“It’s easy to fill such a tight little pussy. Roll your hips like this, love.” He directed her hips until she was doing it on her own, and his head dropped back against the carved throne. “That’s right, little moth. Ride my cock like a good girl.”
She cried out when he trapped her still-sensitive clit between his knuckles, locomotoring back and forth. Dipping his head, Silas sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, fulfilling the fantasy. Sucking her tits, rubbing her clit, all while she rides your cock. Nothing you ever do will ever be this satisfying ever again.
The ribbed ridges on his shaft were dragging over something within her, for Eleanor had begun to increase her speed, holding onto the back of the throne for leverage as she bounced. Silas gripped her hips, bringing her down firmly on his knot, an exquisite pressure that had him groaning as she bounced.
“That’s it, little moth. That’s just what I need. I’m going to fill you up.” He brought her down hard on his knot, once, twice — on the third time, his back arched and he surged up into her, his cock erupting. She was serpentining now, pupil outrunning teacher yet again, twisting her hip on him as his balls pulsed and his cock emptied, jerking and spurting within her.
“Does that feel good, my lord? Is that what you needed?”
By the time they were stepping through the side entrance he used when returning to the house each evening, his cock was spent and satisfied, bouncing soft against his thigh as he led her by the arm. His head was clear, and there was a bounce in his step, and her head lolled against his arm. It wasn’t until he was bowing to her, escorting her back to her hallway so that she could dress for their evening, that they remembered she had brought clothes to the rooftop, requested from one of the chambermaids.
Silas shrugged again, brazen in his Banyan. She was not his wife, but they were in his home, with no prying eyes to see how inappropriate the situation was. “I suppose we should try again tomorrow? I’ll see you in the dining room, little moth.”
A bounce in his step all the way back to his chambers, shedding his robe and flinging open the armoire. He always dressed well and was a preening peacock, according to his conservative brother, but he had the desire to look exceptionally handsome for her that night.
Last night was merely a misstep for them both. They would get back to that place of softness, he would make love to her every night she was here, and by the time he would send her off to her ball, she would be out of his system entirely. It was a perfect plan, and it was going to be a good night.
“Does your brother have plans to retire from his commission? Surely he has fulfilled his rank duty by now? Unless, of course, he has chosen this as his career?”
His brows drew together. He had no bloody idea what she was talking about. “Pardon, my dear, but . . . who’s retiring from what, exactly?”
She rolled her eyes as she smiled, shaking her head as if he were absolutely incorrigible, which he was. That, too, had become a familiar gesture. “For pity’s sake, you told me your brother was in the Navy! I was just wondering if —“
“Oh, he’s not in the Navy. Hasn’t been in years. Left as soon as our father died. As a matter of fact, I don’t actually know if he completed his commission or not. Not that it matters.”
Beside him, Eleanor blinked. They were strolling through the rose garden that evening, tight buds just beginning to show a hint of color behind their greenery. In another month or two would be a sweet-smelling oasis, and it saddened him to think that she would not see it in such a state.
“I-I don’t think I understand. When you said you haven’t seen him in years, you made it sound like . . . what is it that he does then?”
It was his turn to blink owlishly down at her. She raised an eyebrow, cocking her head expectantly, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. Whoever married Eleanor Eastwick would need to be prepared for her spark, for she did not back down easily, and although she was gracefully mannered, her tongue possessed a wicked barb.She’s going to wind up with some dour old curmudgeon who doesn’t deserve her sparkle.Silas chuckled uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Well, that’s. . . that’s a bit hard to describe, actually. Do you know of — you familiar with privateers, Miss Eastwick?”
She gasped beside him, hand raising her mouth, eyes as wide as saucers. “He’s a privateer?! Isn’t that horridly dangerous?”
“Well, no, see, he’s not actually a privateer. He is . . . keeping privateers gainfully employed, one might say?”
Silence reigned as she attempted to work out the puzzle of his words, stopping suddenly with another gasp, this time both hands rising to cover her mouth in horror. “A pirate?!” she squealed in disbelief. “But-but how?! He’s the son of the lord!”
“Bastard son,” Silas corrected with a shrug. “Tragic that it makes a difference, I suppose, but it does. At least in the peerage. I loved my mother deeply, but she was instrumental in ensuring that my brother had no birthright to speak of.”
“But how could your father allow that?”
He shrugged again, taking up her arm so that they could resume their walk. “Men do all manner of mad things under the influence of love, Miss Eastwick. Particularly if the future of your house rests upon her shoulders.”
She was quiet for a moment before another question occurred to her. “Forgive me, my lord, if this sounds terribly ignorant, but wouldn’t he be very heavy for a ship to carry? What if something happened in the day, if they took on water or were attacked? He would sink to the bottom of the sea!”
His laughter bounced off the stone arches surrounding the rose garden, echoing across the topiaries. “That is a fantastically troubling thought, Miss Eastwick. I shall have to ponder over that. In any case, it’s not an issue for Cadmus. His mother was human. He does not turn to stone.”
Her head raised sharply, meeting his eye. “So it is possible, then, for human and gargoyle to —“
“So it is, Miss Eastwick. So it is.”
“So if you were to have a child with a human” — her teeth trapped her lip for the space of a heartbeat as she gazed up at him — “they would not turn to stone? Would they inherit your title?”
Silas was concerned he was going to get a crick in his neck for the amount of shrugging he was doing that night. “Any child of mine born to my legal wife would inherit my title, regardless of the mother’s species. And no, they would not turn to stone if the mother were human.” He felt trapped in her gaze, a liquid, glossy prison he might normally be happy to live in, but at that moment, it felt particularly oppressive. “A true stone gargoyle requires two gargoyle parents and a very long birthing process. My sister will be hatching her egg any month now. She’s as big as the moon.”
Her laughter, unlike his, tinkled like a crystal bell around the open garden, golden and bright, swatting his arm with her reticule. “Oh, she isnot, you wretched man! She’sbeautiful. I can scarcely believe that you’re not twins. She said you both favor your mother . . . Wait, so she’s not going to give birth to a live baby? You hatched from anegg?“ She began to laugh again, attempting to disguise it with her gloved hand and doing a poor job. “Like a lizard?”
