Page 34 of Blueprints, Battlelines and Ballrooms (Tales from Honeysuckle Street #4)

He pulled back the blankets. She steadied herself against him as she slipped beneath them. He joined her, and the warmth from their naked bodies bled into the sheets. Johannes, always so aware of the space he occupied, adjusted to hook around her. He propped himself on one elbow.

‘Don’t think about me. Just tell me what makes you feel better and what doesn’t.’

Tension wove its familiar tendrils along her spine, and the familiar sequence of pinching and pain pressed the tips of its claws into her.

‘I won’t make any demands,’ he crooned. ‘But you need to trust me. Not just now. For always.’

Trust… trust what part of him? Where could she begin?

Trust his fidelity not to break, his body not to hurt her, his patience to never wane?

He smiled his slow, easy grin. The same smile he had shown her since the first day.

She took a steadying breath. What could he want from her?

Nothing, because she had nothing to offer.

So why would he lie? She relaxed a little and sank into the pillows.

Johannes sucked a nipple into his mouth.

A rumble from him and a groan from her collided to fill the room. He flicked his tongue over the point.

‘I want you to remember. To always, always remember…’ His mouth travelled the breadth of her, her clavicle, her other nipple, the flesh of her breast, the curve of her ribs.

‘That kissing you is its own reward. That tasting your skin is a pleasure unto itself. That touching you, having you for my own, learning you, is enough. Release that worry. You are enough.’

He stroked the length of her slit with confidence.

Another moan, and Florence allowed herself to melt a little more.

Those tender, torturous fingers of his… he circled until she groaned, until she dissolved into nothing but his touch, his breath, his body.

She relaxed into his promise, held it, and found it as strong as stone.

And when she widened her thighs, he slid his fingers inside her.

Unravelling and selfish, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him through each needy, throaty moan.

‘More words,’ she gasped. ‘I want the naughty words again.’

‘I like having my fingers in your cunt,’ he growled.

‘You are so wet, and you taste like paradise.’ And he pulled out, sucked the tip of his finger, circled her nub, then slipped inside her again.

‘I will fuck you with my fingers or my tongue or any way you like. Whatever you need. From now until forever.’

He pushed back the blankets, and the hot, humid air of their coupling clung to the space around them.

Johannes began to pump at his cock with his free hand, and sweet heavens, he was all that was debauched and glorious in the world.

He really was beautiful, as if he was driven to madness not just bored satisfaction, as if he sank into wanton derangement with her.

He pushed in deeper, rubbed his thumb over her nub as he caressed her with his steady control.

Panting, she opened as wide as she could before her knee caught, and with a moan built from tomorrows, she let the beauty of him catch her and draw her into its everything.

Her good hand clawed the sheets. There was nothing but how wonderful this felt, and the pleasure crashed against her, inside her, loud and roaring.

He watched her intently, then licked his lips like a famished man.

She gloried in his hard stare, his parted lips, and his throaty gasps.

He saw her—saw the distorted, messy, broken her, and did not look away.

She licked her finger and rubbed it over her nipple, just to see what he would do.

He moaned as he watched her, his fingers twisting and curling inside her.

Johannes grunted. ‘Yes,’ he groaned. ‘Let me feel your release. Come for me.’

She collapsed and let pleasure melt through her.

Soft like an echo, it glowed and grew. Hers, he was all hers.

She raked her nails over his chest, and when he bent down enough to kiss her, she held him there, thrusting against his hand as little pieces of heaven filled her body.

His seed dripped warm and oozing onto her stomach as he grunted her name.

‘Louder,’ she demanded.

‘Fuck, Florence. Fuck my fingers. You feel so damn good.’

He stopped working himself as she writhed through the last of her crisis before she slackened with a satisfied sigh. Then he slipped his fingers from her.

‘That is so much better with you here,’ he mumbled, pushing back to sit on the side of the bed.

‘You imagine me? When you…’ She could not say why the thought of him fantasising about her as he saw to himself alone made her laugh, but it did. He leant forwards to pull a kerchief from the pocket of his discarded trousers.

‘Who else would I imagine?’ he asked, as he wiped at her stomach.

‘A million other women.’

‘I don’t want a million other women.’

‘Will you still think of me? Now you know what I look like?’

He lay down and stretched his warm naked length along her own. She rolled a little onto her side to face him.

‘I will find it hard to think of anything other than you licking your fingers and touching yourself like that,’ he said. ‘One day, will you let me watch you pleasure yourself? There is a memory I need to pack to take abroad.’

‘We may have to sneak around,’ she whispered. The thought sparked a burst of excitement. ‘If we are to keep meeting like this.’

‘It would be the worst kept secret in London.’ He laughed, kissed her, then stood.

Just as fast as he’d undressed, he put his clothes back on, and soon he was wearing trousers once more and tugging his shirt over his head.

‘I’ll find us a room on the ground floor.

I will send you a note with the name and room number.

Tonight? Please say we can do this again tonight. ’

Chatter, noise, and clicking boots floated up from the street.

‘I think our time is up. Do you need help to dress?’ he asked.

‘Just my chemise.’ Florence pushed herself up to sitting.

As gently as his unwrapping of her, Johannes levered the soft cotton over her head and waited patiently while she threaded her arms through the holes.

He tucked the blankets around her and kissed her.

Then he was gone. The door fell shut behind him, and as his feet clattered down the stairs, she settled into the comfort of her bed.

They had no plans beyond today.

No instructions. No protections. No fences.

He’d left her with nothing but his love.

And it was everything.