Chapter 6
Six
ETTA
“You taste so good, Etta,” Wilhem’s head popped up as he licked his lips.
Watching him taste her and enjoy her woke up another level of desire within her.
Her body ached all over in need. Her hands wanted to touch every part of him.
Seeking. Exploring. Massaging. She wanted to make him feel even an ounce of what he had made her feel.
She had the distinct urge to give him everything that she had, knowing that he’d accept no less and offer no less.
She would have thought that having him, releasing to him, was all she needed. But that look in his eyes, devilish, spoke of more secrets to share. Her body craved him. More of him.
“That was…incredible, Wilhem.” Her words were wisps of wind because her eyes were trained on his cock. Or…where his cock was bulging out underneath his breeches. And her lady parts throbbed in desire. God, he looked huge, and she couldn’t even see all of him.
He followed her gaze and stood up. “We can fix that if you want.”
“Mhmmm…” she squeaked out. “I want.”
He sank to the seat beside her and pulled her atop him. His hands splayed out on her waist, rubbing his thumbs up and down her sides.
She shifted on his lap. Anything to get closer to that bulge.
“You really do want more, don’t you?”
She nodded, not fully understanding her body but giving in all the same.
She felt wanton. Wicked. Insatiable. Just like the images from the book, The One With the Wanton Woman promised.
This was her moment with him. Maybe it could be more?
Maybe…But even if it couldn’t be, she wanted all of him at least once.
She knew what it meant to choose this with him.
To give herself to him. But if there was anyone on earth she had ever imagined giving herself to, and equally believing it an impossibility to do so, it was him.
Wilhem. Her brother’s best friend. The rogue.
The man who followed his heart. Lived his own life.
Marched to his own beat. A beat she had never dared to follow before. Out of fear.
But what was fear? Sometimes that was based in reality.
A warning bell. Get out. Like her wedding.
That’s why she’d fled from Ralph. That was real fear.
To imagine living the rest of her life with someone she neither loved nor really liked.
And it wasn’t that Ralph was unlikable. He was just…
Ralph. She felt nothing for him. Wasn’t that incalculably worse?
To live with no feelings rather than to follow her heart?
Even if her heart led to despair. Sadness.
Regret. It was better to have lived. Loved.
Lost. Grieved. Felt. Than to have nothing at all to show for her life.
Consequences be damned—they already were—so why not live her fullest life? Live her dream. If only once.
She brushed herself over him, feeling his solid heat scorching her.
“God, your body is hot, Etta.”
Throbbing. Helpless. Needy. She rolled her forehead against his. “Wilhem,” she panted. “You know what I need more than I do. Please,” she rubbed her breasts against his chest, desperate for friction, “give it to me.”
He paused for but an instant, searching her face. She could feel him searching her and finding his answer.
Hands flew. Fabric tore. Buttons loosened.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Etta,” he breathed her name onto her own lips. “Do you want this or you want me?”
“I want you, Wilhem. All of you.”
“That’s all I need to know, Etta.”
She felt a dampness between her legs. A sharp inhale.
And then his cock sliding into her. Nothing could have prepared her for the immense rush of emotion that welled up within her.
Connection like none other. Intimacy. She felt part of him.
And as though she were giving all of herself to him.
White stars blinded her vision as her eyes fell shut and her fingers trembled against his skin.
Her moans enveloped the silence in the carriage and threw it out the window.
“That’s it, Etta. You can take all of it, belletrist.” She loved the names he called her.
Like he knew her. Like he was speaking to her soul.
Her essence. Every time he uttered a new one—or an old one—it was as though he was claiming her.
Announcing to the world that she was his in a way she had never been and could never be anyone else’s.
Finding a shaky breath, she asked, “There’s more?”
He chuckled, “Find out,” as he stuffed her full of him. He pushed every boundary. In life. With her. He was his own man, and God she wanted all of him for herself.
She cried out, gripping his shoulders, head thrown back. Then his hands were on her breasts. Massaging. His lips were next. And she thought she’d floated up beyond the clouds. This man was making her his adventure. Exploring. Worshipping.
Not too soon after that, his hands were on her hips as he plowed up and into her. Again and again. His solid body was both protective and possessive of her. Somehow she could feel that he needed her the same way she needed him. “You like that, Etta?”
“God, yes!” she shouted as he thrust into her again, pulling her down to meet him in the same movement.
He was guiding her down against his hips, showing her a rhythm, grinding his cock against a bundle of nerves she’d never paid any attention to.
She could feel her body giving way to him.
Opening to him. Her heart had always belonged to him, but it was as though she held it out to him in a locked box.
And now…in this moment, he was gently opening her up.
Taking her heart out of the box and caring for her.
Almost as though he too had been cautious in his approach to her, but now there was nothing between them.
They were one. And she was boldly, irrevocably, in love with him.
They called out each other’s names over and over again. Unable to focus on the kiss any longer, she lapped at his neck. Then she bit down hard as she felt her insides clench around his hardness.
“Holy hell,” he growled into her shoulder. And she felt him pulsate just before a hot liquid ran down her inner thigh.