He nodded, reaching up to cup her face and trying not to look past the line of her collarbone. She’d always known how to tempt him, how to tip him over the edge of reason and into mindless desire. After the day he’d had, he was tired, weak. He did not think he had the strength to resist her.
“I always will be,” he assured her. “No matter what, Livvie.”
She smiled at him, and he felt as if the sun finally shone down upon him after an eternity of dark clouds. It was the biggest smile he’d seen from her in years, aside from her brief moment of happiness with the harp. It was the sign he had hoped for, prayed for. It was proof that she had, indeed, gotten stronger—enough to smile at him, even in the face of today’s dire events.
“Then be here now. Help me remember what it means to feel something good, pure, and beautiful. Even if it can only last a moment, I need to feel something that isn’t hurt, or sadness, or fear. When I think of what it is like to have someone inside me, I do not want to see his face. I want to see yours. I want to know what it is to have you in all the ways I never did, so that when the memory of him comes back to me, I have yours to dwell on instead … I’ll have you to remind me that this is how it should be, how it ought to have been all along.”
The mention of Bertram had him gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to tear every bit of the furniture in the room to shreds. It had haunted him for years, the thought of that animal taking something from her that had not been his to take, robbing her of the first experience she should have had. She had deserved so much more, and God, how he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
“Ye know I’d give ye anything, Livvie. But ye’ve only just started t’ get better. If I did somethin’ to hurt ye, or scare ye, or … I’d never forgive myself.”
She surged against him, wrapping one leg about this waist, then the other, forcing him to use an arm to anchor her, holding her up against him. She wrapped him in warmth and softness, her sweet scent wafting right up his nostrils and causing him to grow dizzy.
“You could never hurt me,” she whispered, nuzzling his ear and kissing the side of his neck, the touch of her lips weakening his knees, as well as his resolve. “And if I am afraid, it is because of my own mind. I need you to help me beat the fear. I need you to make it so I never have to be afraid again.”
He stood there holding her in his arms, swaying from the impact of so many warring thoughts at once. The honorable thing to do would be laying her abed and walking away, perhaps ensuring her that they could do this another time, when she was stronger. Resisting the urge to throw her down upon the bed and devour her whole, he tried to keep control of his body, of the desires he had neglected for so long.
“Have I changed so much, then?” she prodded when he remained silent, eyes squeezed shut, stomach roiling. “Don’t you want me anymore?”
His eyes flew open, and he met her gaze, wide and probing and perhaps even a bit anxious. He could see the hint of fear underlying her need, the bit of insecurity prompting her to begin untangling her body from his.
“If you don’t, I suppose I understand—”
Niall moved before he could think, dropping her back onto the bed and then climbing on so that he straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. She gasped when he reached for one of her hands and yanked it to him, pressing it flat against the hard ridge of flesh growing and swelling with each passing second. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he curled her fingers around his erection, compelling her to feel the heat and hardness of him.
“Does it feel like I dinnae want ye anymore? Like I ever stopped?”
Her breath quickened through her parted lips, eyelids growing heavy as he surged his hips, pressing his cock more snugly into her palm.
“N-no,” she whispered. “It does not.”
“Ye don’t know how much a cad I felt, wantin’ ye even when ye were suffering.” He closed his eyes as he made his confession, certain he would find disgust in her gaze if he looked too closely. “Have ye any idea how many nights ye pulled me into yer bed for comfort, only for me to lie there and think about all the ways I wanted ye—on top of me, underneath me, fittin’ around me so tight?”
She was touching him of her own accord now, heat blossoming where her palm teased his cock through breeches, her fingers tightening to take him in a firm grip.
“But there is no reason for you to feel badly, Niall … not when I wanted it, too. In the moments when I could think clearly enough to want it, I did. I always did.”
Then, she was shifting beneath him, sitting up as much as his position over her allowed. Her warm breath seeped through the fabric as she placed her lips against his fall, nuzzling and kissing him with unfettered abandon. As she pressed her mouth to the head of him, over and over, her gaze came up to meet his and held. He could find not a hint of true fear in the depths—not of him. Fear of the unknown, perhaps, of facing this milestone and not knowing if she would come out of it unscathed.
She would. If it killed him, Niall would make sure she did.
Reaching out to cup the back of her head, he gently took hold of her hair, giving it a tug to tip her head back and make her maintain his stare. She trembled again, but made no move to stop him, or push him away.
“Tell me you want this … tell me you can handle it. Dinnae lie to me, Livvie.”
She shocked him by hesitating for a moment, even though she had been the one to convince him that this must be done. He held her by the hair and waited, preparing to remove himself from her if she said no, while simultaneously telling himself just how careful he must be if she said yes.
Releasing a long, slow breath, she went pliant beneath him.
“I want this. I need this.”
He remained where he was long enough to allow the impact of her words to fall on him, letting himself absorb the importance of what it could mean for her, for them both.
He released her hair, then shifted his body so that he lay flush over her, his chest pressed to her breasts, his hips and thighs digging into hers, his cock a heavy weight against her mons.
