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She was naked and stunningly lovely in the half-light. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was? It seemed inconceivable somehow.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, even though as she pushed his hands away from his buttons it was perfectly obvious what she was doing. ‘I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, sweetheart, not the other way around.’
‘I know. But I want to do this for you, sir. Please let me.’
He let his hands drop away, his body already so hard he could barely think. ‘I feel “sir” in this context is acceptable.’
She glanced up at him then and the fierce light in her eyes stole his breath. There were no tears now, no distress either. Just hunger, blazing high, shocking him with its intensity.
His Freddie seemed to do nothing these days but shock him.
‘Tell me what to do,’ she whispered, the same intensity in her voice too. ‘Tell me how to please you, sir. You make me feel good and I want to do the same for you.’
Something shifted in his chest, a tight, painful feeling. He reached down and cupped her chin, her skin soft and warm against his. ‘You already do so much for me. This is supposed to be for you.’
The fierce light in her eyes didn’t change, but her lovely mouth curved. ‘But this is for me, too, don’t you see? Giving you pleasure makes me feel good. As if I can do something more than tell lies and ruin lives and run away.’
He understood then. Pleasure was the one thing he could do well himself, which was why he indulged himself so often. A chance to prove to himself he was more than merely a collection of failings. So how could he deny her? Especially when he wanted this as badly as she did.
Letting go her chin, he held out his hands and when she put hers in them, he guided them to the buttons of his jeans. ‘Then give me pleasure, Winifred,’ he murmured. ‘Or would you prefer Ellie?’
‘No. Please, not Ellie. I’m Winifred now.’ Her gaze turned darker. ‘But I think I like Freddie best of all.’
It was amazing how much that little statement pleased him.
He smiled. ‘In that case, Freddie. Shall I tell you how to do it?’
A flush had crept into her cheeks, and it stained her chest, her lovely breasts and her hard, pink nipples. ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘Please, sir.’
He was a man not a statue, and he couldn’t deny her anything. So after she’d got his buttons undone, he gave her the orders she wanted to hear. To take him out slowly and touch him, run those cool fingers of hers along his length. Then to grip him, harder please, and touch him with her tongue, explore him slowly, as long as she wanted to. Then when she was ready, to take him in her mouth, as deep as she wanted, and then suck him. No, she couldn’t hurt him. Yes, hard was good. Hard was very good indeed.
She approached the task as if it was the most important thing she’d ever done, which was how his Freddie approached everything. She took her time, causing havoc and making him crazy, and the obvious pleasure she took in pleasuring him shattered his control completely.
He’d wanted to make it last, with her on her knees in front of him, making soft sounds of satisfaction as she sucked him, yet there was no way he could keep himself in command.
Eventually, he had to pull her mouth away, get rid of his jeans and underwear, and scoop her up from the floor, lay her down on the mattress and settle himself between her thighs. He slid a hand between them, finding hot, slick flesh and she trembled and gasped as he used his fingers to make her wetter, to make her more desperate.
Then when he was finally satisfied and she was twisting on the bed, he positioned himself and slid deep inside her, the sensation making them both groan with the pleasure of it.
He put his hands on either side of her head, staying where he was, buried deep in the tight, slick heat of her sex. ‘Say my name,’ he said roughly, an edge of demand in his voice. He wanted to hear her say it, right now, as he was buried inside her. The first time, he hadn’t known who she was, the second, he’d been too desperate to savour her. But now he was fully conscious of who this was. Freddie. Winifred. The woman who would be his wife. Be his queen.
‘Say it.’ He stared down at her pale face in the dim room, noting the vulnerable curve of her bottom lip, the strong line of her nose. Her high forehead and straight, dark brows. Her eyes were black, yet they were full of lights, full of stars.
She was beautiful and he couldn’t stop staring.
‘Augustine,’ she murmured, his name sounding like a prayer. ‘My Augustine.’
The possessive ‘my’ sent a bolt of jagged lightning straight through him, though he couldn’t quite catch hold of why. Because it also made him want to pin her to the mattress, thrust hard into her until they were both fully aware of who belonged to who.Shebelonged to him. She was pregnant with his child, she was his PA. He’d known her for five years and she was constantly at his side. That made her his. Completely.
She lied to you, though. You have no idea who she is.
No, that was wrong. Hedidknow who she was. Not the details of her life, but he knew the woman she was deep inside, the woman he’d worked beside for five years. Meticulous, steady and calm. And beneath that, passionate. Caring. Protective. Vulnerable. And brave.HisFreddie, was brave.
‘Again,’ he growled, beginning to move, slow at first then faster, harder, and her nails dug into his back, passion lighting her up.
There were so many things he couldn’t do. So many.
But he could do this. He could give her pleasure and he could protect her. She needed someone to look out for her, someone who’d stand between her and the rest of the world. She’d been doing that for him for so long so why couldn’t he return the favour? She was the mother of his child, of course that was his job.
