AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He looked up to her and seemed surprised that even as she was on the edge of climax she still held her control.
And now, as he levered himself up and over her, she attempted to control his actions even more.
‘Slowly,’ she said.
‘Don’t bother,’ he said, and they both knew he did not play by the rules, and she would not be dictating their pace, or denying their heat, or expecting to fool him that she had let go completely.
Beatrice should perhaps have rued her own naivety then, or considered this a reckless mistake, but it was overridden by the certainty that she had chosen well.
There was no one else she could be naked with, as close to trusting as she dared to be, and every nerve, every pore, said, yes, this had to be.
His face was wet from her sex and his kiss tasted a little of her. She gave a soft laugh into his mouth because, yes, beneath the antiseptic soap there was musk and citrus to explore.
It was a deliciously slow kiss. And her head really was falling back this time, for he’d dashed the pillows off the bed so she lay flat beneath him, hungry for more. His hand stroked a burning path down her body and parted her legs, and then he guided himself to where she ached.
‘I want you so much,’ she admitted.
‘I want you too,’ he affirmed.
He was ready to glide into her, to sink into bliss, but was met with unexpected resistance. Not protest—no, there was no protest. But he pulled back a fraction, heard her pant, and the slight cry at his second attempt to enter her.
She was reaching up to kiss him, trying to distract him, as if he should politely not notice the virgin in his bed.
He pulled his head back and realised hewasthe only one who knew the softness and flesh beneath her plain grey shift dresses. The only one to witness this rare flower bloom.
He met her eyes and smiled a secret smile as she gave the smallest nod. ‘Please...’ she breathed.
Julius obliged, and seared in.
Her sob as he tore her flesh came from deep within, and yet she supressed it, holding it in her taut throat as he watched intently.
Julius gave her a slight pause as she tried to acclimatise to his slow strokes, like a breathless walker insisting that she was okay, that she could keep up, certain they were almost there.
His scrutiny was obviously too much, and as he began to move rhythmically she covered her eyes with her arm, trying to breathe through the pain. She wanted to hide, but he removed her arm from her face and refused to allow it.
Too late to hide, his eyes told her, though he did not say it out loud.
Beatrice found out that his first few thrusts had been but a gentle introduction, because this time when he pulled back, when she thought she knew what it would be like, he drove in and gave her every inch of him, and she thought she might split in two.
She let out a desperate shout.
He swore, but very quietly and rather nicely.
He wasn’t being still to be nice. In fact, he told her, he was fighting not to come.
They stared at each other in incredible silence, as if trying not to disturb something. And when he resumed his rhythm, so too did the pain resume, and her moan could not be supressed—not that she tried.
As it faded he repeated his movement slowly, repeated and repeated. At first the cocktail of pain and pleasure was too heady a mix for Beatrice to make sense of, but the first bolts of pain were receding, spinning away to become pleasure as Julius’s deepest strokes chased away the hurt.
He took one leg and angled it, positioning her and opening her more. It felt so good that she did the same with the other leg, so that both her knees were up. He closed his eyes and pushed in and drew out slowly, breathing hard as his features sharpened.
She wanted to watch him so badly, but Beatrice closed her own eyes—not to hide, but to lose herself in the moment, entirely overwhelmed by sensation.
‘Don’t stop...’ she panted, because she was coming more undone with every stroke, every stretch within her, and every breath of his was a measured exhalation beckoning her on.
Her hands moved to his buttocks and up to his muscled back, and then her hips moved, as if they had decided to go it alone, for she’d given no conscious instruction for them to do so.
‘Oh, God...’
