Even Sinclair joined in. “I have no doubt we will.” And, before Edna even had to ask if we wanted anything else like she often did when she was getting ready to leave for the day, he added, “Have a good night. See you in the morning.”
We ate in silence for a bit, merely commenting on how the food really did taste wonderful. It was only after I thought I heard the large door at the end of the main hallway close behind her that Sinclair spoke again. “I wanted to talk to you about a…delicate matter.”
The way he said it spoke volumes—he hadn’t wanted Edna to overhear any of what he was about to say. “Okay.”
“About our arrangement before we left. I want you to know I don’t expect you to share my bed with me anymore.”
Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. Although we couldn’t spend our lives together, I had hoped to spend a few more intimate moments with him…creating memories I could sear into my brain so he could live a lifetime in my gray matter, even if not beside me. “What if I want to?”
Swallowing, he set both his fork and knife on his plate with deliberate precision, seeming to question what I’d said. “Do you mean that?”
Although an overwhelming bashfulness threatened to overtake my tongue, I forced it to move…to say what I’d been thinking.
To be honest with him about the way I felt.
“I do. I’ve missed being with you.”
He took my hand, his eyes searching mine. It was as if he had so much on his mind but wasn’t sure if he could trust himself. Finally, he managed to say, “I’ve missed being with you too.”
His words filled me with a heady mixture of emotions, including boldness. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
Reading me like a book, Sinclair stood, one side of his lips turned up slightly. Before he could pull out my chair, I stood up as well, and he held out his hand to take mine again. Pulling me close, he kissed me passionately, reminding me of just how right he felt.
I expected him to sweep me up in his arms, much like he’d done the first time, the night I gave my virginity to him. And, for a moment, when his lips left mine, I was certain he was considering it. But then he turned around, closing the doors to the dining room before walking past me to cross the room to the windows.
For a moment, I stared at the doors, never having seen them shut. They were beautiful, a rich mahogany that matched the table with an intricate design unlike any doors at the home I shared with my father. But when I turned, Sinclair was pulling the drapes closed across the windows with such force that I feared he’d yank them down to the floor.
But I knew his intent—and my body responded. I was all but tingling from head to toe as I awaited his touch. Although I still felt a tiny bit of worry that Edna might come back or that Greg, looking for Sinclair, might peek in, I knew better. Closed doors in the mansion were only opened after a knock and an invitation—unless you had a key and snuck in.
It seemed that I was the only one who did that.
I all but ran to Sinclair at the other end of the table, realizing that I didn’t care who knew about our clandestine relationship anymore. And if he was worried about anyone else figuring it out, it wasn’t on his mind now either. But the mansion was usually quiet this time of evening, with Edna having gone home and Greg and his wife keeping to themselves on the third floor. Because I still hadn’t met his wife, I was almost beginning to wonder if she actually lived here, but I rarely saw Greg either.
Sinclair took me into his arms and when we kissed this time, it felt as if he were holding nothing back—as if he could consume me in an instant. And I too felt the same hunger, as if we’d been kept apart for months or even years.
I began unbuttoning his shirt and he removed his hands from my waist to take off his tie. But our lips crashed again as I pulled the bottom of his shirt out of his pants so I could finish unbuttoning it.
As soon as it was off, I ran my fingers along his abs up to his chest, relishing the firmness of his muscles and how they seemed to respond to my touch.
And then I was inspired.
There were so many things sexual that I hadn’t yet had the pleasure to do—and I wanted to do as many of them as I could with Sinclair while I still have the opportunity. Although a good many books I read were tame, some of the romance stories I’d devoured had been steamy—but I’d tried to avoid many of that sort because if they made me feel hot and bothered, there’d been nothing I could do about it, not having a chance with any of the males back in Winchester.
There’d been one book in particular, though, that had fascinated me and even just thinking about it now ramped up my desire.
In it, the heroine had described how much she loved giving blowjobs, the way she loved how a hard cock in her mouth tasted, how it gave her power over her lover…how he would lose control because of her expertise. While I knew there was no way I could be an expert, having never tried it before, I wanted to give it a shot…and I wanted to show my love in a way I never had before.
So I began unbuckling his belt as he held my face in his hands and kissed me as if this would be the last time.
And maybe it was…but I couldn’t think about that right now.
Our tongues tangled as I pulled the belt apart and found the button on his slacks. As if he felt the need to catch up, he removed his hands from my face and began pulling my shirt up. After I unzipped his pants, I let go so he could pull the shirt over my head and off my arms, but I wanted to make sure my earrings didn’t get yanked off with the turtleneck, so I took over.
When our eyes met again, Sinclair had a slightly amused expression, but he again seemed like he had something to say—so I raised my eyebrows and smiled, but it wasn’t enough. He still said nothing.
This time, when we kissed again and I felt his fingers on the back of my bra, I pulled away a bit. I didn’t want to be completely naked…not yet, at any rate. I still felt vulnerable in the dining room and wanted to be at least partly clothed for now. I began kissing down his chest, loving how his skin tasted and how his flesh seemed to respond to my lips. As I lowered myself to my knees, I had to hike my skirt a bit—and, once I got there, I pulled his boxer briefs down just enough, causing his pants to slide down his legs.
I’d never looked at his cock up close like this before, and just the thought made my panties wet. Although Sinclair had used every inch of himself to make me feel better than I ever had in my life, this part of him was the main tool in his arsenal. It had stretched me, filled me like it was made for me—and it was this rigid state that affirmed his need for me.