“Your disdain for Mr Whiskers! What prejudice do you hold against cats?”
“Their attitudes. They lack obedience and humility, and the way they make eye contact, with such impertinence. It raises my ire.”
“Yes, cats are full of unapologetic confidence—which is personally what I adore! Though I now understand why you react in such a way to Mr Whiskers. You are unyielding when it comes to your views, your needs, and your wants, and luckily for you, you can be.”
Maribel lowered her head to daintily sniff the steamed mackerel emitting the scent of fennel and mint and smiled.
“This smells divine.”
“You are right, Maribel. I am unyielding. My wants, my needs. And what I need and want right now—is you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maribel’s breath caught in her throat, and the satisfied look in Thomas’s eye told her he had heard the hitch. The room was silent except for the sound of her own blood pulsating through her body. It seemed to echo, almost deafening, as her desire overcame her. He stood and moved towards her. It was only a few steps, and she had no time to form a coherent thought.
“Maribel,” he whispered gruffly, crooking his finger at her, “stand up and follow me.”.
She stood and moved towards him, obeying the demand as he led her inevitably to his bedroom. The sensible, educated lady in her was telling her to stop and walk the other way. But Maribel did not want to hear that voice. She wanted to be reckless and foolish and feel passion that might otherwise be never known to.
They crossed the threshold and stood face to face, the top of her head came to his chin, and she looked up to meet eyes darkened with lust. He reached to cup her cheeks—the pressure gentle but firm as he held her jaw.
“I am tired of keeping distance between us. Pretending there is not this inferno burning between us. I need to kiss you, to touch you. I need to be inside you, Maribel.”
His voice was ragged as his words crashed down on her like heavy raindrops, titillating her senses. Instinctively, she rose to her toes as he lowered his mouth to capture her lips. This kiss was different from the previous ones shared. The pressure was deep and full of intention as he explored each pillow, pushing them apart so his tongue now controlled every pleasured nerve in her body. Her pulse was racing, at the base of her neck, in her chest, and at the core between her legs. Maribel threw her arms around his neck, not only to steady herself, but to surrender all that she was to him. A throaty growl escaped him at her acquiescence. Thomas scooped her up and carried her to the rug by the fire, gently placing her down.
He began to undress, the light of the flame revealing his muscular chest, dusted with hair that unleashed a primal urge to run her hands through it.
“Undress yourself, Maribel. I want you naked and laying back on that rug.” She instantly obeyed at the dominance in his tone and began to unbutton her shirt, her fingers fumbling at the buttons. He watched her as he continued with slipping off his shoes and removing his pants.
In this moment, Maribel lost any decorum she had prided herself in as she cast her gaze straight to his manhood. It was hard and upright and, in its own way, a thing of natural beauty. She marvelled at the form. Maribel wanted to touch it, and Thomas was standing there with his legs parted, his devilish smile inviting her to follow her instinct.
“You are one with the devil tonight, Thomas. You are making me wanton.”
Unsure of what to do, she crawled over so she was on her knees in front of him and stroked his manhood gently before taking it in hand. It was thick and soft, firm and hard, and it made no real sense except that, in all its glory, it was magnificent. Emboldened, Maribel ran her hands up and down the shaft, rubbing more firmly when she heard him moan, and tasting him with her tongue, which made him swear.
“Enough playing and teasing, Maribel. I want you to get back down on the carpet, on your back.”
Part of Maribel was slightly insulted at the subservient position she was to assume, but the rest of her was still excited. Thomas sat down beside her and began to run his hands all over her body while he captured her lips in a soul-shattering kiss. He stroked his tongue against her own with such sensuality that moisture began pooling between her legs. Like he had read her mind, his fingers moved to her aching core, the strokes of his tongue and fingers now in unison. Her body was a bundle of nerves, and they all screamed for pleasure. Thomas laid back and pulled Maribel atop of him so she straddled him, giving him a full view of her upper body. Maribel tried to cover her breasts, but he held her hands apart.
“Do not hide yourself from me, Maribel. Your breasts are big and beautiful, and your nipples—I love the honey-hued areolas surrounding them.”
He was massaging them as he complimented her, and her nipples were rock-hard under the praise. Maribel was becoming restless with all the sweet torture, and she knew Thomas was enjoying every moment of control he had over her.
“Maribel, do you want me to suck your nipples?
“Yes, Your Grace—no, no, Thomas, Your Grace?—"
“Yes, Thomas, I want you to suck my nipples,” he coached her.
She was frustrated by her weakness and the loss of the power. She wanted to be ravished by him, and she quickly echoed his words.
Thomas filled his hands with her breasts and sighed.
“They are perfect, Maribel, a perfect pair,” he told her in a lazy drawl.
She tried to respond, but only a gasp escaped her mouth at the exquisite sensation of her nipple being sucked on. She moaned deeply and rolled her head from side to side. Thomas suckled and, to her pleasant surprise, bit them into such a frenzy she felt her own wet arousal dripping down her legs. Being of the one mind, he began to trail his hand up towards her center, which was now desperate for his attention.
“Maribel, you are so wet and ready for me.”
