Epilogue #3
“Evangeline,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.
He didn’t need to say more. He saw the understanding, the matching fire, ignite in her eyes.
With a decisive tug, he pulled her off the path and behind a broad-leafed banana plant whose enormous leaves created a private, shadowed alcove. The ground here was covered in soft, damp moss.
He backed her up against the cool, rough stone of a low retaining wall, his mouth claiming hers again in a bruising, possessive kiss.
His hands were everywhere, fumbling with the tiny buttons of her dress, then sliding down to grip the curve of her waist through the thin muslin of her gown.
He could feel the corset beneath, the rigid structure that held her, and he wanted to be the one to unlace it, to free her. He wanted to see all of her, to touch every inch of her skin in the moonlight.
“Anthony,” she gasped as his lips trailed down her neck, his teeth scraping lightly over her pulse point.
Her hands were not idle; they tugged at his cravat, loosening it until it hung uselessly around his neck, then her fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart through his linen shirt.
He found the ribbon ties of her gown and pulled, the fabric parting with a soft sigh.
He pushed the dress and her chemise down over her shoulders, baring her breasts to the cool, humid air.
Her nipples were already hard, tight little pearls begging for his touch.
He ducked his head, taking one into his mouth. He circled the sensitive peak with his tongue, then sucked hard, relishing the sharp cry she gave.
He palmed her other breast, his thumb rolling over the nipple, pinching it just enough to make her arch against him.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her head thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
He sank to his knees before her, his hands pushing her skirts up, up, past her knees, bunching the fabric around her waist.
He looked up at her, his gaze burning.
Her cunt was hidden only by a thin pair of drawers, already damp with her arousal.
He could smell her, a musky, sweet scent that was more potent than any flower in the conservatory.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband and slowly drew the last barrier down her legs.
She stepped out of them, and he tossed them aside. He leaned forward, his hands spreading her thighs, and buried his face in her wet heat.
He licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her knees buckled.
He held her steady, his hands gripping her hips as he feasted.
He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, then flattened it, lapping at her folds.
He pushed his tongue inside her tight hole, fucking her with it, feeling her clench around him.
She was writhing above him, her hands in his hair, holding him to her, her breathless moans filling their small, hidden world.
“Oh, God, Anthony…"
He could feel her trembling, her thighs quaking against his ears. He sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly with his tongue while he slid two fingers into her cunt. He curled them, finding that rough, sensitive patch inside her, and rubbed.
That was all it took. She cried out, a sharp, high sound of pure pleasure as her orgasm crashed over her.
Rising to his feet, he quickly unfastened his breeches, his cock springing free, hard and aching.
He was so turned on he felt like he might explode just from looking at her—her dress bunched around her waist, her breasts exposed, her face flushed with the glow of her orgasm.
He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her back was against the cool stone, and he positioned his cock at her slick, swollen entrance. He looked into her eyes, seeing the love, the trust, the raw desire.
“I love you,” he whispered.
And then he drove into her in one hard, deep thrust, tearing a guttural groan from his throat.
He stilled for a moment, buried to the hilt, just feeling her, feeling them connected.
Then he began to move. He set a hard, fast rhythm
He fucked her against the wall, claiming her, marking her as his. Her nails raked down his back, her hips rising to meet his every thrust.
The pressure in his own groin was building to an unbearable peak. He could feel her tightening around him again, her inner muscles starting to flutter.
He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles.
Evangline's cunt tightened as her second orgasm pulsed through her.
The sensation was his undoing, and with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside her and came. Shuddering against her, he buried his face in her neck, his body wracked with the force of his release.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, locked together, their ragged breaths the only sound in the fragrant, moonlit air.
He slowly lowered her to the ground, his arms still wrapped tightly around her, his heart a wild drum against his ribs.
He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his hand coming to rest possessively over her still-flat belly, where their child now grew.
THE END?
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