Jaded
Page 12
All suspicion that she was just acting interested in history to get closer to him had disappeared a long time ago. Lilya would need to be a consummate actress to be feigning her enthusiasm for the subject. She had a bright and eager mind. It was a true shame that her younger years had gone the way they had. Even poor, with a mind like hers, the university would likely have welcomed her with open arms. She could have been anything.
She pressed her lips together as she opened the book and found the place where they’d left off the day before. His gaze lingered on the curve of her cheek and her mouth. He enjoyed kissing her very much.
Of course, Byron had the privilege whenever he wished.
The house was large and the walls were thick, yet he was certain that she and Byron were intimate most every night. And the way they looked at each other—when they thought the other wasn’t looking—had not gone unnoticed by him. For a woman that Byron proclaimed could never fall in love, she certainly looked headed that direction. Although the couple times he’d said as much to Byron, he’d shut him down.
Byron thought he knew Lilya so well; but Alek wasn’t so certain. Perhaps Lilya wasn’t as emotionally broken as he presumed.
Perhaps it was wrong that Alek felt a little jealous over the way they looked at each other, but it was only because he remembered feeling that way once. In an ocean of women he’d found one that matched him . . . and then he’d lost her. The ache of that loss was an ever-present thing inside his chest. The only thing that ever eased it was immersing himself in his studies. They reminded him of her. They provided him with an escape, a numbing balm for his aching soul.
“Alek? Are you all right?” A hand touched his shoulder.
He blinked and saw Lilya frowning at him.
“You went somewhere far away just then. I said your name three times and received no response.”
He cleared his throat and looked down at the text of the book she’d opened. Suddenly he didn’t feel like making history amusing for Lilya. Right now he wanted to be alone, immerse himself in the history books of Rylisk and transport himself to another time when his life had been lighter. Yet, he’d promised her. “I’m fine. Let’s get started. We’ll begin with this treatise on the Edaeii family tree. Do you want to begin?”
She stopped frowning at him and focused on the page, moving a little closer to him. So close their bodies touched. He gritted his teeth, but not because he minded the contact. On the contrary. There was one other activity that could take his mind off painful memories, one he only barely held himself back from initiating with Lilya on a daily basis.
She began, “In the middle part of the third reign of Queen Astrid and King Nicholas . . .”
Alek knew the words by heart, so he allowed her voice to fade away in his mind and he studied her instead. She was one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen. For her, probably more curse than blessing, considering the trouble she’d had in her life. But there was much more to this woman than a pretty face. He was coming to see that and appreciate it. Every new thing he learned about her made him want to learn more.
In a way, perhaps his love of study had transferred to her. She was a mystery he definitely wanted to explore.
He hated it when Byron was right. Alek was growing more and more enamored of this woman and not just purely in a physical way. Although, right now, as he watched her full lips form the words she read from the book, his mind was on all the physical ways he wanted her.
It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Years and years. Too long, perhaps. Maybe men weren’t meant to go so long without satisfying their urges.
His gaze strayed over the milky skin of her slender neck to the bodice of her gown. She never dressed to show off her breasts. He knew librarians who wore a lower décolleté on their gowns. Her fashion was stylish but conservative. Maybe she understood that less could be more, that the slight hint of the curves of her breasts at the top of her garments made a man wonder what she’d look like completely bare. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were more than enough to cup in his hand and lick. He wondered what her nipples looked like. Were they as pale a color as her skin, or were they rosy red?
How would her sex feel? Hot and slick? Tight and welcoming? Would she moan if he slid inside her? Could he make her come, and, if he could, what would she sound like?
He wondered what would happen if he touched her. Would she let him or slap him away? Judging from the way she’d reacted to his kisses so far, he suspected she would welcome his advances. But would she truly want him? Or would she just be doing the job that Byron had brought her here to do?
In that moment, with his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, he wasn’t sure he even cared. He just wanted her. He wanted to quit fighting the attraction he had to her and let go. He wanted answers to all those questions, like the scholar he was.
He wanted to study her in every way, but most of all right now, he wanted to study her in a very, very carnal way.
He dropped his hand to her thigh to gauge her reaction.
Glancing at him, her words stumbled, but she kept reading. A light blush tinged her cheeks and her voice sounded a little tighter than it had a moment before. Taking those signs as unease, he nearly drew his hand away.
But he couldn’t make himself.
Instead, he took things even further. He bunched her skirts up, drawing them higher until his palm touched flesh. Her skin was warm and smooth. It made a light shudder of want go through him. He’d forgotten how a woman felt, so soft and nice.
She left off reading and swallowed hard. “Alek?” she queried in a trembling voice, looking down at the book.
He leaned in close to her neck and inhaled the scent of her skin. He closed his eyes, letting it waft through his senses. His cock was hard as steel. He murmured near her ear, “If you want me to stop, tell me, and I will. Otherwise, keep reading.”
She did nothing for a moment. Then, licking her lips, she continued, “The Trivac War of 1692 was a turning point for the growing dominion of the Emperor of Haynes. . . .”
She’d basically said she wanted him to touch her, yet her voice still trembled. It fascinated him. She was a courtesan, but nervous about this encounter. Why?
