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“Then I shall stay unbearably close.” He cupped her cheeks within broad hands. “I will be so gentle. I do not wish to cause you any discomfort.”
“The procreational mechanics of mammals cannot be so bad otherwise the human species would have gone extinct,” she said in all seriousness.
Besides which, Matilda wasn’t entirely sure she wished for gentleness – maybe later, but for now she yearned for a Seth untamed and wildly groaning with passion.
So with absolutely no idea what she was doing – except for the knowledge that he appeared to enjoy her touch – she traced a finger upon his chin, newly shaven and smooth, tracked a chord in his neck, outlined his magnificent pectoralis major, flexed her fingers through the slight hair, sketched the muscles at his stomach, and dipped to the indentations of his hip; then internal curiosity having won out, she allowed her hand to stray over his cotton-clad manhood, tentatively brushing.
Seth groaned; she grinned.
“Bad governess,” he growled, tumbling her backwards to the daybed, lips and hands all over her, peeling off straps and coating her bared skin with bites and kisses.
The untamed Seth she’d desired yanked her chemise down, revealing her breasts, and although his expression was fierce, his lips were yet tender, nipping and laving.
One candle flickered and guttered, the remainder casting shadows that leaped upon the walls, and she stroked his vigorous back and nape as he drew her up and stripped the chemise from her body, kissing his way to her toes.
Shyness ought to have overtaken her, but like all the adventures of these past weeks, she would relish each moment with all her body, soul and heart.
Seth reared, his mighty chest heaving, eyes roaming, and never had she felt such emotion, such thundering need for another.
Thought to tell him so…but insistent lips returned to hers, hands now driving her thighs apart. She allowed it, trusted Seth completely, gasped as his fingers caressed and dipped in a rhythmic stroke that coincided with rough kisses upon her throat and breast.
It snaked within, the pleasure, a never-ending tightness and tension as she twisted within his embrace and pushed against his palm.
“Seth,” she gasped.
“My beautiful, exquisite Matilda,” he whispered, and with those words – ones no one else had ever applied to her – that tightness released and the rosemary-scented room ceased to be as her eyelids closed, rapture flooding to every tip of limb, submerging her beneath warmth and light.
With a rip of cotton, a heady, muscled weight was upon her, powerful hips and thighs parting her legs further before a thrust against her core, raw and rude and resolute.
A stretched pain robbed her breath and she lifted her gaze, witnessed Seth with jaw tense yet eyes tender, and aching need shook her once more as she arched into him, heard a harsh groan.
“My Matilda,” he bit out, low and agonised. And he dragged back, only to plunge anew, a guttural grunt locked in his throat.
The tightness caused a sharp inhale but the rapture of before still simmered, and as he rocked, gentle and short, that hurtling bliss returned – faster and tauter.
“More,” she gasped, aware he held back from whatever he wished to do, aware his strained arms and clenched teeth hid a sharp longing. So she caressed his back, scratched those magnificent buttocks.
His hips jerked, and a growling Seth began to pound. A broad hand claimed her thigh, hitching it aloft as she cried out, and he plunged deeper.
Seizing her hands within his, he pressed them to the cushions to prevent any more daring assaults. Lips scalded her breast and so, like this, restrained in his arms with his persistent heavy thrusts driving so deep, the pressure surged anew, thrashing her body with fervour and torrid bliss.
His raw groan likewise echoed from the tiled walls, fingers clasping, flexing against hers as Seth raised his chest and wrenched his head back. Her eyes fell to where their bodies blended – so as one as he roared his pleasure, hips brutally lunging.
Their panted breaths mingled as his head slumped, ragged kisses exchanged as his forehead dropped to meet hers. Seth’s hips still bucked, but now diminishing to lackadaisical thrusts, each inciting a gasp, a nuzzle to her breast producing a languid smile.
Rolling her head to the side, her imperfect vision transformed the room to a distorted landscape of mere colour – sky blue and earthly burgundy – so she twisted back to focus upon Seth, the sole defined treasure.
He grinned that lopsided smile and causally flipped them both over as though she weighed naught, still joined so intimately that she felt a blush rise from her toes to her forehead as she lay atop.
On many occasions she’d dreamed of those rugged knuckles and now they kneaded her backside, those wonderful rough-skinned fingers splaying and tightening, then rising to her waist and spine – calloused pads clutching.
And all the while, she too explored – lips grazing his chest, nails teasing his hips, toes brushing his calves.
A mounting heat, which had nothing to do with the humid surroundings, swirled afresh, their bodies rocking in accord.
“I believe,” she whispered, pushing up to her forearms to gaze into sultry hazel eyes, “that no adventure could better that.”
Seth gripped her nape and surged his hips, unabashed and voracious as she gasped anew.
“Our adventures,” he rasped, “are never to end.”
