Chapter Eighteen
Deo lay down on the bed with a groan. He’d had a long, hot bath and then accompanied Em down to dinner where he had tried to express his gratitude to the other men for their help and was told to stow it.
Bidenden had been attended by the doctor but did not appear for dinner.
A circumstance Deo was glad of, despite his conscience twinging him.
After all, the man had helped as much as the others and been injured for it.
Even so, Deo hadn’t gotten the image of Em bent over the other man solicitously out of his head.
“What hurts?” asked Em, climbing on top of the covers with him.
“Everything,” he admitted.
“Would it help if I rubbed your muscles?”
He opened his eyes and blinked at her. “That—that sounds wonderful.”
She smiled. “I have some oil somewhere. Just a minute.” She got off the bed and went into the dressing room. She emerged a moment later with a little brown bottle and got back on the bed. She was dressed in her nightgown and robe. He had donned a nightshirt.
“It smells of lavender, will you mind that?” she asked. “I use it for headaches.”
His lips twitched. The prospect of Em’s hands all over him was too enticing to pass up. If I smell like a garden afterward, who cares? “No, I don’t mind.”
“Good. Take your shirt off,” said Em in that direct way she often adopted.
He had noticed that she was a mix of timid and bold depending on the circumstances.
It was another of her endearing qualities.
He should be concerned about her seeing him completely naked and the behavior of his cock, but a part of him was too eager for her to touch him to care.
He sat up and removed his shirt and collapsed back onto the pillows again.
She ran her eyes over him in silence, unconsciously biting her lower lip, and something in her gaze—covetous? As if she had just spied something she wanted to eat—made him flush with desire. He stifled a groan as his traitorous cock stirred.
“Hmm,” murmured Em. “Roll over. I’ll do your back first. I imagine that and your shoulders and upper arms have taken the brunt of the strain.”
Relieved to hide his wayward organ, he rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes.
Em rustled about, getting into position, and he heard the soft clink of her putting the glass bottle down on the bedside table, then her oiled hands were on his back and shoulders, gliding over the skin, her fingers pressing into the sore muscles.
He groaned from the sheer pleasure of it.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“No. It’s wonderful!”
“Good.” The note of satisfaction in her voice wasn’t lost on him.
He subsided into the pillows and mattress, soaking up every stroke and rub of her fingers as she worked over his body, beginning at his shoulders and upper arms, then down his back.
No one had ever touched him like this before—well, no one had touched him at all really.
Even his mistress’s touch had been minimal, at his request. But I can’t deny myself this pleasure. Em’s touch is too exquisite.
When she reached his buttocks, he instinctively tensed up at the intimacy of it, his cock stiffening beneath him.
“Relax!” admonished Em, gently, and he did his best to obey. Her touch was hypnotic, and he gradually relaxed to the point he was almost dozy, as she ran her hands from his shoulders all the way down his back and up again.
Then she started on the backs of his thighs, her oiled hands sliding over his hairy skin easily enough. But when her thumbs rubbed his inner thighs and grazed his ball sack it woke him sufficiently to make him jerk, his groin filling with heat. Did she do that deliberately or was it accidental?
She continued on down his legs to his calves and then his feet, and he relaxed again. Even so, the heat in his cock did not subside, and he moved his hips a bit to get the engorged member into a position that was a little more comfortable.
By the time she finished rubbing his toes, he was all but asleep.
“Do you want to roll over so I can do your front?” she asked in his ear, her warm breath a caress that sent tingles down his spine.
“Hmm,” he murmured. God, she is an angel. With an effort, he heaved himself over onto his back, not bothering to open his eyes. He was too relaxed, too close to sleep. He had never felt like this before, especially in the presence of another human.
Her fingers spread oil on his chest and reached behind the back of his neck to massage the tendons there.
She worked over his chest and his forearms and hands, his thighs and shins.
Occasionally her fingers grazed near his stiffened cock, but she didn’t touch it.
He wasn’t sure whether to be miffed or grateful for that omission.
She transferred her attention at last to his face and head.
Her fingers pushing through his hair and massaging his scalp was so delicious it was almost sexual.
When she tugged his hair gently, he actually groaned.
“Where did you learn to do this?” he asked drowsily.
“My mother suffers from tension headaches. I would massage her head, shoulders and back for her.”
He was awake now, and his cock was hard and hot against his belly.
