Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Please,” Ellen panted.
The slow, rhythmic thrust of Laurence’s hips was a particularly sweet and cruel form of torture.
One that, up until that moment, she had never known existed.
The pleasure that radiated from his slow, steady movements had every cell in her body trembling.
Every nerve and tendon growing more stiff one inch at a time.
A tight, coiling sensation began to grow stronger in her lower belly.
“Please, what?” Laurence asked. His deep voice was raw with need as the hand he’d wrapped around her throat moved up just enough so that he could caress his thumb against her lip. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”
Ellen whimpered at the command. She’d never had trouble telling her father what she wanted.
Even with Benedict’s harsh punishments, she had not balked away from speaking her wants.
Yet with Laurence, she felt lost. She had no name for what she wanted.
Could not even fathom what to call it. All she knew was that she needed it, or else something horrible was going to happen to her body.
“More,” she pleaded. She boldly swept her tongue over the pad of Laurence’s thumb, then tilted her chin just enough so that she could take the tip of it into her mouth and suckle.
Laurence’s low, answering groan quickly became her favorite sound, and she felt a surge of power move through her as she felt him quake beneath her.
It was as if she was driving him as insane as he was driving her.
His thumb moved, applying just enough pressure to her mouth, making her lips part wider..
He dipped his thumb deeper into her mouth, sliding over her tongue in a way that made her gasp and part her lips a little more. Saliva pooled in her mouth at his furtive touch, and he swiped his thumb through it before dragging it out to her lips. He ran that thumb over her lips, coating them.
Heat and shame washed through her as he did so. Yet as he finished and dragged his thumb down her chin, his pupils blew wide, and a strangled breath burst from his lungs.
“Kiss me,” he growled, his hand snaking around the nape of her neck.
Ellen moved to wipe her lips, but before she could even raise her hand above her breasts, Laurence was pulling her down to his mouth.
“Don’t,” was all he growled before he ravished her wet lips, suckling and nipping at them as if he needed to taste the saliva he’d put there.
Ellen whimpered as that coil in her lower belly grew tighter, and this time, it was she who flicked her hips to chase that pleasure their rubbing had created. Laurence groaned into her mouth, the sound echoing down into the core of her body where it began to spread into pleasure.
More. She wanted more.
As if he heard her, Laurence wrenched away from their kiss, pulling away with a harsh hiss of breath as his mouth found her throat.
Ellen’s eyes rolled as his teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh of her throat, starting from just below her ear and then down to the hem of her bodice.
She moaned and thrust her fingers into his hair as his teeth grazed against the top of her cleavage, her body shivering with growing need.
Laurence’s fingertips skimmed the edges of the fabric of her sleeves as he drew them up to her shoulders, then with a sudden yank and the sound of tearing fibers, her bodice gave way, and her breasts spilled free.
“Christ,” Laurence swore, then wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her breasts into his face.
His mouth performed the most delicious attack on her breasts. Nipping and teasing to the point of making her hiss in pain, then lavishing and suckling with such tenderness that she felt a pool of wet heat form over his restrained manhood as her body melted into him.
She began to buck her hips again, needing that friction between her thighs to survive the brutal need rising inside of her.
She whimpered as she found the strength to move faster, more in time with Laurence’s mouth until she felt as if that coil in her belly was going to snap and her entire being was going to come apart.
“Give it to me,” Laurence growled, one arm falling down to her lower back, the other cupped at her breast. “Let me feel you come apart.”
Ellen wasn’t sure what he meant, and she was given no time to try to figure it out before the arm he had wrapped around her lower back was surging her into him, her soaked mons gliding over the ridge of his turgid sword quicker and harder until the throbbing there shattered into ecstasy.
Ellen’s head fell back, her body taut and trembling, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She cried out his name. Bit her fingernails into his shoulders, and with a final, surging thrust, Laurence’s own roar of ecstasy came bursting from his chest as his arms pinned her down.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy, panting breaths and the pounding of their hearts.
Then Laurence brushed a kiss, so very tender and almost loving, against her breast. With small, tender kisses, the ecstasy-laced tension in Ellen’s limbs dissolved, and she melted, feeling suddenly heavy and weak, into Laurence’s lap.
“Darling, what can we do to help you relax?” Madalene asked, glancing worriedly at Ellen. “You look so, so beautiful. You truly have nothing to worry about.”
Ellen attempted a tentative smile as she turned from the mirror to her new sister-in-law.
The night had arrived when they were to attend the ball, and the new dress Madalene had helped her pick was stunning.
It was a fine silk of dazzling emerald green that held hints of shimmering gold within the finely woven threads.
It hugged her curves perfectly without making her feel suffocated, and the new, matching corset had her cleavage sitting properly just above the bodice’s hem.
Not enough to make her breasts spill over, as Judith’s ridiculous costume had done, but just enough to show off the natural beauty of her curvier shape.
A single emerald pendant choker had been chosen from Madalene’s jewelry collection to be worn around her neck, and an emerald stud graced the lobes of her ears.
To show off the subtle touches of glittering gems, Sarah had braided Ellen’s dark, long hair and wrapped it into a crown that she’d pinned just above the tips of her ears.
