Page 144 of House of Crimson Kisses
The tears run quicker as I absorb this is a side of Eleanor I’m never going to experience again. For so long, she’s treated me as her queen, hers to protect and love and care for. And now she treats me like property, like I’m hers to do with as she sees fit. I like both sides.
The thought of the latter makes excitement pool between my legs. There’s a moment of fear where I think Eleanor will be repulsed by how wet I’ve grown. But instead, she moans a delightful sound, and continues to kiss my intimate region.
She pushes a second finger inside me. It makes my head roll back, my eyes shut, and a curse fall from my lips.
“Fuck, Eleanor.” My heart breaks over again. Why did she keep this side of her from me? Why did she protect me when she could have had every piece of me in this way and all the others she wanted?
And now this is the only memory I will keep of her.
Harder and harder, she glides inside me. I glance up to watch the rocking motion of her breasts as she leans over me, her trousers still on, shirt discarded.
My body tightens, ripples of pleasure pulse where she kisses me. It’s a tide, a swelling ocean of pleasure. Her free hand reaches up and pinches my nipple, and I cry out.
It stings, and that little act of violence pushes me over the edge. I spill into an orgasm that rushes from between my thighs up to the tip of my head. It tingles across my nose, my lips, races through my mind until I’m soaring.
I’m no longer in my body. I am only pleasure, and soul, and all of me is all of hers.
When I return to my body, I’m panting. Something inside me has snapped. I’m not the innocent little Cordelia I was.
She has fucked something into me, or maybe out of me. I am angry. I am ruined.
Our families are coming. They have done this, and I am furious.
“Take your trousers off,” I command. This is a tone I’ve never used before. I feared the words would come out strained. But they don’t.
I’m deep and sultry and demanding. Eleanor is always in charge, but not right now. Not after that.
She does as I ask, although I can tell she’s struggling to obey me. This isn’t us.
But then, tonight shouldn’t be happening to us, either. Strange nights call for strange actions. And I will make her mine the way she made me hers.
“Come here,” I say when she’s naked.
She places her feet on either side of my legs and steps up my body, one foot, then the other.
“Kneel,” I say.
And she does until her knees are on either side of my cheeks. I slide my hands to her backside and lower her down until my favourite place on her body presses against my mouth.
“I want you to look at me, okay?” I say.
She nods and I open my mouth, drawing my tongue between her intimate parts.
She inhales, tips her head back. I take my tongue off her.
“Eyes on me, Eleanor, I want to watch you come apart.”
She rocks back to face me, locking her gaze on mine, and I begin again. Slow at first, drawing my tongue everywhere, letting it mark her the way she marked me.
I focus on her bud, lapping and licking until her breaths are short and fast. She rocks her hips over my face. Leans down and loops my long hair around her wrist as if even now, she wants to hold a piece of me.
I dig my nails into her backside hard enough she hisses. But she also grows wet, soaking my chin, and I’m certain she likes this. I dig harder, hoping my nails cut her skin and scar her.
I’ve never wanted to hurt her before. I wonder if I should be ashamed. But I’m not. I want to keep her, and if I can’t, then perhaps she can carry a piece of me with her instead.
She juts against my face, rocking her hips in sharp motions as she reaches the edge of pleasure. I lap faster, tasting every morsel she gives me.
She leans forward, grinding herself on me. But her eyes never leave mine, and as she tips over the edge of pleasure, they come alive.
