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“Annabel.” He muttered, in an attempt to take her out from that place to where her bad memories transported her.
“I went into a state of numbness.” She continued as if he did not utter her name.
“I did not know.” He rasped, hurting the way she must have hurt those years ago.
“Desperate, my parents foisted Charles on me in the hope I would forget you.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears which she fought back. “For me nothing mattered. When I saw, I was married to him.”
Romulus moved from the wall, moving in her direction, arms stretched to hold her, give her solace.
She would have none of it though. “When we met at that ball it was to face your accusatory silence.” Her sadness morphed into renewed outrage as she advanced on him, hands on her waist. The whole of her transmitted a will to thrash him. No blame on her; he would want to do the same in her place.
His feet marched back not wishing for any of them to regret things afterwards. But she continued on him single-minded. Everything inside stood in a mess, her things littered throughout the room. He fell on the tilted mattress, legs on the bed, head toward the carpet.
Not relenting, she came over him skirts and all. “Does this satisfy your unfair accusations?”
Oh, it did, without a shadow of doubt.
But then, her body touched his and the meaning of satisfaction changed in a radical way in his mind. Eyes me
rged on hers, he emitted a throaty “Yes.”
She never diverted her ogling, hot and vexed. Her hand came to his neckcloth and undid it with mastery. The same mastery with which she got him hard and ready. This inclined position of his body sharpened his senses. Her woman scent invaded his nostrils, worsening his hunger for her.
“I should pillory you.” She breathed fervent,
He never wished for something more in his life than that. It carried a promise of delights untried.
His neckcloth cast somewhere, she still devoured him, keeping him in a state of expectation that drove him to a madness of want. His breath sawed in tempo with hers, as he lifted his hand and plucked her hairpin, causing her midnight ringlets to shower riotous on him.
All of a sudden, she dived in on him, open-mouthed to assault his hair-dusted chest, grazing it through the V of his shirt. He sucked in air, his eyes closing, the sensation too intense, as her warm breath distributed pleasure on his skin. His impulse was to grab her, pin her under him and thrust in her hard, fast and sweaty. But he endured her torture. She dispensed no mercy, though, because her warm, moist mouth closed around his skin with gusto, her teeth nibbling it. He saw stars. His hands fisted on the bedclothes, he forced himself to lie still, to let her enjoy him as he enjoyed her in the armoury. Then, she directed her tormenting attention to the other side, and it became atrociously difficult not to move, for he feared he would explode in shameful uncontrol.
The woman was a powder keg; he wanted her to detonate and take him with her.
You would fathom she would have pity on him by now. Deject mistake. Her torso abandoned his chest to give chance for her fingers to reach his breeches fly. That undone, she found his ready-to-go-up-in-the-air erection.
“Yes, Annabel.” He breathed, husky. “Use me, take your pleasure, your vengeance. Anything.” He lost air as she took him in her hand.
She looked up at him and came to lie on his shoulder, her body as inclined as his towards the carpet, one leg over his. Heaven met hell when she fisted him.
“No, Annabel.” In the end of his forces. “Take me for you, your delectation. Not mine.” Though he knew he would not last.
“I want this.” She said stabbing his eyes with her magnificent ones. Her teeth nibbled his bristle square jaw, her hand experimenting with his desperate cock.
His fingers closed over hers to guide her obvious, inexperienced touch. And she learned fast, the hellion. In a question of seconds, he was totally under her agonising tutelage.
Her stroke continued up and down his length, she caressed his ear with her lips. He wanted her to go faster, to end his affliction. And he wanted this never to end at all. So, he said nothing, just revelling in her softness against him and the silkiness around his flesh.
Bleeding hell, but this inclination did not favour slowness. On the contrary, it favoured gravity. His breath hitched and sawed, sweat broke on his temple, his body tensed and he burst in one of the most intense releases he ever remembered experiencing, amid unrestrained grunts. She did not stop until mindlessness overcame him.
He fell flat on the tilted mattress, breathless and sated. For the time being. He was going to rest for a while, until he could go for the second round in this tantalizing ring.
Not five minutes went by when a knock came on the door.
“Your Grace.” Miller, from behind the door. Nobody would dare come in without his order. “There is a matter that needs your urgent attention.”
Goddammit! He cursed. Leaving this angled mattress was the last thing he wanted to do. In his life. He raked his dishevelled dark-brown hair. “I am coming.”
He turned to her, lying there in that unusual position. Her focus locked on him, giving nothing away. He stood up to leave.
