Page 35

“You react so beautifully,” he praised, cupping her face.

She tilted her face up to kiss him, but he pulled back with a low laugh.

“Now, here is what I wish to do. I want you to go to my chamber, and I want to see this pretty gown pooled on the floor. I want you ready for me to enter you, for I cannot wait. Not with those hungry looks you have been torturing me with all afternoon. Once I enter you, Eleanor, you are going to tell me how you would describe me. You seemed to want to chime in earlier, so you will humor me now. In turn, I will do the same.”

His eyes danced with the suggestion of the foolish game, knowing they each tried to distract one another to see who could keep their focus when intimate.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“I ought to tell you the other rule. For every description I disagree with, you might find yourself needing to beg for your release a moment longer. Toy with me, Eleanor, and I will keep you teetering on the edge of pleasure, drowning enough to lose your wits but never quite shattering.”

His expression was utterly devious, and Eleanor could only pant eagerly into another kiss, crushing her mouth to his as her hands scrabbled for his face.

He groaned into her mouth, his tongue dominating hers. Her body simmered—no, no, she was long past simmering now. Her body was a ravaging wildfire, burning everything in the wake of passion dangled above her so tantalizingly.

Soon enough, she parted from him to follow his orders. Nerves rang through her as she hurried upstairs, aware of his confident, stalking strides. Her hands shook once she shut herself in his chamber, already pushing down the sleeves of her simple gown and unlacing the back.

She was naked with barely a second to spare before he entered, his shirt already open. The look in his eyes was positively sinful.

“Lift your hands to the bedpost,” he instructed. “Last time, I went easy on you. This time, I do not think I will indulge you for so long. I ache for you, Eleanor.”

Her angle only let her see so far, but the dark promise was enough. And then Spencer was there, hisbreeches off, his thick length pressed between her legs. She trembled as he slid himself through her folds, finding her as wet as she knew she would be.

“You do love this, do you not?”

His murmur sent more shivers down her spine as his teeth nipped a spot just below her shoulder. His hands smoothed over her back, finding every ridge and curve, every dip and fold.

“I do,” she confessed.

She could feel his smile against her skin as he pressed a tender kiss to the spot he had just bitten.

Another tremor went through her at the thought of a mark forming.

Perhaps she should not like it, but when something was delivered for pleasure only, with no foul or harmful intentions, why should she not enjoy it?

Spencer was opening her eyes to a world she had never known she could be part of. Pleasure and deliverance, worship so different from the sort that had been drilled into her for three years.

The tip of his length pressed into her folds, and she inhaled sharply. He had entered like that several times now, but she always braced herself.

“Describe me,” he prompted, reminding her of their game.

Right as Eleanor answered, he entered her in one, long thrust. The word came out in a cracked voice. “Powerful.”

She waited for the pause, the discontent he may have feigned, but he only kept his hips flush against her backside, letting her adjust to his size.

“Go on,” he said, his voice growing thinner.

“Affected,” she answered mischievously. “You try to maintain your composure, but I hear how even just the sight of me, our first touch every time we are intimate, undoes you.”

He gave a low hum of amusement. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” she breathed.

“You have earned yourself a minute of begging,” he warned.

Eleanor pretended to be annoyed, but really, she wished to know how much more intense her climax could be if he denied her over and over.

“Are you afraid to admit that I undo you?”

“I have already confessed that you do,” he reminded her, gripping her hips.

Eleanor paused. “You have not.”

“I have.” But then he caught himself.

Eleanor’s core tightened at the realization that she was very right in her assessment. That he himself had thought it long before she had.

“I believe—” Her smart words broke off into another moan as he began to move. “I believe I am owed more orgasms if I best you.”

“Best me?” His laugh was breathless as he pressed closer to her, folding himself around her. He grabbed her wrists and moved her arms above her head.

Her front was pressed to the sheets, but then he paused.

“Straddle me,” he told her. “I wish to see your face.”

“Does that mean I am right?” Eleanor laughed, her body aching as he moved her without pulling out, still nestled in her heat.

“It means I am already half mad with desire and no longer care for my own foolish game,” he growled, letting her drop onto his length.

Eleanor gave a sharp cry of pleasure, tossing her head back as the angle allowed him to slide deeper inside her.

“Heavens,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut, but a harsh sting on her breast had her stiffening.

“Eyes on me, Eleanor,” Spencer ordered, smirking when she could barely peel her eyes open, heavy with need.

