Page 96 of Desperate Proposals
His movements slowed now as he lowered his face between her legs, his hot breath teasing at her curls, his fingers tracing lines along the inside of her thighs.
“Your exquisite cunt,” he murmured, his lips nearly upon hers.
Evelyn felt herself clench. And then he buried his face in her.
She was so close, right on the brink. Marcus’s eyes smiled up at her as he kept at his task. He pressed his tongue flat against her bud, pushing one hand gently down above her thatch of curls, with the other inside her, two fingers curling rhythmically back toward him, beckoning her to finish. Her breath came in short, harried gasps now, her body wriggling outside of her control.
“Say my name,” he breathed quickly; he dared not remove his tongue for more than a moment before going back to work, resuming the rhythm he had been maintaining.
His two fingers within her could feel her heat intensify. Christ, he wanted to take hold of his cock. But he kept on, coaxing her to the precipice. And then she went over.
“Marcus,” she rasped, her fingers sliding up and down his neck, digging into his scalp. “Ohhh…” she keened, her fingers twisting his hair painfully.
He didn’t care. He felt her body retreat, but he held fast.
She gasped again, convulsed again. He felt incredible, more powerful than he ever had before. As if his wife could not live without him. And he pressed down further, intensifying the ministrations of his tongue and his fingers.
“No,” she gasped, smacking his hands away, scooting herself backward. “It’s too much! I can’t, not anymore, I…”
Marcus reluctantly sat back on his heels, his chest heaving. She sat above him, flushed and wet. Her usual aloofness was nowhere to be seen; his wife had been replaced by a lazy, satiated, bespectacled goddess.
His hand, still slick with her desire, went to the fall of his trousers, working it open until his erect cock sprung free. Her light eyes followed from behind those lenses, watching intentlyas he took hold of himself. A cold young lady undone by his filthy mouth. His anticipation tightened along with his fist.
“Mr. Hartley,” she purred, tracing a desultory hand along her mussed nightgown, across her breasts, along the exposed skin of her throat.
“No,” he hissed, letting go of his cock and reaching for her, pulling her down to the floor atop him. “Never that. Never again.”
Evelyn stared at him, stunned. But then she licked her lips and nodded.
“Marcus,” she murmured, her hands feeling at his trousers, trying to pull them down even as she lay against them.
“Yes,” he cooed, kissing her cheek, catching her lips. Kissing her insistently, opening his mouth, sweeping his tongue inside her, that she might taste the subtle tang of herself. “That’s better.”
And then he was up, lifting her against him, depositing her back upon the bed. She immediately rose up on her knees, reaching for him, but he shook his head with a grin.
“Not yet,” he scolded, pushing his trousers and drawers down, then kicking them both off. “Divest yourself, please.”
Evelyn flushed prettily, then reached for her spectacles. He went to her, stilling her hand.
“No darling, leave them on.” He pulled her in, kissing her softly along her jawline. “I desire that you should see.”
She watched him, something playing behind her eyes, as if she expected him to take back the command and insist she take them off. But he didn’t, only caressed her cheek once more before pulling his shirt over his head, along with his woolen vest. Still she perched there, up on her knees, watching him, and Marcus made short work of her nightgown, pulling it gently over her head so as not to disturb her spectacles.
He drew in his breath before joining her atop the bed and pulling her back into him, skin against skin, as they were meant to be. His hands skidded along her lush curves, her hard nipples, her damp curls.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured into her ear.
She melted back into him with a sigh.
Marcus thought it the most blessed benediction of his life. She felt safe with him. Sated. Wet with desire for him. With one hand on her shoulder, he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck. He could not be without her. Not again. Not anymore. From this moment forward, Marcus knew, he would always be hers, always at her beck and call. Hers to order about. Hers to punish, hers to praise.
She reached behind her with an elegant hand, taking hold of him. Sliding along his length with a gentle squeeze.
He groaned.
Fuck it, but he loved her. And he never wanted to be without her again.
So be it.
