Page 46 of The Rest is History
‘Yes.’ Her voice is breathy.
My cock strains harder against her ass with these pain-in-the-neck layers of fabric between us.
I don’t need to be told twice. I slide my hand further under her neckline and encounter soft flesh beneath its bodice. Dear fucking lord, she feels incredible. I palm her breast as best I can from this angle, and my hand hits the already-stiff bud of her nipple.
I roll it beneath my finger pad and it hardens further.
Fuuuck.I really want to see her naked breasts.
‘Oh my God,’ Elodie moans, and my resolve weakens right as my cock stiffens. This woman wants me. This exquisite, mesmerising woman is turned on right now, and I’m going to give her everything she needs.
I withdraw my hand and she makes a little whimper of disappointment, but I’m already on my knees behind her. The prize I want more than anything else is hidden inside these skirts. I lift her hem with one hand and use my other to find her ankle. It hits smooth, bare skin and glides upwards as I marvelat the feel of her legs beneath my palm. Legs I imagined wrapped around my waist just last week in The Mitre.
I get to my feet, bunching up her skirts in one hand as my other continues to trace higher. The skin of her inner thigh is so satiny it could make a man weep, and I’m right there. My fingers stroke the very top of her thigh as I step in right behind her, wedging the fabric of her skirts between us. My face nestles into the delicious spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and I press a kiss to the skin there.
‘Do you want my fingers?’ I ask her, my voice rough with need.
She cranes her head, her breath hitting my face. ‘Yes. God,yes.’
I exhale with relief. ‘Right answer, sweetheart. Hands on the wall.’
I step us both forward so she can brace herself and use a knee to nudge her legs wider apart. My lips skate up her neck, nuzzling and licking and nipping as they go, and my hand takes its final step upwards to between her gorgeous thighs.
I wish so much that I had her naked and sprawled out on my bed, or anywhere, for that matter, but it’s incredibly erotic to have to work for it, too, burrowing under bodices and beneath skirts to her most heavenly parts, hidden away just for me to find.
And then—Jesus.My desperate fingertips hit a scrap of fabric so narrow it must be a thong, and it’s fucking soaking.
I’ve done this. Got her this wet without even touching her here. It blows my mind that she may want me even a fraction of how much I want her.
That she may have thought about me doing this to her before.
‘Jesus fuck,’ I groan into her neck as I coast my fingers over the fabric.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispers, jolting against me.
There is nothing my fingers want as much as to disappear into her tight, wet heat, but I need to hold us both off or this will be over far too quickly. Instead, I follow the line of the fabric backwards as it tapers and disappears between her cheeks, and holy fuck.
I was right.
She’s wearing a goddamned thong.
I caress the smooth, bare curve of her backside. The peachy backside that’s obsessed me for months.
It’s fucking perfect.
There is nowayI’m not taking a look.
I release her neck from my mouth with a kiss and, holding up her skirts with an outstretched hand, step back to admire her.
She turns her head. ‘What are you doing?’
My mouth has gone dry. With difficulty I say, ‘Admiring the view.’
Because I’veneverseen anything like it.
I want to lie at her feet and worship her. Lick my way up those legs. So long. So shapely. A pair of black ballet flats on her feet and nothing else. She’s braced herself with her forearms along the wall, and her head rests in her cradle. Black dress bunched up around her waist. Hair still over one shoulder. The smooth perfection of her ass on view for me, the thin white cotton thong barely visible.
She could be a fantasy come to life, a fantasy conjured up by my desperate mind, who’s opened a door in the palace and transcended five hundred years to be with me.
