Chapter 17 #2
“But they did not make me feel used. In fact, I love how they draw my mind utterly blank and how my body seems to relax more in those moments than during any other activity that is supposed to soothe my nerves,” she went on.
“I like these things, very much, yes, but I also understand that we are in accord for something entirely different and far more serious than the fleeting joys of mutual pleasure. We are married so that you can destroy Benedict. And I want to help you with that as much as I can.”
Laurence shook his head slowly as he stared at her with renewed admiration.
“Ellen Munro Curtis, Duchess of Blackford,” he said with awe. “You are a wonder of a woman.”
Ellen blushed again, though this time it was clear it was from his praise and not out of embarrassment.
“I am, am I not?” Her tone was teasingly haughty as she lifted her chin and shimmied her shoulders.
Laurence chuckled, his tense muscles relaxing by the second.
“So you will stop ignoring me?” she asked, moving closer to him. “Now that you understand me better?”
Laurence nodded, allowing his hand to move to her knee.
“Avoiding,” he corrected. “But yes. And I was going to speak to you soon anyway. We received an invitation to a ball hosted by the Barringtons. I had Solomon do some research, and it seems your cousin is also going to be there. It will allow us to do a little spying.”
Ellen’s comfortable position tensed as something flickered in her eyes. Fear, he surmised. Not that he blamed her. It would be the first time seeing her cousin since the auction.
“Yes,” Ellen sighed after a moment’s hesitation, her lips drawing toward a frown. “Madalene has already told me about it. The Barringtons, I mean, not about Benedict. We are going dress shopping tomorrow. She swears shopping with her will be fun, though.”
“It will,” Laurence agreed, smoothing his hand from her knee up to her thigh. “She is good at adding a dash of fun where there is normally dread.”
Ellen’s smile was impish.
“I gathered as much. Though I did try to talk her out of it. I showed her the dresses you ordered for me, and she said that you know nothing about women’s fashion. She insisted that she could have something better designed for me.”
Laurence chuckled.
“I have no doubt,” he replied humbly.
They settled into a comfortable silence as Laurence began drawing small patterns into the fabric above Ellen’s thigh.
“Now that you know that I will stop avoiding you…does that mean you will stop believing that I despise you being here?” he asked.
Something bold shifted in Ellen’s eyes.
“You might have to show me otherwise,” she said, her voice dipping into a bolder, more sensual tone.
The sudden shift in her voice unleashed his pent-up arousal at once, and without permission, he gripped the fabric of her gown and pulled her into his lap. Her hands fisted in his hair, yanking his head back at the same time as his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and urged downward.
Their lips connected in a fervent clashing of need; a groan escaped his chest not even a second after tasting her kiss.
God, he had missed her. Their kisses had gone from sweet and sensual to a little surer and more insistent, and were now raw and primal.
There was no more tentativeness, no more worrying that he would go too fast. Ellen met his needy kisses with her own desperation—and he loved it.
“Make me forget,” she whispered against his lips, then kissed him deeply again.
Laurence groaned as he slid his tongue possessively over hers, and it took him a long moment to realize what she had said. He did not ask what she meant, though. He knew because she’d been so bravely open to him in a way he’d even been hesitant to be with her or anyone else.
Through his raging desire, he willed himself to draw their frenzied kisses to a slower rhythm, and he reveled in the way Ellen whimpered against his lips in response.
In the same fashion, he slid his palms from her waist down to her hips, pulling away the skirts of her dress bunched between them, then spread his legs wider as he kept her straddled atop him.
His manhood pulsed against the fabric of his trousers, and with a subtle push of a particular muscle, he made it press harder against them, as he jerked her hips forward. Ellen’s answering gasp was one of pure pleasure as she shuddered atop him and threw her head back.
“What was that?” she breathed, her lashes fluttering as if she was struggling to open her eyes. “Why did it feel so good?”
“You,” he breathed, then placed a gentle kiss on her lip. “Me.” He placed another kiss on her top lip. “Pressed together.” He kissed her deeply then, sliding his tongue through her parted lips. Ellen moaned as he subtly shifted her hips again, and reveled in the way her body trembled in his hands.
“I…thought it would hurt,” she breathed, glancing down at where her thighs were wrapped around his hips. “If we…connected.”
“The fabric protects us from any harm, or going further than we should,” he explained, slipping his fingers down her hip and to her core.
He barely stifled his groan as he slid those fingers over her mons, finding her hot and soaking already.
Ellen’s moan of pleasure, however, came out clear and unmistakable as he circled her taut bundle of nerves with the pad of his pointer finger, then drew down until it dipped between her parted wet lips.
His entire body ached to let his fingers go further and slide into her tight, pulsing sheath, but he did not dare.
If he felt such heaven, he was not sure he would be able to stop.
So, he forced his hand to draw back to her hip, guiding her once more to his fabric-clad erection, and slowly guided her hips into another thrust.
“Oh, my,” Ellen breathed, her lashes fluttering as she tightened her grip on his shoulders.
“Too much?” he asked, stroking a hand up her back until he reached the nape of her neck.
Ellen shook her head quickly.
“Say the words,” he commanded gently. “I need to hear you say them, Ellen.”
“No,” she breathed. “No, not too much. But please do not stop. I have never felt anything so…so…”
“Perfect,” he said for her, and then thrust his hips up, causing the length of his manhood to glide over her wet mons.