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ithdrew his member. Her breath caught at the slight discomfort. He pushed from the bed, the flickering fire cast dancing shadows over his naked form. Elliot was so beautiful, his muscles hard and powerful.
Even in the low light, the red blush that flushed her entire body as he took a cloth or perhaps his handkerchief and cleaned between her legs were evident. Whatever he had used was discarded on the pile of clothes scattered on the carpeted floor.
Elliot watched her, his gaze hooded, face set in stark, sensual lines. “Are you sore?”
She was, but Emma felt mesmerized by the carnal promise glowing from his eyes. “Why?”
She gasped silently at the amusement that tugged at the corner of his mouth. There was a promise of wicked delights in that half smile. And God, she wanted to rise on her knees and lick the smile away, then continue down to the rippling walls of his chest and abdomen. Who knew she was the possessor of such wanton urgings.
Golden eyes rested possessively on her face. “Weren’t you warned about what I would want from you, princess? That you would be on my cock all night long?” He answered with a drawl that had a shiver working up her spine.
Heat curled low in the pit of her stomach, jolting her. “You did,” she said softly. She rose to her knees and sat on her haunches, watching him.
He tugged her to him, taking her lips in the softest and sweetest kiss she had ever received. “If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the words. We can go dancing. We can do anything you want.”
She clasped his neck pulling him to her, taking his lips into a deeper kiss. “I want everything you have to give. Tonight. No regrets.”
The slightly crooked smile he gave caused a deep flutter in her belly. “No regrets,” he murmured, smoothing his hands over her hips and down to her stocking clad legs. Her heart lurched, and she hoped he would not ask her to remove them. He lowered himself and removed the dancing slippers from her feet. He stood, rocked back on his heels, gazing down at her with a mixture of hunger and amusement that made her shiver.
With firm but gentle hands, he turned her, so she lay on her stomach. She was acutely aware of his gaze on the hollow of her spine, the curve of her buttocks.
He came over her like a warm, sensual blanket, coasting his hand over her buttocks and down to her sex. His finger probed, he grunted his approval, and she blushed.
She was already shamelessly wet for him.
He slid his hands around her hips to her derriere, then lifted her up onto her knees. Soft but firm kisses were pressed on her shoulders and down the curve of her spine.
Her body was wet, soft, and yielding, accepting the hard length that surged deep inside, but even so, her muscles quivered to accommodate his thickness. She needed to breathe, to scream out in pleasure, but she could only whimper into the sheets at the soul searing bliss. How long he made love to her, she couldn’t possibly have known. He never stopped moving, never stopped touching her. It seemed like forever. If only she wasn’t damaged, this could indeed be forever.
What felt like hours later, Emma lay onto her side, the sheets covering her body, feeling exhausted but wonderful. Sounds of Elliot’s feet padding away reached her ear, then the sounds of servants filling the bath from behind the screen. Seconds later, the bed dipped, and strong arms curved under her back and knees, lifting her. It felt wholly natural to rest her head against his chest and snuggled into him.
“Are you well?” His voice was soft, concerned. “I fear I may have been too enthusiastic.”
And now she was delightfully tender, and she blushed at the awareness. “Are you well?”
She felt his smile against her hair.
“You were better than anything I could have imagined.”
Tears burned beneath her lids, and she wanted to scream. She had hungered for years to hear such words from him, and now he said them not knowing it was her. He entered the bathroom and lowered her gently to her feet. She blushed as he took a warm wash cloth and cleaned between her tender folds and around to her bottom. With such care, she felt no discomfort, only a sense of awe.
Was he this way with all his lovers?
She pushed the thought of him pleasing other women from her mind. Tonight, was for her, she would not let her insecurities intrude. He placed the washcloth on the basin’s surface and drew her to him. He cupped her cheeks and teased at the eye mask. Questions formed in his golden gaze, ones she was afraid to hear. “I will not remove it,” she said softly before he could ask.
His eyes dipped to her stockings and garter.
“Nor them,” she said softly.
“They will get wet.”
“It does not signify.” She could not bear for him to see the scars on her legs. Not only would he know her identity right away, he had never seen that ugly mess of tissue before. What if he were to react with disgust? Or pity? Either would rip through her heart.
A cynical smile shaped his lips, and she fought the urge to rip the mask off her face and scrub the paint away. Pulling from their embrace, he tested the water, then stepped in. He held out his hand to her, and Emma did not hesitate. They sank into the depth of the tub, and she moaned in delight as the hot water seeped into her muscles, soothing places she had not realized were sore.
“Thought you would like it.” He pressed a kiss to her nape.
She relaxed fully into his sculpted chest, thankful he was not broaching the topic of her need for anonymity. “Tonight has been incredible, I will treasure the memory.”
