Chapter 24 #2
Dorian turned from the window to see Ellie slipping into the room, clad in a deep velvet robe. Her damp hair was down and around her shoulders and back in a wild tangle.
He pushed away to unearth a bottle of wine from another cupboard. Rounding the table, he enveloped her in his arms. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded and kissed his cheek. “Yes. Thank you for finding something to eat for us, but I think I just want to lie down for now. With you. Please.”
“Evelina, you need to eat something,” he chided gently.
She shook her head. “I have no appetite. Maybe later. Please—” she drew away from him, but held his hand and pulled him forward. “Please.”
Sighing, he covered the food and allowed her to tug him into the room. Craning his head to the washing room, he said, “Let me clean up for a moment. I’ll be right with you.”
As she headed for the bed, he went to the washroom, disrobed, and freshened up. By the time he returned, Ellie was stepping into the room with a glass of wine in hand. She set the glass down and shrugged off her robe, revealing a sensual slip of creamy silk and lace.
“Evelina…” he paused. “What are you doing?”
She lowered the strap of her left shoulder, his mouth watering as the bodice fell, revealing one perfect round breast crowned with a dusky coral nipple. She repeated the move on the other shoulder, and the nightgown fell completely to join her robe on the floor.
Naked, she reached for the wine, and his eyes traced liberally over her body. Slender with a nipped-in waist, high plump breasts, and curved hips his palms itched to hold.
“Evelina…?”
She lazily strolled over to him. “I want you to make love to me. Tonight.”
His blood lit a fire, but his common sense harnessed it. “No, Evelina. You are not thinking this through. You are very clearly overwrought with the trauma you suffered tonight. You’re dazed.”
She cupped his face, “No, I am not. Look into my eyes, Dorian. Read me. I am not confused.”
“But—”
Evelina kissed him, and the touch was like kindling to a fire.
He strained to not return the kiss, but it was damned near impossible.
For nearly every night since they’d married, he’d yearned to satiate his burgeoning desires in her—but the agreement was that he would control himself so that if and when she married again, she’d be a virgin.
Her lips coasted sweetly over his, and the temptation to indulge seared up his skin. Still, he resisted.
Drawing away, a breath apart, she whispered against his lips, “I want you to take me tonight, Dorian.”
“No,” his voice came rough. “When we annul, you’ll have another—”
She shook her head immediately. “I don’t want another,” she breathed. “I want you.”
He groaned, “Evelina—”
“Look me in my eyes and tell me you do not want me,” she challenged him. “If you do not, I will—”
His tongue pushed inside her mouth with a stabbing force, and she jolted at the motion. Dorian peeled his hands away from her face to hold her instead, then dropped one hand to cup her backside.
He caged her jaw and held her steady as he continued the heated plundering. The hot, slick plunges caused a melting at her core, and her hands plucked at the clean shirt he’d thrown on.
“Evelina—” he held her face, eyes searching hers, “—are you sure?”
“Yes!” she nodded, gasping.
He ripped the shirt away and hoisted her into his arms. With three large steps, he deposited her on the sheets, then kicked his loose trousers aside.
Dipping his head, he took her mouth again, feasting on her lips, as if he were a parched man and she were a last drop of water. With one hand beside her head, he pinned her down into the feathered pillows. A need for her rose from the bottom of his abdomen, like a beast craving air.
The tips of her breasts had risen into stiff and tingling points, brushing his chest. He coaxed her into kissing him back, and when her tongue brushed against his, that shy swipe travelled all the way to his groin. He was harder than a fire iron— from just a kiss!
A hand cupped her breast, and his fingers rubbed and circled the stiff bud. He felt her tremble as he caressed her, his lips hot and hungry. Her fingers speared into his hair, as her body trembled beneath his.
“Dorian—” she gasped, “—Oh God.”
“High praise, sweetheart,” Dorian’s breath scattered over her hot, goose-pimpled skin.
“Get up,” she panted. “On your back.”
Taken aback, Dorian wondered what she meant but obliged her anyway; spinning them, he rested on his back and held her above him. She sat on his lower abdomen, and he could feel the heat of her core on his skin. He knew she felt his arousal thick on his inner thigh.
Leaning in, she nuzzled his temple and kissed his earlobe, flicking and sucking it like he’d done to her before, making the heat in his blood spike. Her lips trailed over his jaw and down his throat.
His neck canted to the side as she kissed over his skin, mouth at his Adam's apple, working her way down to his chest. Like a frisky little feline, she kissed his muscled planes, licking over the flat disks of his nipples.
Dorian’s arms surged up her sides, his broad hands tracing up her torso while the cradle between his thumbs and forefinger slid under her breasts. She peppered kisses over the flexing ridges of his abdomen, and his hand slid into her hair.
The soft tresses flowed like silk over his skin as her mouth dipped lower still. Soon, her lips brushed against the base of his arousal like a whisper. She pried him off his thigh with one hand and softly pumped him, her gentle touch over him made his arousal that much worse.
She proceeded to kiss her way up and down his pole, the butterfly touches of her lips nearly his undoing. When she licked the tip like an inquisitive kitten, he let out a tortured groan. The tether of his control snapped.
“Enough,” he warned her before he reversed their positions.
The moment she was on her back, his mouth met her rosy nipple and sucked it in; she responded with blind need, arching into his touch. Slipping in between the hollow of her legs, he cupped her mound, his fingers deftly parting hot, wet flesh.
A finger entered her, thrusting slowly, and then another joined it, plundering the depths of her giving flesh. Again and again, he touched deep inside her while his palm ground against her tender bud.
Dorian only wanted to take her to the precipice of her peak—just to where she could taste it. She would be ready for him then.