Chapter 26. The Taste of Divine.
Iclosed the door to my room with one hand, the other already working on the buttons of his shirt—with enthusiasm I wasn’t expecting from my broken mind.
Our lips crashed against each other as they erupted into a dance.
My trembling hands pulled out my hair pin, freeing the strands. My hair fell down my shoulders; Francis’ eyes traveled down its lengths.
I forced air into my lungs, despite my body’s protests, as my hands clung onto Francis’ wrists. “Please don’t pull on my hair,” I whispered, searching for his gaze. Searching for anything that would give away his malicious intent—I found nothing, though it only soothed my anxiety slightly.
“I remember.” Francis’ lips pressed against my chin. “May I touch it?” he whispered.
“Yes.” I forced my mind into silence as I freed him from my prison.
Carefully, his hand reached for my strands, putting them behind my ear.
“So soft,” he murmured, his lips stretched into a lazy smile.
He pressed a kiss against the corner of my lips as his hand moved further, settling on my collar bone.
Fear rushed through my body, squeezing my heart into its claws; yet before I could let it win, Francis' lips pressed against my own anew, forcing them entrance.
The low sound of satisfaction escaped my mouth as Francis toyed with my lip. His teeth brushed against my skin; I silently begged him to proceed. Yet he did not.
His lips traveled down, leaving a trace along my jaw. “Would you like to continue?" Francis’ hands dropped to my lower back.
When I nodded in reply he effortlessly picked me up, carrying me towards the bed.
Silky sheets caressed my skin as Francis laid me on the bed. I closed my eyes as his lips caressed my neck.
Anticipation burned me alive.
His teeth brushed over my skin; a whine erupted through me at his every touch.
His dark chuckle reached my ears.
He was teasing me.
“Francis,” I groaned; my hands pulling on his hair.
“Yes, my love?” His eyes met me; his mouth outright abandoned my neck. “Is there something you would like me to do?” Francis crooked his eyebrow, smiling, as though completely oblivious to my needs.
“Francis.” I glared at him, fighting my own smile.
“What is it, Cordelia? Tell me.” His voice dropped a few octaves as his lips caressed the lobe of my ear. “Just say the words.”
A moan escaped me instead. I pulled on the ribbons of my dress, exposing my chest.
Goosebumps traveled down my flesh when his fingers pulled the dress off me, leaving me with nothing but bare skin.
I cared not for my exposure, yet when his eyes traveled down my flesh, my stomach fluttered, my breathing hitched.
A satisfied groan pushed past his lips when they made their way down to my chest, deliberately avoiding its centers.
“Is that what you want, my love?” Francis murmured in between his taunting kisses.
I shook my head, then nodded, then shook my head again. My mind drowned in his touch.
“Ah!” I cried when his lips finally found their place in the middle of my breast.
Francis chuckled, pleased with his work.
“Please, Francis.” I pulled on his hair, bringing his lips to my neck.
“Tell me what you want,” he teased.
“You know what I want.” My voice turned hoarse, filled with frustration and arousal.
“I want to hear you say it.” He placed a gentle kiss on the vein of my neck. Too gentle.
Refusing to obey, I bit my lips; my hands ushered him closer.
“I’m patient," Francis whispered into my ear, sending dozens of goosebumps down my flesh; my skin caught aflame.
“Francis—” I whined when his teeth punctured the soft part of my ear. “Taste me,” I surrendered.
A low growl escaped from Francis’ throat before his teeth sunk into my throat.
Relief washed over me as the pain erupted through my flesh. He sucked onto my open wound; my eyes rolled back in satisfaction.
“Oh!” A cry pushed through my throat; my body shattered underneath his. “Francis—”
His teeth abandoned my neck, to my disappointment, yet I was not able to form a word. His tongue caressed my bleeding wound before he planted a small kiss onto my injury.
His lips traveled down, leaving a trace behind them. Down and down, until they paused for a brief moment on the inside of my thigh.
His knees hit the floor; his lips were aligned with my entrance.
“What are you doing?” My eyes widened as he planted a kiss on my abdomen. My cheeks burned with excitement, even when my heart raced from embarrassment.
“I am tasting you.” A wicked smile spread out on Francis’ face as he pulled me closer. “Isn’t that what you wanted, my love?”
“I—” The words turned into a moan as Francis' lips brushed over the most sensitive part of me.
“Tell me to stop.” Francis’ hands held onto my thighs, spreading them apart. When only my panting came in reply, Francis kissed down a path from my knees all the way to my bud.
He nibbled on it until my moans turned to cries. His tongue brushed over my flesh; my body jerked forward, begging for more. My hand reached for his hair, forcing him further.
He laughed at my eagerness before his tongue slid inside of me.
“Oh, dear Gods—” Flowers wrapped around my insides, tightening them into a knot. The pressure spread through every ounce of my being, locking me into blissful oblivion.
