Page 49 of The Butterfly
Releasing a long, slow breath, she went pliant beneath him.
“I want this. Ineedthis.”
He remained where he was long enough to allow the impact of her words to fall on him, letting himself absorb the importance of what it could mean for her, for them both.
He released her hair, then shifted his body so that he lay flush over her, his chest pressed to her breasts, his hips and thighs digging into hers, his cock a heavy weight against her mons.
“This is how we’re gonna do this,” he told her, lips pressed against her brow, then skimming down the bridge of her nose. “Ye’re going to tell me what ye want me to do to ye. I won’t do anything until ye say so, and the moment ye tell me to stop, I will.”
She gave him a little smile, lifting her head to brush her lips against his. “I won’t tell you to stop.”
“Just know ye can if ye need to. Now … I’m yers to do with as ye please, Livvie. Tell me what ye want.”
Biting her lip, she lowered her gaze, her cheeks coloring as she grappled with words. Despite all she had been through, it struck him just how innocent she still was. There were so many things he had taught her, and still so much she did not know.
“I want to watch you undress.”
He grinned at the way she whispered the words, as if afraid they might shock him. If only she knew the sorts of fantasies he’d had about her, the numerous ways he’d considered this happening.
Pushing off from on top of her, he knelt at her side, sitting back on his heels as he reached up to begin working his cravat loose. So much had happened that he had not noticed until just then that flecks of Bertram’s blood speckled his shirtfront and cuffs. He could not be out of the garments fast enough, throwing away the lingering traces of that bastard from between them. He had no place here; not now, not tonight.
He threw the cravat aside, then flicked open the top button of his shirt to reveal his throat. Olivia propped herself up onto her elbows to better see him as he worked at opening his waistcoat, her gaze following his hands as if she didn’t want to miss a single revelation. He took his time, hoping that drawing it out would heighten her enjoyment of it—the falling away of the finery he wore as a butler to reveal the rough-hewn body of the stable groom beneath it.
After shrugging the waistcoat off his shoulders, he pushed his braces down, then yanked the tails of shirt out of his breeches before tackling the rest of his buttons. Urgency built with every passing second, but he slowed his hands, reminding himself that this was for her. Certainly, it would gratify him to finally finish what they had started that summer afternoon when she’d asked him to kiss her, but he would not forget that his every move from now until the end would be for her pleasure.
Once he’d pulled his shirt off over his head, he glanced down at her, eyebrows raised. His hand hovered over the buttons of his fall.
“These, too?”
Her stare dropped from his face to where one of his fingers circled a button, tempting her. She swallowed and gave a swift nod, as if not wanting the opportunity to change her own mind.
“Yes. Those, too.”
She sucked in a breath when he loosened the first button and seemed to hold it as he opened the others, allowing his fall to drop and reveal the thatch of hair covering his groin, then the fully engorged length of his cock.
Coming to his feet, he peeled the breeches from his body, then his stockings, leaving him completely exposed to her gaze. He took his time approaching the bed, allowing her to work herself up to asking for what she wanted next.
Her gaze never strayed, drinking in her fill of him, wandering over the expanse of his chest, the plane of his belly, the bulges of this thighs, and the organ thrusting up from between them. Even knowing the firelight displayed his scars could not bring him shame; not when she already knew all there was to know about him and had seen the parts of him no one else ever had.
“Everything to yer likin’, princess?”
His playful tone made her smile; then, she was coming to him, crawling to the edge of the bed so she could reach out to touch him. Niall bit back a groan at the feel of her nails tickling the hairs on his chest, the tip of one finger trailing through the line leading toward his groin like a guiding arrow.
“You are magnificent … my perfect knight.”
Any response he might have made was choked off on a groan when she took his cock in a light grip and stroked from base to tip. Her thumb circled his head, causing him to grow wet, his bollocks tightening so swiftly, it took his breath away. Even after so much time, her hands were still the softest he’d ever felt. His will began to crumble, his body reacting to the stimuli with the primal urge to thrust into her hand and command her to hold him tighter, stroke him faster.
“Livvie,” he rasped, trembling with the effort it took not to tackle her onto the bed and plunge as deep into her as he could go. “Tell me what to do … tell me what ye want.”
Still fondling his cock, her hand stroking with lazy pulls, her fingertips teasing his moistened tip, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Kiss me.”
He took her mouth with far more fervor than he’d intended, capturing her lips with a rough groan as he clenched his hands tight by his sides. He had not been given permission to touch her yet, so he would keep his hands to himself unless instructed otherwise. So, he poured all his desire into the kiss, nibbling and sucking at her lower lip, delving his tongue deep into her mouth, plunging as far as he could without being able to take hold of her and tip her head back for the plunder.
Her desperation became evident in the way she responded to his kiss, her tongue darting out to find and tangle with his. Her hands came up to his shoulders, giving his throbbing cock a bit of a reprieve while she clung to him, arching her body to fit against his.
“More,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, and his jaw.
“Where?” he asked, hesitating just long enough to hear her response.
