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We finish eating, and I take our plates to the kitchen before popping them into the dishwasher. When I turn around, Eleanor captures my lips. She grips the back of my neck hard, and I like it. I can already feel my hard-on from earlier in the day springing back to life.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper.
“I’ve been waiting all day.” Eleanor gasps as we fumble upstairs. We can’t keep our hands off each other. I’m enraptured by the heat of her skin sizzling against her silk dress. I slip my hand beneath her dress and discover that she’s not wearing any underwear as she uses her free hand to open her bedroom door. I keep kissing her as we stumble backward toward the bed and I pull up the hem of her dress. I slip one finger into her hot, waiting entrance. She’s already gushing. Slowly, I trail a finger along her clit. She groans.
“More,” she begs. I insert a second finger and begin to move them forward. I feel her tighten around me, and it’s delicious. Eleanor leans back. Her hands wander down to my pants, which she unzips precisely. My hard-on is already tenting my boxers. I step out of my pants as Eleanor removes her dress.
The sight of her naked body is resplendent: strawberry pink nipples, heaving lush breasts, sensuous curves, and a tufting of bright red hair at her entrance. She’s like a Botticelli painting, like Venus herself, and I am completely under her spell.
“Are you ready?” I ask, kissing her neck.
“Yes,” she pants.
She wraps her legs around my waist, and it’s dizzying. We continue to kiss. I palm one of her breasts in my hand as she tilts her pelvis to take me.
“Is this okay?” I ask as I enter her, slowly at first. I don’t want to overwhelm her. Her breath hitches as she tightens around me. I thrust slowly, then increase my speed as she tightens her legs around my torso.
“More,” she begs, her hot breath against my face. I plunge harder, absorbed in the ocean of her sweat and sounds; the soft groans emerge from her throat. She digs her nails into my shoulders and pulls me somehow even closer to her.
She slips her tongue into my mouth and rolls her hips forward to meet my thrusts; our combined rhythm causes the bed frame to shake. We don’t care. We keep going faster, harder, hotter, more frantic, a sweaty kaleidoscope of motion and force. The back of Eleanor’s thighs starts to shake. I thrust deeper, clutching the headboard for support as I journey deeper into her. She’s panting now; her breasts hit the plane of my chest as she lurches upward, encased in pleasure.
“Fuck! Fuck! Joseph! I’m so close!” she howls. I thrust even deeper, and she goes over the edge, raking her nails down along my back as the throes of her orgasm catapult her body into the throes of ecstasy.
I come so hard I see stars. My hands grip the headboard so hard I fear it may break in two. Instead, we listen to the wild thump of our heartbeats as I peel my sweaty body off her. We lay side by side.
She lays her head on my chest and rubs lazy circles along the back of her shoulder blades.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Worth the wait?” she teases.
“Very much so.”
I kiss her neck, and she kisses me back, soft and lazy. This kiss is a confirmation. Our connection is undeniable.
I peel off the condom and toss it into the trash.
Eleanor places her hand on my chest. “This was the last thing I thought would happen with my job,” she admits.
“What? You don’t fuck every cursed heir you encounter?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the curse,” Eleanor says. She yawns and snuggles into my side.
“I don’t,” I say. She turns off the bedside lamp.
“Stay with me tonight,” she whispers.
I wake to the sight of the morning sun drifting across Eleanor’s sleeping form. She looks beautiful and peaceful. Her hair is rumpled to the side, one arm draped across my chest.
I move her hair to kiss her neck, and that’s when I see the bright red scratches crisscrossing along her back. The scratches are deep. Dried blood is already crusting along the top.
For a moment, I’m terrified. Did I do that last night? The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Eleanor. I tried to be gentle, but passion got the best of me last night. Still, I don’t remember scratching her at all. I’d remember that, right? If anything, my hands were gripping the headboard.
I touch her back gently, and she stirs.
“Morning,” she mumbles. She rolls over and smiles lazily.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
