Eventually, I pull back, tasting her still, and say, “As you wish. But I’m gonna need to know what Henderson was whispering in your ear last night.”
One dazed blink later, she tries to laugh off the question. “Charlie? The same thing as always—talking about himselfand his vape.” I quirk a brow. “You can’t expect me to remember everything he said.”
“Try.”
She exhales and shudders at the memory. “Somethingdomabout how I shouldn’t forget that a prince can’t give me what he can. The capital, apparently, makes men different than theydo here in Sheffolk. Weaker. That they dunno how to get their hands dirty the way ours do.”
Can’t believe how often I’m being dragged into cheap fantasies. We’ve barely spoken, and already Charlie’s putting my sexual viability to question. Now I see why he and Edmund are inseparable: they’ve both mistaken their pathos for importance.
“Did he now?” I reach one hand to the side to snap the burner off, and the flame dies with a soft breath.
“He was just being petty. He and Ed were probably trying to get a rise out of you through me—what are you doing?” I lift her onto the counter, and she gasps, a startled laugh slipping past her lips. “C’mon, his delusion’s funny if you think about it.”
“I don’twantto think about it,” I mutter. “Because Charlie’s mouth has given me a theory to disprove.”
Eyes wide, she swallows once before questioning, “So you’re going to… what, perform an experiment?”
“Yes, and you’re going to give me the results.”
Francesca’s saying something about me caring too much about what Charlie thinks, but I’m already grinning as my mouth meets hers. Everything beyond the space of this kitchen ceases to matter. Bare thighs part around my hips before tightening and trapping me against the warmth of her. I nearly die right there. The sounds she makes against my lips leave me completely undone, and I sink my fingers into her hair to angle the kiss just so.Fuck, she arches enough that I can feel the press of her nipples through thin fabric.
Her heels lock behind my thighs as I thrust my hips against hers, prompting her to whimper into the kiss. Tongue curling against hers, I rock again, drinking myself drunk on the way she breathes my name on a broken cry. Her fingers yank at my hair, and her entire body jolts when I rock forward andhold, pressing my want right where she needs it. As she mumbles against my lips, her breathy gasps drown out the words.
“What was that, hm?” I murmur, rutting another time, and Francesca pulls her mouth from mine to toss her head back as she bites down on another moan. “Say it again for me.”
Her eyes open at that—fuck, those pretty eyes—and the lake-water green has shifted into a forest at dusk. She looks at me like I’m something agonising to witness yet simultaneously the relief she needs. And then my gaze drops, noticing that her left hand’s no longer in my hair. It’s cupping one breast, kneading it, thumb brushing over her nipple in small circles as though she can’t bear whatever ache she feels.
An ache I’ve left her with.
The sight fucking guts me. I can’t stop looking. Can barely breathe.
“Is that where you want me?” I ask, my voice embarrassingly hoarse. She shudders upon feeling my cock twitch against her. It’s my turn to bite down on a groan when she tenses her thighs, holding me there. “Fuck, need me to take over for you, sweetheart? C’mon, show me what you need from me.”
Without any warning or preamble, she grasps the hem of her sweater and tugs it right over her head. It hits the floor somewhere behind me. Adopting the pace of a literal tortoise, my gaze decides to savour every bit of skin that it’s been blessed with: the indents of her waist, the swell of her perfect breasts, and then those pebbled nipples, darker than the soft brown of her skin.
This must be what it feels like, that urge to get down on your knees and pray. Bare is the evidence of her need for me, and it drags worship back to the forefront of my mind. My brain short circuits, and my palm is replacing hers before my neurons have even sent the command.
They fit into my hold too easily, too warm. With my thumb trailing over one peak, Francesca makes a soft, “Ah”, and I’m done for. I press again just to hear that sound, mentallyrecording it so I can play it inside my skull until I’ve breathed my last.
“Eric,more,” she begs, and I’m a slave to her every want. I roll the bud between two fingers, thinking how something this perfect could be surrendering to me, of all people.
Her fingers hook beneath my chin, tilting my head back until I’m staring at an image that’s so virtuously indecent it has my ribcage splintering against the pounding of my heart. “You said I should tell you what I want your mouth to do, and maybe you’d be willing to obey,” she whispers, voice teetering on the edge of bashfulness.
“Then tell me,” I plead. “Tell me, Francesca, and I’ll obey.”
She looks down at her chest, drawing confidence from her desire. “I want your mouth on me.”
Permission makes a pathetic fool of me, and I bow my head, taking a nipple into my mouth. I suck until I feel the pulse of her through it. “Eric,” she moans, fingers clawing at my hair again. “Don’t stop… please…”
As if I could.
My free hand cups the other breast, thumbing that nipple in the same rhythm as my tongue. She’s grinding against me again, biting down on every scream because there’s still another Sheffolk in this house right now. With my teeth grazing her flawlessly smooth skin, I take her nipple deeper. Francesca shudders at the slightest bite, and I mitigate the pain with wet, gentle kisses.
“God, Eric—” Her legs tighten, and she arches. She’s working herself towards release when all I’ve done is worship her chest. Perfect girl, so responsive, giving me everything with each sigh. “Right there. Please, more—just like that.”
I pull off with a wetpopand graze my mouth against the hinge of her jaw before she can even complain. “So fucking perfect,” I kiss the words into her skin. “Is that all it takes,Francesca? Are you going to come just from me tasting these perfect tits?”
Her answer is a whimper and a desperate nod. Black has eaten away at the green in her eyes, and with her lip caught between her teeth, she gives me a devastatingly greedy look that I can’t even think to deny her. I’m begging time to crawl instead of run because I’m alternating between two perfect swells of heat, and anything else I’ve got planned for the day pales in comparison. She tastes like soap, salt and the utter fucking ruination of my sanity. I eat as if this goddess herself just informed me that I’ve been eating the wrong food all my life and then extended an invitation to finally sate my hunger.
