Chapter 11
ELEVEN
KISSING LESSON
Ella
By eleven, there was still no sign of Gordain.
No news and no letup from my gnawing fear.
I paced in front of the great hall’s fire, keeping the flames burning with fresh logs.
Ally had sent Gordain a message, but there had been no response.
He sat in the opposite seat, making occasional conversation, but my anxiety seemed to have infected him, too.
I went over mine and Gordain’s last conversation, and our kiss. I wanted more of it, that was for sure. I wanted more of Gordain full stop. But it was a weird feeling. Hadn’t I declared to myself that I didn’t want a boyfriend? Not at age eighteen and with zero real world experience.
Richard used to have a name for me—the girl. He rarely used my name, and if he did it was Elinor and not Ella, but most times he’d overlook me and talk to whoever I was with. My headmistress or a tutor. What are you doing about the girl? How much is it going to cost for the girl?
It made me feel, even at sixteen or seventeen, like I was an infant, not a fully fledged person with ideas and thoughts of my own.
I’d had no decision-making power, and I was never, ever consulted.
Even now, with my uncle still able to access my finances, I felt like I was being second-guessed at every stage.
I’d heard nothing from him since James kicked him out, but that couldn’t last.
My phone dinged in my hand, and I snapped it up to stare at the screen. An email.
I sighed, shaking my head at Ally whose gaze had also whipped up, and resumed my pacing. He went back to his own device.
Then I looked at my screen again, registering the sender’s name. R. Fitzroy.
My skin crawled. I opened the message from my uncle.
Elinor.
This morning, I received notification of your university tuition fees. I have approved them, though your choice of degree is frivolous. I trust you will appreciate this goodwill, as you must know how little you deserve my attention. In due course, I will be in touch, and you will return the favour.
Yours, R. Fitzroy
I read it again, cold in my veins and anger bubbling from his tone. From his fucking expectation that he still had the right to talk to me. That I owed him anything.
Why the hell had the lawyers contacted him? I swallowed my outrage, knowing that they had no choice, but even so.
“Everything okay?” Ally asked.
“It’s nothing.” I deleted the email and slid my phone into my pocket.
I couldn’t handle my uncle if even thinking about him had me nauseated. Or chilled with fright. No, I hadn’t changed at all in the months I’d been free. And until I could tackle that man, I never would.
Which made thoughts of Gordain easier.
I forced the two halves of my feelings into two separate boxes.
The first—full-on sexual desire for Gordain. Temporary, probably. Perhaps in response to my…self-service problem. It couldn’t be more, or if it was, I couldn’t trust it. I didn’t know myself at all. Too much had changed recently, and I was still responding to it.
The second—caring about him as a friend. He’d always be in my brother’s life, so I would have him around. I wanted that so much.
An engine roared outside, and my heart sped. Ally leapt to his feet and strode to the door. He opened it and peered out into the pitch-black night.
“It’s him,” he said, a grin lighting up his face. He gazed for a second, his shoulders sagging, then he made for the stairs. “I’ll let ye greet him in private. I’m going to bed.”
Ally vanished. I twisted on the spot, frozen as Gordain appeared in the doorway. He shot the bolts of the heavy castle door then turned, and spotted me by the fire, alone now in the dark.
“You waited up for me?” he said. His jacket was torn, and he held his left arm gingerly, like it hurt.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
We stared at one another, and my pulse thrummed in my ears, tension building.
“Fuck it,” Gordain muttered, and he strode over.
I met him with willing arms, my lips warm on his cold ones. We pulled one another in and, though I was careful with him, he was anything but with me.
Gordain banded me to him, the smell of the outdoors clinging to his skin. All other thoughts rushed from my head.
“I worried,” I said against his mouth.
Gordain pulled back, gazing at me. “Really?”
“I thought something terrible had happened. Are you injured?” I ran my hand lightly up his arm, over the thin sweater.
Gordain shivered, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s nothing. I got battered by the rocks on the second rescue. I’m braw.”
I drew a deep breath. “Shower and shoulder repair first, or food?” Then I held up a hand. “Actually, go on up. I’ll bring you your food, then take a look at you.”
Gordain gazed down at me, his head tilted. “All the time I was out, I had one thing on my mind.”
“Oh yeah?” I didn’t get a chance to ask more because he swooped back in and stole another kiss. One that left me breathless.
“Hurry up and follow me upstairs,” he said, his voice low.
I’d never heated pasta so fast in my life.
