Page 49 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
Last Season in London, during which he had seemed nothing less than a demigod to her, felt like a lifetime ago, blurred into the haze of this moment as his hands slid up the length of her last remaining article of clothing, handling the slender flesh of her thigh with a familiarity that bordered on ownership.
Did she belong to him now? She was his wife, after all.
She watched him gather the top of her remaining stocking in his hands and begin to pull it down, repeating his path of kisses, savoring this leg as much as the other. With her stance so wide now, she felt keenly aware of how close he hovered to the center of her desire, close enough that she could feel the softness of his breath slipping over parts of her she had never known existed or allowed herself to explore.
Did he belong to her too? Was matrimony an exchange of bodies behind the doors of a private bedroom?
He kissed the soft flesh behind her knee, the dimple just below it, the softness of her calf. When he had removed this final piece of clothing, he repeated what he had done before, and placed her leg out to the side, leaving her utterly exposed to him, legs spread wide on the little vanity stool.
He looked up at her through hooded eyes and a fringe of lashes as he slid his hands up along the smooth, exposed skin of her legs, inching ever closer to where they met.
"Nathaniel," she whispered, her body aflame with a deep and primal want, a demand she did not know how to answer.
"Hush," he replied softly, running his fingers ever so lightly over her sex. "You want this."
"I do," she managed, neither a question nor an agreement, before her words were scattered into oblivion, drowned in a gasp of surprise at the first contact of his mouth on her, kissing herthere.Those gorgeous, sensual lips were brushing against what felt like the center of every feeling in her body, the key to utter bliss.
It was unbelievable how much sensation came of such a light touch, so much so that when his tongue appeared, lapping against her with slow and deliberate intention, she thought for a brief moment that she might faint.
There was nothing to hold on to to keep herself steady other than Nathaniel himself. Her hands fell to his shoulders, strong and solid and steady. This only seemed to inflame him, his arm coming up and wrapping around her backside, drawing her further forward on the stool.
The first night they had made love, Nell had attempted to restrain her many urges to vocalize, out of fear that she might sound ridiculous or off-putting. Tonight, she was unable to exert such self-control. While her voice had momentarily been snatched from her throat at that explosive first moment of contact, she now couldn't seem to restrain it.
Her cries seemed to encourage him, his attentions becoming stronger, deeper. He pushed his fingers into her as he continued to taste his fill.
She curled her toes into the plush fibers of the carpet beneath her bare feet, her eyes slipping shut as she gasped for breath. Her head spun, bursts of color seeming to erupt behind her eyelids as sensation overtook sense.
His fingers dug into the small of her back, holding her tight. He did not relent, despite the noises she made, his eyes turned up to watch her as her grip on herself slipped entirely away. She thought perhaps she said his name again, though she could not be certain. Everything was lost in the surge of crashing pleasure that broke over her body like waves from the sea breaking on the cliffs beneath them.
For a moment, it was as if she hovered outside of herself as all the tension in her limbs melted away into liquid submission. Whatever had just happened to her was an utterly divine if not an alarming thing to ponder some distant day in the future. For now, for once, her mind was silent. It had been rendered speechless.
By the time she fluttered her lashes, returning to the land of the living, Nathaniel was scooping her up off the stool, gathering her naked body against the warmth of his chest, and carrying her to the bed.
Rather than depositing her on the mattress, he somehow managed to climb into bed with her in tow, her naked body supine beneath him, weak with bliss and pliable.
"Don't move," he breathed into her ear, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her mouth, her chin. He disappeared for the briefest moment, despite her noise of protest, to rid himself of his trousers. It was shocking how cold she felt in that small moment without him.
When he returned, climbing back over her and sinking the weight of his body onto hers, she lifted her arms to pull him back to her, digging her fingers into his hair, gripping him tight to taste his lips as his hands began to roam over her, his touch firmer and more demanding as it slid along the sides of her frame and his hips dug into her own.
"Do it again," she whispered against his mouth, gasping for breath as he moved his kisses down the length of her throat, his finger sliding over the red ribbon she wore. "Please."
"Do what?" he mumbled, cupping her breast and dragging his thumb over her taut nipple as he kissed lower, capturing it in his mouth.
She gasped, arching her back, a fever seeming to rip through her as his tongue flicked against her. "Put yourself inside me. Nathaniel. Please."
He froze for a moment, lifting his head and rising to loom back over her. His hair was mussed from her hands and hung in its natural wave over his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked, rocking his hips forward so that she could feel the full power of his arousal against her stomach.
She huffed with impatience, squirming enough to free one of her legs from beneath his heavy thighs. She wrapped it around his waist, returning the motion of pushing her hips forward, the suggestive mime of what might follow. "Put yourself inside me," she repeated, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Nathaniel, I need it."
He groaned, as though the request had somehow dealt a blow to his person, and braced himself above her, reaching down to tease at her entrance with the head of his organ. "Like this?" he asked in a whisper.
"Deeper," she gasped, keeping her free leg tight around his middle. "Nathaniel, please."
"Sweet Christ," he muttered, abandoning his teasing in favor of satisfaction. He held her hips and pushed himself into her fully, their bodies utterly joined.
"Oh, yes," she breathed, running her fingers over his chest, testing the texture of that dusting of golden-brown hair beneath her fingers as she felt the weight of him within her. "Yes, just like that."
He lowered himself onto his elbows, beginning to push into her in long, slow thrusts. It felt different this time, less careful as he pumped his hips with the force of a man who was taking something he had long desired.