“This is how we’re gonna do this,” he told her, lips pressed against her brow, then skimming down the bridge of her nose. “Ye’re going to tell me what ye want me to do to ye. I won’t do anything until ye say so, and the moment ye tell me to stop, I will.”
She gave him a little smile, lifting her head to brush her lips against his. “I won’t tell you to stop.”
“Just know ye can if ye need to. Now … I’m yers to do with as ye please, Livvie. Tell me what ye want.”
Biting her lip, she lowered her gaze, her cheeks coloring as she grappled with words. Despite all she had been through, it struck him just how innocent she still was. There were so many things he had taught her, and still so much she did not know.
“I want to watch you undress.”
He grinned at the way she whispered the words, as if afraid they might shock him. If only she knew the sorts of fantasies he’d had about her, the numerous ways he’d considered this happening.
Pushing off from on top of her, he knelt at her side, sitting back on his heels as he reached up to begin working his cravat loose. So much had happened that he had not noticed until just then that flecks of Bertram’s blood speckled his shirtfront and cuffs. He could not be out of the garments fast enough, throwing away the lingering traces of that bastard from between them. He had no place here; not now, not tonight.
He threw the cravat aside, then flicked open the top button of his shirt to reveal his throat. Olivia propped herself up onto her elbows to better see him as he worked at opening his waistcoat, her gaze following his hands as if she didn’t want to miss a single revelation. He took his time, hoping that drawing it out would heighten her enjoyment of it—the falling away of the finery he wore as a butler to reveal the rough-hewn body of the stable groom beneath it.
After shrugging the waistcoat off his shoulders, he pushed his braces down, then yanked the tails of shirt out of his breeches
before tackling the rest of his buttons. Urgency built with every passing second, but he slowed his hands, reminding himself that this was for her. Certainly, it would gratify him to finally finish what they had started that summer afternoon when she’d asked him to kiss her, but he would not forget that his every move from now until the end would be for her pleasure.
Once he’d pulled his shirt off over his head, he glanced down at her, eyebrows raised. His hand hovered over the buttons of his fall.
“These, too?”
Her stare dropped from his face to where one of his fingers circled a button, tempting her. She swallowed and gave a swift nod, as if not wanting the opportunity to change her own mind.
“Yes. Those, too.”
She sucked in a breath when he loosened the first button and seemed to hold it as he opened the others, allowing his fall to drop and reveal the thatch of hair covering his groin, then the fully engorged length of his cock.
Coming to his feet, he peeled the breeches from his body, then his stockings, leaving him completely exposed to her gaze. He took his time approaching the bed, allowing her to work herself up to asking for what she wanted next.
Her gaze never strayed, drinking in her fill of him, wandering over the expanse of his chest, the plane of his belly, the bulges of this thighs, and the organ thrusting up from between them. Even knowing the firelight displayed his scars could not bring him shame; not when she already knew all there was to know about him and had seen the parts of him no one else ever had.
“Everything to yer likin’, princess?”
His playful tone made her smile; then, she was coming to him, crawling to the edge of the bed so she could reach out to touch him. Niall bit back a groan at the feel of her nails tickling the hairs on his chest, the tip of one finger trailing through the line leading toward his groin like a guiding arrow.
“You are magnificent … my perfect knight.”
Any response he might have made was choked off on a groan when she took his cock in a light grip and stroked from base to tip. Her thumb circled his head, causing him to grow wet, his bollocks tightening so swiftly, it took his breath away. Even after so much time, her hands were still the softest he’d ever felt. His will began to crumble, his body reacting to the stimuli with the primal urge to thrust into her hand and command her to hold him tighter, stroke him faster.
“Livvie,” he rasped, trembling with the effort it took not to tackle her onto the bed and plunge as deep into her as he could go. “Tell me what to do … tell me what ye want.”
Still fondling his cock, her hand stroking with lazy pulls, her fingertips teasing his moistened tip, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Kiss me.”
He took her mouth with far more fervor than he’d intended, capturing her lips with a rough groan as he clenched his hands tight by his sides. He had not been given permission to touch her yet, so he would keep his hands to himself unless instructed otherwise. So, he poured all his desire into the kiss, nibbling and sucking at her lower lip, delving his tongue deep into her mouth, plunging as far as he could without being able to take hold of her and tip her head back for the plunder.
Her desperation became evident in the way she responded to his kiss, her tongue darting out to find and tangle with his. Her hands came up to his shoulders, giving his throbbing cock a bit of a reprieve while she clung to him, arching her body to fit against his.
“More,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, and his jaw.
“Where?” he asked, hesitating just long enough to hear her response.
“Anywhere … everywhere.”
He aimed for her throat, tasting the long, slender column down to her shoulder, where he gave in to the urge to sink his teeth in. She gasped at his bite, just hard enough to make her pulse raise and her knees buckle.
“Again,” she moaned, holding one hand to the back of his neck to keep him where she wanted him. “Harder.”
