kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with hers as he swallowed every mutter she made.
He withdrew his clever fingers and adjusted her skirts only when her trembling had subsided. His dark eyes watched her intently, a flicker of fever in their depths. The air between them crackled with unfinished need, and Matilda’s pulse quickened.
"Tell me what I can do for you." Her hand located the bulge straining against the front of his breeches. Her fingers wrapped around his large, long manhood, stroking. "You must be so desirous. Let me make you feel as good as you just made me."
His hand covered hers, guiding her movements for a moment before he stepped back and shook his head. "Not here. But tonight. Come to my room at midnight, and I’ll teach you what you can do for me."
Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she met his gaze boldly. "I’ve read a great deal, you know. Do you mean to have me take you into my mouth?"
His eyes widened in surprise before a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. The sound was low and seductive, making her stomach flutter. "You surprise me, Matilda." A wicked grin played on his lips. "Is there anything that would shock you?"
"No." She lifted her chin and smiled, though her heart raced at the prospect of what they had planned. She had never been so intimate with a man, and no matter how much she wanted Christopher, this desire and lust were all new to her. A different stage in her otherwise sheltered life.
What if she disappointed him? What if she was not enough?
She stepped closer, her hands moving to the buttons of his breeches. He caught her wrists, his grip firm but not harsh. "Not here," he insisted again, though his resolve was weakening.
"Just a little taste," she pleaded, pleased to sound unperturbed and coaxing, the opposite of the worries tumbling about her mind. But if she started her journey here and now, she would not be so nervous when she went to his room at midnight.
"If we hear anyone coming, I’ll stop. Please, Christopher. I want to do this for you."
His growl of frustration, along with the softening of his grip on her wrists, was all the answer she needed. She undid the fastenings of his breeches with deft fingers, freeing him. Her breath hitched at the sight of his member, a heady mix of nervousness and excitement thrumming through her blood.
"Matilda," he groaned, his head falling back as her tongue flicked over the tip of his length. "Christ, don’t tease me. We don’t have much time."
She smiled before taking him into her mouth, her movements tentative at first but growing bolder as his moans encouraged her. Her hand wrapped around the base of him, stroking his thickness in time with her mouth as she worked him.
His fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her firmly. The sounds he made, raw and unrestrained, spurred her on to take him deeper.
"Matilda," he rasped. "Goddamn it, I cannot come in your mouth."
She released him with a pop, her hand continuing its rhythm as she met his gaze. "You can," she said, pressing her legs together as the sweet ache teased her once more. "I want you to. I want to taste you, Christopher."
He swore under his breath, his hands tightening on her shoulders as if to steady himself. "You’re going to ruin me," he muttered before she took him into her mouth and halted his exchange.
This time, there was no hesitation. She worked him with single-minded focus, her tongue swirling around his chiseled cock, before sucking him hard. She felt him tremble, knew he was leaning on the wall at her back for support. His hips bucked, his control slipping as he neared his release.
"Your mouth is wicked," he growled. "Suck me harder, my darling."
With a shuddering groan, he spilled into her mouth, and she swallowed every ounce of his pleasure, savoring the taste of him. She did not stop until he was spent and flaccid in her hand.
He wrenched her to her feet and kissed her fiercely. His lips crushed hers as his hands framed her face. The taste of himself on her tongue seemed to ignite something primal within him, and he deepened the kiss, leaving them breathless.
"Midnight," he ordered, brooking no argument. "Do not be late, or I’ll come looking for you."
Matilda nodded, pleased that she had been brave enough to give him pleasure, too. They stepped apart and adjusted their clothing before leaving the grotto.
When they returned, the picnic was in full swing, and the air was filled with laughter and clinking crystal glasses. Matilda made her way to Charlotte, accepting a glass of champagne and sinking onto a blanket beside her friend.
Sitting across from her, Christopher leaned on one hand as he reached for a strawberry. His eyes never left hers as he bit into the fruit, licking the juice from his fingers in a way that made her cheeks flush. She could still feel those fingers inside her, bringing her to exquisite heights, and the memory sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
She sipped her champagne, trying to appear unaffected, but the hunger in Christopher’s gaze mirrored hers.
How was she ever to leave here? Leave him? He was everything she had ever wanted, and no one else could compare.
Her resolve hardened as she watched him. She would win his heart, whatever it took. He was hers—he just didn’t know it yet.
And by the end of her stay at his family estate, she intended to make sure he did.