“Put both your hands on me,” he panted gruffly.
“I…c-can’t,” she stuttered, but he pulled her other hand from her side. He must have felt her swollen fingers, and Clara tried to pull away.
“My poor girl, what have you done?” And then she felt the whisper of his lips against the hand.
“Damaged it…while ago…”
“Can you feel?”
“Yes,” Clara whispered. She felt him take the hand and place its palm against his torso. His fingers stayed on the back of hers, and he dragged it over his chest, and then further down, over the taut muscles of his stomach, to the waistband of his breeches.
“Can you feel my heat?” he hotly teased the question in her ear.
She couldn’t answer; she just let out a moan, as he pulled her hard against him once again, and devoured her mouth. His hips restarted the rhythmic thrusting, except this time her night rail had shifted to the side and only his breeches lay between them. She felt his hands on her bottom, pulling her impossibly closer. His lips descended on her neck again, but this time they did not stop their descent and she felt his hot mouth at her breast.
Clara moaned as a wash of hot sensation flooded her body, at the wet touch of his tongue. He teased her, nipped her and devoured her. The sensation built, and Clara couldn’t help but grind her body against his in helpless, wild abandon.
“Yes, that’s right,” Rook panted against her breast. “Take what you want. Take what I can give you.”
At his words, Clara cried out as she shuddered in pleasure. Rook held her tight against him, all the time rocking and caressing, till slowly her movement stilled.
Their breaths were loud in the quiet dark, but Rook’s was harsher, with unquenched desire.
“Rook,” Clara whispered dazedly in his ear and she felt him shudder. She pulled away slightly and trailed her hand back down his chest, over his stomach, and then lower, to cover the bulge in his breeches. Pleasure still made her body shiver, and she could not stop caressing him. He groaned at her touch.
“Yes,” he gasped tautly, “I thought I could stop, but God help me. I’m too close…” With those words he started frantically to unbutton the fall on his breeches. He grabbed hold of her hand, and enclosed it around his liberated manhood. He kept his fingers encircled around hers – tight and hot as he started to push hard into her palm. Two, three thrusts and he shouted out, grabbed hold of the back of her nape with his other hand, and hauled her mouth to his, muffling his groan.
He relaxed his tight grip, and they both fell back onto the couch. Her head was on his chest, and she could hear the rapid heartbeat pound in her ear. He began to play with her hair gently, combing through the strands and settling them against her back.
Slowly, Clara’s senses returned, and she opened her eyes to the gloom. Soon, he would question her, ask her name and discover her identity. Would he be pleased? Or angry? She shuddered, and his hand came to rest at the back of her head – cradling – his fingers gently caressing.
She waited for him to speak, but his body was still calming beneath her, and his heat warmed her in the sudden chill. She closed her eyes again to enjoy the intimacy.
ΦΦΦ
With a catch of breath, Clara awoke. Where the deuce was she? There was a loud noise, reminiscent of her uncle’s old dog, and she felt smothered and hot. Her back, however, was cold, and she soon realised that she was half-naked. And then she remembered.
She was lying on her side, her front layered over Rook’s sleeping form. He was snoring – quite loudly.
Oh heavens, what had she done? Why did all reason leave her in the heat of Rook’s passion? What if he was to wake now? He would think she had trapped him. He’d think her a harlot! She had to leave…leave now…before he awoke. She’d just have to be very, very quiet.
Slowly, she pulled herself away from his body, and his hand slithered from her shoulder. He still seemed deeply asleep, although it was so dark he could have had his eyes wide open, and she would not have known.
His snores covered her rustling, as she tried to pull her twisted night attire back over her body. She silently cursed, as nothing seemed to fit – it was as if it was someone else’s clothing.
Feeling her way around the table and chair, she arrived at the door. This time, nothing blocked her path. It was as though the room was wishing her a speedy exit. She did not linger, not even for a glance back into the pleasurable darkness. Pulling the door closed on her passionate indiscretion, she leant back against it and sighed in relief.
Clara understood about want and desire now, but it hurt all the more that Rook desired it with someone else.
Drifting upstairs in the fading moonlight, Clara stubbed another toe on the steps and then knocked her knee on the banister. Arriving outside her chamber without further mishap, she opened the door and peered in with trepidation.
To find Ralph on her bed come morning, even if she wasn’t there, was still incriminating. Earlier, she should have just knocked for Aunt Agnes; her lover be damned. Exactly what she would do now, if he was still there.
She searched with her eyes in the gloom. Her cousin was no longer on the bed, and the pillow was on the floor. She heaved another sigh of relief and dived onto the cool sheets.
Her body still thrummed with pleasure, but she also felt a little melancholic. Rook seemed to feel something for Clara, but his constant shift of mood confused her. He obviously lusted after his ‘masquerade woman’, as he had called her. Did it matter that they were one and the same? Was it better? Or worse? How did she get herself into such a confusing situation?
She should have left the curiosity room as soon as she had discovered him, but the temptation to feel Rook’s passionate kiss again had been too much.
