Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“No.” Abigail reached out and took his fingers with hers.
“That won’t be necessary. I love this ring.
It is mine now, and you shan’t get it back.
” With a light laugh, she kissed him, her mouth seeking out the quickest of salutations, but what was supposed to be a brief peck, an almost friendly peck of recognition sparked into life something entirely different.
Passion and desire reared its head back up.
Full bodied. Undeniable between the two of them.
As they kissed, all of those feelings—joyous and excited, desirous and heated swam back through Abigail, eking its way from her mouth throughout her torso and limbs, until she might break away to cry out in frustration.
How much she wanted to feel his body against hers again.
How she could beg him to consume her. To take her, nay possess her on the very carpet on which they stood on, and she would feel no shame.
Only the burning need to do so again and again, until she felt whole.
Before Robert, Abigail had been sure she could only have the one love—her fossils, her discoveries, the promise of the ancient world. But love—the kind they shared taught her there was room for more.
With their mouths still keenly locked together, their hands fumbling against the folds of their clothing, Robert half pulled, half urged Abigail over toward the other end of the parlor where there was a desk.
She felt it bump against the back of her legs.
Then his hands to her waist and holstered up onto the surface spilling papers and documents over the carpet.
For a moment, Robert broke away, to glance at the scattered pages, and then their eyes locked and they both laughed.
His hand grabbed at her skirt, snatching at the sensible folds of cotton, hoisting it up so that it pooled around her thighs.
There was a noise, a rasping need coming from the back of her throat, every time he touched her.
“You did away with your warm long socks,” Robert said affectionately as he stroked down her legs, gently parting them to stand beneath the two. “I miss those. How they used to torture me when I caught a flash of them.”
“When did you see them?”
“When you used to stride about the beach on the days you weren’t in breeches. Hiking about in them without a care in the world.”
“Aye,” she mimicked his earlier response, her own reply to him, husky at the press of his body, all that she was crying out for.
“But now, I have to wear sensible London clothes, and those stockings were deemed entirely suitable. The establishment we bought them from swore they were the sort of things fashionable ladies wear. Judith bought us half a dozen each.”
She almost added that she did feel guilt for the wanton way her sister was spending money in Town. Especially now that she knew where the funds had come from. Surely Robert would be angry. But when she glanced up, she caught Robert’s eye.
“Other people don’t matter. Not here, not between us,” he said. The sincerity made her smile.
He stroked her cheek, the touch both soothing and illicit given their position.
The other lay possessively on her thigh, giving her close to his body.
Robert leaned nearer, his voice and breath tickling against her skin, the underside of her ear, fanning at the curls at the base of her neck.
“Do you remember when I first touched you? How my fingers stole up your thighs, how I made you gasp? I tasted you afterwards on my skin—so wickedly delicious.”
Words were sticking in her throat as she tried her best to formulate a response.
Having their previous deeds discussed, raised—no, whispered in her ear was making her burn for him.
It was more than she could have ever expected, and when his ice blue eyes flashed at her, Abigail knew all too well that he was enjoying her reaction.
“I dreamt of you at night, in my chamber, just next door. Pictured you again and again whilst sleep escaped me. Recalling the sweetness of your cunny. The sound of your mewling. How you felt above me. What it was like to be inside you…” As Robert spoke, his fingers moved higher up her thigh, the touch light but insistent.
Soft and seductive on her already clenching leg muscles.
When he finally danced his hand over her curls, Abigail cried out—a moan of frustration, encouragement, and desire.
She pulled him flush against her, and busily captured his mouth, greedily kissing him, certain she would never get enough of these feelings.
The undeniable, constant demand for him.
Her body allowed in the sweep and exploration, the teasing motion of his fingers inside her.
Heavy, pulsing sensation swept through her body, gathering strength where his fingers rocked within her.
When his mouth drifted away from her lips, leading a pathway down her neck, her torn collar, over the swell of her breasts and then with a tip she was pushed back onto the desk.
Exposed before him. The gathered sweep of her gown bunching around her middle.
Yet there did not seem to be a vulnerability here.
In fact, everything they shared simply brought them closer.
She had realized that earlier when she confessed her love.
Bending over, Robert kissed over her thighs, his breath warming her skin.
When he parted the folds of her sex, and caressed her core with his tongue and then his teeth, Abigail closed her eyes.
The emotion was too much. So too was the press of his mouth on her.
It was overwhelming. Slowly he continued his sweet torment, the kissing sweeping over each part of her folds he could reach, and then when he couldn’t he tipped her hips a fraction, giving himself better access.
Then his fingers joined the play, tracing and encouraging Abigail to lose herself.
The tension burst, causing her to cry out.
The waves of feeling, of intensity made her lift her hips, whilst his fingers continued to pulse within her, encouraging every particular feeling out of her.
“So sweet. You taste like sin, but of the very best kind.” His accent was stronger she realized when he was aroused, a pleading earnestness that made her feel lightheaded in precisely the same way his touch did.
She could listen to his timbre for hours, and it would make her tizzy with desire.
“Abigail, you are the sort of sinful delight I will never forget. Or regret.” There was fire to his voice, heated and warm, and she knew he was watching her.
Gaining pleasure from seeing how wild he drove her.
Then it shattered. The pressure. The sensation.
Bright and pleasurable, quaking through her body.
Opening her eyes, Abigail tasted the salt of her tears.
She wanted what she had missed for weeks, the strength of Robert inside her.
Close to her. Around her. He had not been the only one who’d dreamt of their coupling. Been tormented by the loss of it.
The shaking, clenching delicious feel of her release was still pounding its way through her veins, as Abigail sat up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping Robert close to her.
“I am yours, and you mine. We are as one.” To her it has as much weight and solemnity as the marriage vows. There was an answering look in his clear gaze. A recognition of the truth she spoke.
“Always.” He kissed her. Abigail tasted her own release on his tongue and smiled at the sweet musk in her mouth.