Page 64 of The Butterfly
“Niall,” she whispered, unable to lie still as he went on torturing her, skimming his lips down the back of one leg, before coming back up the opposite one. “Please … I want you inside me.”
He pushed her legs apart, bending them so that she lay with her hips raised and the lower half of her body bowed to the bed. His breath tickled her mons as he held her thighs in an iron grip, holding her open for him.
“Not yet.”
She couldn’t find the words to protest, because then, his mouth was on her, hot and searching. He suckled at the exposed inner flesh of her quim, his hands pulling her thighs even farther apart—until the tendons in her legs cried out in protest, her entire body singing with sensation. Even the strain on her shoulders and the slow stretch of her taut thighs brought her alive, the discomfort mingling with the pleasure of his tongue flicking her clit to make her entire being thrum with feeling. He suckled at the little bud until she screamed into the coverlet, burying her face amongst the bedclothes to muffle the sounds. Then, he was slipping a finger into her, and then another, the different angle offering a new sort of pleasure. She rocked back into him, mindlessly rolling her hips and seeking the second climax hovering just out of her reach.
“Is it enough, or do ye want more?”
She arched and groaned, clenching in desperate need. “More!”
He withdrew, wrenching a frustrated cry from her as she swayed toward him, seeking out that deep, delicious penetration. He gave it to her, only this time, the tip of his first finger—slick with her juices—came up against her rear passage while the others slid back into her cunt. She gasped, her entire body tensing at the tentative press at the tight hole of her arse. Still, Niall persisted, gaining an inch, then another, sinking his finger into the previously untouched entrance while steadily stroking inside her cunt. She breathed and swam in the foreign sensation—slightly painful, but also frightening, delightful, filthy, and a hundred other things at once. Before long, he’d lodged it all inside her, taking up a steady rhythm, his thick fingers filling her so fully and completely, she could hardly bear it.
“Do ye like being filled this way, Livvie?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, forcing the word out between heavy breaths.
The pressure and tension of oncoming climax was building again—stronger and faster than before, stealing the air from her lungs. The power of it would surely kill her, the pounding spasms tearing through her with vicious force. She shook and groaned, the stroke of him in both passages at once heightening her finish in a way she’d never thought possible. He did not ease his touch as he had the first time, driving deeper and harder into her the more she moaned and shivered. He refused to back down until she’d dropped back onto her belly, her extremities limp, her entire body sapped of strength. And even then, he did not pull free of her until the final flutters of her second climax—and what she felt certain might have been a third on the heels of it—had died away.
A moan of regret surged from deep within her chest at the emptiness she felt once he was gone, her channel throbbing and aching, her rear passage still tingling from his invasion. A sense of calm washed over her, suffusing her with a vibrant glow, even as the blindfold kept her submerged in darkness. She might have floated away, falling into a sound sleep, if not for the deep yearning that would not abate until she’d had him completely. Her cunt still clenched and throbbed for want of his cock, and he’d nearly driven her to begging.
Finally, he took hold of her hips and raised her up onto her knees again. Her legs trembled, but she remained how he’d placed her, using her arms to steady herself. The sound of rustling clothing made her lick her lips, her need now a palpable force thrumming through the air between them. She could swear she felt Niall’s desire, as well, a tangible thing tangling with hers between their bodies, the two just begging to be made one.
His weight shifted on the mattress, and then, the head of his cock touched her slick opening, blunt and wide. She shifted to attempt taking him in, but one of his hands grasped her hip, holding her still. She huffed, her patience now paper-thin. He took his time entering her, groaning as her channel opened to him, letting him in and clasping him tight. The sting of his invasion only lasted a moment, her body recognizing him, opening to him more readily than it had before.
He paused once he’d buried every inch in her, his thighs resting against hers, his pelvis snug against her arse. A hand stroked down her back, resting between her shoulders with a gentle push that had her stretching her arms out farther, tilting her hips up and arching her back.
“Niall,” she gasped when he began to withdraw, the slow drag of his cock against her inner walls sparking her need back to a roaring flame in an instant.
His breath quickened, both hands now taking hold of her hips as he drove into her over and over again, the force of his body colliding with hers increasing until she felt as if that hard length of him stroked through her entire body. She felt him buried deep within her channel, in her belly, in her heart which beat at the same rhythm as his thrusts.
“Christ, ye’re magnificent,mo gradh,” he groaned, his movements becoming less precise as he lost his hold on control.
