Chapter 25
“Is something wrong?” Elara asked.
Constantine’s heated gaze raked up her naked body and met her eyes, immediately making her shiver.
She should have been worried about something else.
Like the fact that she was naked before a man for the very first time in her life.
Or that she was made so bare in such a place where anyone could walk in.
But she was not worried about those things.
Instead, she was worried about what had made Constantine stop his delicious kissing and addictive touch.
“No,” he rasped, the ache clear in his voice.
He swallowed, and his hand slipped around the back of her neck; his touch was almost reverent. He drew her close, stopping just until their lips almost touched.
“You are perfect, Elara,” he whispered, slowly brushing his lips over hers. “Perfect.”
Elara whimpered and moved to kiss him. He allowed her this time, but kept the kiss gentle and languid, even as it deepened and their tongues began to dance.
Then he was guiding her backward, his touch slow and gentle, until her back touched the cold countertop, and he was draped over her.
Elara reveled in the feel of his body, so very warm and hard against hers as they kissed.
Her fingers within his hair grew soft and coaxing, and she let out a soft sigh as Constantine’s kisses traveled from her lips back down her neck.
With each press of his lips and laps of his tongue, Elara felt her mons open and bloom like a flower.
She hissed in a breath and let out a soft cry as Constantine both drew her right nipple into his mouth and thrust his finger between her parted, dewy folds at the same time.
Her lashes fluttered, her hips undulated as Constantine’s hand began a rhythmic motion between her thighs.
Her inner walls spasmed with pleasure as they gripped his finger tightly of their own volition, as if her very body wanted him deeper inside of her.
“So wet already for me, love,” Constantine murmured against her nipple, his tone praising.
“I cannot help it,” she whimpered, parting her thighs wider for him as he slowly teased one breast then the other. “You feel so… so..”
Her words cut off into a gasp as a second finger joined the first, and she arched into his touch.
“Finish that sentence, love,” Constantine commanded, his kisses traveling down her abdomen now.
She tried, tried to think of the proper word that would best describe the bliss she felt building throughout her entire body, but the rhythm of Constantine’s fingers was making her mind fuzzy.
Then suddenly Constantine stopped. His fingers withdrew, he stood up straight, and delivered a light slap to her sex.
Elara gasped as she bolted up halfway. He had not hurt her—far from it, actually, but it had been so shocking, so punishing, that even as it sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, she still felt embarrassed.
“What was that?” she demanded, and she shivered as a wicked smile drew slowly across Constantine’s handsome face.
“If you do not wish for punishment, then you have to obey, wife,” he chastised, raising the finger that had just been inside of her, wagging it as if it were scolding her.
Elara swallowed, caught between sexual frustration and genuine anger at his goading words.
“You want to know how you feel, then?” she asked, raising both her chin and spreading her legs wider.
Constantine’s gaze immediately dipped down, his mouth going slack-jawed as his pupils dilated as he remained fixated on her daring move.
“You feel heavenly,” she whispered. “Your touch, your lips, haunt my dreams and leave me aching and wet as I wake each morning.”
Growing braver, she drew a hand up and trailed her fingertips slowly between the valley of her breasts, down her waist, and to her mons. She let out the softest moan as her fingers, for the first time ever, grazed over the taut, tiny bundle of nerves that sat just above her sex.
A feral noise rumbled from Constantine’s chest as he batted her hand away and dropped to his knees at the same time.
“Mine,” he snarled possessively, and before Elara could further tease him, his mouth was on her sex.
Elara keened. Her hips arched into his mouth as perspiration erupted on her skin, and she sank her fingers into his hair again. With another possessive snarl, Constantine snatched her wrists, forcing them to her sides as he took what was rightfully his.
Pleasure surged through Elara’s veins as Constantine made his claim, feasting on her as if he were a man starved and only her body could slake such need. In seconds, every nerve sparked, every nerve tightened, and as her orgasm unleashed, she let out a desperate cry for him.
Constantine did not let that plea go unheeded. Even as her body attempted to recover from the intensity of her release, his fingers thrust into her again, arching up and touching a spot deep within that caused her to gush over and over again until she felt wrung dry.
He pressed one final, lingering kiss against her mons before he lifted his head, and the look on his face as he gazed up at her from between her thighs made her breath catch all over again.
His lips were glistening, his green eyes heavy and dark with a need that had not yet been answered, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, as if committing the sight of her to memory.
Elara looked back at him. He had knelt before her without a moment’s hesitation, without demanding anything in return, and given her everything. Before she had fully thought it through, she straightened herself up and reached down for him.
“Stand up,” she said softly.
Constantine raised a brow, but he rose, and Elara slid from the counter. Her legs were still unsteady beneath her, but she pressed her palms flat against his chest and felt him draw in a slow breath at her touch.
