But I’m encased in darkness, tormented by the sweet suffering of his slow, tender kiss, the gradual lick of his tongue over mine, the softness of his lips brushing over mine.
I melt.
All the clasped strands are free now.
Hair falls onto my shoulders, tickling me in the secrecy of the silent darkness.
And still, his kiss lingers.
Fingers thread through my hair, the gentle stroke of his thumb caressing me—but his other hand leaves my waist… it glides along the shape of my body, up the silk of the dress—
My breath hitches.
His hand grazes, a whisper of a touch, over my breast. But it passes over my pebbled nipple, then glides along the smooth skin of my neck.
Wainscotting digs into the bones of my back.
Ribs and spine aching, I arch into him just that bit more, a push for more.
I feel the curve of a faint smile against my lips.
He obliges.
The silk of his mouth leaves mine and travels along my jawline to the tickle of my neck, and that slashes a grin over my face.
My insides clench against the tickle, a laugh bubbling up in me.
The shape of his grin returns against my skin, and he traces it down the curve of my neck, until he nips on my collarbone—
The gasp is sharp through me.
My lashes flutter open with the startle, but already, he has abandoned my clavicle, and he goes further and further down.
His hands descend with him, dragging over the shape of my body as the pressure of his kissing warms my skin through the flimsy material of the dress.
The silk is sticking to me, ruched by his hands that grip onto me, then loosen, then grip, then loosen, like he needs to hold me in place as he drops to his knees—
And the heat of his mouth warms another part of me… but it doesn’t touch.
In the thick darkness of the corridor, my breaths heaving my chest, I pause.
And so does he.
On his knees, his hands are fisted in the flimsy silk of the dress, bunched up to my knickers.
But he can’t see the strip of silk.
Can’t see anything, just like me, like anyone who is awake in the academy right now.
Anyone could turn the corner.
Anyone could fumble through the blackness and collide with us.
The corridor suddenly feels like the most exposed place in the world.
I wonder if that’s what pauses him—
Oh.
