Page 71 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
His eyes flew to hers, surprised. “I—yes. Yes, it would.”
She pressed a lingering kiss to the tip of his cock. “I want to make you happy, Edward.”
He couldn’t manage to reply, not only because the softness of her lips on the place where he was most sensitive was beyondanythinghe could have imagined, but because those words... He felt as if his chest had been ripped open, his beating heart bared before her.It’s all right. Go ahead and take it. It’s yours.
And now she was kissing her way down the side of his shaft, then shifting around to come up the opposite side. With each kiss he felt the tentative exploration of her tongue, and even these shy caresses were enough to bring him to the brink of insanity.
As she came back up and positioned herself directly above him, she gave him a bashful smile. And then she wrapped her lips around him and took him into her mouth. She swirled her tongue right over his head, and Edward could hear himself making animal noises, but he was too far gone to get hold of himself.
He wanted to ask her to use her hand on him at the same time in the same motion he used when he touched himself. But he would have to show her next time, because he knew with absolute certainty that he was going to come in a few scant seconds.
“Elissa… Elissadarling, that feels so good, my love, and you’re going to—you’re going to make me—” She brought her lips up and began focusing on his head, and he made a strangled sound as he passed the point of no return, where the pleasure wasso intense. “Elissa, I’m about to—if you don’t move I’m going to—I’m going to come.” She did not seem to take his meaning, for she continued her maddening ministrations. “In your mouth,” he added in a rush. “I’m going to—” Instead of lifting her head, she began swirling her tongue all the faster, and— Oh. Oh!Oh!
His vision blurred from the intensity of his climax. When it swam back into focus, what a sight greeted him! Elissa was gazing up at him, positivelybeaming.
He drew her up so her head rested on his shoulder, then kissed her deeply. “Thank you, Elissa. That was…” He struggled to find the words. It wasn’t, he realized, merely the physical pleasure, although that had been overwhelming.
He recalled the expression on her face when she had pressed that first kiss to him.I want to make you happy, Edward. She truly meant that. To the man who always looked out for everyone else… his throat constricted.
His voice, when it emerged, was a touch unsteady. “It felt wonderful. And the fact that you were willing to do that for me… it meanseverythingto me, Elissa.”
“You are most welcome. I loved making you feel good.” She smiled as she snuggled into his chest. “I’m so happy. This is the best day of my life.”
Edward could not imagine a context in which he would consider a day in which the woman he loved refused his offer of marriage, he accidentally revealed his most closely guarded secret to her in the most humiliating manner imaginable, and then found out that at least two of his siblings already knew that same secret as anything other than the worst day of his life.
And yet… it somehow hadn’t been nearly as bad as he would have supposed. To be sure, he hoped Elissa might change her mind and agree to marry him after all. And he still felt twitchy at the thought that Elissa, Harrington, and Anne (and God knew who else) knew what he was really like on the inside.
But the cataclysmic after-effects he had always assumed would come to pass—they will all despise me—had simply… not occurred.
And the conclusion of the day, making love to Elissa, definitely fell under the best-day-of-his-life category, in spite of the fact that he’d made the mortifying confession that he was a virgin, then proceeded to prove it with a lovemaking performance that he knew had been the opposite of suave.
And yet, Elissa had not seemed to mind. It had actually gone surprisingly well.
He paused. To put a finer point on it, the reason making love to Elissa had gone so well wasbecausehe had made that confession. That was why she had helped him, had shown him how to please her. He could tell she had been terrified to reveal that she liked to touch herself and embarrassed to show him how. But because he had trusted her, she had trusted him in return.
Her words from that afternoon suddenly echoed in his head.The only way I can think of to convince you that you’re worthy of love is for you to tell me whatever it is that you think is so horrible and see that I still love you.
Maybe… maybe she did have a point.
And although the angry voices in his head were shrieking in protest, he found himself saying the words he never thought he would speak aloud. “I was eight years old when it happened.”
Elissa looked up from where she had been resting on his chest, her expression content and sleepy. “Hmm?”
“Harrington would have been seven. I fear I was a bit of a rascal in those days, and we were throwing rocks.”
Understanding dawned in Elissa’s eyes, as she realized that this wasn’t just any story.
“We weren’t throwing them at anyone,” he hastened to add. “At least, not intentionally. We were aiming for trees, fence posts, things like that. But we weren’t being mindful, and we didn’t notice one of our tenant farmers, Mr. Pearce, riding up the lane.”
He studied the swirling ornamentation on the ceiling. “One of our stones caught his gelding in the flank. We both threw at the same time, so we’ll never know whose it was. But the horse shied and Mr. Pearce fell off, breaking his arm.”
Elissa said nothing but stroked his chest.
“It is a serious thing for a farmer to have a broken arm, and just before harvest time. We were very fortunate that the break healed cleanly and there was no lasting damage. We both apologized, and Father hired someone to help with the physical labor while Mr. Pearce recovered. Harrington and I had to pay the hired hand’s salary out of our pocket money, which we absolutely should have done.”
“Oh, Edward.” He glanced down from the ceiling and found Elissa’s eyes full of sympathy. “You did make a mistake, but you were eight years old. And you made things right. Can you not forgive yourself?”
He probably could have, if that had been all, but he had not yet reached the difficult part of the story. “There’s more,” he said, his voice gruff. “That evening, my father asked to speak to us one at a time. Harrington went in first. Father received him in the library. I was left to wait my turn in the sitting room next door. Both rooms have doors that open onto the west balcony. I slipped outside. I knew just where to sit so Father wouldn’t be able to see me through the French doors. And…” He trailed off.
