When those big hands slid over the curve of her ass, all purposeful, and so obviously greedy about it she had to wonder how close he’d come to this before now. Had he almost at the ball? While between her legs? Was there a moment when she’d bent over, and he had looked without meaning to?
It certainly felt possible now.
He didn’t seem to want to stop. She could see him watching himself getting great handfuls of her there, around her body. Then before she could catch her breath over that, he started ruffling her skirt up. Right up, in the fucking library, with someone talking about magical legislation, five sections away.
She heard them droning on, just as he bared her cotton underwear to the air. Another person hissed shush to them, when he slid his fingers underneath the elastic and over her plump curves. And then he suddenly looked up at her, eyes as black as she’d ever seen them, face almost slack with desire. Only the barest hint of question there, amid the sense that he was too far gone to even form one.
All she had to do was nod, and she knew what would happen.
Yet still it thrilled her to feel it, the second he started sliding them down. He just did it so feverishly, hands making as much contact with skin as he could. Half of him still wanting to see, and the other half so beside himself that for a moment he pressed his face into her body. He moaned into the soft curve of her breasts, as if he was losing his mind.
But all that did was make everything more intense.
Her legs were trembling before he even did a thing. She found herself sagging, barely standing, as he finished tugging her underwear down and started sliding a hand over her inner thigh. He had to hold her up with the other, and when that wasn’t enough, he hauled her.
All in one go, right over the table and into his lap.
Breathtaking, impossible seeming. As if he no longer had to hide exactly how strong he was. But he was right about that—he didn’t. The move made her thrill so hard that she gasped with delicious abandon. She said his name, like a prayer for something more, something sweeter.
And he gave it.
“Ohhhhgod, do that again,” he moaned—as if she was the one who had done something hot. She was spread around him, bare pussy pressed so tight to his groin she was sure she could feel something stiff, there.
Though she understood, once she realized what he meant.
His name tasted good on her lips, too.
She did it again as she rubbed at whatever she could feel, between her legs.
“Bram,” she said. “Bram, Bram, Bram.” And in response he sagged back against his seat. Eyes stuttering closed, teeth sunk deep into his lip. Body now almost shaking with desire and excitement.
And maybe also with some pleasure.
Every time she circled her hips, he shuddered harder.
Like he had that time in the kitchen. After everyone had gone to bed, at the place her brain calledthe summerhouse. That tension in the air, simmering away. His eyes all over the thin dress she’d worn, then trying to pretend that wasn’t the case.I should go to bed, he had said.
But he hadn’t gotten up.
He couldn’t.
He had known that his hard cock would have been instantly visible, if he had. It had been anyway, the moment she got close. She remembered her heart pounding at the sight, him blushing to the roots of his hair. And then blushing even harder when his apology had prompted her to whisper, into his hair.
We don’t have to take off our clothes; you don’t have to touch me, she had said.We can just make each other feel good. I can make you feel good. Make you come the way I know you must need to. All this time spent worrying about what would happen if you were close to someone. It must be agony.
And then he had simply crumpled.
He had let her do what she was doing now.
Rutting against him until he looked like this: flushed, breathless, unable to stop himself running a hand over her body. In fact, he pushed her back against the table, so he could do it better. He spread her out in front of him like a feast, and stroked over her throat, her collarbone, her breasts.
Then couldn’t seem to stay away.
He cupped those soft curves.
Let himself squeeze gently.
And when she let out a soft cry, he ran his thumb right over the stiff peak, at the center. More confident than his younger counterpart had been at that point. More skilled. As excited clearly, but able to hold himself back. In that kitchen, he had come hard and fast. Thrilling to her, at the time.
