Chapter 8 #3
With a groan, he quit protesting and allowed her to push him backward against the pile of canvas tarps.
They fell with an oof, but he cushioned her fall, the momentum of which only managed to push his hardness against her again.
As he shifted into a more comfortable position, she scrambled to her knees, pulling her chemise over her head with a triumphant flourish, leaving her completely nude, except for her spectacles.
Which she wasn’t going to take off, because doing so would mean missing out on the sight of this glorious man reaching for the buttons of his trousers.
She grabbed a handful of material and yanked everything down to his knees.
When his manhood burst free, already stiff and desperate and crowning with a bead of moisture, Olive gave a little sigh of relief.
Oh good, he does know how this is supposed to go.
Smiling with eagerness, she met his eyes.
“Olive—”
She didn’t give him time to finish whatever he was going to say. Instead, she surged to meet him, throwing her arms around him, at the same time she threw one leg over his torso to straddle him.
His hands found her breasts, then his mouth closed around one nipple, and she mewed in desperation as his thick member slid along the cleft of her rear end.
Since his hands were occupied—excellently so—she reached between them and stroked herself. The simple movement nearly sent her over the edge. How many times had she done this, imagining him under her in this position?
Almost nightly since meeting him.
“Olive…ye…” he murmured against her skin.
She almost told him to hush, but she had other plans. Leaning her weight on her knees—which brought her breasts even closer to his mouth, huzzah—she reached between her legs and grasped his manhood.
It was strangely hard and soft, all at once, and she was determined to explore it to her heart’s content.
Later, later!
His groan of need was all the encouragement she needed to position herself over him and slide home.
They both exhaled together.
He had frozen, his hands still on her breasts, and she forced herself to breathe. The sensation of him inside her wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full, and it took a moment for her to adjust.
“Love…” His voice sounded strained, and when she glanced at his face, his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were fighting for control.
Well, she didn’t want that, did she?
With a desperate little wiggle, she explained the situation clearly. “Phineas, please focus. I would like to orgasm around your male copulatory organ. Do you think you could facilitate that?”
His eyes had flown open at her prim tone, and she had to smile at his confused expression.
“Ye’re no’ too—”
“I was a virgin, now I am not, but I am quite comfortable. Could we please get on with it?”
He blinked at her, his expression slowly easing from one of strain to a grin. “Gladly, love.”
Chuckling, he pulled her back down with one arm while his other hand reached for her curls.
Oh.
Well, as it turned out, Phineas Oliphant didn’t need a diagram after all. He was rather good at this sort of thing.
His hands—his lips—were everywhere as he stroked and suckled her closer to her goal, showing her how she could control the speed, and meeting her thrust-for-thrust. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead, but she appreciated he was letting her set their pace, a leisurely build which soon had her mewing with need each time his tip touched her womb.
“Lass, it’s time.” His voice was hoarse. “Hold on.”
She planted her palms against his shoulders, he grasped her hips, and then it was all she could do to hold on, as he’d commanded. Phineas thrust up into her, again and again, her breasts waving freely between them and desperate little sounds escaping both of their lips.
“Oh!” She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was so close to the edge, but not certain she wanted to fall over it yet. “Oh!”
“Aye, lass! Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me now.”
“I— I do not— Oh!”
She felt her inner muscles tighten around him, and that was apparently all the encouragement he needed. With a roar, he tensed, and she felt a rush of warmth fill her.
That sensation—that knowledge—almost as much as the touches and kisses, sent her over the edge. She stiffened, squeezing his sides with her knees and his manhood with her core, as her orgasm swept over her.
Her body was a statue, her entire being—thoughts, breath, heartbeat—focused on the sensations ripping through her soul. It wasn’t until she became aware of the light caress of his fingertips up and down her hips that she realized she’d run out of oxygen and sucked in a great lungful.
That was all the catalyst her body needed because she collapsed, boneless, atop his chest, his member still tucked perfectly inside her.
It seemed as if a lifetime of bliss had passed before he stirred, reaching around her to place his palms against her rear end.
“Olive, ye…”
His whisper brushed the hair at her temples, and she waited for him to finish his thought. When he didn’t, she hummed slightly and brushed a kiss against his sweaty skin.
The steady drumming of the rain above them matched her heartbeat, but in time, both slowed. She realized she was quite warm and content, but they couldn’t doze the way she was desperate to.
So with a sigh, she pushed herself upright, causing his hands to fall to her hips. In the light from the lamp, she saw his wry smile…and something in his eyes.
She sucked in a breath and jabbed at his chest with one finger. “You do not regret this, do you?”
“What?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Nay! Olive, ye…”
He pushed himself up on his elbows, then as she scooted backward, he sat upright.
It was only then she realized he was still wearing his boots, with his trousers and smalls tangled around his knees.
Before she could snicker about that, he was reaching for her, pulling her against him and tucking her head protectively beneath his chin.
“I will never regret this, Olive.” He blew out a breath. “I just wish the timing had been better.”
Outside, the rain was stopping; the thunder a distant rumble to the west. Olive knew soon she’d have to untangle herself from him and find her clothing once more and face the world.
But she didn’t want to.
This had been an adventure. Not the combat archaeology adventure she’d always dreamed of sharing with Aberdeen Jones, but something better. An adventure she’d shared with Phineas Oliphant, and she never wanted it to end.
But it would have to, wouldn’t it?
Damn.
“I think the timing was fairly perfect, myself,” she managed in a prim voice, which didn’t betray the way her heart was already aching at the thought of going back to reality.
He gave a weak laugh, then lifted her up and away from him, beginning the process of returning to Dumpkins Estate and their rightful roles.
It was as if they both understood this had been a one-time interlude, something which couldn’t be repeated. Now that they’d determined the excavation was a bust, they wouldn’t have the excuse to be alone together again.
But surely there’d be other times, other opportunities? They had the rest of the summer after all.
No. This was our grand adventure. I know it.
The sphaera was lost to history, but she’d experienced ecstasy with the man she loved. That had to be worth something.
When they were dressed once more—her blouse and skirts now merely “wet” instead of “uncomfortably soaked” and her stockings and drawers damp from the rain, not from anything more exciting—Phineas escorted her from the small shed.
Without speaking, he draped his jacket around her shoulders, and now that she was dressed—and wet—once more, she was pleased for the relative warmth. She shoved her hands in the pockets and felt something crinkle but didn’t think anything of it.
No, she was too busy watching the way his lips quirked when he offered his arm.
As they turned toward Dumpkins Manor, leaving their failure of an excavation behind them, Olive couldn’t help mourning what she’d lost.
Because there was something telling her she’d never experience any of this again.