“It is your turn,” she said, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes.
“Elara,” he began, his voice low with warning.
“You said,” she interrupted, smoothing her palms slowly down the ridges of his abdomen.
“That a gentleman ensures a woman’s pleasure comes first.” She felt his stomach contract beneath her touch and pressed on, her fingers reaching the waistband of his breeches.
“It has come first. Twice, in fact.” She paused there, her eyes still holding his. “Now it is mine to give.”
The sound that left him then was not quite a word.
His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her once, deeply and slowly, as if he were trying to talk her out of it and persuade her toward it all at the same time.
When she drew back, she held his gaze as she sank slowly to her knees before him.
She could feel the intensity of his eyes on her as she reached for the lacing of his breeches, her fingers unhurried despite the hammering of her own heart.
She had never done this before and was not entirely certain she knew how.
But she thought of how he had knelt before her without a second thought, and she found that her uncertainty was smaller than her wanting to give him the same.
When his breeches fell away, and she wrapped her hand around the warm, hard length of him, she heard his breath leave him in a rush above her.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She lifted her eyes to his, holding his gaze as she leaned forward and very slowly drew the tip of her tongue across him.
The sound he made was low and fractured, and the satisfaction that shot through her at hearing it was something she had not anticipated. So she did it again, and this time, when he exhaled, his hand came down to rest gently in her hair.
She took him into her mouth then, slowly, learning the weight and warmth of him, and felt his whole body shudder above her.
For a while, he let her set the pace, his hand resting loosely in her hair as she found her rhythm, learning what drew the sharpest sounds from him and returning to those places with growing boldness.
But as her confidence deepened and her mouth grew more demanding, she felt the restraint go out of him.
His grip tightened in her hair, and a ragged groan tore from his chest as his hips began to move with her, no longer content to simply receive but driving forward to meet each motion, urging her deeper, harder, faster, his breath coming in short and broken bursts above her until he was trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
“Hell... Elara!” Constantine groaned.
Satisfaction surged through Elara’s blood as Constantine’s grip on her hair tightened and his hips jutted forward, driving the hard length of him into the back of her throat.
She had never imagined, not once in her life, that she would find pleasure in giving this kind of pleasure to a man.
Yet as Constantine’s release shot down her throat with another intoxicating moan, she reveled in his reaction and his taste.
She felt seductive. Powerful. Even on her knees.
She swallowed around his girth, drinking up his release as Constantine’s grip in her hair turned into a caress, and he bowed forward, breathing heavily.
She gave one more powerful suckle, delighted that another spasm rocked through Constantine’s body, and drew him out of her mouth before she sat back on her heels.
“Is that sweeter than ham and marmalade?” she asked, grinning mischievously up at him.
Constantine looked down at her with hooded eyes that made her sex pulse; his naked, muscular chest glistening with sweat as he continued to draw in those deep breaths. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips, and he let out a breathy laugh.
“Infinitely,” he panted, helping her to her feet. “Though I confess I did not think that possible.”
Then another moan left his lips as he drew her into his embrace and kissed her, the affection sending another delicious jolt through her nerves.
“You have a wicked streak within you,” he breathed, pulling away as he cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead lightly against hers. Something like pride glittered in his eyes. “You keep it well-hidden, but it is there.”
Elara drew her bottom lip between her teeth even as a smile tugged at her lips.
“I must confess that even I did not know it was there,” she admitted. “However, you seem to bring it out of me.”
Constantine chuckled again, then leaned down to kiss her once more. Softer, this time. Longer and sweeter too.
“Surely we could both get some sleep now,” he said, pulling away.
Already, Elara could feel her hot need transforming into drowsiness, and she nodded as Constantine tucked himself back into his breeches. She wanted to suggest that they sleep together, but despite how bold she had just been, she was suddenly too shy to suggest such a thing.
“Come to my room with me tonight,” Constantine insisted, as if reading her thoughts. “As we discussed, we do not have much time left. I want to feel you against me as much as possible.”
Elara wanted to preen at his invitation, feeling precisely the same way.
“I should enjoy that,” she replied, feeling a girlish blush take over her cheeks. “Very much.”
“It is settled then,” Constantine said, looking relieved that she had agreed.
For a moment, they worked together to clean the counter, not wanting any evidence of their intimacy left behind for the staff to discover. Then Constantine took her hand and led her out of the kitchens.
They were rounding the corner of the hallway when they collided with the nanny. At first, Elara let out a surprised laugh, but as she took in the worried look on the woman’s face, her mood shifted from mirth to concern.
“Betsy?” Elara asked, helping the woman steady herself. “What is it?”
“It is the tiny Lord,” Betsy said, her tone frantic.
“William?” Constantine asked, stepping closer. “What happened?”