Atticus padded over to the rug near the fire, and he settled down to sleep just as Cassian gravitated to his bed. Resting the cup on the end table, he sat up against the headboard and considered the situation he was in.
He cared for Cecilia.
He felt protective of her.
He desired her deeply. He wanted her—but he knew he could not have her. Not the way he wanted.
“And she still has not told me what she wants me to do to her,” he muttered while reposing on the pillows.
Without the fog and smoke that always seemed to blanket London, clear moonlight streamed through a part in the curtains and caused shadows to frolic on the ceiling.
Between the brisk wind fluttering through the room and the drugging effects of the brandy, he was falling asleep—but then his door pushed open.
Hazily, he peeled his eyes open and spotted Cecilia, lingering at his doorway. She was clad in a frilly white wrapper, over a gossamer silk nightrail, and her hair was pinned away from her face.
He did not say a word as she came closer, then wordlessly lifted the covers so she could slip in beside him. He turned his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She worried her bottom lip, “No. And I cannot stop worrying that I did something wrong tonight.”
Cassian rolled his neck. “What could you possibly have done wrong?”
Cecilia turned on her side and brazenly slid a leg up his to rest her knee just under his manhood. “When you kissed me in the carriage, I felt you. You were just as aroused as I was.”
He did not move. “Did you expect more?”
“Yes,” she admitted quietly.
He lifted a brow, “What did you want, Cecilia?”
Lifting on an elbow, she said, “I want to pleasure you how you have pleasured me.”
Mirroring her pose, Cassian grabbed under her knee and pulled her leg higher to hook over his waist. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
She kissed him, and instantly, he rolled onto his back so she straddled him. He plucked the pins out of her hair and buried his hands in her locks as the kiss went on.
The kiss grew blistering, and the lingering lethargy Cassian had felt earlier evaporated like water under a hot sun. Her soft body resting on his stirred fire into his blood, hardened his arousal, and made a haze of lust settle in his head.
He pulled away, “If you want to pleasure me, kissing is not what I want.”
She licked her swollen lips, “What do you want?”
Reaching for her, he coasted his thumb over her mouth, then pressed his thumb on her bottom lip. “I want your mouth on me, Cecilia.”
He saw the moment his words connected. She pinked, “I—I wouldn’t know the first thing on how to do that.”
“Don’t worry,” his lip curved while he took her right hand and gently laid it on his cock, smiling with her lips parted in shock. “I’ll show you.”
Her fingers curved over him, and he barely held back a groan. He slid her hand beneath the waist of his trousers and guided her hand around his thickening arousal. Her thumb ran over his sensitive crown, and he hissed.
Quickly, he removed the trousers and sat back on the headboards and pillows, barely hiding his smirk at how Cecilia could not take her eyes off his length.
“Come here,” he took her hand and folded her fingers firmly around his turgid shaft. Slowly, he showed her how to stroke him. “Here. “Likethis,” he muttered.
She knelt between his knees and followed his tactile instructions on how to touch him, following the pace and pressure he liked.
His head met the headboard, and he watched the slow pump of her fist along the thick and veiny shaft. Pleasure spiked up his spine as his hand cupped her jaw and their mouths collided in a hot, hungry tangle of tongues.
Cassian pulled away and stopped her hand, “It’s time for your mouth, sweetheart. You are going to learn to take me in your mouth. And there are some things to keep in mind.”
