Chapter 22
Ivy
It’s been five hours, and I can still feel the imprint of Xavier’s mouth against mine after I dropped my kinky blowjob bombshell into our civilised and very nerdy chat.
I can still feel the force with which he grabbed me, how hard he kissed me, his lips seeking mine, his tongue driving into my mouth.
He kissed me ardently.
That’s definitely a word I can thank Dawn for.
After all, she got me into Pride and Prejudice when I was thirteen or fourteen, and I haven’t been the same since.
I may have had three marriage proposals during my time at Alchemy, but I’m still waiting for someone to tell me how ardently they admire and love me.
Until I get the real thing and not some rambling declaration of love from a sex-drunk finance bro, I think I’ll hold out.
An ardent kiss from a handsome duke-in-waiting, though, goes a long way towards boosting a girl’s esteem.
I’m not sure how it can be like this with Xavier.
Not sure how we go from fighting to almost fucking, or from drooling over Victorian fern sketches to drooling into each other’s actual mouths.
He’s quaint and uptight and old before his time, and he’s adoring and filthy and insatiable, and it’s the weirdest mix, but I love every fucking second of it, and I have no idea how I’ve managed to bear the entirety of dinner and after-dinner drinks, even if Flora and Benedict were on absolutely hilarious form.
Xav’s smouldering, I would fuck you on this very table given half a chance looks across the dining table definitely helped. I’ll admit that much.
It’s weird being back in this room. The lilac bedroom.
(So fancy for a room to have a name.) Not that it should be weird being back in here.
It’s not like much happened last time, except for a bit of smouldering and then a lot of awkwardness.
And it’s such a pretty room. The walls are lined with lilac silk—the knobbly kind.
Raw silk? There are a lot of lilac flourishes, including the infamous chamber pot, which is standing under one of the bedside tables and which made me laugh when I spotted it.
Even the towels in the very luxurious bathroom have lilac sprigs embroidered on them.
While we were at dinner, someone came in to turn down the bed and draw the curtains, but I’ve opened them again because the view is too pretty.
The grounds are pitch black except for various features that are picked out with strategic lighting.
No endless junk lighting like in London.
Here I can see a mass of stars in the inky sky.
My room is at the back of the house and overlooks a gorgeous oak tree.
It’s illuminated by a few lights sunk into the grass around it, and it looks like it belongs in a fairytale.
I reckon it would take three or four people joining hands to reach around its trunk. It must be hundreds of years old.
It reminds me of The Faraway Tree, a series I loved when I was a little girl. Usually, I’d look at a tree like that and wish that I could climb up into its branches and whisk myself away to a magic land, but not tonight.
Tonight I’m staying right where I am, thank you very much.
Finally, there’s a knock on the door. I’m still staring out at my tree. Yes, I’ve decided it’s mine. I’ve brushed my teeth but stayed dressed. ‘Come in,’ I call.
The door opens, and I turn. It’s him, and he’s still fully dressed, too, and I can’t help my smile, because this guy is so bloody ravishing.
‘Wow,’ he says, pushing the door shut behind him. ‘Déjà vu. You were standing like that when I first saw you that night.’
He’s right. I was, only that night the lawn was all lit up with fairy lights and paper lanterns, and I was watching his posh friends live it up in fancy dress with the total lack of fucks that only the upper classes have to give.
‘I hope that’s where the similarities end,’ I tease, walking towards him, enjoying the way his eyes wander over my body.
‘I bloody well hope so.’ He strides forward to meet me, sliding an arm around my waist and tugging me right up against him.
His mouth finds mine immediately, and the relief of it is staggering.
No glasshouses this time; no stolen kisses in conservatories.
We’re in an actual bedroom, and the door is shut, and we’re totally alone.
The tour Flora gave me earlier showed me that this room is right down the other end of the house from the family’s suites of rooms.
Hopefully, nobody will hear me scream.
Xavier may have the tendency to be awkward as fuck, but I have to give him credit: when he’s in, he’s in.
His mouth is hot on mine, his tongue pushing and demanding and entangling.
His hands are everywhere: grabbing my hair and sliding over my back and kneading my arse.
I’m doing much the same, groping and tugging, anything to get closer to him. Anything.
I could kiss him forever. I can’t get enough of how he smells.
Tastes. Can’t get enough of the way he grips my waist and fondles my bottom and rakes through my hair, as if he’s never felt anything lovelier.
And when he breaks the kiss, it’s with a sense of awe on his face that he gazes down at me, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.
‘The hours I’ve spent thinking about this mouth of yours. The things I’ve done to it in my dreams.’
