eyes gleamed. He threw the glass into the fire. And then, he took her.
He backed her up against the wall and lifted her skirt to her thighs, one hand sliding between her legs while the other fumbled at his trouser buttons. His mouth found the soft skin of her neck and he laved it with his tongue before nipping.
The force of his embrace and the teeth were triggers for her, though he couldn't have known it. His kiss swallowed her cry. His hand parted her folds, and his cock nudged her entrance. She opened for him, hands going around his shoulders to lift her body and angle her hips to ease his entry, but though arousal bloomed inside her she wasn't yet wet. His questing hand probed her, a finger slipping inside, then out again to roll over her clitoris. She twitched with a small cry.
Edward took his hand from between her legs and moved it up between them. "Spit," he ordered, and she did at once.
In the next moment, his wet fingers caressed her, smoothed over her clit and inside, and he grasped his cock and thrust inside her. Edward moaned as he filled her, his forehead pressed to hers. His whiskey-scented breath brushed her mouth and she opened her lips to breathe him in.
His mouth found her neck again, sucking hungrily, and the feeling of it set her on fire. Nessa had long ago discovered the need inside her for just this sort of passion. Fast, hard, without mercy, every small sting one more thread in an entire tapestry of pain and pleasure.
She wrapped her legs around him, grateful for her previous patron's insistence upon a slender form, allowing Edward to lift her without strain. The bookcase against her back shuddered with his I; thrusts, the books digging into her back and making her squirm with ecstasy as much as his cock inside her.
As her first orgasm struck, she cried out and threw her head back. He bit down harder. His belly rubbed her flesh, teasing the postclimax sensitivity in a way that made her writhe, but in only a moment the pleasure built again and she hovered on the brink of another climax.
Edward rocked against her and shuddered, pumping inside her. His final thrust moved her so hard it cracked a shelf. His shout eased a final burst of bliss out of her body, and Nessa clutched him as their bodies twitched and tensed in mutual completion. They stayed like that as their breathing slowed, until finally he put her down. Her skirt fell back around her ankles. A warm trickle of his seed and her juices ran down her thigh, tickling, and she smiled.
"Good evening, sir," she said at last, the first words they'd exchanged since he'd come home.
Edward had a hand on the bookcase, his head lowered as though standing took all his energy, and Nessa put a supportive hand on his arm. She pulled up his trousers to his waist and urged him with small touches to sit, then looked at him with concern.
"Are you well?"
"I plead your mercy." Edward accepted the second glass of liquor she handed him. This response surprised her, and she folded herself into the Waiting at his feet. "Sir?" Edward sipped the drink this time instead of tossing it back. "I shouldn't have used you so."
Nessa said nothing at first, calculating the best response. She'd never had a patron so reluctant to avail himself of all she had to offer. She'd had patrons who didn't desire her sexually, true, but never one who took his pleasure with her and apologized for it, after.
"I don't understand."
Edward rubbed his forehead. "You're no doxy. The Order was very clear on this matter." She was beginning to see his reason for distress. "I'm here to provide you with solace in accordance with the principles of my order. You required the service of my body, and I provided it. There's no need to plead my mercy."
He looked at her, reaching out again to touch the fresh marks upon her throat. "Stillness."
"Yes, sir?"
A faint smile quirked his full-lipped mouth. "Is it a Handmaiden's place to be treated so roughly?"
It was perhaps meant as a question without
Christie Sims, Alara Branwen