Chapter 17 #3
A strangled cry of pleasure escaped her as his mouth settled, but the next was louder, more desperate, despite her best efforts to keep quiet as his tongue slid over her with a long, decadent lick.
He raised his head for a moment, eyes glinting wickedly. “Just in case you were worried, the only other guest is an elderly man who is hard of hearing. You may make all the noise you need to, love, so don’t hold back.”
“Damian, you are the most dreadful—” she began, only to accommodate his wishes immediately as he returned his mouth to her aching flesh and anything she might have intended to say was lost in a decadent moan.
In the moments that followed, Cilly hardly knew what became of her.
It seemed as if Damian had stripped away any last vestiges of the civilised lady she had believed herself to be and remade her in the form of a wanton creature, one who craved the sensuous pleasures of the flesh above all else.
He seduced her with his touch, his mouth and tongue, bringing her to some primitive state where all she cared about was the satisfaction of her own needs.
She writhed beneath him, canting her hips higher, unashamedly demanding more, clutching at his hair to keep him where she wanted him.
Words she had never considered she could ever say in such circumstances poured from her and only seemed to please him more as he obeyed her every command without hesitation.
“More, more, don’t stop—oh, yes, please.”
Sensation built and built until she could do nothing but hold her breath, suspended on the edge of something unfathomable, waiting, waiting, until he closed his mouth over her and suckled.
The cry that tore from her throat was raw and untethered and would likely mortify her in a very little time from now, but at this moment she was helpless.
Her body seemed swept up, taken away upon waves of pleasure that flooded her, drowning her.
Cilly could do nothing but allow it, the sensations too great to fight even had she wished to.
So, she abandoned herself to the delight of being swept away on a surge of joy so profound she felt it must change her in some physical way, proof painted upon her skin of all he had made her feel.
She lay in a state of wanton abandon, breathing hard, any bashfulness gone for good, swept away with the tide of emotion that had changed everything.
The delicious feelings still thrummed through her, the insistent pleasure throbbing in that delicate place that seemed to be the focus of everything she had experienced.
“Oh my,” she said, her heavy eyelids opening with what seemed a herculean effort.
Damian smiled down at her. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry it was on the hard floor, however, but I’ll get you to bed now, and you can sleep.”
Sleep?
She said nothing as he gathered her in his arms and lifted her. Cilly slid her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her through to the bedroom.
“Not disappointed, then?”
“Not at all,” she said, smiling at him, but he did not meet her eyes as he laid her down on the bed.
“There, you’ll sleep like the dead now,” he said gently, but found he could not move away as her arms locked around his neck.
“I’m not the least bit sleepy now,” Cilly said, gazing up at him. “Lie down with me, won’t you?”
“Cilly, I—”
“Please?”
He sighed but did as she asked, stretching his long body out beside her.
Cilly sat up, frowning down at him. “You’ve still got your boots on! Really, Damian, surely you know better. Here, let me help you.” She slid off the bed and began tugging at his left boot.
“Cilly, I can do that,” he protested, but she gave a shout of triumph as the first boot came free and reached for the second. “Don’t pull so hard, you’ll—”
She gave a little cry and stumbled backwards but clutched the bedpost before she hit the floor.
“Almost,” she said with a laugh, and then shrugged off the naughty nightgown that was becoming more of an encumbrance.
It slid to the floor with a brief flutter of ribbons and Cilly climbed onto the bed beside him.
He shifted, pulling himself to sit more upright against the headboard as Cilly turned to look at him.
“Damian, may I ask you something?”
His expression was dubious, but he nodded so Cilly carried on.
“Please correct me if I am wrong. I understand the mechanics of creating a child, but I also know that there are methods to er… avoid conception.” Her cheeks burned, but she held his gaze boldly, knowing she must be both unflinching and brave if she was to have the kind of relationship they both needed and deserved.
Damian swallowed, his gaze dipping momentarily to take in her bare breasts and the proximity of her still pulsing sex to his arousal. He cleared his throat.
“That is… That is true, but it is far from foolproof, Celia, especially…”
“Especially?” she prompted.
“Especially when… when….”
“Yes?”
He made a growling sound of pure frustration. “When I want you so badly, I think I’ll run bloody mad!” he exclaimed, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
Cilly nodded, well, it was only what she’d expected.
“I hate that you feel this way, Damian, but… but I will respect your wishes. If the situation was reversed, I would be appalled if you tried to manipulate me, so I shan’t tease.
However, you just gave me great pleasure, and there was no risk of a child there.
I believe, with a little guidance, I might do the same for you. ”
She looked up, meeting his gaze, praying he would not turn away from her, that he would give her a chance.
There was a taut pause.
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. “If… if you wish.”
Cilly smiled at him, relief flooding her. “I wish, Damian. Very much.”
He hesitated and then nodded, getting to his feet.
Cilly sat back, watching with her heart thundering as he stripped off his waistcoat and shirt.
Though she had seen him naked once before, the day he had gone skinny dipping with his brother, that had been a distant view.
He had seemed to her then like a young god, gilded in the sunlight.
The impression at close quarters was no less impressive: a landscape of long athletic limbs, of splendid musculature and fine bone structure. Her breath caught in her throat.
“How beautiful you are,” she said on a sigh. He turned to face her, and she made a choked sound as her gaze took in the view of him, aroused and eager for her touch. “Oh, I am a lucky woman indeed.”
He snorted at that and climbed onto the bed. “Yes, how fortunate to have a husband who won’t love you as you deserve to be loved.”
There was bitterness behind the words, and she reached out, cupping his face.
“If we spend the rest of our lives loving each other as you loved me earlier, I shall have no complaints, Damian. I suspect there are few married ladies who are given such pleasure by their husbands. I might be greedy enough to desire more, but I am not so foolish as to believe I am in any way unfortunate or hard done by. I am a lucky woman indeed, and I shall never believe otherwise, so don’t forget it. ”
He closed his eyes, turning his face into her palm. “God, I love you. Will you stop making it worse, you wretched woman? I’m putty in your hands as it is, isn’t that enough for you?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Turnabout is fair play, love. If I must feel this overwhelmed by you, it’s only fair that you are in the same sorry state. Speaking of which…” She reached out and touched his stiff cock with a finger, giving a delighted laugh as it bobbed eagerly.
“Oh, I’m going to die,” he said on a groan, but lay down, covering his eyes with his arm. “Go ahead. Kill me. I surrender.”
Cilly sat back, regarding this expanse of male beauty with glee. She had not expected him to be so accommodating as to let her do as she wished with him, but it seemed foolish to miss the opportunity.
“You will tell me if I do anything wrong?” she ventured uncertainly.
His lips quirked, and he raised his arm enough to peer at her. “You won’t do anything wrong. I trust you.”
Cilly held her breath as she reached for him again and caressed him tentatively as his cock leapt beneath her touch. It did not take her long to realise he required a firmer hand, and she grasped him with more confidence.
Damian groaned, his hips bucking. Well, that seemed a positive reaction, she thought with satisfaction, and so she did it again.
He made a choked sound, which made her feel vastly pleased with herself, so she settled to her task, stroking and gently squeezing until she settled on a rhythm that seemed to please him.
“Is this—?” she began, but he choked out such a harsh reply she was left in no doubt she was on the right track.
“Yes! Yes, yes. Oh, God.”
To her delight, he let her toy with him, occasionally offering her a word of guidance that she was quick to follow.
“Yes, slowly, yes, like that.”
“Slow, like this?”
He nodded, his breath quickening.