Then it dawned on him. Of course. It was because he was controlling things. Because this hadn’t been previously agreed upon and discussed. She hadn’t planned it out. It was spontaneous and he’d put himself in charge.
And he wasn’t Byron.
He slid his hand between her thighs. Her voice caught, but she spread her legs to give him better access. That was good; she trusted him. Otherwise she’d be shutting him out now that it was becoming clear just how far he meant to take this. He’d decided to stop fighting himself—he wanted all of her right now.
The silk of her panties brushed his fingertips and the heat of her sex warmed his skin when he slid them over her delicate folds through the panel of material covering her cunt. He found her clit through the thin fabric and stroked it softly, pressing and rotating, feeling it swell beneath his touch. Ah, he remembered this, how a woman became aroused. Her breath grew a degree heavier and her voice a tad huskier.
It was hard for him to resist simply moving her chair away from the table, ripping this little piece of almost-nothing off her body, spreading her thighs, and burying his aching cock deep inside her. That’s what he really wanted to do, but he felt she needed this—a sort of tempting, a preparation.
He wanted her to desire him, beg for him. He wanted her to yearn for him the way she yearned for Byron.
Pressing and rotating the swollen nub, he teased her through her panties. Her words fumbled more and more and her cheeks were flushed. He could feel the silk covering her growing warmer and damper. She moved her thighs apart in a welcoming gesture.
Her chest swelled with increasingly labored breathing and he couldn’t resist anymore. Moving his hand from between her thighs, he undid the buttons of her bodice, revealing little by little the de
lectable mounds of her breasts. When he’d reached her abdomen, he dipped his hand within and drew her breasts out one by one. Her nipples were the pink of a perfect rose and were tight and hard. He rubbed his thumbs over them each, wishing he could taste them.
He realized she’d completely stopped reading and had closed her eyes. Her lips were parted and her breathing came faster.
Leaning in, he nibbled the skin beneath her earlobe and was rewarded with a rush of gooseflesh. “Keep reading,” he whispered.
After a moment, her recitation of the political effects of the Trivac War on the Edaeii family began again, if in a slow, stuttering, completely aroused and distracted fashion. Never had history been so erotic to him.
Abandoning her beautiful breasts for now, he found the waistband of her panties and slid his hand down, finding the sweet, naked flesh of her cunt. She shuddered and tipped her pelvis up, practically begging for him to touch her. He found her clit again and stroked it until her breath caught and she moaned. Then he found her entrance and pressed two fingers deep inside her, up to his second knuckles.
Now it was his turn to shudder with pleasure. She was everything he thought she’d be—tight, hot, and wet from wanting him.
“Alek . . . Alek, please. I can’t read anymore. I need—”
He did too. He drew away from her, stood up, and pulled her from the chair. Dragging her up against his chest, his mouth found hers. He kissed her hard—lips, tongues, and teeth all at work, as though he intended to devour her.
His tongue forced its way into her hot mouth at the same time his body pressed her backward, looking for somewhere, anywhere to brace her.
Alek pressed her against the wall, his cock pushing into her stomach. Her body felt on fire from the need he’d catapulted her into. She’d not expected his hands on her this morning, or for his hands do such diabolical things to her body once there. He had known exactly how to touch her to drive her straight to carnal want. From his touch, her sex felt achy with the need to be filled.
He turned her face-first against the wall, making her gasp with surprise. Then he bunched her skirts up to her waist. She closed her eyes, her hands near her face and fisting against the wall. His bare hand moved over the curve of her rear, delving between her thighs for just a moment to feel how hot and wet she’d become.
Yes, she wanted this.
His hand slid around to her bare abdomen and plunged down her panties from the front, between her thighs. His palm covered her sex, the warmth of his skin teasing her. She cried out, her hands splaying in front of her to help brace her.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice was rough against her ear, filled with barely leashed lust. “Tell me to stop and I’ll back away right now.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” she breathed.
His rumble of approval made the fine hair along her body rise. He found her clit and stroked it, making it go large and swollen against his fingertips—pushing her to the edge of a climax. Her breath went ragged and her teeth sank into her lower lip as she fought a whimper of need rising in her throat.
He found the entrance to her sex and pressed a finger deep inside, then two. She moaned and closed her eyes. Slowly, he thrust them in and out, making her soak his hand.
“What about Byron? I thought you had feelings for him.” His voice was a low, rough murmur near her ear.
Her breath arrested painfully in her throat. “I don’t know what I feel for him.”
“You do know. You love him.”
She shook her head. This wasn’t something she wanted to talk about now. It was far too painful and confusing. “He brought me here for you, remember?”
“Yes, he brought you here for me, but this isn’t about obligation right now, is it? Am I just a job to you?”
She swallowed hard. “This is me, as a woman, responding to you as a man. I want you, Alek. Please.”
His reply was a rip of fabric as he rent the side hem of her flimsy silk panties. He worked his hand between her thighs, thrusting his fingers in and out of her, until her knees went weak and her mind faded into a haze of pure sexual need. He stroked her clit over and over until she nearly came against his hand.
