He kissed her.
It was not hurried. It was not demanding. It was careful and reverent and devastating all at once. She made a small sound against his mouth that unraveled what little restraint he had left.
He reached around her, her body fitting perfectly in his hands, and lifted. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, as her hands pawed through his hair and she kissed him back.
James knew they would not make it to the bed chambers, so he simply turned around and placed her on the table, as he remained standing. His fingers gently worked their way up to trace the curve of her jaw, his touch sending a shiver through her that only drove him madder with want. He suddenly wanted to see all the ways he could make her shiver.
Eleanor's breath hitched, her body betraying her as she leaned into his touch. “James,” she protested weakly, even as her body ached for his.
James smiled, his fingers trailing down her neck, his thumb brushing over her collarbone. “Trust me.”
His hand continued its journey, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the lace bra beneath. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, exploring, tasting. Eleanor moaned, her body melting into his.
His hands were everywhere, his fingers slowly unlacing the front of her dress, his other hand sliding down and slipping under the hem of her skirt. Eleanor gasped, her body arching into his touch as he kissed her deeply. Her sighs raked through him.
James’s fingers found her arousal easily, and he caressed her softly. He groaned, his mouth breaking away from hers. “This is mine,” he murmured, his fingers continuing their exploration.
Eleanor’s head fell back, her eyes closed, her body focused solely on the sensations James was evoking. His fingers were gentle, probing, and driving her wild. He could feel her body building, tensing, as her breaths came in short, sharp gasps.
His mouth found her breast, then, his tongue lapping at her nipple, his fingers continuing their relentless exploration of his wife. Eleanor cried out, her body convulsing as desire crashed over her, her juices flowing freely.
James did not stop, his fingers continuing to pulse into her, his mouth moving to her other breast, his tongue teasing, tasting, driving her wild. He wanted more. He wanted them all. Eleanor’s body was writhing beneath his touch.
James’s mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing a path down her stomach, his fingers still working her. He reached her sweet nectar, his tongue lapping at her juices, his fingers slipping out of her at a punishing rhythm, his thumb taking their place, rubbing slow circles over her apex.
Eleanor’s body bucked, her hands gripping the edge of the table, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. James’s tongue delved into her, his tongue coaxing her climax, his thumb continuing to rub her, his other hand gripping her thigh, holding her in place.
He did not stop.
Her body was a quivering mess, and James’s mouth moved back up her body, his lips capturing hers, his tongue diving into her mouth, sharing her taste with her.
For a long moment afterward, neither of them spoke.
Eleanor remained where she was, her hand resting against his chest as if grounding herself, her breathing slowly evening out. James watched her face, searching for regret, for distance, for anything that would tell him he had misjudged the moment.
Instead, she looked thoughtful. Soft. Undone in a way that felt dangerously intimate.
“This,” she said quietly, “changes things.”
“Yes,” James replied.
Her eyes lifted to his. “It means I will not be so easily dismissed again.”
He nodded once. “Nor should you be.”
She studied him, then smiled faintly. “Good.”
The word settled between them, heavy with promise and warning both. And James’s mouth curved, “Am I forgiven now, wife?”
Eleanor’s cheeks were still flushed, her eyes bright, “That was highly unfair,” she said softly.
“Am I forgiven?”
She laughed. “Perhaps.”
She reached for her cup again, then paused. “Was that meant to distract me?”
“It served a few purposes,” he admitted.
