His mouth found the curve of her neck – not kissing, not yet, just the heat of his lips against her pulse point, and she felt it everywhere, a warm current that ran from her throat to the backs of her knees.
“Thomas –” The word came out unsteady.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, “And I will.”
She didn't. She tipped her head back instead, giving him more of her throat, and his hands tightened at her waist, and she gripped the front of his waistcoat and decided that consequences were a problem that belonged to tomorrow.
His lips found hers hungrily, and the kiss weakened her further, eating away at every worrisome thought in her head. She could hardly breathe, her body overrun with need and desire.
Thomas had decided to take advantage of her bare state to the fullest, his hands sliding down her skin smoothly, grabbing at her buttocks, groping and feeling, before a hand came back to the front, to fondle at her breasts.
Jane gasped and arched into his touch, tightening her grip on him when he lifted her suddenly and placed her onto the table, just at the edge it. He continued to kiss her as he pressed closer, gently pushing her legs apart so he could stand between them.
His hands were at her breasts again, squeezing and pinching her nipples and when his mouth came to wrap around one of them, she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep herself from moaning loudly.
Her reaction seemed to amuse Thomas greatly, because he smirked, leaning down to bite at her nipple, not hard enough to hurt, only to stun her and flood her mind with clouds of need.
“Thomas,” Jane gasped, unable to ignore the growing moist heat between her legs. “Thomas, please – I n-need more.”
“I know, darling. I know,” he mumbled, guiding her backwards slowly so she could lay against the desk.
He kissed her again, his tongue dancing with hers intensely, and she moaned into his mouth, curling her hands together behind his neck. Thomas mumbled something she not quite get against her lips and then, he took her hand and put it on his head, smirking up at her as he sank lower and lower.
Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, and by the time she realized what he was doing, he was already lapping at the wetness between her legs. She squirmed, her body moving away from the overwhelming sensations instinctively, but Thomas held her down with a hand on her hip, the other pushing away one of her thighs so he would have better access to her.
Jane writhed beneath him in pleasure, gasping as his tongue explored her most secret place, working at her nub intensely until she was certain she had begun to see sparks in the air.
“Thomas –” she whined weakly, tightening her grip on his hair.
He hummed, still licking and sucking at her center, pulling her closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. Jane was trying not to let herself unravel, fighting to hold herself together at all costs.
But then he reached up and gripped at her breast and stuck his tongue past her folds, as far as he could reach and she felt her body recoil and break, wrought with waves and waves of pleasure.
She gasped and moaned, relieved to notice his lips on hers when she did, sharing the taste of herself on his tongue. He kissed Jane over and over until she had gotten back her air of calm.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her cheek gently.
Jane was still vaguely aware of the dangers that lingered at the edge of this bubble they were in, but she decided to ignore them, and burrow deeper into his arms.
At least there, she knew she was safe. If only for the moment.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Oh, darling, that’s was a good try, but it is not quite right,” Jane told Reuben softly, gently nudging his hands aside.
The kitchen smelled of warm butter and yeast and the particular sweetness of vanilla that clung to everything when the cook had been baking since early morning. Jane had always loved that smell. It lived in the oldest part of her memories – images of her mother's kitchen, flour-pale countertops, the sound of a wooden spoon against earthenware.
Of course, that was long her mother had warped into someone she didn’t recognize – a woman utterly devoid of motherly instincts because she had traded them to become agreeable with her husband. long before it had become a sport for her parents, demanding more and more from her, punishing her when she failed.
The pain remained, even years later, even though she was no far away from them, but still, ever so often, she would crave thesmell of warm biscuits and long for her mother’s gentle voice, guiding her with precise instructions.
She pushed the thought away. That was not why she was here.
Jane had relegated herself to the kitchens because she needed to not think about Thomas, for a while, and as it turned out, Reuben was an excellent remedy for that particular ailment.
In a bid to run from what was gradually becoming a serious problem, she had thought of an activity that would require manual work and focus. Moments after an idea had surfaced in her mind, she was at Reuben’s room, smiling as she asked him if he would like to spend the afternoon doing something fun with her.
Now, the child stood beside her at the long kitchen worktop, a linen apron three sizes too large tied twice around his middle, his dark curls already dusted at the temples with flour. He watched her hands with total concentration as she demonstrated how to press the dough flat with her palm.
