Chapter 27 #2
He whispers against my collarbone, “You’ve been giving Torvil what you think he wants—your undivided attention, your eager availability—but that’s not what he needs.
Make him come to you. Make him worry he’s not the man you want.
Make him work for it. That’s what a man like him needs.
To believe he’s bested everyone by earning the most glorious prize in the Otherworld. ”
“This is the lesson? The reason you’re tormenting me?”
“Partly,” Lachlan says with a grin, his hand cupping my nape again.
“And partly because this is what I want. To keep you in an extended state of arousal. Have you begging me to end it.” His lips brush the shell of my ear as he whispers, “You’d do anything I asked right now if I promised to lick your cunt, wouldn’t you? ”
My eyes slide closed and I moan, fluttering around complete emptiness. I have never felt so hollow, a desperate awareness of all the places I need to be filled. I want him on top of me, inside me. He’s absolutely right; I would do anything he asked if he would just put me out of my misery and—
Plush lips touch mine in a featherlight press.
Despite the tenderness of the kiss, what happens to my body can only be described as a violent explosion. I shudder, I whimper, and I’m fairly certain those are tears streaming from the corners of my eyes.
It’s never been like this with anyone. Not even with George.
Another bit of advice, Lachlan whispers through the diamrhán, sipping me slowly, savoring my mouth. It’s bad form to think another man’s name during a kiss.
Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to if said kisser would stop teasing me and—
Lachlan tucks an arm around my waist and hauls me into his lap. My thighs part, settling around his hips.
His hand spans the entire right side of my face, his thumb hooked beneath my chin. His brow is furrowed and his lips are parted and he looks starving. Ruined. Far more affected than he was even moments ago.
His pupils dance back and forth along my own, dipping toward my mouth, and I witness the exact second he loses whatever war he’s waging with himself.
He pulls me close and kisses me for real.
His hands are everywhere, all at once, stroking down my sides, teasing up my neck, tangling through my hair.
His mouth is hot and wet as he pushes his tongue past my teeth.
If he was sipping before, now he’s gulping, devouring.
His big, powerful body surges up into me and this, this.
Yes. It’s exactly what I wanted. I smile onto his lips as I grind down on his cock, ready for the next lesson.
Hell, I’m ready for the final exam. I want him to rip off my chemise, bend me over the back of the sofa, and—
He pushes me away, gasping for breath, hands wrapped around my shoulders. “That’s enough.”
He lifts me off his lap—as if I weigh nothing—then settles me back onto the sofa. He places my feet over the very obvious bulge in his pants. I want him to use my body to alleviate it.
But I can tell by the determined set of his jaw that he won’t. Not tonight, or not ever?
I’m infuriated. And so aroused it’s physically painful.
He wraps a warm hand around my ankle. “You’re delicious. Dangerous. But I meant what I said about paying attention. And I don’t want this”—he gestures vaguely between us—“this way. Neither do you.”
He’s … God, it’s exasperating how well he knows me.
I slide my feet out of his lap before rising from the sofa, wobbly-legged, and heading toward our shared bathing chamber. As much as I’d like to fling myself back into his lap, beg him to change his mind, I do still possess a shred of self-worth.
“Well,” I say, with all the affronted dignity I can muster with my swollen lips and wild hair, “thank you for the lesson.” I aim a pointed look at his trousers, which are still at full mast. “Enjoy your hand tonight.”
I fling the door open.
Or try to. It catches on something before I’m able.
When I turn, Lachlan towers over me, a palm splayed above my head.
Once again, he’s moved faster than my mortal senses could track.
His shirt has fallen open, exposing the glint of his nipple piercing.
It’s distracting enough that I almost don’t hear his low, “If we are going to do this, I want no lies between us.”
My brow furrows. “What are you talking about? I haven’t lied about—”
“Is a lesson really the only reason you came in here?”
“Of course!” I shout, lying liar that I am. But how does he not understand how dangerous the truth is? Or does he just not care?
He laughs, and it’s a little cruel. But also a little fond. “Then I gave you exactly what you asked for. Nothing more.”
“Yes, but … Well, I thought we were going to … That you were going to …”
“Come back when you’re ready to be honest about what you want, Charlotte. I’ll give it all to you and more.”
I am beyond words. Miserably unsatisfied. Insulted. This was his offer, after all.
I turn and pull on the door again, nearly hitting myself in the face when he removes his palm.
“Goodnight, Sir Cathal,” I spit without looking over my shoulder, then rush into my own room.
I collapse into my bed, silently screaming into my pillow.
I do not touch myself the entire night. To prove a point.
I’m just not sure to whom.