Her hips began to lift, seeking him, and he gave her more—easing a finger inside her, slow and careful, waiting for her body to take him in. His cock throbbed painfully, his mind flashing with images of what it would feel like to be inside her, to sink deep into that tight, clenching heat. He shoved the urge away. Olive first.
But lust had its own ideas. Almost without thought, he slid his fingers free and brought them to his lips, sucking her taste into his mouth. His eyelids fluttered half-shut, savoring. “Christ,” he groaned. “You taste like heaven.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch. She leaned closer, watching with fascination as he did it again. This time, he let out a low moan, and she shivered at the sound.
“Look at what you do to me,” he rasped, gesturing to the straining bulge in his pants. “Touching you, tasting you…it sets me on fire.”
She stared at him with wide eyes. “I’m on fire, too.”
His cock—and his heart—ached at her sweet, brave confession. Words, it appeared, worked on him, too. He dove back inside her drawers, pressing his finger inside her pussy, stroking her clitoris with his thumb until she was gasping, shuddering.
She clutched the blanket up over her face, muffling her cries.
“No,” he said, panting, desperation coating his voice. “Don’t hide, min käraste. Not when your pleasure is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her pussy squeezed his finger, and he knew she’d heard him. Knew she’d felt his words, down deep inside. She lowered the blanket slowly, a sheen of sweat on her temple, and smiled bashfully.
“You’re so brave,” he rasped, finding a rhythm that made her gasp and quiver. “So beautiful and brave.”
“I—I—” She broke apart on his hand, her body shuddering.
The sight of her coming, the feel of her gripping his finger, the sound of her moans—his control shredded. His other hand yanked at his buttons, desperation overriding finesse. His cock sprang free, and before he could stop it, before he could even think, release ripped through him.
Ropes of seed spilled over his fist, hot and sudden. He stared down at himself, stunned.
Christ. He’d never lost control like that. Never come so quickly. Not without her even touching him.
What the hell?
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Olive pushed to a seated position, flushed and blinking as though she’d surfaced from a dream. “Was that… normal?”
Emil groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Not for me.”
Her laughter bubbled, light and sweet, and he was powerless against it. It made him want to haul her against his chest, tuck her under his chin, and forget every rule he’d ever made about never cuddling after pleasure. Just this once. Just with Olive. He shifted, reaching for her?—
“It’s getting late.” She leaned over to retrieve her discarded garters. “I’d better freshen up and head home. I don’t want Mama to worry.”
His arm fell across the back of the sofa. “Of course. I’ll walk you to the streetcar.”
“Thank you, that would be nice.” She stood, swishing her skirts into place, and then walked toward the bathroom.
Emil remained seated, needing a moment to calm the churning in his chest.
He’d been prepared to break his own rule.
What in God’s name was happening to him?
Chapter 19
Apparently, bringing a girl home to meet the family was nothing short of miraculous. Emil had barely ushered Olive over the threshold when he was summarily shoved aside.
“Welcome, welcome!” his mother cried, her face enthused with the sort of joy usually reserved for weddings and babies. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Becket. Just wonderful.”
“Let me take your coat,” Astrid added, already tugging at Olive’s collar.
“Thank you, I—” The rest of Olive’s reply was muffled as her knit scarf tangled around her face in Astrid’s haste.
Good God. They were going to terrify her with their exuberance.
