Chapter Thirteen #3
The duke didn’t reply. Instead, he flexed his hips and buried himself in her body, stones deep.
When she moaned and canted her hips to achieve a better angle, he grunted.
“Never doubt that I will always give you what you need.” Michael glanced his fingers along the crease of her arse, and as she frowned with confusion, he winked and pressed his forefinger to her puckered rosette.
“What are you— Oh!” Evangeline couldn’t take breaths fast enough when he slipped the tip of his finger inside that dark entrance.
It was strange, this breaching sensation, but as he continued to slowly work his finger inside, wriggling it, testing her boundaries, stretching her, as his member filled her core, restless heat built and stacked low in her belly. “Michael?”
“Enjoy, Evvie,” he whispered and he pulled halfway out of her body only to stroke back in. His movements, coupled with what he did with his finger in her back passage, sent urgent need lancing through her body, now magnified by the feeling of being stuffed full.
Of him. It was wild and raw and oddly connecting. Did that make her as depraved as he supposedly was?
“But why—” Her words were cut off by his kiss, and he worked her mouth with the same careful precision that he gave with his length and finger. Moving in tandem, at times rubbing against each other inside her, the feelings were quite intense; the delicious sensations assaulted her from all angles.
Horrible, terrible, wonderful, breath-stealing pressure built and stacked in bands throughout her whole body as he thrust, filling her, joining her with literally everything that he was.
Her breath came in labored pants. Every movement from either of them set off new tingling and a rush of white-hot need.
It was overwhelming, and she was wrapped in him body, mind, soul.
Eventually, she gave up trying to meet his pushes and merely let this new form of intercourse carry her away.
“Evangeline, look at me.” He put his good arm around her waist and held her closer to him. When she met his gaze, he nodded. “Don’t break that connection as I send you over.”
“I’ll try.”
“I have to know…” His statement trailed away as his rhythm changed and his thrusts grew more forceful, went deeper in time to his finger penetration.
“Know what?” She could barely keep her wits as pleasure swamped her from all directions. This moment was bigger than her, more than she’d ever known before; it would soon consume her. Yet with him, she knew she would survive, knew he’d never hurt her.
Michael didn’t answer, but his eyes darkened with emotions she couldn’t puzzle out in the dim illumination.
They both scared and terrified her but gave her hope at the same time.
He kissed her, caught her lips in a searing embrace that added fuel to the inferno burning inside her.
Every thrust of his tongue echoed his strokes in and out of her core.
Each time he sucked on her bottom lip, he pushed and retreated with his finger, further stretching her back entrance.
The smooth glide of shaft, of finger, of tongue had the power to steal her from consciousness, for he filled her in every possible way.
And she delighted in it, wished these drowning sensations would strengthen into something else, something…
enduring. Evangeline broke the kiss in order to once more hold his gaze.
The building sensations began to fracture.
“I’m going to break.” Dear God, she’d do more than that.
She would dissolve into the white light that teased the edges of her vision.
“Let me see you come.” Michael increased his pace. Over and over, he drilled into her—deeper, harder, faster—so that her body lay plastered between his hard chest and the wall. He continued to thrust his finger into her back passage, working in tandem with every stroke.
Need and pleasure chased each other until they caught her in their dual, churning vortexes.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders, struggled to suck in enough breath while holding his gaze.
For the space of a heartbeat, they stared at each other, communing on a level beyond the physical.
In that one tiny moment they were perfectly aligned, offered each other glimpses of souls laid bare, broken and vulnerable—hopeful.
There was a chance for healing, if they could have the courage to grasp it.
Her heart trembled, shook from what she spied deep in his eyes, and then the bands holding back bliss broke and she shattered, exploded, fell into the swirling storm of pleasure pulling at her.
Evangeline gave herself over to the engulfing, pulsing waves.
Her keening cry echoed through the room, bounced off the walls and blended with Michael’s shout of completion.
He continued to thrust while his length throbbed.
The contractions rocking her frame went on and on, both through her core and her backside, and their combined tremors sent her over the edge once more.
“What have you done to me?” How could anything ever be the same after this?
“You are breathtaking,” he whispered as he gently removed his finger, and with his free hand, held her close to his chest. His breathing was as heavy as her own.
There was no strength to form words let alone pull them from her mind.
She clung to him as tears wet her cheeks.
Though the coupling had been intense, there had been touches of gentleness and tenderness there, almost as if he wished to soothe her and heal her from what she’d suffered from Marklesfield’s hands.
Another piece of her heart flew into his keeping.
Of all the silly ninnies in the world, she had to be one who cried after sexual congress.
Embarrassed heat infused her cheeks. Residual tingles played up and down her spine, and she pressed a barrage of baby-fine kisses into the side of his neck.
Salty sweat came away on her tongue; he was simply glorious.
There was a certain security found in this joining, as well as a new, budding hope she wanted to nurture.
“What you did… what we shared…” Her words were breathless.
Admiration didn’t seem good enough for what he’d given her.
Boneless, her strength rapidly fading, she held onto him as if he would vanish into the air. “There are no words.”
“Then that is high praise indeed.” The rumble of his chuckle trembled through her chest, and when he pulled out completely, she mourned the loss of their connection.
He turned them about and slowly, haltingly moved them back to the chair.
When the duke collapsed it, he retrieved his shirt from the floor, wiped his hands then he gathered her carefully into his lap, cradling her as if she were a babe.
“Ah, Evangeline, where do we go from here?”
“I have no idea.” It was the truth. “But I do know I can’t move after what you did to me.” She laid her head on his shoulder. The man was surprising, and with each new layer she managed to peel back from his facade, her curiosity grew.
“What am I going to do without you?” he asked in a barely audible voice then pressed his lips to her temple.
Too tired to contemplate what that meant, she let her eyes shutter closed. Tomorrow was another day.