Chapter Twenty-Three #2
But that would be unfair. He’d already said he was returning to Hell, and I’d already accepted that.
His compliments now were assurance that this meant something to him, but it didn’t mean perpetuity or commitment.
It was special, to be sure, but not in the way a human would think it to be special.
I had no idea what “special” would mean to a demon; I should ask—I knew that—but if I heard something I didn’t like, that could ruin this evening, which was my only chance to be with him biblically. Or demonically.
So instead of saying anything that was in my heart, I gave him a smile, saying “Thank you.”
He moved as though to kiss me, but then the door opened again, revealing a creature pushing a trolley whose surface was covered with food. I didn’t know what kind of creature they were, but they had a pleasant face and a friendly demeanor.
“Just over there, please,” Marcellus said, gesturing to the spot next to the sofa.
The creature didn’t speak, just nodded and rolled the trolley over. Marcellus pulled out some more coins and handed them over; then the creature nodded and left as quickly as they had come.
“I think we should have a glass of wine,” Marcellus said.
The wine was an excellent idea—after I’d had a glass, I felt a tiny bit more relaxed. And definitely more interested in seeing Marcellus in fewer items of clothing.
“Well?” I said, putting my now-empty glass down on the table next to the sofa.
“Well?” he repeated, giving me an amused look.
I made a confused gesture. “So how do we begin?”
He quirked a brow. “After all we’ve done, you have to ask?”
I blushed. He had a point. It wasn’t as though we hadn’t done many things already—it was just that we hadn’t had the time or the space to do the things we’d done thoroughly. Perhaps that was what was causing my nervousness.
“What would you like to do, Cora?”
I licked my lips. We were seated together on the sofa, our legs nearly pressed together.
I shifted so I could look at him directly, putting my arm on the back of the sofa and placing my fingers on his shoulder.
“You can do whatever you like,” he added.
The heat in his eyes made me feel bold, and I leaned forward, placing my mouth on his.
He didn’t move as I kissed him, though he certainly participated well enough; our tongues tangled with each other’s, a duel where neither side would lose, no matter the outcome.
I inched forward, gripping the back of his neck with my right hand, and found my left hand had made its way onto his thigh, which was hard and muscular.
I was acutely aware of my hand being very close to that part right there, but I didn’t want to rush things—we had all night, but it was one night only, and I didn’t want it to be over in just a few minutes (apologies to Fred, again).
Then I moved that hand to his waist, quickly burrowing my fingers under his waistcoat and beginning to pull his shirt up from where it was tucked into his trousers.
He put his hand on mine and drew away. “I think we should move this to over there,” he said, jerking his head to the bed. “If that is acceptable to you, that is.”
I gave an enthusiastic nod and leaped off the sofa, extending my hand to him.
He rose with a grin, taking my hand. We went to the bed, but he didn’t get onto it straightaway; he stood in front of it and turned to look at me.
“Cora, I am dying for you,” he said in a low, husky tone, “but I want to make this as good for you as possible. Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I replied simply. I pushed him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor. He gazed up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, leaning slightly back on his hands.
“Take your cravat off,” I ordered, and his fingers immediately began to untie the white linen at his neck. Then he tossed it behind himself without breaking his eye contact with me. His neck was strong and beautiful, and I already felt my breath begin to quicken.
“Your jacket.” That, too, went off, though he took a bit more care with it, folding it and putting it at the end of the bed.
Then I reached for him, put my hands to his shirt, and began to undo the buttons. My fingers trembled.
I shouldn’t have been quite so nervous, given what we’d done together already, but somehow this felt different; after all, we’d very specifically planned it, whereas the other times had been relatively spontaneous, though no less delightful.
There was no pretending this was anything but a premeditated assignation, which meant I had to be an adult and accept that this was my decision, no matter what might happen in the future.
Which reminded me—“Oh my God”—at which he winced—“I have protection,” I said, feeling mortified but knowing I would feel even worse if I didn’t mention it because of potential embarrassment. “Lily gave me something but said it wasn’t guaranteed and that I should check with you?”