“You taste divine, my love,” he rasped.
My love. The words alone made me burst into flames anew.
My eyelids heavied as I fought for every breath. Francis lay beside me, his soft–as velvet–fingers caressing my cheek.
“Would you say that again?” I whispered as my cheeks warmed. My finger reached for his soft lips. He lay still as I traced down to his throat imagining my teeth in his flesh. I paused at the vein that beat against my finger faster and faster. “Would you call me that again?”
His eyelids closed as he drew a sharp breath in. “My love,” he said, his pulse spiraled along with my own.
“Do you mean it?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“I certainly do.” He brought my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on each knuckle.
The fear I expected to come at his reply remained at bay, and that somehow terrified me more.
“You needn’t stress yourself with my feelings, Cordelia.” His eyes met mine. “I can keep it to myself if you wish.”
“No.” I shook my head so slightly. “I don’t wish you to.”
His brows furrowed slightly at my confession, though he refrained from voicing his questions, and I was grateful—for I, myself, was unsure what to make of my emotions. Certainly not when I lay bare on the sheets beside him.
My gaze slipped down his trousers as a new wave of excitement awoke my exhausted body.
My trembling hands traveled down his bare chest until they reached their destination. I pulled on the strings of his trousers.
Francis’ hand caught mine, denying me entrance. A wave of confusion and embarrassment traveled down my body at such a rejection. “Sorry, I thought—” I forced my lungs to obey, despite only wishing to disappear into the void.
“You needn’t feel the obligation to pleasure me.” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “I am capable of taking care of it myself. Today is about you.”
My brows furrowed in confusion before the realization eased my aching heart. “I want to.” I forced my eyes to meet his.
“Are you certain?” His throat throbbed, his voice deepened.
“I am,” I said, reaching for his trousers once again. “May I?”
“Of course you may, you needn’t ask me, my love.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks at the two words that seemed to be the only ones I wished to hear for the rest of my life.
The trousers slipped off. My hands traveled down his length.
I buried my face into the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide my aflame cheeks. A low moan traveled from his throat when my hand squeezed around him.
My thumb caressed his tip as the sound of satisfaction left his lips.
I was too nervous to ask what he would prefer me to do, though he seemed to enjoy my awkward movements despite my inexperience on this particular matter.
I hadn’t ever had an opportunity to pleasure another, and quite frankly couldn’t imagine it would bring me such joy. My only knowledge came from the smuggled books from the Royal’s palace’s restricted area in the library.
My mouth watered, my teeth ached, as Francis’ pulse spiraled against my cheek. My hand wouldn't stop exploring him when my teeth pierced his throat.
His blood filled my mouth, warming my throat, as he hardened against my touch; the flowers inside of me awoke in reply anew.
“I want you inside of me,” I whispered against his neck, still unable to meet his eyes.
“Francis,” my voice croaked as I licked every drop of his blood. “I would like to be on top of you.”
“As you wish, my love,” he purred, pulling me on top of him. When I froze in his arms, his eyes filled with concern. “What is it, Cordelia?” Francis’ hand moved a stray strand behind my ear. “It’s all right if you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I just—” I moved a little closer as though this proximity would hide me from the embarrassment threatening to destroy me. “I’ve never done this before,” the truth spilled from me. “But I wish to try.” The embarrassment I felt just a moment ago ceased.
“That’s all right.” A soft smile appeared on Francis’ face. “You have nothing to worry about. Take as much time as you need.”
I nodded, before gathering all my courage.
My hands fell against Francis’ chest before I lowered myself onto him slowly.
I drew a deep breath in before taking him fully; the flowers in me bloomed when the tip of him reached the spot I’d never known of.
“Oh!” I froze as he stretched my insides, my stomach fluttering from the mere thought.
“Just like that,” Francis rasped, slowly moving me up and down. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” was all I was able to say, for his thumb moved onto my bud, stroking my flesh.
It wasn’t long before my insides tensed. The room erupted in my screams as my body shattered anew.
“Yes, love—” Francis fell apart underneath me, his fingers digging into my thighs. “Yes, my love—” He moaned, his eyes rolling back.
Our heavy breathings echoed throughout the room as I dropped onto his bare chest. Sweet bliss flowing through our connected bodies.
I could never imagine sex could feel so good, so freeing. So empowering.
Surely, I’d enjoyed some of my previous experiences, though they had often come with a dose of shame for such an outrageous act, and embarrassment for even wishing for it and not merely enduring as I had been told I must.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his neck.
“What for?” Francis’ chest shook underneath me as he chuckled.
“For treating me with kindness.” I planted a kiss on his throat and Francis went quiet.
Silence stretched in between us before Francis cleared his throat, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Don’t ever thank me for that, my love.”