Page 80 of A Literary Liaison
He increased the speed of his movements, relishing the feel of her slick quim and thighs enveloping him tightly. When Elisha began to thrust her hips to meet his shaft with her cunny, he had to still himself to control his urge to climax.
“Edgar… please…” Her breathing was ragged and he felt her slick moisture drench his cock.
“Christ, Elisha…”
He gripped her ass and lifted her off the settee. He rubbed his cock against her bud with urgent movements. With a sharp inhale, she became perfectly still, her open mouth unleashing silent screams. The sensual image of her face pushed him over the edge as he released his seed between her thighs, puffs of air leaving his lungs as they both arched their bodies before collapsing against each other.
Edgar’s body shuddered head to toe from the aphrodisiac that was Elisha Linde. He leaned one hand against the arm of the settee while catching his breath. It was going to be impossible for him to stay away from her now. She possessed the beauty of Aphrodite and the sensual mind of Eros. If he taught her how to pleasure him, she would have the weapons of Hephaestus as well.
They lay there in comfortable silence, listening to the rain against the windows and the gentle crackle of the dying fire, finally home.
The Lancasters
Elisha woke tothe soft clink of china drifting from the sitting room below. Pale morning light filtered through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across the rumpled bedsheets that still held the faint scent of his cologne. Her body felt wonderfully languid, marked by the sweet ache of their passion the night before—a reminder that sent heat blooming across her cheeks.
She stretched beneath the coverlet, her skin still sensitive where his hands had mapped every curve, where his lips had branded her with kisses that seemed to burn even now in memory. The vulnerability of what they had shared lingered like morning mist, beautiful and fragile. Everything had changed between them in those firelit hours, and she could feel the shift as surely as she could feel the summer breeze through the partially open window.
Rising carefully, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and padded downstairs on bare feet, drawn by the domestic sounds of Edgar preparing their morning meal. She found him in the breakfast room, elegant even in his shirtsleeves, dark hair slightly mussed from sleep—or perhaps from her fingers threading through it in the darkness. The sight of him arranging delicate china cups with the same hands that had brought her such exquisite pleasure made her pulse quicken.
“Good morning,” she said softly, suddenly shy in a way that felt both new and ancient.
Edgar turned, and the warmth that flooded his eyes made her breath catch. “Good morning, my darling.” He crossed to her in two strides, cupping her face with gentle reverence before pressing a tender kiss to her lips—soft, sweet, full of promise. “I trust you slept well?”
“Eventually,” she murmured against his mouth, earning a low chuckle that vibrated through his chest where her palms rested.
“Minx,” he whispered, then guided her to the small table he’d set by the window. Morning light caught the steam rising from fresh tea, and she noticed he’d arranged everything with careful attention—her favorite cup, toast cut precisely, even a small vase with roses from the garden.
“You needn’t wait on me,” she protested gently as he moved to pour her tea.
Edgar’s eyes warmed. “I sent Thompson and Mrs. Davies to market this morning. I thought… after last night… you might appreciate the solitude.” His voice dropped to that intimate register. “I wanted our first morning to be ours alone.”
They settled into an intimate breakfast, knees occasionally brushing beneath the table, fingers lingering when he passed her the honey. The comfortable domesticity felt precious, like something stolen from a life she’d never dared dream possible. That Edgar had thought to dismiss his servants for the morning, giving them this private sanctuary, only deepened the intimacy of sharing this breakfast.
“Elisha,” Edgar began after they’d shared several minutes of companionable silence, his voice carrying a particular note that made her look up from her tea. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
The serious tone sent a flutter of unease through her chest. “Oh?”
Edgar reached across the small table to cover her hand with his. “I believe it’s time for you to meet my family.”
The words hit her like cold water, washing away the warm intimacy of the morning. Her teacup rattled against its saucer as she set it down with trembling fingers. “Your family? Edgar, surely it’s too soonfor such a step.”
“Hm, do you think so?” His thumb traced soothing circles on her wrist, the same gentle touch that had worshipped her body in the darkness. “After last night, after everything we’ve shared, can you truly say it’s too soon?”
Heat flooded her cheeks at the reference to their intimacy, but beneath the embarrassment lay a deeper fear. “But what if they disapprove? What if they see what I am—where I come from—and find me wanting?”
Edgar lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to her knuckles. “Elisha, my sweet, brave girl. You have exceeded every expectation I’ve ever had. My family will see in you what I see—a woman of incomparable intelligence, grace, and passion.”
She pulled her hand free to worry at the fabric of her shawl. “They’ll see a workhouse foundling presuming to reach above her station.”
“They’ll see the woman I love,” Edgar said firmly, rising to kneel beside her chair. His hands framed her face, forcing her to meet his earnest gaze. “The woman who has challenged my thinking, opened my heart, and changed the very course of my life. They’ll see my choice, and they’ll respect it because they love me.”
The vulnerability in his voice, the absolute conviction, made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
“I propose we depart today and try the arrangement for a night or two. If you find it too disagreeable, we shall return at once and spend our time here in perfect contentment—just the two of us—until your novel is complete.” His voice then dropped to that intimate register that seemed to bypass her ears and speak directly to her heart. “My estate in Kent awaits us, and with it, the chance to secure our future. Your identity as Miss Lovelace may soon become public knowledge with your wager coming to a close in a fortnight. We can speak to my family about using your notoriety to our advantage, ensuring youbecome the most sought-after dinner guest in London rather than a scandal to be whispered about.”
The practical wisdom of his words couldn’t quite overcome her terror, but she recognized the logic in them. Their secret world couldn’t last forever. Eventually, they would have to step into the light and face society’s judgment.
“Can we not have just a little longer?” she whispered, her fingers finding his where they rested against her cheek. “Just a few more days of this—of being simply Edgar and Elisha, without titles or expectations or the weight of centuries pressing down upon us?”