He chuckled. “We will be fine. Like human females, demons have their own cycles, and I am in a safe one at the moment.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Well, that was certainly helpful—it wasn’t incumbent on the female to have to fuss about protection all the time? Hell was looking better and better. But that didn’t mean it still wasn’t Hell.
“Ah, well, excellent,” I said. I had snapped myself out of the mood, so I returned my attention to his throat and the top part of his chest. Yes. That would do the trick.
He jerked his chin at me. “Do you want me to undress you, Cora? It seems that this would all be easier with fewer layers of clothing. And I so desperately want to see you naked.” His voice was a hungry growl, and my stomach flipped in response.
“Uh, yes please,” I said. He rose, then went to stand in back of me, surprising me by pushing me down so my hands were on the bedspread, my body bent over in front of him.
He made an inarticulate noise that felt extremely complimentary, and then I felt his fingers at the top of my gown, undoing the buttons.
And then his lips followed, kissing the more exposed parts as he worked downward.
I still wore a shift, so we weren’t skin to skin yet, but the fabric was thin, and his warm breath cut through.
Once the final button was undone, he slid the gown off my arms and then off entirely, before draping it over one of the chairs. “Don’t move,” he ordered, and I obeyed. I liked him taking charge like this, even though I’d been ordering him about just a few minutes earlier.
When he returned, he wrapped his arm around my abdomen and pressed his chest against my back.
I could feel his erection and realized he’d removed his trousers and was likely in just his smallclothes.
His chest was warm, so he must have taken off his shirt as well.
For a moment, I was chagrined I hadn’t been able to watch the removal, but knowing that nearly naked Marcellus was behind me, his body against mine, with me unable to see, was tantalizingly erotic.
He moved his hand down, splaying his fingers against my belly, then lower, where he pulled my shift up so it was around my hips, exposing my most sensitive area. He began to caress it, and I moaned, instinctively turning my head to look at him.
“Don’t move, I said,” he commanded. His tone sent an exquisite thrill through me.
His fingers found my clitoris and began to rub, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me. He was fully pressed against me, his rigid length adding another delicious sensation.
My eyes were closed, and I was pressing my head against the bedspread, focusing on each and every one of his touches.
His other hand—the one not currently flicking my nub with expert precision—was at my breast, and he’d slid it under the fabric to find my nipple, which he was rolling between his fingers.
It was almost too much, all the touching, and I felt as though I was nothing more than an outlet for our passion, every other thought having left my brain, leaving only want and need and desire.
“Cora,” he said, pressing a kiss against the back of my neck, “tell me when you’re about to come. I want to hear you scream. You can be as loud as you want. I want to hear all of it.”
I gave a frantic nod, since his fingers were increasing the pressure, and I could feel my climax building, slowly, inexorably, like I was about to summit a peak and only had a few steps to go. “Marcellus,” I gasped, after a few moments, “Marcellus, I— Don’t stop, whatever you do, don’t stop.”
“I won’t, my darling,” he said. I could feel him rubbing his erection against me, and I shifted back in response, which elicited a groan. “Vixen,” he muttered.
And then—and then I came, and I felt my entire body spasm in pleasure, my legs trembling as the orgasm crested through me, a sweet, syrupy feeling that was like the best possible cup of tea accompanied by the lightest, most delectable dessert.
I didn’t think Marcellus would appreciate his work being compared to something one consumed every day at four o’clock, so I would not mention this to him.
I didn’t scream or shout his name, though I did gasp and say, “Oh, oh, oh,” quite a few times.
Eventually, I slumped flat on the bed, his hands now pinned under my body, his weight on top of mine.
“Well,” I said at last, “that was an excellent start.”
He laughed and shifted off me, rolling onto his back beside me. “We have all evening.”
I glanced over at his beautiful face, struck yet again by just how stunning he was. Was that part of being a demon? Being so alluring one could not resist?
No, that couldn’t be it, since his father wasn’t that prepossessing. I realized I knew nothing about his mother, but I didn’t know if it would be awkward to ask at this particular time. What if she was something he didn’t want to talk about?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Your expression got very concerned all of a sudden.”
Well, no one could ever say I was very good at lying.