She cried out when he complied, her back arching to mash her breasts against his chest. Her other hand came to the back of his neck, and then, she was pulling him along, backing across the bed and urging him over her. He followed her silent commands, her grip on his hair guiding his mouth to where she wanted it—her collarbone, her chest, the curve of one breast.
“Yes, there,” she whimpered when his lips tickled her nipple.
He sucked at the little bud like a man starving, some long dead thing coming alive in him. It remembered the taste of her, the feel of her, the unsatisfied urges that had once hung so heavy between them. He quaked with the effort it took to hold back, to follow her lead, tempering his own impulses in favor of hers.
A tug on his hair had him releasing her nipple and moving to the other, this one reacting to him just as the other had, hardening and furling tight. She writhed beneath him, knees spreading so that he lay between them, hands smoothing down the back of his neck to his shoulders, wandering and exploring. Her touch felt new and familiar all at once, fragments of their past converging into this present moment, one that seemed an eternity coming.
“Put your hands on me, Niall … please …”
He obeyed without question, gripping her waist, then stroking his way up toward her breasts. His mouth moved lower as he reached up to palm her breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples and his tongue stroking at her belly with slow, lazy circles. She undulated beneath him, back arching to lift her breasts at the perfect angle for him to tease, hips thrusting toward his questing mouth.
Even as she guided him without words, he paused, lapping at the seam of her mons, once. “Here?”
“Yes, there!”
He delved his tongue back into that hidden slit, seeking the tender bud of her clit amongst the slippery, wet folds. She gasped, her legs clenching on instinct, her fingers taking the sheets in a white-knuckle grip. Palming her thighs, he pried them apart, holding her open and using his thumbs to spread her lower lips. She was already glistening with desire, the scent of her arousal making his mouth water and a hunger unlike any he’d ever known clench deep in his gut. He put his mouth to her again, sucking at the swollen nub begging to be stimulated until she screamed. Her thighs shook in his grasp, but he held firm, keeping her spread out and at the perfect angle.
“Good?”
Her answer came on a sharp cry, her back bowing up off the bed, her hips undulating against his face with a wantonness he had not seen from her in some time. It reminded him of their youth, of hidden moments in the hayloft.
He swam in her, losing himself in hot, silken flesh and the wetness coating his tongue, using the sounds she made as his guide. She had changed so much, but some things about her were still there—the things she responded to, the things she liked. That he’d never lost the power to make her squirm and moan came as a pleasant surprise, but also hung over his head in a cloud of regret. They’d lost so many moments, so many days and nights spent in this kind of splendor.
But, he would not dwell on that. He would make the best of what they’d been given, what they had found here and now.
“Your fingers, Niall … inside me … please…”
He could not obey her fast enough, his first finger already pressing to the opening of her channel before the words had finished leaving her lips. She was so wet, the way was eased, one finger caressing her insides before he joined it with a second. She was still so taut, the sight of her opening stretched around his fingers making them appear monstrous. He could barely take his gaze away, enthralled by the way she eased to accept him, his knuckles slick with her wetness. His breaths came in swift pants that rang out in time with hers, his anticipation for her climax nearly strangling him with the suspense of it.
When she threw her head back with her eyes squeezed shut in surrender, no longer fighting to keep from crying out, he latched on to her clit, strengthening her finish. The high, breathy notes held every ounce of her past pain and present joy, every bit of the passion and fire that had lain buried in the depth
s of her soul for so long. He took pleasure in driving every note out of her, his lips and fingers changing the key, heightening her crescendo, then easing her back down to soft utterances of his name.
Withdrawing, he began kissing his way back up her body, brushing his lips against her mons one last time before moving over her groin, her belly, the valley between her breasts. Then, she was wrapping her arms and legs around him, pulling him to lay flush against her, aiming her mouth at his.
He groaned against her lips, the scent, taste, and slick essence of her lingering between them. The same hot, wet flesh he’d just tasted now pressed against his engorged cock with an unavoidable sense of urgency.
“Now, Niall,” she moaned between touches of their lips, her body taking on a mind of its own, squirming and writhing and igniting a growing heat between them. “I cannot wait another second. I want you inside of me now.”
A shudder rocked him at the realization that they stood upon such a familiar precipice. How many times had she lain beneath him, begging to be taken, her breath harsh in his ear, legs spread in invitation? How many times had he refused her out of some misplaced sense of honor that, in the end, had protected her from nothing? He’d kept his cock out of her … and for what? So she could become prey for some other man, a man who’d nearly broken her.
Upon the reminder that the one and only time she’d been penetrated had ended in trauma, Niall experienced the full weight of his responsibility in this moment. Not only must he please her, he must also ensure she never had cause to fear him, that he did what he could to help her heal in some way.
Coming upright, he sat back on his heels and gazed down at her with an assessing eye. She appeared sated and ready for him, her limbs splayed over the mattress, hair tousled, face flushed, and knees parted. He could quite literally dive into her right then and seek his pleasure. But this was important; it meant too much for him to treat it like any other encounter.
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