Many men she had come across always acted as though the world owed them a great deal, trying to steal and bully people as they wished. Cecil might be arrogant and irritating, but as long as she had known him, he had never purposely hurt anyone. Andeven now, he sought to soothe her with kisses as his hand finally slid down to the moist heat between her legs.
It was rather jarring, feeling someone else touch her there, but once more, Cecil proved that he knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers worked expertly, smearing the wetness around her entrance before he dipped a finger through.
She shuddered and pressed a hand to her lips, fighting off a moan. He did not complain, simply kissed her cheeks and neck as his finger continued to lightly thrust in and out of her. It had been an almost overwhelming moment ago, but now she craved more. Her other hand tightened its grip on his shirt, pulling him closer, and he immediately understood what she needed, adding another finger.
He became a little fast after that, alternating between shallow thrusts and rubbing at the slippery nub. The knot that had formed within her gut grew tighter and tighter. It was getting harder to stay silent, harder to think when she was about to be drowned.
“You are all right,” he murmured. “I have you. Just breathe.”
“You keep saying that,” she managed with a gasp.
“You keep forgetting to do it,” he replied.
She would have laughed, were it not for the fact that laughter required a certain composure she was no longer in possession of.She pressed her lips together instead. Her hands tightened their hold on him as his ministrations grew in fervor.
“Cecil –” His name came out strange, higher than she intended.
“I know,” Cecil said, his voice teasing. “That is entirely the point.”
“I feel – I do not think I can –”
“You can.” His voice was absolutely certain. “You are doing wonderfully, Penelope. You only need to let it happen.”
Let it happen. As though it were as simple as opening a window. As though she were not currently suspended somewhere between panic and something that had no name, she knew of – something warm and expanding and terrifyingly pleasant.
She thought, distantly, that she was going to be furious about this later.
And then she stopped thinking, her mind going pleasantly blank.
The wave, when it arrived, was nothing like she had expected or experienced by herself and entirely like everything she had feared. It was brilliant and consuming and over too quickly, leaving her gasping quietly in the candlelight with her heart hammering against her ribs and Cecil's voice somewhere above her, saying something low and kind.
It took her a considerable moment to locate herself again.
The ceiling of the sunroom came back into focus. The soft glow of the candle. The distant sound of the wind outside. Cecil's face, watching her with an expression she would have spent a great deal of effort committing to memory, had she not been quite so thoroughly undone.
“There,” he said, his soft smile back where she had discovered she preferred it to be. “There you are.”
“Don't,” she said faintly.
“Don't what?”
“Look so insufferably pleased with yourself.”
He laughed, low and warm, and it did unspeakable things to the already precarious state of her composure.
“I assure you; I am not nearly as pleased with myself as the situation warrants.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair back from her face with the tips of his fingers. “How do you feel?”
Penelope considered several answers and settled on honesty. “Strange. Rather warm. And somewhat annoyed.”
“Annoyed at whom?”
She gave him a look that she hoped communicated the answer without requiring her to actually say it.
He kissed her then – deeply and briefly, one hand cradling the side of her face with a tenderness that was almost worse than everything that had come before it, because at least everything that had come before had been explicable. This was not. This felt like something she was not prepared to examine.
“You,” he said against her lips, “Are an excellent study. In no time at all, you will be quite the master of your own desires. Whether or not you choose to allow me the honor of being present for the education is, of course, entirely up to you.”
“Your modesty is staggering,” Penelope told him.
