Page 79 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Louis shuddered as the evil voice whispered in his ear. No. Not that. Not now. He would not heed that voice now after working so hard for so long to silence it. Not after all this time. He concentrated on Evie, on her response to his command.

She was breathing hard, her breath fluttering against his face, lips parted, her eyes dark. Was that fear or wanting he saw? She did not reply, did not let go of her hold on him.

Diable.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking over the pulse point in her neck. It fluttered wildly under her skin, like a panicked bird.

“A-A little,” she admitted, but she still did not let go. “I never was before, but now—”

She broke off, staring at him uncertainly, but still, she did not let go.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, lowering his head to nuzzle that sweet spot beneath her ear where her blood thundered. Her breath caught, and she pressed closer to him as a shiver ran through her, which pleased him. He pressed a kiss there, nipped at her earlobe, moved his lips over her jaw as her breathing became erratic. “Has he kissed you?” he asked, wondering if he could stand to hear the answer.

Diable, mauvais esprit, démon, serpent dans le Jardin d'eden, whispered the insidious voice, reminding him his beauty was a snare for the innocent, a gift from the devil, that he was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

She licked her lips, and the sight sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin. Apparently, she could not speak the word aloud, however, so she nodded. Jealousy was a knife to his heart, a vile twisting in his guts.

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

She stared at him, her skin flushed pink, her eyes growing darker, her breasts rising and falling faster, pressing against his chest. “It w-was… nice,” she said carefully, watching his reaction, her gaze upon him intent.

“Nice,” he said in disgust, remembering her saying that to him once before. “My kisses are not nice, mon amour.”

Louis lowered his mouth to hers and she tensed, a startled gasp escaping her, allowing him entry. He took the opportunity she gave, as he would take this opportunity to make her see once and for all that she belonged with him. His tongue swept in, and he felt shock vibrate through her. To his relief, he discovered at once that she did not know how to kiss, so either this Muir was a damned fool, or he had not kissed her at all thoroughly. Louis taught her the way of it, gently teasing her response from her, triumphant when she followed his lead, sliding her tongue tentatively over his. Desire rioted through him. Control was slipping from his grasp, but for once, he found it hard to care. It had been a very long time since he'd had a woman, all because of her, because he felt as if he betrayed her every time he tried to take his pleasure elsewhere. He was a man with a ferocious libido and his frustration had tormented him to the point of madness. The darker side of his nature wanted her to understand that, to feel a little of his torment. So now, to have her in his arms… he was on the brink of behaving very badly indeed.

Carefully, he adjusted his hold on her lush curves, pulling her hard against him, so close she could not fail to feel his arousal, his need for her. He wondered if she would shy away. He was going too far, too fast, and he knew it, yet he could not make himself stop. But the tension left her body all at once and she melted into him, and he knew such overwhelming relief that he wanted to weep with gratitude and had to fight the temptation to take her to the filthy floor and make her his, once and for all. If he ruined her, she would have to marry him. The thought nagged at him, but he could not do that to her. There were limits to his bad behaviour, it seemed.

She pulled away with a gasp, staring at him with dark eyes as though she beheld the devil himself. Ah, sweet Evie, how right you are.

“Oh, you… you are very bad,” she whispered, touching her fingers to her mouth and gazing at him in wonder.

“Evie,” he murmured, nipping at her lips before tasting her again.

Dieu, but she was so sweet, so maddeningly divine, and he was beyond thought, beyond reason, lost in the feel of her. He turned them about so she bumped up against the wall and slid his hand over her delectable bottom to her thigh, catching her leg behind the knee and pulling it up around his hip. She made a startled sound as he moved into the cradle of her body, pressing his aching cock against her with a low groan. There were too many damn layers in the way and his control was fraying, but somehow he resisted ripping the damn skirts and petticoats away.

He canted his hips against hers and she cried out, clutching at his hair, burying her face against his neck, her breath hot and harsh against his skin. He sought her mouth, and she kissed him again, willingly, ardently, her innocent passion stirring his blood like nothing else had ever done. Louis broke the kiss, trailing his mouth over her cheek as she made a sound of protest, wanting more.

Diable! The devil sent you from hell to tempt the innocent to sin.

“Now do you see, my Evie? My little love.”

He tipped her head back before she could answer. Her gown had a high neck, fastened with what seemed a thousand tiny buttons. One by one, he flicked them undone, kissing each newly revealed inch of flesh as she trembled in his arms. Down and down the buttons went, over her breasts to her waist.

“Louis,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Hush,” he murmured, parting the material and staring with hazy desire at the generous swell of her luscious breasts. “Je péris de tant vous désirer, mon amour.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, her words breathless.

He brushed his lips over the curve of her breast, close to the lace on her chemise, speaking against her skin. “I’m dying from wanting you so much, my love,” he whispered.

“Oh.” She swayed in his arms. “Louis, I—I can’t stand, I—” she pleaded, so he lashed his arm tighter about her and released his hold on her thigh in favour of cupping her breast. He smiled as she curved her leg about his hip all on her own and rewarded her by pressing his cock against her sex until she moaned. Her blasted corset and too many layers were driving him to distraction, but her breast swelled above its confines as he squeezed and he licked the delicious mound, hearing her breath leave her in a shocked exhalation. Though he knew he was wicked, beyond the pale, he could not resist the temptation. He held her tighter as he ducked his head again and she gave a little cry of pain. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling, holding on as he raised his head and looked with satisfaction at the mark he’d left on her breast. No matter if this Muir was in the same house as her, she would see that for days and remember him, remember his mouth upon her breast. He could not remember ever experiencing such a devastating need to possess, to claim. It was unlike him, but he could not deny the truth of it. She made him act like a madman, like some primitive version of himself he did not recognise. He, who had always prided himself on his self-control and sophistication, had become nothing but sensation and raw need, marking his place upon her body like a randy boy.

Though he knew he must stop this, now, for the love of God, he did not know how he could let her go. He raised his head, staring at her, knowing he must look wild, for he felt it to his bones.

“What will you say, Evie? When this… this boy asks you to be his wife. What will be your answer?”

Her eyes were hazy with lust, her lips red, still parted, her breath coming in harsh little gasps. She wanted him. At last. She wanted him. All the things he wanted crashed about inside him, the things he wanted to do to her, the ways he needed to love her. Merde, his sweet little innocent Evie, would be shocked to her bones if she knew the things he dreamed of.