Page 11 of The Awakening of Ivy Leavold
I wanted to pull him closer, wrap my arms around him and never let go, but they were still pinned behind my back, and his grip tightened as he deepened the kiss, as if he knew exactly what I wanted to do.
Our tongues met, silky and flickering, and I moaned into his mouth, the sensation so delicious, so perfect.
After what felt like several thousand heartbeats later, he broke his lips away from mine but remained close, so that I felt the breath of his words.
“I am going to try my hardest not to ruin you,” he said. “I am going to try my hardest not to touch you again, after tonight.”
He released my wrists, but I didn’t move them, almost missing the restraint. His hand slid up my skirts and under my chemise.
“Are you scared, Miss Leavold?”
In response, I parted my knees as far apart as I could, my body overriding my brain to give him access to whatever he wanted, because it was what I wanted too.
If I looked down, I could see him straining against his pants, but other than his thick erection, he gave no outward sign of his lust. He seemed perfectly calm and in control as his fingertips traced spirals up to my center, his eyes fixed to my face, his chest swelling with deep, even breaths. The moment he made contact with my clitoris, I inhaled fiercely, shuddering. His fingers moved down.
“So wet,” he murmured. “How can you be so wet from a single kiss?”
“It’s you,” I managed to gasp out. “You are the one doing this to me.”
His arm wrapped around my waist and yanked, so that I slid on the wood floor a few inches, spreading my knees even farther apart. One arm held me tight, while the other was under my skirts, and God,the things he was doing there.
“I am doing this so you can see why I need to stay away from you,” he said. One finger slowly pushed inside of me and everything within me shuddered and clenched and I let out a single, desperate, “Oh.”
“You’re so tight now,” he said, his lips now near my ear. “You have a tight little cunt and the man you marry will want it to stay that way. It’s so perfect and so wet, and he will want to be the first to feel it around his cock.” The finger moved deeper and deeper, until he reached a spot that made me writhe and push against that hand; all the while, he held me with his other arm, kept me pressed against him.
“And with your perfect cunt around me all the time, with those perfect breasts and that plump mouth, if I don’t make myself stay away, then I can’t answer to what will happen.”
“What will happen?” I whispered, needing to hear more, his words making everything in me tighten around his expert finger, making my body quiver and tense all around a central point deep inside of me.
His grin was wicked. “Then Iwillbend you over that sofa. I’ll watch you wrap your lips around me and suck until I’m satisfied, and then I’ll fuck your pussy until I spill inside of you. And once we start, there will be no stopping. I’ll have you in every room of this house, on every surface. I’ll make you climax as often as it suits me, even if it’s several times an hour for an entire night. I’ll make you thrash underneath me and beg, and maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you ride me and use me until you’re too limp to keep yourself upright any longer.
“And I’m sorry. I lied earlier…because I am taking one more first from you,” he said, and then he plunged two fingers inside of me, his thumb pressing once more against my clit in small, fast circles.
The quivering in my core was almost too much to bear. I grabbed on to Mr. Markham’s suit jacket, feeling almost panicked.
“Mr. Markham, please…”
“Please what, wildcat?”
“I…I…don’t know.” The tightening felt as if it would split me in half if I let it, as if it would unravel my entire being. How could I possibly survive something so strong, so elemental, a tidal wave threatening to surge and crash on top of me and—
He pressed his lips once more against mine and the wave crashed, my body shook, the muscles in my pelvis and inner thighs and belly convulsed and released and convulsed again. I thought I would die, the waves went on so long, radiating to every part of my being, all centered on his hand under my skirts.
I came to, fumbling my way out of an unimaginable glow, to find him supporting almost all of my weight. With no visible exertion, he lifted me easily into his arms, walked to the library door, unlocked it, and carried me to my room.
He laid me in bed and I stared up at him, sharply handsome even in the dark, unable to speak or think or feel beyond the small waves of pleasure that still pulsed through me.
“Lock your door at night, wildcat.”
“Why?”
White teeth flashed. A grin.
“Because of me.”
I slept better that night than I had slept since Thomas died—or possibly even since my parents died. When I woke, the sun was already streaming full in the window, signaling that mid-morning was not far off. I closed my eyes once more, pretending it was firelight that glowed through my eyelids, pretending that someone’s arms were around me, that expert fingers were caressing me and coaxing me to that state of exultation once more.
I wondered why I didn’t feel guilty or regretful that I had allowed such liberties last night. Ishould feel guilty.I hadn’t been in a church since my parents died—with the sole exception of Thomas’s funeral—but I did remember the clergyman constantly referencing The Unchaste Woman as the source of society’s ills. In our library at home, there had been many tracts in the same vein, as if Thomas wanted to make up for his frequent absences and excesses by at least ensuring I had the right sort of literature around.
