Chapter 16
sixteen
AMANDA
By the time the house was quiet with everyone tucked away in their rooms, I was exhausted.
And salty. Henry had gotten me all wound up in the morning, and then he’d buggered off all evening.
When the clock ticked past midnight, I was still surrounded by patterned wrapping paper, scissors, and tape stuck in small strips all around the tabletop.
I winced at another papercut as I wrapped one of the final gifts.
Every gift needed to look perfect for my clients. And I’d already prebought and wrapped the lists of small but expensive presents that could easily be packed in suitcases, but they had all come home from the village market with armfuls of hand-selected gifts.
Which would have been sweet had they also hand-wrapped them. Instead, I’d been stuck in the smaller dining room all evening, wrapping while they had a Scottish folk singer in to entertain them.
My eyes stung from the smoke from the log fire, and I was likely tired too. Or annoyance. Had Henry gone to bed? Leaving me stewing for the night. Perhaps our little tete-a-tete in the orangery had affected him far less than it had me.
‘Get a grip,‘ I scolded myself, wrangling double-sided tape that refused to detach from its roll. I was acting like I should be writing Henry and Amanda in arrowed hearts on the front of a jotter rather than a grown adult.
My elbow caught a gift box, knocking it off the counter and sending it skidding across the floor.
‘Oh, fuck off.’ I told the box.
I didn't hear Henry come back, not until a low voice broke the quiet, sending me jumping half out of my skin.
‘Burning the midnight oil, Amanda?’
My breath caught as Henry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and letting those blue eyes drag slowly over my frame.
Snow dusted his shoulders, clinging to his sweater, and the wind had mussed his hair into even wilder curls.
He took one look at the chaos surrounding me, then at me - tape stuck to my sweater dress, ribbons tangled around me and to the stack of gifts in the corner.
‘Needed something to fill my night.’ My voice was more petulant than I’d intended.
‘Did you have something more riveting in mind?’ Henry crossed the room.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
Henry closed the space between us, penning me against the table. I swallowed as I looked up at him.
‘I imagine it’s much like the thoughts that have been plaguing me all day. About me, between your thighs, making you whimper until you scream. Yes?’
My thighs clenched as I nodded. Then I stood on my tiptoes and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that burned with hunger. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t wait one more god damned second to touch him.
Henry let out a dark growl, scooping my hips against him and deepening the kiss, those full lips of his driving me crazy. I don’t know who taught him to kiss so fucking well, but I needed to send them a bloody gift basket.
‘Are on the table,’ he demanded when our lips broke, his hands gathering me and lifting me onto the edge of the wooden tabletop.
‘I can’t, it’s covered in—’
Wrapping paper crinkled beneath me when he pulled me roughly against him, his hand supporting my spine as he rocked himself against me.
‘Henry,’ I moaned, pleasure rocking me. Confirmation I wasn’t the only horny one, at least.
‘Be a good girl and lie down.’
‘Here?’
‘If you want to come, Princess, lie down.’
I did. I really, really did.
Ribbons shifted, and paper crackled, tape stuck to my tights, and I glanced at the door, which still stood open. Henry followed my look and stormed over to it, closing it and locking it with the large, old key which sat permanently in the lock.
When he made his way back to me, his palm over my lips as he nudged my thighs wide, taking place between them. Lying back and looking up at him, with him there, had me trembling.
‘You’re so wound up, look at you, so needy.’
A helpless breath escaped me. ‘Henry… please?’
His nostrils flared as my plea hit him, the word stroking something inside him that made me squirm. Those thick hands grazed over my spread thighs, massaging me higher and higher, pressing the hem of my dress nearly to my hips.
My pulse danced, and I clutched at a ribbon to my left,
Henry noticed.
He picked up one strand and ran it through his fingers, the red satin catching the light.
The ribbon cinched tightly against my skin as he wrapped it around my wrists, a physical reminder that Henry was taking control.
