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“Skilful of you, naturally.” He drank his water as if he drank… parts of her. “I believe you have worked hard enough and got our finances in a good balance to be able to afford it.” His drinking brought to mind that night in the library, incandescing every wrong spot.
His husky tone caressed her, warming her insides. Restless, she turned to her food, but eating figured as the last thing she wanted at the moment. She wanted… oh… sod it!
“As you wish.” She said mostly to stop the conversation and the drool over him. Tense as a harp cord, she finished her dinner in record time and retired to her room with her ledgers. The fire he ignited, though, would not abate.
Hours later, Conrad paced his room as a caged Indian tiger. He stood on edge. The nearness of his wife was definitely not conductive of calm and serene thoughts. His pyjamas stretched with his pacing, his mind spinning the most carnal images of her. He could take it no more.
At the front of the connecting door, he impulsively pulled it, as his nostrils registered her verbena scent in the room. His body primed, he walked forward, almost pouncing.
He found her sitting in her bed, leaning on her pillow, the covers to her waist. The candle on the bedside table painted her in soft warm luminosity. Her hands braided her rosewood hair over her demure nightgown-clad shoulder. She lifted her eyes to him, both serious and molten. Her lips parted, an intake of breath through them.
He approached the foot of the bed, his dark eyes boring in hers. “Send me away if you can.” He dared in a husky murmur. He took out his pyjamas tunic intending provocation.
It worked.
She moistened her lips, her eyes strolling over him, her lower lip between her teeth as her gaze stopped in his mid-section. Her ogle made him even harder, his member tenting in his pyjamas trousers. She licked her lips in a show of hunger no man should ever be exposed to, for danger of incinerating.
He knelt on the fluffy mattress. “Come, Aurelia, take what you want.” He coaxed, the mere idea boiling his blood.
Braid forgotten, Aurelia, removed her covers and came to him on her knees. Conrad filled his lungs with desperate air. Never looking at him, she pulled the sash at his waist; the trousers fell to his mid thighs, uncovering his furious need of her. She parted her lips, and he nearly went mad when he saw them close over his shiny glans, rave
nous. He must hold the bedpost, his eyelids dropped; his head fell back in a groan.
She took more of him in her moist hot mouth, the pleasure so unbearable he placed his other hand on her neck to keep her at it. She forwarded and back-warded her head as if she knew what she was doing. Hell! He became hard as a rock, her mouth hell and paradise at the same time. Her hand held his stem, caressing it with instinctive knowledge.
Next, she distanced her mouth from him. He opened his eyes and searched her. She darted her tongue out, rolling it around his glans. Sparks of insanity wrenched his insides. She savoured him more and took him in again. The demise neared, he leaked, on the brink of losing control. She continued her ministrations heedless of his agony.
He could take it no more! He pulled her up and placed her arms on the bedpost. In urgent clumsiness, he bunched her nightgown up, locked her waist in his arms and drove in her like a barbaric invader, grunting in the process. She groaned, her head falling back on his chest, as he took her from behind heatedly.
One of his hands roamed to her breast, caressing, palming, pinching whilst the other found her ready moist middle. He panted and thrust as disaster threatened closer and closer. She opened more for him. The flood approached. He would shame himself.
He stopped. Against all his atrocious need, he froze. Perspiration beaded his forehead.
His mouth, breathing heavily, nibbled the curve of her neck, her shoulders, exposed by her wry gown. His hand palmed her other breast, his fingers down there, uncovering her secrets.
“Conrad,” her respiration also fast. “Move.” She commanded breathy.
“I’ll dissipate in a second.” His nose in her now loose glorious hair.
Insensitive to his plight she gyrated her hip, driving him to the last circle of hell.
“Move or I swear I’ll… chastise you!” She murmured, sounding as desperate as he did.
He breathed a tight laugh. As if that was not chastisement enough! “Yes, my she-wolf.”
And he let the ropes loose. He thrust deep, fast and mindless. Once, twice. She cried, her body squeezing him to ruin, as he lunged one more time and felt the spasms in complete delirium. Repeated squirts emptied him until he found peace.
They fell on her bed, as he pulled the covers over them, snuggling her close.
Aurelia opened her foggy eyes with the first light of dawn. She and Conrad entwined in a mess of limbs, bedcovers and warmth. He had held her in a cocoon of cosiness difficult to reject. She did not even want to if she was to be sincere to herself. She only lay on the mattress revelling in his presence, a pungent sense of contentment dominating her. He slept on his belly, half over her, his arm snaking around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. His tepid breath feathering her skin, spicy scent assailing her nostrils.
She began to get too used to him roaming the manor, seeing him around all the time. Used to his visits to her bed with excruciating regularity. And rapture. Each time, he extracted from her escalating pleasure, weakening her little by little, making it intolerable to say no, to keep a distance. To ignore. The consequence? She continued wanting more, everything. But must not. She understood she must not, but he left no space for her self-defence, self-protection. Inch by inch, he neared her, consumed her body, her desire. Her longing. It became progressively difficult to keep her feelings safe. This scared her, with bleeding strain. Her heart constantly pulled to every direction on the compass, constrained. In these circumstances, she had to discipline herself to take one day at a time and be prepared for the worst.
He stirred as his nose grazed her throat as he rumbled pleasurably at her scent, his arm tightening around her. Oh, dear! This man would defeat her fiercest barricade if he continued in this smooth unyielding offensive.
“Good morning, she-wolf.” He murmured on her sensitive skin, teasing her senses.
Her fingers combed through his tousled midnight hair, relishing in its silkiness. “Good morning.” She started liking the epithet he had given her.
