Page 49 of The Agent and the Outlaw
Again, he pulled back.
“I want to give you pleasure, Charlotte, without you having to take it for yourself. Just this once, let me take care of you.”
The sincerity in his eyes nearly made me weep. For the second time, I didn’t want to ruin our intimacy with sarcasm or wit.This is goodbye, after all.Embarrassed by the emotions caught in my throat, I merely nodded. He smiled down at me and leaned forward for a searing kiss.
“Tell me,” he said, kissing my neck and trailing his fingers across my nipple. “No games, no lies, no deflections. What do you like, Charlotte? How do you like to be touched? What shall I do to you?”
“I…” Through the fog of passion, my brain seemed to stutter to a halt.What do I like?I tried to consider the question. Each time I’d been with a man, or a woman, I’d found myself becoming what they wanted me to be. Submissive, dominant, silent, loud, loving to be punished or needing to exert some discipline… Even my husband had needed me to be someone else in bed. I’d found pleasure and passion with partners, but no one had ever asked me before.
What do I like?
The question overwhelmed me, and humiliating tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I squeezed them shut and tried to get ahold of myself, but Antoine noticed. He seemed to read my thoughts, because he kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then my neck again.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispered. “We shall find out together.”
He placed his hands on my breasts and lightly massaged them, then began rolling my nipples with his fingertips. My embarrassment now forgotten, I arched up again, seeking more of the exhilarating contact.
“Your breasts are flawless. Like beautiful vanilla cakes topped with rose petal nipples. They taste sweeter than any dessert I’ve ever had,” he said, almost to himself. “I’ve dreamed of you so much, Charlotte. Of dining on the banquet of your body and sipping at the wine of your lips.” His hand moved down to my sex again, which ached from unspent lust. “But here,” he growled, dipping his fingers inside me again. “Here you taste like the nectar of the gods. I think I could die from the perfection of it.”
All conscious thoughts fled. My entire body vibrated with need. He moved his fingers slowly at first, pressing his thumb to the pearl of my sex. It felt like hairline cracks were breaking all over me as my excitement mounted, until I was certain I was going to fracture and explode into millions of pieces.
Antoine withdrew his fingers before I could and I almost sobbed at the loss, but then he lifted himself above me and positioned his cock at my entrance.
“Have I given you pleasure, Charlotte?” The hopefulness in his face was cherubic, but as he slowly slid inside me, he swore enough to make Lucifer himself blush.
“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, Antoine. You have given me pleasure.”
He rocked forward, and we both moaned in a chorus of satisfaction.
“What more shall I do to you?” he asked, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. His hand was between us again, his thumb on my pearl once more.
Dieu, I am so close…so close…
“What more do you want of me?” he demanded, thrusting harder, faster. Stars began to twinkle in front of my eyes as I began the crescendo. Heat built to a fever pitch, and I came apart as he did, crying out into the passion-thick air.
“Loveme.”
16
ANTOINE
November 19, 1767
The Wild Rose,Gévaudan
Love me,she had said. Surely, she hadn’t meant it.Surelyit had just been the heat of the moment and the carnal excitability. We’d both been taut with sexual tension, and the release was what we’d both needed. I’d needed to have her before I said goodbye—to plunge myself into her wet heat and taste every part of her. I’d needed to hold her, so that I could let her go.Hadn’t I?
Love me. She’d probably meant it in a sexual way. Perhaps she’d meantfuck me.Ormake love to me.She couldn’t have meant it the way I heard it. I could not—would not—allow my heart to trip over words carelessly shouted as a sexual climax.
She doesn’t mean it, Antoine.
It didn’t matter. I was leaving tonight. Firmly resolved to put distance between us for her safety, I would wait until she was asleep, pack my meager belongings, and leave. Tartuffe and I would be long gone by the time she awoke—hopefully drawing thebêtesaway from her while avoiding the fallout from murdering Sade. Heading south seemed like the best option. I could only hope she would find safety with her cousin and the emissary.
“Antoine,” she said softly, placing her hand against my cheek. “That was wonderful.”
Forcing myself to return to the present, I pulled her close and tucked the covers around us. I dropped a kiss on her forehead. Guilt whispered through me.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” I said.