He was driving into her harder and faster, the hands gripping her buttocks now trembling as he propelled her back into each surge of his hips.
“Tell me how it feels,” he urged. “I need to hear it.”
“Please don’t stop,” she cried, encouraging him by matching his pace, throwing herself into the moment. “It feels … God, it feels so perfect, Niall.”
He grunted, seating himself inside of her and staying lodged deep as he parted her buttocks, delving a finger back into her rear opening. The heat and stretch of it was increased tenfold with his cock already inside her, and she practically swooned from the dizzying sensation. He took his rhythm back up, his cock withdrawing when his finger plunged into her arse, then pulling out when he filled her cunt. It was too much, threatening to overwhelm her until she swooned in a dead faint. Nevertheless, she urged him on, aware that the final climax loomed just ahead, and that this one would be the one to end all others—the one to annihilate her senses the way she had wanted, so that she could feel him and only him.
She had not thought her body could take another, but it responded as readily to Niall as it always had. When rapture came, she opened her mouth on a scream that never emitted. The sound lodged in her throat, burning and simmering as she shattered, the spasms of her cunt around him strong enough to rob her of breath. Her heart might have leapt right out of her chest for how it thundered against her breastbone. Niall thrust in and out of her at a pace that drove her into the mattress, her body going limp once again. He followed her instead of bringing her back up to him, his body stretched out over hers, heavy and solid. The black world before her eyes swirled with bits of color and light, her body washed away in a raging hurricane of unfettered release. The climax went on and on, swelling and growing with each stroke of his cock inside her. He gathered her against him, arms holding her tight as he panted and groaned and drove himself toward his own end.
Burying his face against her shoulder, he muttered a string of oaths as his body jerked atop hers, the heat and wetness of his seed flooding her in a rush. She lifted her hips to keep him lodged deep, sighing and weeping at the sensation of spiritual, elemental release following on the heels of her physical one. She could have floated to the heavens if not for Niall’s heavy body laid over hers, the feel of his breath rushing against her neck keeping her grounded.
As he eased himself from inside of her, she moaned, this time with a deep-seated satisfaction. Her arms and legs ached, her wrists chafed from being tied together, her inner channel now throbbing from use instead of need. Yet, the rest of her remained surprisingly still, her belly calmed, her trembling ceased.
His arms enfolded her in a tender hold, and she was being lifted, moved to lay against the pillows. She shivered when his body left hers, wondering if the fire had died down, but not concerned enough to ask. She was dizzy with euphoria, weak with satisfaction, and more content than she’d been in days.
The mattress dipped when Niall returned again, and a cold, wet cloth touched against her mons. She sighed, her head lolling to the side as she fought against drowsiness, wanting to be present for even this—the careful cleansing of her quim and inner thighs. When he had finished, he removed the cravat from around her wrists, then the stocking blinding her. The moonlight encircled him like a halo, white light clinging to the tips of his dark hair. Cupping her face, he took her lips in another kiss, this one tender, slow, and languid. It only drove her deeper into this place of bliss and fatigue, making her feel as if she could curl up into the shelter of his body and sleep for days.
It seemed he wanted her to do just that, because then, he turned her away from him to rest on her side before coming up behind her, one arm holding tight to her waist. The coverlet fell over them, and she could no longer cling to consciousness. So, she surrendered, finding comfort in his embrace as the entire world fell away, allowing her to sink into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
livia paced the drawing room nearest the front door, hands clenched tight behind her back. The house was unbearably quiet without Adam, Daphne, or Niall filling it, with night fallen heavy outside and the unbearable wait making each minute creep by with maddening slowness. Daphne and Niall had managed to slip from the house before Adam had, off to meet Bertram’s victims at the home of the Bellinghams. Adam, who had been too distracted to think of anything other than this night’s meeting, had not noticed. He seemed intent only on murdering Bertram in cold blood, shunning food or drink or conversation as he sat about brooding, his eyes distant and dark.
He intended to meet Bertram in The Mint, a slum as far from the West End of London as could be, where they might go undetected. Lord Fairchild would arrive expecting to be paid his asking price, but Adam would give him a bullet through the heart instead. Little did he know that Daphne would be there, lying in wait for them both along with the magistrate and a handful of Bow Street Runners. Bertram would be informed of the charges being leveled against him and taken to the gaol. From there, they would await a trial.
