She could only let out sounds of agreement. In this moment, she would let him do anything.
“Good,” he said and then positioned himself between her legs. “I will make it up to you. You will take me so well—I know it.”
Before Rachel could even comprehend what he meant, he thrust inside of her.
“Oh my God—”The moan that ripped out of her mouth was loud.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “You look so sweet, taking all of me.”
Sweet was not the word to describe it. Rachel was sweating, mouth open, and desperate.
She wanted more of him.
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Rachel thought she saw something fragile in his gaze.
Could it be love?
“Good girl.”
Hearing him moan like that made her lose her train of thought entirely, and then all she could think about was how to get him to do that again.
“Faster,” she said as though it was an instinct. “I want you to…”
“Demanding little duchess,” he said, but he gave her what she wanted.
His pace quickened, his movements more urgent. The bed frame creaked beneath them, and Rachel could barely think. Her fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him down for another kiss.
“You fit me like I was made for you.”
“I was,” she replied, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I was?—”
There was a small pause then, but when Simon resumed, he went even deeper than before.
His thrusts turned rough, and one of his hands yanked at her hair. She had never known pleasure like this—that pain could feel so good.
“You like it just like this,” he observed. “You want me to devour you.”
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she felt pleasure building between her legs. A cry escaped her lips as she came.
“You look so good,” he groaned. “A perfect little thing.”
Pleasure tore through her, her body arching into him as she cried out his name.
“Simon, Simon, Sim?—”
Simon followed moments later, his grip tightening as he lost himself in her.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing until Simon pulled out of her and lay by her side.
“Simon—”
He had already turned onto his back, his body tense, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“Stay,” she whispered, barely audible. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone tonight.”
She knew the pattern by now—the way he would pull away, distancing himself. But tonight, she wasn’t sure if she could endure it again.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was still fighting himself, she could see it, but finally, he exhaled sharply, as if giving in.
