15. Jealousy #4
“Listen to me.” He caught her hands, his dark eyes intense. “Marriage would solve everything. You’d have legitimacy to practise medicine; the Moreland name would shield you from scandal. My father wouldn’t move against his own daughter-in-law.”
“How romantic.” But her voice wavered. “A marriage of convenience to save me from your father’s machinations.”
“No.” His hands framed her face. “A marriage because I love your mind, your heart, your kind soul. Because I haven’t known peace since the moment you saved me in that cemetery.”
“You have an odd way of showing it.”
“If you want honesty, here it is. I can’t let you continue the research. It will destroy you. But I swear I’ll pursue it myself. I’ll find proof; make it right.”
“While I sit quietly at home like a proper wife?”
“While you cure ailments freely, without fear of prosecution. While you save lives your way.” His voice dropped lower. “While you drive me mad with want every day for the rest of our lives.”
Emma’s mouth went dry at the heat in his eyes. “This… This is insane.”
“Probably.” He smiled against her hand as he kissed it. “But despite everything, you know my heart is yours.” He drew her closer, tightening his hold on her. “Meet me in the library tonight after dinner.”
“Why?”
“So I can kiss you too thoroughly for you to argue with me.”
“That’s your master plan for seduction?”
"Forgive me,” he said in a dramatic haughty tone.
“I had forgotten you're not like other women.
For you, I shall whisper of science, of nerves threading through the human form, of the marvels of vaccination.
I'll tell you of my father's water company and the poetry of statistics.
Does such intellectual intimacy entice you? "
Before she could answer through her chuckles, his lips met hers again, clouding her mind with his heat and ardour. Emma decided arguing could wait. And when Everett removed his gloves and unbuttoned her cloak, his fingers making their way to her bosom, she ceased to think at all.
His touch was firm on her breast, kneading as he moaned his desperation, his hips pressing against her layers of fabric.
He unbuttoned his overcoat and exposed his breeches within seconds.
His surgeon’s fingers were warm against her skin as he pulled on the decolletage to reveal her breast. Emma shivered as her nipples puckered from the chill, and her creamy skin developed gooseflesh in protest. Then his hot mouth was on her nipple, the heat shocking her nerves, and every swirl of his tongue was felt acutely. Her skin sang with relief.
“Everett… That’s, um…” The words froze on her tongue as his warm fingers cupped her other breast, kneading and massaging her flesh with hunger.
Then he pinched her nipple with his fingers, the surprise of it shooting pleasure through her body.
She realised then how interconnected physical pain and pleasure were.
Everett slowed his movements to a snail’s pace, nipping at her nipples and kissing the creamy flesh of her breasts with light strokes of his lips.
His mouth then traversed the cooled skin of her throat and ear, making her body hum with relief and pleasure.
He pulled back and gazed down at her flushed face.
His eyes were pools of tenderness, his head shaking ever so slightly as though he could not believe he had found her.
With the sun behind him turning his hair golden brown, he presented fresh snow on his palm.
She arched an eyebrow in silent question.
In answer, he pressed the snow gently to her lips, coaxing them apart.
The crystalline flakes dissolved on her tongue, sending shivers through her body.
When his mouth claimed hers again, the contrast between the lingering chill and the burning heat of his kiss made her gasp.
His tongue swept inside, tasting of winter and desire, melting away every thought but the exquisite sensation of cold yielding to warmth.
Each slow, deep stroke kindled a fire that spread from her lips to her core, drawing soft sounds of pleasure from her throat that Everett captured as if they were precious things.
Emma breathed a sigh of relief when his hand finally gathered up her skirts, though her skin protested immediately and trembled.
“Do you want the lesson to continue, Emma?” he rasped, grinding his steely rod against the apex of her thighs, now exposed to elements. “Tell me what you want.”
But before she could answer, he captured her mouth again in a searing kiss as if he couldn’t go another minute without kissing her, pouring all his desire into it. “Blast it, I want to bury myself inside you,” he whispered against her mouth. “No doubt you’d feel as sweet as you taste.”
Then he dropped to his knees in the snow, throwing her skirts over his head.
“Everett, you’ll catch a chill!”
“Not when I’m burning for you,” came his muffled reply.
Emma looked around to ensure no one was approaching.
She then yelped at the ice-cold sensation on her cunny.
Before she could say anything, his hot mouth covered her quim and began to lick.
It felt as though his mouth was branding her sex, burning heat spreading to her belly.
In that moment, his tongue licked her bud with one long stroke, drawing a long groan from her throat.
Her thigh muscles contracted involuntarily, and Emma bucked her hips against his mouth.
He was skilled, bringing her close to climax with each stroke of his tongue while his hands kneaded her ass with groans of appreciation.
Sometimes his grunts sounded like frustrated protests, other times exaltations from arousal.
She knew when he finally gave in to his own need and freed his member.
As he stroked his cock with vigour, his shoulders shook, but he maintained a steady rhythm on her pussy.
Every stroke stimulated her exactly where she ached, and his moans became more urgent as hers did, sending vibrations through her core.
Emma took one deep inhale, then screamed silently as she reached her euphoria with Everett’s mouth cupping her cunny, his tongue buried in her entrance.
Lost in her ecstasy, she barely noticed when he rode his climax with her, his body jerking and mouth pulsing against her quim.
Everett rose to his feet, straightening out her woollen chemise and skirts while brushing snow off his trousers.
He picked up his hat and shook it before donning it.
Wordlessly, he proceeded to straighten her bonnet.
When he finally gazed into her eyes, she suddenly felt vulnerable and frightened.
This man meant so much to her, brought her so much joy, but he could also devastate her with one word, one action.
She could cope with the cut of a scalpel, but she couldn’t begin to comprehend what she would do should his words slice her heart.
But she said nothing, and he beamed at her, making everything better. Just this once, she would let herself believe in fairy tales and happily ever afters, even if her prince came with complicated motives and a talent for disrupting all her careful plans.
Everett interrupted her reverie by picking her up in his arms and carrying her back to the path. They said nothing but only allowed themselves to feel every gaze, every brush of their hands, and the numbing cold that now conjured up different thoughts all together.