Fingers sure, he worked up to her bared breasts. His hands were not gentle as he massaged them, rolling and pinching the nipples until she existed somewhere between the sweetest pain and the sharpest pleasure.
“I’m going to fuck you right now, Lilya,” he murmured. “Up against this wall.”
His coarse words made her prime for him. She spread her legs and tipped up her rear, waiting for him. The sound of his zipper and the gentle whoosh of fabric down skin met her ears, then he was there, pushing the head of his cock deep inside her. He didn’t shove inside; he was too large for that. Little by little, he worked his way in, stretching her muscles to accommodate him.
Breathing hard, she braced herself against the wall as he began to move in long, hard strokes, filling her completely, and making her cry out. His hand found her breasts and played, then dropped once again between her thighs, where he pressed and rotated her clit until an orgasm burst over her as if forced out of her.
It was a freight train. Sweet, powerful ecstasy washed over her, stealing her ability to do anything but hold on against it. Tears filled her eyes. She yelled as it overtook her body and she hung on desperately to the wall so she didn’t collapse.
“I want to see your face,” Alek said, withdrawing his cock from her once the waves of her climax had passed. He turned her to face him. “You’ve got the most beautiful eyes.” His voice was gentler now, less filled with that sudden, mysterious anger that she’d known wasn’t directed at her, but at something beyond both their reaches.
He smoothed his hand over her face and pressed his lips gently to hers as he guided her leg over his hip and pushed inside her again. This time he took her slower, staring into her eyes and kissing her.
A strong man, he held her up against the wall with ease as his cock slid in and out of her. His body rubbed her postclimaxsensitive clit in this position, driving her into another orgasm. Closing her eyes, she moaned as pleasure washed through her a second time. The muscles of her sex gently spasmed, milking his thrusting cock until his head fell back on a groan and he spilled himself inside her.
They clung together for a moment, both breathing heavily. It happened so fast and had been so powerful that Lilya could barely comprehend the event. Surprise seemed to freeze her words in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” Alek whispered. “I didn’t mean for this happen, not like this. Not up against a wall.”
“No. Stop apologizing.” She finally found her voice. Cupping his face in her hands, she looked into his eyes. “It’s all right. I’m fine.” Her body still tingled from their encounter. “I’m just a little stunned. I wasn’t expecting this.”
She hadn’t been sure he would ever break through the emotional barrier that had been holding him from her. Once broken, the flood of desire had been alarming.
He pulled her away from the wall and she followed him to the divan. “It was too rough. Especially for—”
“Stop it.” She pushed him down onto the divan and came over him, straddling him. Putting his hands on her still bare breasts, she kissed him, nipping his lower lip. “It wasn’t too rough. It was incredible,” she whispered.
He cupped the nape of her neck and his kiss intensified, his tongue plunging between her lips and tangling with hers deep in her mouth. His kiss was ferocious; it made her breathless. His hands moved over her breasts and his hot tongue found one nipple, then the other. Need rose once again in her and his cock grew hard, pressing against the swollen, aroused flesh of her sex.
His mouth still on her breast, she shifted and pressed the crown of his cock inside her. Slowly, she sank down on the long length until she whimpered from feeling so filled.
He groaned deep, his hands catching in her hair and forcing her mouth to his as she began to ride him. Moving up and down on his cock, he slipped in and out o
f her in long, deep strokes while they panted into each other’s half-open mouths. The bunch of her skirts pouffed like a cloud of silk around them.
Straining, connected, they moved like one animal beneath her heavy dress, faster and faster, both plunging toward yet another powerful orgasm. When she came she threw her head back and cried out, the muscles of her sex pulsing and rippling around his length. He yelled out her name and burst inside her once again.
Then they collapsed together on the divan, books and papers on the table forgotten.
After it was over, they lay tangled together, breathing heavy. Alek hooked her hair behind her ear. “That was . . .” He trailed off and swallowed hard.
She gave a small laugh. “From that first kiss I knew you weren’t the tame scholar you seem to be.”
He kissed her. “It was you; you made me crazy with lust. Just watching you this morning—”
“Watching me read from a book about history?” She laughed.
His fingers stroked over her bare breast, making the nipple go hard. “Just watching you. I could have been watching you scrub pots and had the same reaction.”
Her hand moved over his chest, wishing his shirt was off so she could feel his skin. “You seemed so hungry.” She paused, not sure she should broach the subject. “How long as it been since you were with a woman?”
He stilled for a moment, even his breath seeming to stop in his throat.
Her hand rested on his chest. Had asking him that question been a mistake?
Finally he answered. “It’s been four years.”
“Four years.” She knew there was something here but she didn’t want to push him. If he wished to tell her, he would do so in his own time. “Well, I’m happy to be the one who broke the drought.”
And this, of course, was what Byron had brought her here to do. He must have known that Alek would eventually relent in the presence of an accessible woman.
He kissed the top of her head. “I am too.”
The room had a chill to it, so eventually she redid the buttons of her bodice and Alek built up the fire in the hearth. Then she snuggled down beside him on the divan. For a long time they talked softly and listened to the crackling fire, until they both dozed off.