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I barely touch her plump, sweet lips as I look into her eyes that are light green lights, telling me to do what I’ve been planning to do for months now. It’s finally happening and there’s this sense of accomplishment that floods through me as I kiss down her neck again, then her soft chest. Her hands in my hair feel spectacular.
I’ve grown addicted to the way she tugs at my hair and claws at my back when she’s really feeling good. Tonight, she’s going to feel incredible, even better than all the times we’ve touched each other before because tonight I will fuck her so good, she’ll be begging me to do it over and over.
And I will for good measure because that’s what the plan was— seduce her, take her virginity, and get the hell out of this contract. It’s a pretty good deal, I think as I caress her incredible body with my hands and lips. A great deal, even.
I raise back to her eyes and pick her up, pressing her against the wall as she wraps her legs around me, arms around my neck, eyes focused and sparkling.
“You really are incredibly stunning.” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers.
She bites her bottom lip, cheeks a little flushed, as she traces a finger around the outline of the tattoo on my chest. After a second of chills spreading from every place that her skin is on mine, I raise her chin, so she can look me in the eyes.
Before I can speak, her eyes flicker with a hint of concern as she whispers, “Are we really doing this?”
I lick my lips, looking down at hers then up, brushing her long dark hair behind her ear. “I’m ready if you are.” I trail a hand down her breast and gently cup both, rubbing my thumb over one of her erect nipples. Chills rise over her chest and I gently kiss them as she lets out a soft breath, eyes no longer hesitant, but hungry. Her lips part, eyebrows pulling together as she gently swipes her index finger over my bottom lip.
With a resolved nod, she whispers. “I’m ready. I want all of you.”
Chapter Twenty Six:Espie
My lips are nearing Adrik,words I don’t know how to comprehend, falling from his lips. “I choose you, Espie.”, he said to me just moments ago like they were words curing the greatest aches of my heart. And I want to believe him, I do, because it will make everything so much easier. At least that’s how it seems right now— that Vince can’t do anything about this contract and I really am stuck with the man sitting in front of me.
At least if we’re stuck together, he won’t hate me, in fact, it seems like he really wants me to be his. Though, he hasn’t actually answered my question the way I had hoped.Why did he propose to me? He’s a very matter-of-fact type of person. Not in the smart way, either, though I won’t deny his intelligence. Emotions are something he really doesn’t have a forte for, but the explanation he gave me is highly emotional.
So, there are two options here that could be the reality. One is that he’s somehow radically shifted to having some semblance of compassion for our complicated relationship, and is now completely on board. Or--the more likely option— he’s playing a game still, but I don’t understand what he gains from it. That leads back to square one— confused.
His lips are less than an inch from mine, and all of my insides are pulsating to the speed of an unknown beat that always seems to fill the space between us— rapid, rushed, desperate. And I do want him desperately right now because he’s shown me a new side of him because I hope he cares for me in some way now that he didn’t before.
“What are you thinking?” He whispers, brushing his lips against mine as his eyes glance down at my breasts then back up.
“I want you.” I whisper, and he tenses his brows like he needs me to spell it out for him, though he understands what I’m asking. I can tell by the slight grin turning up the corners of his plump pink lips. I elaborate implicitly, “Allof you.” The words fall from my mouth as if they are not my own, but they are. Completely and totally my will and desire pushing through any ounce of common-sense left in my longing lips that need Adrik like I need to breathe.
When he kisses me, all else falls away, and I’m shocked as he runs his hands down my body in the dim light surrounding us, that I’m his. At least, for right now, I’m the object of his affections. Perhaps that’s seriously deluded that I’ve come to a point where even the idea of him touching me in this way, makes my heart jump, but it does. So, I guess in a way, I am deluded. In another, I’m desperate.
Everything about him has drawn me out and in, over and over, yet I still want this more than anything. It’s dangerous, unsafe, breaking every rule, but I can’t help myself. This new desire to let go of everything and give him myself, could have to do with what he did for me tonight— making a magical garden, dressing like a prince, and proposing…
It is surprising that he proposed, given his stance on it. A couple of months ago, we got into a fight over the whole notion. I was expressing how romantic proposals are, and he objected, saying they were antiquated, outdated and just a way to display how perfect couples can make their relationship look to everyone else.
Needless to say, we were shouting at one another by the end of it, until I left the room in tears, and he didn’t chase me. And because he didn’t care enough to hunt me down to apologize, I cried even more.
We had just made our little ritual of going too far, a regular ordeal and I felt vulnerable, hoping the conversation could lead to some answers about what we were doing. To uncover if it meant something to either of us, other than carnal longings and lustful whims.
His finger tailing down my chest brings me back to the moment. He travels lower and lower, grazing my lacy red lingerie that I’ve put on just for him. It’s the one I bought while Olive was in the changing rooms at a boutique in the town below. The second I brought it home, I was instantly aware of the implications of owning such an item, so I stuffed it in the back of the closet, even almost threw it away out of sheer embarrassment.
That was the beginning of letting go for me. Letting go of the idea of being perfect, and giving in to my innate desire for Adrik. I threw my oldest friend, caution, a curveball and willingly chose a new one for the first time in my life—lust, pure unbridled lust.
Adrik guides me backwards, laying me down on the fluffy fur blankets in the center of the lounge area. It feels safe, warm, and surrounded by books. His eyes are fixed on me, like he’s trying to figure out if I was lying when I said I wanted all of him. I wasn’t and I do. And if Iwereto lie right now, if I could, I would be telling him that none of this means anything to me. Which means that knowing I feel the opposite, is far too real for me to acknowledge.
That thought rages through me, pangs against my chest like a sick realization that maybe him being my first will be more monumental than I thought. But before the idea can really take hold of me, he kisses my lips again. It’s so intent and fervent, I lose sight for a moment.
My chest rises close to his, and he slips his hand under the arch of my back like it’s made for him. Is this how everything is always going to feel? If Vince gets me out of this contract, will I ever have passion this intense again? Or is it the fact that I shouldn’t be doing this— that I’m finally breaking the rules, and getting a say in my life— the only reason I’m so exhilarated by him?
His lips pull from mine and I tangle my hands in his hair, fully intending to bring him right back to me, and then his hand is at my heat. He slips his fingers across my opening when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear. I quiver under his touch, wanting it more than I ever have.
He begins sliding a finger inside my wet arousal. “You’re tighter than you’ve ever been.” He whispers and my jaw shakes. I hope he doesn’t see, hope he doesn’t determine that I’m far too nervous to do this because I’m also far too desperate for him. His finger slowly enters the depths of me and I softly moan because somehow his hands are magic and have that effect on me. Everything he does feels so incredible, I swear it’s not just because no one else has ever touched me like this.
He’s moving slower than he normally does, and I’m assuming it’s to be careful. I try to loosen up for him, but I can’t help that I’ve gone too far into my head and psyched myself out a bit. I didn’t know what tonight would bring when I came here, though I had a suspicion, given our heated moment in the garden when we were alone. That idea has taken on a life of its own and given him permission to take my body as his own in any way he’d like. And though I didn’t say that explicitly, I said enough for him to know exactly what I meant.
“Hey.” He whispers to get my attention, and I pull my eyes from his hand at my heat, back to his. Those piercing blues, normally readying themselves to attack or put up a wall, are completely opened. For the first time I really see his intentions, and I know how badly he wants me, at least for right now. I’m so sure of this that if I tell him I would rather not continue down this path we’re on tonight, I think he’d be able to convince me otherwise.
