“I need you,” she said, her voice sounding unfamiliar to even herself in its urgency. “More. Please.”
And he obliged her, teasing her with his fingers and making her arch into his hand. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
She reached out towards his cock and stroked it, drawing him nearer. His cock hovered just at her entrance. But he stopped.
“Is this what you want?” he said, his voice ragged. She could see in his eyes the depth of his hunger for her—and it gratified her. Immensely.
“Yes. Please.”
“Catherine,” he said, “I don’t want…You are upset—”
“Then make me feel better,” she said, knowing that it was the only thing that would work. Him, inside of her.
She reached up and kissed him with abandon. He groaned inside of her mouth. She took him in hand again and guided him towards her. When the head of his cock entered her, John let out another groan.
“You want me,” she said, as she opened her legs and eased him in further. “Say it.”
“You know I do.”
“Say it anyway,” she replied, giving him the smile she knew undid him.
“I want you,” he said, thrusting into her, “So much.” He was timing each thrust to his words. The shock of each hit her at the same moment. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Or anyone.”
With each thrust, he created a wave of pleasure that, when it crashed inside of her, seemed only to build further.
“I could be dead,” he said, pausing, holding back, “and still want you.” He entered her then, to the hilt, and she saw stars.
He stopped again. “Touch yourself,” he growled.
“I don’t understand,” she said, nearly delirious. He released her arse and drew her hand to her clit.
“Here,” he said, “Trust me.”
Catherine listened, stroking herself, and he was right—the pleasure was greater and she could feel her orgasm building inside of her. He began moving again, each push and pull tantalizing her and pushing her closer to the edge.
With one last torturing movement, she came apart, crying out, and she could feel herself clenching and unclenching on his cock, as if her core was trying to draw out his seed through sheer force.
A half moment later, he left her and, jerking back, spent on the coverlet beside them. She could tell, from his shout of surprise, that he had narrowly avoided the alternative.
They lay there, catching their breath, and Catherine shut her eyes, knowing he would soon leave.
Instead, he didn’t move. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her.
“Are you all right? I wasn’t sure…you said you wanted—”
She caught his hand. “I did.”
He still looked worried. “Catherine, about yesterday…”
She frowned, her heart beating. Here it is, she told herself. The explanation. His apology for mocking her with such an unrealistic possibility.
“I shouldn’t have told Mrs. Morrison that we were engaged without asking you.”
It wasn’t what she had expected him to say. How could he not understand?
“That wasn’t the part that I minded.”
He looked confused.
