Chapter 11 #2
He bent his head and rubbed the smoothness of his cheek against her calf, he edged up farther and cupped her knees with both hands, pushing them wider. She removed her fingers from between her thighs and stared as he settled on his stomach between them.
“Oh,” he said with a wink up at her. “And that is most definitely a compliment.”
She laughed somehow, even with her breath nonexistent and her heart throbbing. She felt like she’d spun around a few too many times and now she was dizzy and that sensation didn’t get any better when he pressed his hands between her legs and gently peeled her open.
“And now what will you taste like here?” he mused, bending his head to press a closed-mouthed kiss to the quivering lips of her quim. “Earthy? Sweet?” He nuzzled her and she arched a little toward him.
He let his tongue stroke her once, twice, enjoying the full length of her slit with another of those possessive growls he sometimes made when they touched. The ones that made her insides turn to jelly in a way they normally didn’t.
“Oh no, this flavor is just Evelina,” he whispered. “Gorgeously Evelina.”
She moaned and he smiled against her flesh before he delved into licking her without talking anymore.
And oh, but he was magnificent. Unlike some of the men who had done this over the years, he seemed to truly enjoy tasting her.
He was firm and certain with the strokes of his tongue and the way he sucked her clitoris to tease and torment.
He also seemed in no hurry. This wasn’t just some quick way to make her wet for him, he was driving her toward release, drawing her step by step as the pleasure notched up bit by bit.
She sank into the sensation of his tongue stroking over her, forgetting everything else but the ache that built inside of her.
She gripped the coverlet with both hands, rising to meet him, reaching for every drop of desire.
Her legs shook, her heart throbbed, her moans echoed around the room as the pleasure peaked and then she fell over the edge of it and spiraled out of control.
She dug her hands into his hair, holding him to her as she thrust her hips in wild time to the pulsating release that seemed to give her wings.
He gave her no quarter as she soared, continuing his torment until her voice was hoarse and her muscle sore from contracting in harsh, continued pleasure.
It was only when she went limp, her only movements a few twitches here and there, that he lifted his head.
He licked his lips like a satisfied cat and then continued his journey up the length of her body.
He settled herself over her sated frame and dropped his mouth to hers. She groaned, arms coming up around his neck, tilting her head so she could taste every bit of him, of herself and the pleasure he had drawn from her.
“I think you better finish what you started, my lord,” she whispered, only barely parting her lips from his. “Because I need more.”
He dug his hands into her hair, his kiss growing wilder and deeper. She wedged a hand between them and shifted, aligning that hard cock to her very wet entrance. He took her in one long, heavy stroke and she cried out against him at the lush sensation of being so filled.
“Fuck,” he grunted, resting his head on her shoulder, his breath short and hard.
He rotated his hips and she jolted, rising to meet him in the most ancient dance of all time. He pulled his head back and they watched each other as he took her slow stroke by slow stroke, grinding against her aching clitoris every time their hips met.
She had always been a woman to find her pleasure easily, but this was something different.
An exquisite sensitivity that ripped her control away and had her wailing out his name within a few expert strokes.
When she gripped him with the second orgasm, the tendons in his neck tightened, he reared back more powerfully and the slap of their bodies echoed in the room.
She could see him losing control, feel him quake as his own orgasm approached. She lifted, matching his strokes beneath him, in wonder of the movement of him, the way he strained and his breath grew harsh.
And when he came? It was with a gulping cry before he pulled from her body and stroked himself to completion. The heat of him splashed on her thighs and she arched her back to lift toward him.
He collapsed over her, kissing her neck, her shoulders.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, reveling in his weight and for a little while in the quiet of that big bed, nothing mattered but the absolute shattering power of what they had just shared.
Even if nothing else had been resolved at all.
* * *
Vaughn felt like he was coming from a fog as he lay with Evelina in his arms. He stroked his fingers through her hair, memorizing the way her body felt tucked against his, her hands moving over his chest in little patterns.
There had been pleasure before, but that…
that had been different. Singular. And he felt both amazed by that feeling and also deeply guilty for it.
He’d been married. In all technicality, he still was, even if his wife was most definitely not acting like it.
But shouldn’t he have felt this euphoric amazement with her, not Evelina?
“Oh, that look won’t do,” Evelina said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “You can’t set a person on fire and then just float off in your mind, Vaughn. It’s very bad form.”
He laughed and was brought back to her, just as she wished him to be. “I suppose my thoughts are very scattered and you’re to blame.”
“Oh good. I do love to scramble a man’s thoughts like morning eggs with my prowess. I’ll make a notch on the bedpost to celebrate.”
They smiled at each other and then he sighed. “I do wonder what this means for us. What now?”
She arched a brow and then leaned up on her elbow. “Didn’t you ever have a mistress before, Blackburn?”
He nodded. “Of course, but this is diff—” He cut himself off. He couldn’t say that. Wouldn’t say it at any rate. He tried again. “We didn’t exactly start this arrangement in the normal way, did we?”
“No,” she said. “We didn’t. But there’s not really anything difficult to it, is there? You wanted to pretend an affair to tweak our former lovers. This will simply become a real affair and we’ll still flaunt it.”
“Is there a risk to that? Of everything becoming…confused?”
She tilted her head. “What is there to confuse? Sex isn’t the same as emotion. If we want to enjoy each other, there’s no reason that it has to go beyond that.”
He nodded slowly. She was being entirely reasonable, of course.
And if he felt a little disappointed in that pragmatism, it was probably because he had equated sex with love…
or at least affection…since his marriage.
And since Florence had demanded a divorce, he hadn’t really wanted pleasure. Until Evie.
“The only questions we really must answer are the same ones all lovers must establish in a situation like this: How often would you like to do this and is there anything you don’t want to do?”
“As far not wanting to do anything, I can’t think of anything specific. Perhaps we can discover those things as we go.” He let his hand trail along her bare sides. “And as for how often…well, as often as you’ll let me touch you, Evie. I don’t think I’ll tire of this, of you, any time soon.”
She smiled softly and shifted, straddling him in one smooth movement. She rocked back, letting his cock slide along her wet length as she balanced herself on his chest with both hands.
“Neither will I.” She rocked back again and this time maneuvered so that he slid into her an inch. The tight heat of her enveloped him fully on the second stroke and he moaned as he reached up to cup her hips.
She rode him then, a glorious siren whose dark hair bobbed around her shoulders and back as she ground herself against him. And as he lost himself in her, in the pleasure, in the heat of this, the rest fell away and it was a welcome oblivion.