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And now he was hard. Rock hard, bloody hell!
Unable to sit still, he sprang from the chair. The suddenness of his move made her stop and lift her head to him. She had been so serious and concentrated, exhibiting that cool exterior of hers. The one that only contributed to making him hotter since he discovered it hid depths of ardour he alone enjoyed.
In search of a modicum of control, he prowled to the fireplace and propped his elbow on the mantel. “I believe I get the basics of it.”
Her eyes darted to him, her full lips ajar in surprise. He wanted those lips on him, for pity’s sake! “I see,” she whispered, a flush emerging on her cheeks. With deliberate care, she stood too. “In that case, I will leave you to—”
“Who told you to go?” His muscled arms crossed, his legs braced as he stabbed her with his stare.
“You said—” she started.
“I am not done with you yet.” He interrupted her anew.
Would he ever be done with her, come to it?
Not in the foreseeable future, no.
What was he going to do about it?
To the devil with his conscience!
“Any other…request?” she breathed, and he knew the undercurrents affected her, too.
“I should think so,” he drawled, his eyes going to her breasts to see them puckering.
Her eyes slid from his to glide down to his taut, and very tense, frame. As they found the bulge in his pantaloons, they snapped back to him, breath catching in her throat.
Those honey orbs glazed over as if mesmerised. A deeper flush of arousal climbed up her skin.
Slowly, too slowly, she moved towards the fireplace, understanding the silent ‘request’. After what seemed like an eternity, she halted before him, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. He never thought he could go harder than he already was. To the point of explosion. To the point of derangement.
He watched her go on her knees before him, and her fingers reach the two rows of buttons on the flap of his trousers. Her submissive position aroused him like fire, but did not fool him.
Undoing button by button on his placket, she tantalised him. She soared his eagerness. His appetite. He caught his breath, and his eyelids were half-mast in anticipation of the heavenly agony to come.
He realised he was losing control here. Even knelt as she was, he had no more chance of denying she held power over him than he had of denying the sun. And the Earl of Thornton did not lose power. Even less, control. The fact was all too evident though.
Dainty fingers freed his straining erection to close a hand around it. He hissed his pleasure, never taking his attention from her.
During the day, she would remain in the back of his mind as he checked his accounts, knowing he would be with her at night. Take her the whole night. Insatiable.
Her full moist lips approached him as her gaze lifted to his. Their eyes collided with so much heat that his cock twitched in response. The view of her mouth next to his aching flesh nearly undid him.
When he was in his club, he sat chatting only as a means to kill time until he could come to her at last. He ate, he drank, and he went through the motions of a normal day, all the time counting the minutes until the moment he came to her.
Those plump lips closed around him, and he saw stars in broad daylight. His palm lowered to her head to guide her. He would last a mere blink.
Her submissive position on the floor exposed his own dwindling will. And this could not continue. He had to re-conquer discipline here. He had to assert his power, the strength of his will. And he must find a way of shutting her in one compartment of his life and leaving her there under his beck and call.
Her head bobbed up and down his length, driving him to the most irrational insanity.
This must stop. She was taking too much space in his life, in his head, in his guts. She held far too much power over him, driving him as insane as he was at this minute with her mouth on him.
That little restless tongue of hers caressed the tip of him before continuing on her journey to defeat him. Her cavity took him to the edge. She could enslave him with only this. With only her presence, her surrender.
He had to get a grip. If he allowed it, she would have him in the palm of her hand. He must find a way of neutralising that power, of turning the table and nailing it; bringing it under his control. He was losing it here, which would be inadmissible for a man in his position. Besides, it scared the hell out of him. And a man must conquer that which scared him. Decisively. Incisively.
The tip of him met her throat, and he fell off the cliff with a wild growl as he saw her taking everything from him hungrily. A panting Edmund collapsed against the wall while she put him to rights.