In Gordain’s snug living room, I placed his bowl of food on the coffee table then clicked on a lamp. Noises came of him moving between his bathroom and bedroom, then, after a minute, he appeared, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.
He made a beeline for the food, dropping down on the couch next to me. He ate, and I tucked my legs underneath me and shuffled to face him.
“You are an excellent chef,” he said, halfway through the meal.
“How do you know Ally didn’t make it?”
Gordain gave me a look and set his bowl aside. He took a quick drink of the water I’d brought, replaced the glass, then, without pause, dragged me onto his lap.
One hand wedged into my hair, and the other gripped my waist. Gordain made a hungry sound and laid a kiss on my throat.
Oh God.
“I’m meant to be checking over your arm,” I said, twisting to give him better access.
“Then check. I’m not stopping you.” His next kiss landed higher, just below my ear. “But while you do it, tell me about the arsehole who ye kissed last.”
“That’s bothering you?”
“Aye.”
I rolled up his t-shirt sleeve, trying to concentrate while Gordain continued his distraction technique.
“He was just a boy I barely knew. It was my first kiss, and a bad one.”
In the dim lamplight, a red-and-black bruise spread over his shoulder. There were no cuts that I could see, but it must hurt.
I sucked in a breath. “We should put something on that.”
He made a sound of disagreement. “Kiss me again. I won’t remember my own name, let alone that wee dent.”
I brought my gaze to meet his, suddenly unsure again. I was on his lap, and he wanted me to lead. Should I…move?
“That first kiss,” Gordain murmured. “It was also your only kiss, aye?”
I gave a self-depreciating grumble.
“Then practice some more on me. Grind, even. I don’t mind.” With one finger, he lifted my chin. “Don’t overthink it. Your kiss sends me wild. Try it again. That’s all we’re going to do, so take your time and make it good.”
I swallowed and braced myself against his chest. Then I touched his cheek, tracing over his rough stubble.
“Want me to shave first?” he asked, his voice quieter.
“No. Why do you cut your hair so short?” I asked. It was only slightly longer than his scruff.
He shrugged his good shoulder. “I got into the habit in the RAF.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but I was procrastinating. So I dipped forward and pressed my lips onto his.
Gordain took a sharp inhale but held his head still, giving me control. His hands found my hips and settled, not grasping me or grinding me onto him, just gently letting me explore.
We sat in the cosy dark and let our mouths become acquainted.
I grew bolder. Tentatively, I nudged his head back to give me a better angle, and I licked his lips. Gordain moved with me and opened his mouth. Our tongues met, and I jerked, the shock of how utterly sexual this was new and electric.
I went back for more.
The kiss turned hot and wet, and I learned just how much Gordain liked me stroking his tongue with mine.
“Christ, Ella,” he said, low and rough, but still he restrained himself, letting me set the pace.
Beneath me, he grew hard, only his shorts and my soft leggings between us.
My confidence skyrocketed along with my pulse, and I shifted ever so slightly so I could rub the persistent ache between my legs on his hardness.
Gordain gave a strangled noise of pleasure.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“Aye, lass. Work yourself on me. However ye want me, I’m yours.”
I should’ve felt self-conscious again, but Gordain’s encouragement gave me a fresh wave of pleasure that had me dragging in a breath. “I haven’t been able to… I mean, for months…”
He stilled. “Ella?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to come?”
So much it hurt. With my face burning, I gave a tiny nod, and Gordain grinned wickedly.
“Then let me help ye out.”
He stood, lifted me with ease, then laid me on my back on the couch and fitted himself between my legs.
His mouth met mine once more, but it was his cock that had my full attention.
He lodged himself right up against my clit and, with a sweeping kiss, he rolled his hips, pressing in just the right spot.
Oh God!
I squeaked, getting more pleasure from the base of his cock through two layers of clothes than my own hand and multiple tries.
He moved his hips in steady motions. Holding himself over me, he kissed and grinded on me with exacting pressure.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
Gordain didn’t let up. Faster and faster. Driving me insane with lust and blooming pleasure across my body. My nipples hardened, desperate for touch, and my insides clenched, empty. I wound up, tight, tighter, like a spring.
“Ohhh.” I broke the kiss, arching my neck and screwing my eyes closed.
Gordain upped his assault, his lips on my neck, nipping lightly with his teeth. The effect was so overwhelmingly erotic, I lost my mind, blown away with sensation.
“Gordain!” I yelped as if warning him of the precipice I was hanging over.
“Let go, Ella,” he commanded and thrust again and again.
I exploded.