Chapter 21 #2
She did, her heart pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it. He positioned himself beside her, propped up on one elbow, and began to explore. His hand traced the line of her jaw, then down her throat. Over her collarbone. Along the edge of her chemise where it met skin.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured. “So perfect. Like you were made for me. Etched from my every fantasy.”
His hand moved lower, cupping her breast through the thin fabric. Eliza gasped, her back arching involuntarily.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, his thumb brushing over her nipple.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Good. I want you to tell me what feels good. I want to hear every sound you make,” he rasped as he pinched the soft bud gently. “Do you like this?”
“I think so,” she sighed.
He continued his exploration, learning the shape of her through the chemise until she was writhing beneath his touch. Then he unlaced her stays with deft fingers, removing them and tossing them aside. The chemise followed, leaving her bare to his gaze.
“Morgan,” She moved to cover herself, suddenly shy at the idea of being so vulnerable, despite her desire.
He caught her hands gently. “Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful. Let me see you. Let me touch you.”
His touch was reverent, worshipful, as though she were something precious. When his mouth followed the path his hands had traced, when he took her nipple between his lips and sucked gently, Eliza cried out.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. “Let me hear you, Eliza. Don’t hold back.”
His hand traveled lower, over the flat of her stomach, to the warm space between her thighs. He paused there, looking up at her for permission.
“Please,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was asking for.
He smiled then, a slow, wicked smile, and obliged.
His hand found her center, exploring gently at first with just one finger, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan. When he found that particular spot that made her cry out and arch off the bed, he focused there, circling and stroking with perfect pressure with two.
“God, you’re so responsive,” he murmured against her breast as he sucked hard. “So wet for me already. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this? How much I love hearing those sounds you’re making?”
Eliza couldn’t form words. Could only feel. The pleasure built and built, coiling tighter in her belly until she thought she might break apart and never come back again.
“That’s it, darling,” Morgan encouraged, his fingers moving faster now, so deep she felt him in her core.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” she whispered, her hands tangled in his thick, dark hair.
“Every day if you’ll let me,” he growled as he continued plunging his fingers deep inside of her, using his other hand to grab her backside. Hard. She bucked herself closer to him.
“Hungry little thing,” he said as she inserted one more finger, working her until she felt sweat prickle her temples. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
The pleasure crested at the sensation of so much fullness, breaking over her in waves that made her cry out.
She shook with it, overwhelmed by sensations she’d never experienced before.
Morgan held her through it, gentling his touch as she came down, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “So damn beautiful.”
He took a finger and brought it to his mouth, sucking hard. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing, then she clenched them tight.
“You taste exquisite,” he rasped as he kissed her earlobe. “I cannot wait for more. You are a delight.”
When she could finally breathe again, when the world had stopped spinning, she opened her eyes to find him watching her with an expression of such tender satisfaction that it made her chest ache.
“That was… Well, I…” She couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
“That was just the beginning, darling.” He kissed her again, deep and thorough, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I’m not going to rush this. We have the rest of our lives.”
Still dazed from pleasure, Eliza felt a new kind of boldness rise in her at his words, at her resounding pleasure.
She could feel him against her hip, hard and wanting, and instinctively, she shifted, grinding against him with her legs parted.
Morgan groaned, his hands tightening on her waist. For a moment, he responded, his hips moving against hers in a rhythm that made them both moan. Then, with visible effort, he stopped.
“Eliza,” he said, his voice strained. “Wait.”
“Why?” She looked up at him, confused.
Did I do something wrong?!
“Because tonight is about you.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his expression tender despite the obvious desire darkening his eyes. “I want to take this slowly. I meant hat. I want you to be ready, completely ready, before we… before we go further.”
“But what about you?” She glanced down, then quickly away, her cheeks burning. “Isn’t there something I can do to relieve… to help you.”
“I am a big boy, Eliza. Another time,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll show you another time. Tonight, I just want to focus on making you feel good. On showing you, what pleasure can be.”
Before she could protest, he’d moved down her body again, his mouth and hands trailing her thighs until he planted his lips on the soft part of her.
He stuck his tongue in, savoring each movement as if she were the lemon tart.
This time, when she finally shattered, it was even more intense.
She cried out his name, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, her body arching into his touch.
Morgan worked her through it not stopping until she couldn’t take it anymore. Then gathered, he her into his arms, holding her close as she trembled with aftershocks.
“Sleep, darling,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“Shouldn’t I go to my quarters?”
“No. You sleep here, darling.”
Exhausted, overwhelmed, and more content than she’d ever been in her life, Eliza nodded and let herself drift.
The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was Morgan’s arms around her, solid and sure.
And the last thought she had was that maybe, just maybe, this marriage might turn out to be more than just survival after all.
This might actually be something wonderful.