He began to move, his strokes slow and deep, just as she liked. He was hitting places inside her that made stars burst behind her closed eyes, as if he was made for her. Eliza wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building impossibly higher.
“Touch yourself,” Morgan commanded, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come apart around me.”
Eliza’s hand moved between their bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves he had just savored. The added sensation combined with Morgan’s thrusts was too much, too intense. She shattered then, her body clenching around him. Morgan followed moments later with a groan, his release pulsing inside her, hot and hard. They collapsed together, breathing ragged. Morgan carefully removed the blindfold, and Eliza blinked up at him, her vision adjusting to the candlelight.
“That was… Well, that was…” she struggled for words. “I didn’t know it could be like that. Every time you show me more and more.”
“We’re just getting started, darling.” Morgan kissed her softly. “There’s so much more I want to show you. But slowly. We have all the time in the world.”
He gathered her close, and they lay tangled together, sated and content.
“Thank you,” Eliza whispered. “For being patient with me. For making me feel safe enough to explore.”
“Always,” Morgan promised. “I’ll always make sure you feel safe. That’s my promise to you.”
The nightmare woke Eliza sometime past midnight. She sat up with a gasp, her heart racing, the images still vivid behind her closed eyelids.
Abigail falling. Whitfield’s cold smile. My parents’ indifferent faces.
“Eliza?” Morgan’s voice was thick with sleep. He sat up beside her, his hand finding hers in the darkness. “What’s wrong, darling?”
“Just a dream. I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t apologize.” He pulled her close, and she went willingly, pressing her face against his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It was about Abigail.”
“Oh dear.”
“About the night she died.”
Morgan was quiet for a moment, just holding her.
“Tell me more of what happened. That night. Tell me every detail you can recall. Let me help you.”
“She told me he’d threatened her,” Eliza said, her voice breaking. “Said that if she didn’t give him an heir soon, he’d make her regret it. And then… then she said she needed to go find him, to try to calm him down before his mood got worse. That was the last time I saw her alive.”
“God, Eliza.”
“I should have stopped her. I should have done something!”
“No.” Morgan’s voice was firm. “This wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.”
They lay in silence for a while, Morgan’s hand stroking her hair.
“Can I tell you something?” Morgan said finally. “Something I’ve never told anyone.”
Eliza pulled back to look at him. “Of course.”
Morgan took a breath. “You mentioned Cecilia. That night when I was drunk.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to.” His jaw tightened. “I was in love with her. Or I thought I was, at least. We courted for nearly two years. I was planning to propose, had the ring commissioned, had even spoken to her father…”
“Morgan, I’m so sorry. That must have been so painful.”
“I was devastated. Humiliated. Everyone knew I’d been planning to propose, at a party no less. The gossip was brutal.” He laughed bitterly. “For months afterward, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. Why I hadn’t been enough.”