I smile up at him mischievously. ‘Does it haunt you that you didn’t let me suck you off?’
‘Every minute of every hour.’ He strokes my cheek. ‘But I still stand by my decision.’
He’s so sweet. So chivalrous. Now I know he’s a sure thing, I can be more generous in how I judge his having walked away that night. ‘I’ve heard things tend to work out pretty well for guys who respect women.’
‘Do they? I’d like to know more about that.’ He grins down at me, and my stomach flip-flops.
‘How about I show you?’ I reach down and find his belt buckle.
I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel a bit shy.
Not nervous—I’ve blown so many guys that giving head is second nature—but more aware.
As if this is important. And it is important, I tell myself, because even though Xavier is engaged to someone else and this thing between us is just a matter of working through some serious chemistry, it’s the first time I’ve done any of this outside of Alchemy for a long time.
Sure, we properly went for it earlier in the orangery, but that was in the heat of the moment.
This is deliberate.
And besides, I can’t wait to suck his dick. Can’t wait to taste him.
He goes stiff, but in a really good way, like he can’t actually believe this is happening. ‘Are you sure?’
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I’ve been sure since the first time I saw you, but I don’t want to mention that night again. I don’t want to remind him that I was basically being paid that first time. So instead I say, ‘I’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon.’
His face softens. He wants this, and he’s actually going to let himself have it. ‘You know,’ he murmurs, ‘I can’t stop thinking about that dratted fantasy. Thought about it all through supper.’
I giggle. ‘The poor little maid and the horny, dastardly duke?’
A look of pain crosses his face. ‘The very one.’
‘You were so much less moral a couple of centuries ago, and it was hot.’ I get his belt buckle and top button undone and go for his fly.
‘What the hell made you come up with it?’ he asks, his voice strained as I shove his trousers down.
‘I’ve been imagining your bedroom these past few weeks and wondering how grand it was.
I imagined a big room with a huge four-poster and a fireplace—all moody and masculine, like Dominic’s in Grosvenor, where he deflowered Georgiana on their wedding night?
Anyway, I was thinking about you tossing and turning, all tormented and sexually frustrated, and then me creeping in there to light your fire each morning. ’
Softly, I palm him through his boxer briefs. He’s semi-hard, and he stirs against my hand. God, his dick is so fucking big. I really hope he knows how to use it. ‘You’d wake up hard,’ I whisper, ‘and there’d I be, setting your fire, quiet as could be, minding my own business, and you’d just snap.’
He presses his lips together and makes a noise that sounds a lot like conflict to me. His beautiful green eyes burn into mine while, against my palm, his cock thickens.
‘What would I do then?’ he manages.
I’ve thought about this far too much recently.
‘You’d leap out of bed. Naked, obviously, and rock fucking hard.
You’d grab my arm and haul me to my feet, and then you’d start kneading my tits.
You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’ve been thinking about me, you see, though you wouldn’t realise it till now, because it’s not the done thing to fuck the help. Or maybe it is.’ I shrug again.
‘Like this?’ His voice is downright gruff as he places his palms over my boobs and begins to knead them, his fingers rubbing at my nipples, chafing them.
I let out a little moan, because that feels fucking amazing, and my little fantasy is gaining ground now. ‘Yeah. Exactly. And I’d be so shocked, and ashamed… but I’d love it, and then I’d feel even more ashamed.’
He drops his forehead to the top of my head. ‘Would you be wet?’
‘Fuck yeah.’ I stroke him through his boxer briefs. ‘And then you’d be completely overcome, and you’d shove me to my knees and make me suck your cock before you bent me over the bed and fucked me to finish yourself off.’
He groans. ‘Jesus Christ. And you’re telling me you’d like that?’
‘I’d love it.’ My voice is breathy with desire. Imaginary Past Xavier and real Present Xavier have me squirming. ‘Let me show you. Push me to my knees.’
He hesitates against me with his nose buried in my hair and his hands on my tits and his cock flexing against my fingers.
‘I’ll say stop if I change my mind. I promise.
You don’t need to worry about a thing here.
I want this so badly, I’m telling you.’ My voice turns cajoling.
I will do and say anything to get him to surrender on this front.
I have a safe word from Alchemy, but I have no intention of bringing that into this bedroom.
I know with every bit of the gut instinct I’ve honed over the years that stop is enough for Xavier, all on its own.
He pinches my nipples more harshly through the fabric of my dress, and a fresh wave of arousal courses over me. ‘Go on, then. On your knees.’ With that, he releases my boobs and grips my upper arms hard, shoving me down.
Yesssss.