Page 34 of Blackthorn

“Yes,” she said, unable to explain the pangs of disappointment she felt. Draven was controlled. Safe. Not a wild, hungry fiend. “It only seems fair.”

With his hands still on her thighs, Draven pulled himself up until he loomed over her, and leaned in until their noses nearly touched. There it was, the flicker of the monster in his eyes.

Charlotte gulped.

“Never let it be said that I ignored a lady’s request.” He pushed himself to his feet. His tone was imperious, but his grin was sinful.

Charlotte sat upright, tucking her legs up alongside herself, as she watched him remove his coat, carefully fold, and drape it over the back of a nearby chair. The coat’s cut was not the most modern, too long and unfitted, in the style popular thirty years ago, and Charlotte could not believe that the most gorgeous being she’d ever seen was undressing in front of her and she was thinking about fashion.

The firelight warmed the stark white of the cotton shirt and picked out the golden threads of his waistcoat. That item quickly joined the coat. His gaze never left her as he undid the buttons on the shirt’s cuffs, then the buttons on the front. Each small movement of his thumb and forefinger exposed more and more skin. Soon—but not soon enough for her liking—the shirt was gone. He crouched down to remove his boots.

He stood before her, astonishing with his sharp and dangerous beauty that was impossible not to notice. Firelight gave a soft golden glow to his otherwise pale skin. His hair hung well past his shoulders. A prominent bulge at the front of his trousers stole her attention.

“And the trousers,” she said, absolutely burning to see the bulge.

“Those stay on.” He stalked forward until his legs bumped into the edge of the bed frame. He planted his hands on either side of her and leaned in. He kissed the tip of her nose in an oddly intimate gesture, like they were familiar lovers and not two veritable strangers driven by lust. “Just for tonight. I don’t trust myself to resist all this temptation.”

He climbed into the bed, settled with his back against the headboard, and arranged her to lay against him with her back to his chest. His skin was cool to the touch, causing her to tense. He pushed her hair to one side, exposing her neck, and peppered her with kisses there.

“Comfortable?” he asked, murmuring in her ear.

“Yes.”

She relaxed into his hold. He caressed and squeezed her, appreciating the shape of her. His hands stroked her thighs, particularly the top of her stockings.

“Now, my sweet bunny, show me how you touch yourself,” he said, positioning her thighs so they draped over his own.

Charlotte was open and exposed like she had never been before.

“Take your time, sweetness,” he said, one finger stroking the length of her neck. Soon he had her breasts in his hands, gently cupping and brushing his thumb over her nipples.

“I’m not sure—”

“Let me help you.”

He guided her hand down her stomach until she cupped the apex of her thighs. Her curls were damp, and her folds parted easily for herself. She gave herself a lazy stroke, his hand hovering just over hers.

Somehow this was easier without Draven looking directly at her. Yes, he peered over her shoulder, but she doubted he could see much over the swell of her breasts or the bulk of her belly. Other than the unusual pillow behind her, this was no different from all the other times she had explored and pleasured herself. Soon she fell into a familiar rhythm, circling the sensitive nub and plunging a finger into herself. Her hips lifted and her thighs trembled, wanting to squeeze together. His strong hands kept them open.

Charlotte pushed against the solid bulk of him, her head falling back against his shoulder. He pressed his face into her hair, whispering encouragement. How sweet she looked. How delicious the little noises she made were. How he couldn’t wait to taste her, to feast on her.

Warm, tingling pleasure spread throughout her. She chased the sensation as the intensity ratcheted up. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. He was cold behind her, making her skin pebble, and she wanted his hands everywhere. She pushed against him, feeling his hard member press against her bottom. Her thighs trembled, and she lifted her hips, so close to release. She needed more, and she needed it harder. She cried in frustration, on the edge.

His hand covered hers, pushing down for extra friction.

Charlotte gasped, her body all at once quaking and a warm, boneless mess. She sagged against him, grateful for the coolness of him against her overheated skin.

Draven lifted her hand and licked her fingers. He groaned like it was the best flavor he’d ever experienced. Not it. Her. Like she was the best.

“Aren’t I poisonous?” she asked.

He hummed in agreement, his tongue swiping across his lips. “A little taste won’t kill me, and I rather enjoy the tingle.”

“What about you? Should I—” Charlotte twisted in place. She might not be terribly experienced, but to only see to her pleasure and ignore his seemed frightfully rude. Manners mattered.

“Sweetness, you are a temptress.” He removed her spectacles and set them on the bedside table. “I can wait. Try to sleep. You’ve had a busy few days.”

“Will you stay?” she asked. While there were a great many things she had not experienced in life, sharing a bed was the one she longed for the most.

---