Chapter 12 #2
Her hands clenched against his back, gripping at his shoulders, sliding down his spine so she could cup his backside and grind him harder against her. He moaned against her lips because he could already feel the heat of her even through his trousers.
He wanted to feel it even more.
He rose up onto his knees and shrugged out of his jacket, ripped his cravat in his haste to remove the propriety his family had earlier required. It felt too stifling now. She caught his hands as he moved them to his shirt buttons and shook her head.
“Easy,” she murmured, and unbuttoned for him.
Easy. Yes, she made this easy. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled his shirt over his head. She stared up at him, swallowed hard and then gripped the edge of her flannel dressing gown and simple nightshift, tugging them up around her stomach to bare herself from the waist down.
He shuddered at the sight of her, sprawled on the carpet, legs open, half naked. It all felt so out of control and animal.
“Stop thinking,” she ordered, reaching out to flick the buttons of his fall front open, freeing his cock. She dragged her fingers along the length. “Stop thinking and just take what you need.”
“And what about what you need?” he choked out, shocked he could be so coherent when she was touching him.
She wrinkled her brow as if she didn’t fully understand that question. “Silly boy, I need you . Don’t you think I’ve been aching for you for two days, since that last time you were inside of me in the carriage?”
His heart was pounding at that declaration. He tracked her hand as she took it away from his cock and instead slid it down the apex of her body, between her legs. She spread herself open a fraction and circled herself lightly. “Arabella?—”
“Don’t you think I’ve been touching myself to thoughts of you ever since, longing for you?
Put yourself inside of me and see how slick I am.
Feel me rise beneath you and pulse around you because there is no way that I won’t come the moment you grind against my clitoris.
” She arched against her own fingers and her breath became shaky.
“Do it, Silas. Use me. And know I’m using you just as much. ”
“Shit,” he grunted, and took himself in hand so he could align to her entrance. He thrust hard and found she was correct, she was wet and hot and ready for him. With that permission gained in every way, he lifted her hips slightly, cupping her against his lap, and then he took.
Thrust after thrust, he took. He was hard and fast and angry.
He took her with anger even though it wasn’t directed toward her.
She matched him with every stroke, her pupils dilated, her body twisting with pleasure.
He reached between them to stroke her clitoris and her fingers joined his.
Together they worked her as he took and he felt her legs shaking around his hips, saw the tension enter her face as he brought her closer and closer to the brink.
When she fell, her body gripped him in long waves, squeezing in time to his thrusts as she cried out and shook. He rode her as long as he could, lengthening her pleasure alongside his own until he could no longer stand it. Then he withdrew and spent against his hand, against her thighs.
“Fucking hell, Arabella,” he moaned, and collapsed over her on the rug, his mind empty for the moment, just as he’d wanted it to be.
She smoothed her hands along his bare back, tracing little patterns there. Their panting breaths slowed together and at last he rolled away onto his back to stare at her ceiling.
He’d been with a great many women in his life.
He’d experienced a great deal of pleasure.
But somehow it was nothing like this, nothing like her.
And it would be easy to dismiss that as merely a byproduct of her experience as a lover.
Or her knowledge as a courtesan, able to make a man dance on her string.
But to think that was to diminish what had just occurred between them. And somehow he didn’t want to do that, even though perhaps he should. Perhaps he should pretend it away and make it something casual and without true meaning.
“They want me to stop running around London with you,” he said.
She gave no response for a moment. When he glanced at her face in the firelight, there was no indication of what she felt about that fact.
She didn’t move, she didn’t change anything about her body or expression.
In fact, she was entirely blank, like the statement made no difference one way or another.
“Well, you and I have made no agreements,” she said at last. “And if you decide to bow to their requirements, I could do nothing but understand. After all, I’ll need to make my own arrangements soon enough. You’ll be leaving to return to America in a few weeks anyway.”
He lifted his head. “You know my schedule? Is that how far your research goes?”
“I was told it, I didn’t seek it. But whatever the timeline, this is temporary, isn’t it? We knew that from the start.”
Temporary. His entire life felt temporary sometimes. And yet the fact of it stung this time. He pushed to his feet and fastened his trousers, then slung on his shirt and gathered the rest of his clothing. “You’re right, of course. But I’m not ready for it to end just yet.”
She sat up on her elbows, watching him, so utterly gorgeous when she was disheveled from sex. Then she nodded. “Well, I’m here as long as you’d like me to be, Silas. As long as you need me.”
He held out a hand, which she took and allowed him to help her to her feet. He pulled her in for a kiss, which she also allowed without hesitation. But she also made no move to keep him against her when he pulled away.
“Thank you for this, Arabella. It did help,” he said.
“I’m glad.” She smiled at him, but he noted it didn’t entirely reach her eyes. “Goodnight, Silas.”
“Goodnight,” he repeated, and then he left her parlor to go back into the night, feeling both better and somehow worse after the encounter.
And feeling forever confused about what exactly this woman was and how she could spin him around so easily.
* * *
A rabella watched from her window as Silas swung up onto his mount. He was all sleek and easy strength, a physical specimen unlike any other lover she’d ever had. He urged the animal forward and rode away from her home.
She ducked her head. In her heart, she knew it wasn’t his physical prowess that made him different, not truly. No, the difference with him was something much more powerful and so much worse.
She didn’t want to be shaken to her core by a man.
That wasn’t something one did and remained successful as a courtesan, she’d seen that firsthand with friends and rivals.
And yet Silas Windham did shake her. Not just body with his wicked, wild touch, but he touched her heart and mind, too.
She thought of him too much, wanted to protect him too much, wanted to ask him for protection too, and not the kind that usually went along with arrangements between her and lovers.
Those were all barriers she couldn’t allow him to pass, just as she didn’t allow any man to pass them. She would stop now. Any meeting between them would be light and meaningless and fun, just as they’d promised from the beginning.
And since he would be gone soon, perhaps it was also time to put her focus back on her own future. The one that would not, could not, ever include Silas Windham.