She planted her hands on his chest and moaned softly at the feel of hard muscles beneath her, supporting her weight as she leaned into him. Her backside rose and fell, allowing for his length to slide in and out of her.

For now, he let her have the illusion that she could take what she wanted, but in truth, Eleanor enjoyed the command he had over their intimacy. She liked being guided and told what to do.

Her head fell forward, and he quickly fisted his hand in her hair. He put the other on her hip to slam her down onto him over and over, hitting an angle that had her seeing stars.

Her breasts bounced heavily as she rocked against him, messily trying to keep up with his pace. He took everything she gave, gazing up at her. His lips were parted with pleasure, his eyes as heavy as hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped, releasing her to cup her face in both hands.

Eleanor moaned, the sound swallowed with another kiss as he pulled her down. He slid deeper into her, and she all but sobbed as he started slamming into her. Her mind skittered and fractured, overtaken by sheer, unbridled desire that he rained upon her.

“I-I am reaching my peak,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please—please deny me still. I am overwhelmed and want to know how much more I can take. Please, please .”

“You beg so prettily,” Spencer cooed, sweeping his thumb over her cheek.

“How could I ever deny you anything? You will not climax until I say so. Let yourself teeter on the precipice, wife. Peer over the edge. Look at what you could have, had you not so sweetly asked, and then I will tip you over when I see fit. Yes?”

“Yes,” she practically sobbed. “Yes, yes , yes?—”

She didn’t know if she was agreeing or simply crying out in pleasure, for everything felt perfect, right, too overwhelming. And Heavens , she was going to explode.

But Spencer was there, grounding her, his voice anchoring her through the fog that overtook her mind.

Eleanor floated in a place where nothing but unimaginable pleasure existed, blocking out everything else.

Her moans grew louder, less controlled, more raw, and she knew she could not handle it anymore.

“Spencer—”

“Come for me.”

The words dripped with sensual promise, the coaxing and one last, hard thrust enough to finally tip her over the edge.

Eleanor shattered in the most heated of ways, her noises all but rising to a scream as she climaxed, her body tense and rocking desperately to have the last of her release wrung out.

Spencer held her through it all, his jaw clenched as he gasped out his own release moments later. He dragged his lips over her bare shoulder to her cheek. She moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tugging on his hair as if asking for more, and he gave her everything. As if nothing was too much.

The heat between them crackled, threatening to turn into another inferno. But it was Spencer who pulled back, slumping against the cushions with a lazy, satisfied smile.

“You seduce me too easily.”

His breathing was still labored, a feat Eleanor very much enjoyed. She smiled, leaning in to kiss along the line of his jaw before climbing off him.

It was only then that she realized he had climaxed inside her.

He looked down between them as if coming to the same conclusion. “I can—I can get you some tonics,” he muttered. “I will go immediately.”

He was already moving, but she reached for him. “Stay. That can wait.”

“I am certain it cannot?—”

“Send somebody else,” she suggested.

“And have people question why we are not trying for a child?”

Silence followed, the question loaded, but Eleanor only snuggled into his side, drawing circles on his hard chest. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone, then his pectoral, and then his thick upper arm.

“We are not ready,” she said, her voice tight.

Children were an expectation, yes, but she had never looked into herself beyond that to know her own feelings. Now did not seem the right time, not with their investigation. But…

Spencer’s heart was still racing beneath her palm, but that tension was back.

Eleanor pulled his face toward her. “I mean it,” she insisted. “We are not ready, and that is fine.”

“Yes, but am I—am I depriving you? Many women crave a family.”

“I crave you ,” she countered. “We can discuss children another time. For now, I simply wish to lie in bed with my husband for another moment before he rushes off.”

Spencer still looked reluctant, so she leaned up to kiss him, trying to ease the tension inside him. Slowly, it left his body, and she smiled against his skin, kneading the tight knots in his body.

She did not know when it turned into a full-on massage, but she continued nonetheless.

She kneaded gently in some places and harder in others, and Spencer hummed contentedly, his eyes closing.

“Keep doing that and I might fall asleep,” he mumbled.

“Perhaps you need rest,” she countered. “Your body does not know rest even if it hits you in the face.”

Spencer tensed up at her words, and she paused, ready to ask what she had said wrong or if she had offended him. But his jaw worked tightly, and his body went lax once more.

It was an effort, she could feel it. The way he had to force his body to relax, for it simply could not happen naturally.

Eleanor kneaded in silence, listening as her husband’s breaths grew deeper and slower. Soon, he was asleep, and she crawled up his body, nestling into the crook of his arm and falling asleep with him.