Something I didn’t find nearly as troubling as I’d imagined. I relaxed into my silken bonds as he pressed my hands up above my head and held them there, his body flush with mine. His hard cock ground against my tights, sending threads of pleasure darting up my spine.
‘God, you’re so fucking perfect,’ he breathed, his lips brushing my throat.
His mouth found the sensitive spot just below my jaw, his lips so soft. I arched against him, craving more pressure from his hardness.
My eyes fluttered shut.
‘You hold so much together every day, let me be the place you come apart.’
Grabbing a pair of scissors, he cut the crotch of my tights, before ripping them apart, exposing my skin and the scrap of lace before.
I let out a yelp, but soon forgave the destruction when his hand slid down past my panties, those thick fingers finding my heat and circling it.
I quaked on the table, but had no give, sandwiched between the wood and his solid body.
Not that there was anywhere else I wanted to be.
I shifted, against his hand, my breath catching as he sank two fingers inside me, his teeth nipping at my throat. The sharp nip made me tense around his fingers, and the heady mix of pleasure and pain sent any remaining thoughts scattering. Henry's low sound of approval hummed against my throat.
'There it is,' he whispered. 'You don't have to pretend with me, Amanda. I see you, baby.’
'Henry…' I whimpered as he curled his fingers, my back arching off the table.
‘Not yet,’ he demanded, his mouth soothing the place where he’d bitten. ‘I want you to ask.’
My cheeks burned.
‘I can’t.’
‘Oh, but you can. And you’ll come all the harder for submitting. But first, I want to see you moan.’
Then his fingers moved back up to my clit, where he redoubled his efforts. Tension coiled low in my stomach until he sank his teeth into my throat again. I bit down to catch a cry, my nerves feeling ready to snap as he toyed with me.
‘Oh, Amanda. Look how beautifully you react. And these marks. My marks. They suit you so well.’
‘More,’ I begged, my world narrowing to his sharp teeth, sweet tongue and taunting fingers. I didn’t care who heard or who knew; I’d have done anything Henry demanded of me in that moment.
I trembled beneath his touch, his fingers alternating between deep thrusts inside me and tender circling of my clit. When he added a third finger, stretching me deliciously, I nearly came on the spot. But he held me there, right on the edge as I whimpered and moaned.
‘Please, Henry. Please let me come.’
‘What was that?’ he teased, lips brushing my collarbone. ‘I didn't quite hear you.'
‘Please, ’ I whispered through stutttering breaths. ‘I need—’
Henry didn’t hold back. He slid his thumb over my clit while his other fingers fucked me mercilessly.
‘That’s it, Princess, give in for me.’
And when he sank his teeth into my throat once more, I did.
The ribbons tightened around my wrists as fireworks exploded behind my eyes, pain and pleasure twisting up inside me until it swallowed me up completely.
When my moans increased, he moved to my mouth, kissing me with fervour as he swallowed my noise.
And for a few blissful moments, nothing else in the world mattered but the exquisite sensations Henry wrought within me.
It wasn't until I finally dropped back against the counter, all unsteady breath and jellied limbs, that Henry cupped my face, his eyes dark but soft.
'Look at you,' he whispered. ‘So perfect like this.'
I blinked up at him, messy and flushed.
He lifted his soaked fingers, watching the way they glistened in the firelight. With a smile, he touched them to my lips, his eyes expectant.
My stomach flipped, and I considered refusing, the expectation making my need for control rear up. Yet, a dirty little part of me wanted to please him like that. To have him know the dark little thoughts that had plagued me half of my life.
And though I should have refused, I didn’t.
I opened my mouth and let him drag the wet pad of his finger over my tongue.
His breath caught, his lip catching his lower lip.
‘You're going to ruin me,' he murmured.
When he removed his fingers, after I’d slowly tongue-bathed them, I closed my eyes and relaxed back against the mess. ‘I’m very much hoping you’ll ruin me, Henry.’