A few stray wisps were let loose around her temples, just enough to lay over her cheeks—particularly her left, where her mole was.
She felt beautiful, strong and capable—yet even so, her heart was racing, and her white-satin-glove-clad hands shook as she clasped them tightly together.
Benedict was going to be there. She was going to see him, maybe even speak to him, and even though she wanted to believe in Laurence’s promises of protection, she still feared that something would go awry.
“I will be fine,” she insisted, doing her best to will her hands to stop shaking.
Madalene looked worried for another moment, but then something sparked in her eyes, and she grinned.
“I have an idea. Wait here.”
Before Ellen could ask what she was doing, Madalene had dashed out of the room.
“You look so lovely, Your Grace,” Sarah praised once they were left alone.
Ellen turned to her and found her handmaid shaking her head slowly as her wide eyes stared at her in disbelief.
“Like an entirely different woman,” Sarah went on. “You have… transformed.”
Ellen glanced back at the mirror. In truth, she agreed. She looked…different. If only her insides matched the strength her body seemed to radiate in the new style of dress.
“You are so kind, Sarah,” Ellen said softly, turning back to her handmaid. “But tell me… How are you? Did you come back to work too soon? Has Jacob? Should I speak to His Grace about allowing you some more time?”
“No,” Sarah said quickly, offering her a reassuring smile. “Thank you, Your Grace, but no. The…the time we were granted to heal was appreciated, but Jacob and I were both eager to start life again.”
Pain slithered through Ellen’s heart.
“Sarah, I…I am so, so sorry for what happened to you and Jacob. It was my fault that you two were—”
“Your Grace,” Sarah hastily cut her off.
Her eyes were pleading as Sarah looked at Ellen.
“Please, I mean no disrespect, but I beg you, stop. Neither of us regrets what we did to try to help you. We knew full well the consequences, and we were ready to accept them. There was a moment. A terrifying, horrible moment where we received the beginning of those consequences. But it was you that saved us. Now we are alive. We are married. And we just want to move on.”
Ellen slowly nodded her head, understanding now more than ever what that felt like. Her fear for Benedict still ran rampant, and she wanted more than anything to one day not feel that fear and look at him as the useless, awful man that he was.
Before either could say any more, Madalene hurried back into the room, holding out what looked to be a man’s kerchief.
“Here,” she said, pressing it into Ellen’s hand. “Put it to your nose and inhale.”
Ellen did as she was told, and she breathed in the scent of lavender.
Taut tendrils of tension unfurled from her shoulders as she breathed in the lovely aroma, and she quickly took another deep inhale.
This time, though, there was something else intertwined with the lavender.
Something clean and lovely that had her rigid shoulders easing away from her ears even more.
Juniper? Or cedar? Ocean salt? She was not sure, but she found it achingly familiar.
“Helpful?” Madalene asked.
“Very,” Ellen agreed, taking another deep inhale. “This is lovely. What is it?”
“Lavender,” Madalene replied.
“No, I know, but…but there’s something else there. Something familiar,” Ellen insisted.
“Oh,” Madalene laughed. “Probably Laurence’s cologne. All of my lacy kerchiefs were taken to be washed, so I plucked this from his room quickly. Sorry. I was hoping the lavender would mask his scent.”
Longing slammed into Ellen’s chest. It had been a week since their little rendezvous in her rooms, where he promised to no longer avoid her.
He had kept that promise, she supposed, but the next morning he told her and Madalene both that he had to travel to London to take care of some important matters.
He might not have been avoiding her, but his absence had been palpable—something Ellen had noted at nearly every second of the day.
It was made even worse by the increase in guards who suddenly infiltrated not just the property, but the house itself.
Dozens of stern-faced, quiet men meant to protect her and Madalene in Laurence’s absence.
Their presence was meant to make them feel safe.
Instead, they only heightened Ellen’s sense of anticipation to see Laurence again.
He was supposed to be meeting them at the ball in a little while.
Geoff would be driving them. A man who, even in the brief moments Ellen had seen him, seemed to hold a great deal of Laurence’s trust.
Now, though, with him still gone, she was not sure if he would be there or not. It was that lack of knowing that made her wonder if she was afraid of seeing Benedict—or if she was afraid of not seeing her husband?
“Here,” Madalene said, holding out her hand for the kerchief. “Allow me to fetch you another. This one must not be clean.”
“No,” Ellen said, quickly tucking the kerchief between her breasts, “No, it is perfect. Thank you, Madalene. The lavender helps.”
Madalene’s smile was proud and instant.
“Wonderful,” she said, clasping her rose-pink, satin-gloved hands together. They matched her dress perfectly. “Well, we are ready and lovely. Shall we go?”
Ellen nodded, despite another wave of anxiety sweeping through her.
She looped her arm through Madalene’s, and together they made their way toward the stairs.
As usual, they passed the guards in the halls, their expressions unwavering as they bowed their heads in respect as the two ladies walked by.
Again, Ellen found herself glimpsing at their faces, hoping each time to find that it was Laurence, not a stranger that she would see.
She was grappling with the disappointment of such lost hope when she approached the stairs, and just as she looked to the bottom, her heart began to flutter. There, waiting at the bottom of the steps was not another guard, but Laurence.