Page 48 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
Raphael was standing behind her, embracing her as she looked over his room. The ceiling was curved, the walls whitewashed as with everywhere else in the cottage. A sleepy fire burned in the fireplace. There were books everywhere but on the bed, which was postered but small. The room felt like Raphael: full of charm and warmth, unpretentious yet inspiring.
He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, assuring her that she had not coerced him into sin. He wanted to be there, with her. She wanted to be there, too. Cecilia had meant every word she had uttered. She had no idea what the future held, but she knew she would not regret sharing this moment with Raphael.
His hands snaked over her body as they had the night before, as though no time had passed at all, as though the blizzard had been a dream. He turned her in his arms to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His mouth was warm and wet, and he tasted like coffee.
They paced slowly to the edge of the bed.
“Give me your permission again,” he commanded.
She smiled against his lips. “You have it. Let me find ruin in your arms.”
He grabbed her beneath the rump, hoisting her onto the bed. She pulled him down by the neckline of his shirt, excited and full of fear. There was no such feeling in Raphael’s eyes, only lust and something akin to magic.
“Do not deny yourself anything,” he repeated.
Cecilia slid her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt. She ran them over his chest hair, worshiping the fire that burned beneath his skin.
He hissed, arcing back, and warming her cold hands up within his own.
She longed to explore every valley of his body. Pulling her hands free, she made room for him on the bed. He straddled her carefully, like a hunter does its prey, until all she could see, smell, feel was Raphael.
“Heaven…” she whispered.
He pressed his body against hers and writhed. She felt something prod against the softness of her belly, grinding against her. Her body reacted to it with a shiver, enlightening her before she could even ask what it meant.
Pliant in his arms, she focused on the feeling of his arousal. Her own arousal bloomed. She squirmed beneath him, desperate to see him, knowing that her decision was made.
Cecilia would give herself to Raphael, and she wouldneverregret it.
Warmer now, she moved to pull off his shirt. He returned the favour, pushing her gown up and divesting her of it. His gaze drifted over the curves of her body, still mostly hidden beneath her stays, her smock and stockings.
Expertly, he reached down to untie the ribbons of her socks, slipping them off her feet. He sat back, taking one of her feet and kissing it.
“A world of trouble,” he said softly. “Think of where we would be if you had not stepped on my documents.”
“You would blame my poor toes for our hobble?”
“For our hobble, for the joy of knowing you…”
Cecilia helped him with her stays, and her chemise seemed to melt from her body. When she was naked before him, she felt not even the urge to hide herself. He admired her form, running a splayed hand over her breasts, down her body, settling above the junction of her thighs.
“Have you any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked, and his face flickered with sadness. “Knowing you, I assume you do not.” He thumbed one of her peaked nipples, leaning forward to press a knee between her legs, and she whimpered. “Let me tell you then, Cecilia. You are a rose.”
She felt like a rose. She felt like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Now that you have seen all of me, I want to see all ofyou, Raphael.”
He kicked off his trousers, exposing himself to her. She stared at his cock, enthralled. She ran a finger down the shaft to sate her curiosity, and it quirked beneath her untutored touch.
“How could I ever look at you and despise you?” She felt her eyes well with tears. It felt right, to know him wholly.
His neck worked, and he lowered himself. “Cecilia,” he breathed into her neck, “I will not be able to stop myself.”
“Good.” She wrapped her hand around him. “Please, Raphael…”
She hardly knew what she was pleading for. The aching between her legs swelled as he positioned himself at her parting. Cecilia tried to steady her breathing, wrapping her arms around him.
His tip pressed into her, and she moaned. Her body tightened reflexively. She focused on the sound of his harried breath, then of her trust in him, and tried to relax. He did not rush her, shushing her, stroking her hair, as he penetrated her inch by inch.
