Page 24 of Disillusioned
“Like the ones on my legs.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of it.
Lilac would be lying to herself if she really believed she hadn’t said it on purpose. She leaned back onto her arms while Garin shifted to his knees and delicately cupped his hands on the backs of her ankles, just above her boots. He looked up at her softly, his brows raising in silent question for permission. When Lilac nodded, barely able to breathe, Garin’s chest heaved as he slid his hands beneath her dress, along her lace stockings, from her ankles to her calves. His pupils were enlarged and fixated on her, his hands never breaking contact, and the bulge at his throat bobbed repeatedly as if his closed mouth had flooded with saliva.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” she said, voice barely a whisper, entirely unable to concentrate.
He silenced her with a shake of his head. “No, you’re not.”
He was ravenous and did a poor job of hiding it, but his collected calm immediately broke the moment his fingers brushed against her dagger on her right thigh. Licking his lips, he paused, carefully extracting it from between the material and her skin and placed it on the bed beside her. They both stared at it for a moment, its jeweled silver pommel winking knowingly in the firelight, before he slipped back under her skirts. He froze briefly when he reached past the lip of her garter and met bare skin. His fingers roamed her upper thigh, tracing lazy circles as his eyes slowly darkened.
He shut them, frustration seeping into his carefully crafted demeanor.
Lilac bit her lip to withhold a laugh as his hands rose and met her hip bones, his thumbs slowly reaching inward. The laugh escaped as a surprised moan when he dragged a thumb through her arousal, encircling her clit.
“Modron,” he cursed, running his tongue along his lower lip. He ran his fingers along her inner thighs. “Where are your undergarments?”
She could barely answer with him toying gently with her cunt, stroking the sensitive creases of her inner thigh on both sides, making her blood pound through her veins. She savored the look of desperation on his face. “They’re packed away.”
“And I suppose tormenting me is your idea of fun?” His index and middle fingers found her next, stroking teasingly along her opening. She was already so wet, she could tell by the way his skin slid over hers, the way his breath stuttered as she shuddered at his touch. He gave a disbelieving laugh, the only pleasant thing about him in this moment, despite the greed in his eyes, which flicked up to hers. They narrowed.
“Youwere going to hold our meeting likethis?” His fingers hooked into her garter, and he rolled the material of her stockings down, taking his time as he slipped her boots and the rest of the material off with them.
She flexed her bare feet as he courteously lifted one side of her dress, then the other to examine the fading bruises and scars on her legs. The one on her right leg—the one she’d shown Henri—made him stop.
His expression shifted from annoyance to something sinister as he reached beneath her skirts again, and two fingers found their way to her.He made her wait, eliciting a growl of impatience as she wiggled, desperate for pressure—for relief. Garin shushed her and bent; before she knew it, his warm mouth was on her inner thigh. He inhaled, groaning low in his throat as he kissed along her skin, his tongue lapping at her arousal and causing her to shudder violently as his fingers encircled her cunt.
“I can leave a scar of my own,” he growled, smirking against her thigh. “Right—” He broke off, as if kissing her couldn’t wait a second more. “Right here.”
He pushed his fingers in easily, groaning at her wetness, and curled them upward as he thrust into her. Once, twice—sending tortuous waves of heat through her body.
“Wait. The guests are arriving,” she gasped. Anxiety warred with pleasure at her tightening core. “Upstairs.”
“You won’t take long,” was all he said. He drove his fingers deeper, his throat bobbing as he rose and shifted the rest of her skirts up.
Her fingers curled into his thick waves as he came down on her, his tongue lavishing her clit, causing her to gasp, her toes curling in anticipation. She braced herself, had to remind herself to breathe as he thrusted into her and teased, sucked, flicked her until she began to come apart in his mouth.
He was right. It didn’t take long at all.
“Garin,” she whimpered, but he wasn’t done.
She came alive as he rose again, climbing over her, his thick erection digging into her thigh through his pants. She opened for him as their mouths met, but not quite fast enough; he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. Shock flooded through her, mixing with sweat, heat, and salt as his tongue entered her mouth and swept furiously over hers. She tasted her own blood, and he groaned as his tongue greedily moved against hers.
Garin slid his fingers out to circle her flesh teasingly. Lilac whimpered into his mouth, rubbing herself against him. “Please,” she begged, sliding her hands from his dark curls toward her stomach, struggling to reach for his belt. The meeting could wait.
But Garin pulled away.
“If I catch you flaunting yourself like that again,” he breathed, his lips ruddy, keeping just far enough out of her reach, “I might not be able to restrain myself from taking you where you stand.”
She could barely pull together her answer before he began slowly, gently stroking her clit again along the pads of his fingers. The tenderness of his touch clashed with the way he looked at her—into her.
He broke their gaze, only to slowly lower himself onto her collarbone, kissing up her throat. The movement still caught her off-guard. In defense, on instinct, she bucked against Garin, but this only seemed to excite him. His fingers entered her once more, and with his teeth tortuously grazing her skin, his shoulders pinning her down, she didn’t know what to do.
Could he control himself?
Lilac shuddered, rocking forward into his hand, desperate to feel him deep inside her, desperate to feel his teeth pierce her skin.
Did she want him to?
“Drink from me, Garin.”