She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, and his hands came up to capture her and hold her, discovering she had shed her robe and gown. He drew her closer so he could kiss her properly, deeply. How do I thank her for that wonderful experience?
She slid down beside him. As his hands roved over her naked form, he groaned again and kissed her some more.
“Em,” he murmured, rolling to pin her to the bed and kiss her deeply. His hands found her small breasts and massaged them. His fingers found her nipples and she arched under him, whimpering, her body pressing up into his and squirming against his thigh.
He knew what to do about this, and he moved his hand down to spear her satiny lips and stroke. She gave a very satisfactory moan. “Oh, Deo!”
He grinned against her neck and murmured, “Em! I want to see you unravel, Emily.”
She moaned again, pushing up into his touch, moving her hips, as he stroked her repeatedly, her breathing disjointed and her hands clutching at him.
He sped up his touch gradually, giving that special place a lot of attention, careful to imitate what he had done before that seemed to work so well the first time.
“Deo! Ohh!” Her back arched, her head flung back into the pillows and her whole body shuddered.
A long, drawn-out moan followed, her hips giving little jerks as she pressed into his fingers and uttered soft grunts.
These gradually dissipated, and she slowly collapsed into the mattress, her body still moving in a slow sinuous fashion on the sheets.
He watched all this in fascination. Her reactions had been different this time, similar but different.
He wondered if that meant it felt different?
Probably? He knew from his own experience that orgasms were different in intensity and sensation depending on how he achieved them and what frame of mind or condition he was in. I suppose it is the same for women?
“Good, Em?” he asked, anxious for feedback.
“Hmm,” she murmured, bringing her legs together, still moving her hips. She rolled into him and nuzzled her face into his chest, pressing her damp mound against his thigh.
His cock jumped, leaking liquid, and he was reminded of his own tumescent condition and the heated ache in his groin. He pulled her close against him and said with a helpless sort of moan, “Oh, Em.” God, I want you! When will that damned letter arrive from the solicitors?
She was pressed against him, skin to skin, her hand roaming over his chest and worse yet, her hand moved down until it encountered his engorged cock.
He lay very still as her hand touched him ever so lightly. He swallowed a groan, not wanting to startle her, and waited to see what she would do next. His cock was quivering, and more liquid leaked out the eye. Her oiled fingers stroked him, and he couldn’t restrain the groan.
“Can I help?” she asked breathlessly. “Show me what to do?”
Wordlessly, because he didn’t think his vocal cords would work at this point, he took her hand and wrapped it around his hard shaft, moving it up and down slowly.
After a stroke or two he moved her hand up and showed her how to smear the moisture over the head, pulling the foreskin fully clear of the crown.
“Like this?” she said, moving her hand up and down slowly from crown to base.
With his eyes closed, he nodded. Finding his voice, he croaked, “It’s most sensitive on the head.”
“I see,” she said, concentrating her hand over the crown and the place just below it, moving it up and down more rapidly.
He groaned again; it was so exquisite. Her hand was small and felt very different to his own, but the whole notion of her doing it was so arousing he didn’t think he would last long.
He knew a momentary panic at how she would react to his seed spilling all over his belly, but he had reached the point of overwrought arousal where he didn’t think he could stop.
His hips pumped up into her grip with increasing speed and his grunts and groans became positively animalistic.
He managed to refrain from swearing aloud.
But the words formed in his mind as he hit the point of no return, the hot rush of pleasure seized his body and his cock erupted, jerking in her grip and spilling hot come all over his belly.
Panting, his body slumped back against the pillows, and he lay with his eyes closed, waiting for her exclamation of disgust. When there was none, he opened his eyes and watched her let go of his cock slowly and raise her hand to her mouth and lick a drop of his seed off the back of it.
She closed her eyes as she tasted it and smiled.
“It’s slightly salty and slightly sweet. ”
Her reaction, so far from disgust, made his throat tighten.
“Emily,” his voice was husky.
“Was that all right?” she asked anxiously.
“Emily!” He scooped her up against him and hugged her tight.
“I gather it was then?” she said.
He nodded, unable to speak.
“Well then,” she said with such a note of satisfaction he was tempted to laugh. He used his shirt to wipe the mess off his belly. Discarding the shirt, he settled himself back against the sheets, drawing her close against him.
“Sleep,” he murmured against her hair, and she nodded, nestling in.
He lay for a bit trying to fathom the events of the evening, but sleep overcame thought, and it was morning before he knew it.