Chapter 7 #3
She hugged herself. “Why? Because you are so tempted that you might lose control? I meant it when I said I am not afraid of you! Make love to me, Sean. Just this one time, so I can remember it forever.”
He stared at her as if paralyzed.
She stared back, and the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room could be heard ticking. A hundred seconds passed. She finally raised her hand in a plea. He flinched but was still. She inhaled and cupped his rough cheek.
His body trembled but he did not move away and as their eyes locked, she saw the battle he was waging. Then she saw his long thick lashes drift closed. She gasped and he moaned.
A knock sounded on her door.
His eyes flew open and she saw fear in them.
“Lady Eleanor?” her maid said.
Sean had paled. “The maid?”
“I’ll send her away!” Eleanor cried, seizing his hand. He had been a moment away from surrender, and she knew it. The timing could not have been worse. Now his thoughts were on discovery or escape.
He shook his head fiercely. “Routine. Answer it.” The desire and need that had been so brightly reflected in his eyes was gone. His gaze was hard, controlled. Eleanor could not be more dismayed. Then he pulled away, crossing the room and disappearing behind the curtains.
The window did not slam closed.
Her maid knocked again. “Lady Eleanor?”
She stood in the center of the room, barely hearing the maid, thinking about how Sean almost let her lead him to the bed. She was shaking with so much desire. Finally, she turned to let Lettie in.
“My lady, what took you so long to answer?”
Only her personal maid, whom she’d known her entire life, could be so bold. “I fell asleep,” she lied, glancing at the draperies again. She knew Sean hadn’t left; she could feel his intense presence.
“Let me get your nightclothes, my lady,” Lettie said, going directly to the armoire and retrieving Eleanor’s white cotton nightgown.
Eleanor was about to tell her that she would change later.
It was late, though, and she had no excuse to make for not having Lettie help her get ready for bed, as that was what she did every single night.
But Sean was standing a short distance away, hiding behind the curtains, and they had yet to finish the conversation that would have to last her the rest of her lifetime. How could she undress now?
She began to tremble. Her breasts felt fuller, the tips tingling. She had become thick and swollen in unmentionable places.
The maid had laid her nightclothes on the bed as she always did and she swiftly undid the buttons on the back of her gown. Eleanor tensed as Lettie pulled the gown over her head. She could no longer breathe; Lettie was untying the strings of her corset and loosening it.
The corset vanished. Eleanor bent to reach for her garters, feeling naked now, her cheeks on fire. Her heart beat hard and fast, and her skin tingled wildly. She could barely believe what she was doing and she was certain Sean was watching.
His lust, his need, his desperation had combined into a single tangible element and it filled the room.
When her stockings and shoes were gone, she hesitated, trembling uncontrollably and afraid her maid would notice. Sean’s lovemaking was not going to be anything like Peter’s gentle kisses. She somehow was certain of it. She could not wait. She needed him now.
And then her chemise was gone.
And she suddenly could not stand it. Lettie was untying her drawers but all Eleanor could think about was Sean touching her bare skin, his hands on her hips, his mouth on the side of her neck.
Suddenly her nightgown dropped over her head and spilled down her body.
It was the finest spun cotton, the gown V-necked, the insets sheer, the body sleeveless and trimmed in lace.
Eleanor could not move. Lettie unpinned her hair and then spread the masses out over her shoulders.
Then she began to divide her hair into sections.
Eleanor swallowed so she could speak. “No. I don’t want a braid tonight.” Before her maid could evince surprise, she smiled firmly. “Good night, Lettie. I am exhausted,” she added.
She thanked her maid, walking her to the door without even realizing it. Nor was she aware of closing the door and locking it. All she could think was, Sean. The air in her room had become so thick she was almost choking on the tension, the heat. No, she was choking on his tension, his heat.
She heard him coming.
She turned, pressing her spine into the wood.
Sean’s strides ate up the distance between them. His gaze was wide, hard, fierce.
Eleanor felt a moment of extreme excitement, even fear. She had provoked him, and she saw he was beyond any control. He was aroused, so much so she could see the wide hard line in his breeches. And she felt the first spasm of uncontrollable pleasure, licking between her thighs.
He didn’t stop.
She arched back against the door, gasping.
His hands seized her shoulders and their eyes collided.
It was Sean, but she had never seen him like this before. He was crazed with desperation and lust.
And then she knew she wanted to see affection and love there.
But she had enough love for them both. “Sean,” she began, reaching for his beautiful face.
His eyes seared hers, his mouth inches from her lips. “Too late!” he cried. And he pulled her against his stiff, inflamed body, and his mouth opened, covering hers.
His mouth was filled with insatiable greed. She became still, grasping his shoulders, as he kissed her deeply, wetly, thrusting his tongue deep, licking her inside. Her heart burst. She swelled, and knowing it, he pressed his massive loins over her.
She’d had no idea, she somehow realized, that passion was like this. She cried out, kissing him back now, using her tongue to explore him, filled with an answering greed. He gasped in pleasure, his hands finding her breasts, and ripped her nightgown away from her.
She felt the first spasms begin as he teased her nipples into an impossible state of pleasure and pain, their mouths now fused completely. And then his chest flattened her breasts, and her spine was crushed against the door while his huge manhood slid between her wet thighs.
Eleanor became dizzy and faint with cresting desire, the throbbing excitement.
Shaking uncontrollably, as well, he pushed against her, his mouth now against the side of her neck. He was hot, wet and hard between her thighs.
Eleanor began to fly and break apart and she wept in pleasure against his mouth.
He gripped her buttocks, now bare, in his hands. “Please,” he gasped. “Elle, please, let me fill you.”
She understood that he needed her and wanted her as he had never needed or wanted anyone before. “Sean!” Ancient instinct made her lift her leg and wrap it around his waist.
He groaned, the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, helped her lift her other leg and then he was burying himself inside her.
There was a brief pain, and then there was only dark mindless pleasure, hot friction, wet heat and a deep, rich wild spasm began.
He was huge, filling her completely, perfectly.
And he pushed hard and fast and faster still, gasping and determined, mindless, intent.
Eleanor held on to him, sobbing with pleasure, crying in release.
He cried out thickly, collapsing against her, his body convulsing, filling her with his wet heat.
The tension rippled away, vanishing. She held him, gasping for breath, loving him more than ever, so much so that it hurt. She slowly released her legs, and he let her, so her feet found the floor. She held him more tightly, beginning to understand what had just happened. “Oh, Sean,” she whispered.
He stiffened in her arms.
In that moment, she knew he had regained his mind, too.
And he straightened, looking at her with wide eyes—and it was a look she had seen once and hoped to never see again.
He looked at her with shock.
“No,” Eleanor began, reaching for him.
He leaped away.
“Sean! No! It’s all right!” she cried desperately, attempting to smile. “I love you!”
He backed away, his eyes wide with disbelief. And then she saw his self-loathing begin.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “I love you—come back.”
He shook his head, backing away another step. And then he turned and strode to the window.
Eleanor wept his name.
But he was already gone.