Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
His hands encase my cheeks. ‘Open your eyes, Eliza.’
I do as I am bid and the moment I am looking into his bright green ones once again, he kisses me sweetly. ‘I must be gentle with you.’
‘Why?’
‘You are pure and untouched, are you not?’
I reach up and rest my palms on his torso, smiling at his gentlemanly approach. Which, frankly, does not suit him. ‘Of course, but I am not confident this urge within me will permit your gentleness.’ I feel as though I could ravage him. Every sense is screaming for me to attack.
He withdraws and smiles, and, God help my heart, it sings at the beautiful sight. ‘I should indulge in you, and it should be slow so I may appreciate every second of this moment.’ He reaches for my stomach and circles my bellybutton, and my body instinctively bends. ‘Your skin is so soft, Eliza. So creamy. So pure. I hardly want to tarnish it.’
‘You must,’ I insist. ‘I will go mad if you do not.’
‘Mad, you say?’
‘Johnny, please,’ I beg. ‘Please, torture me no longer.’
He lazily removes his trousers and undergarments. And then I am staring at it, mouth agape, despite my best efforts to remain unaffected by his pulsing length of hard flesh. My God, however will it fit?
‘You will stretch,’ he says quietly, and I shoot him a startled look. ‘I will be slow. You will adjust and accept me.’ He drops to his knees and holds my bottom with his big palms. ‘But first, I must prepare you.’
I have not one moment to consider his statement and what he could possibly mean. Reaching forward with his mouth, he kisses me softly at the apex of my thighs, and I cry out and grapple for his shoulders, an unbearable ache falling into my stomach. My body, which appears to have a mind of its own, starts to jerk and shake. ‘Johnny,’ I whisper as I brave looking down at him, just in time to see his tongue dash out and lick me. I cry out once more, the sound piercing, and my legs lose their strength. I crumple to the floor, and he catches me in his arms before he lays me upon the rug before the fire. I look up at him with nothing but awe. You cannot love him, Eliza!
‘Don’t do it, Eliza,’ he says quietly. ‘You must not.’
I look away in a terrible effort to hide my guilt. How can I love this man? I beg you tell me how! He is a horror. Rude and obnoxious. It should be impossible to feel anything other than contempt and disdain, and yet, and I cannot stop it, I do not. It is a matter of sense, if you ask me, for I have seen a softer side to the feared man, and I wonder if he has meant to expose that to me? I am not certain of much as I lie here sacrificing myself to him, except, perhaps, for one thing. I can love him because he smiles at my words rather than gasps. He looks at me with fascination rather than confusion or contempt. ‘What are you talking about?’ I ask, a ridiculous question if ever there was one asked.
‘You are not brainless, Eliza, so please, I beg you, do not pretend to be.’
‘What do you expect of me?’ I ask, my frustration creeping up on me. His hand moves to mine and guides it to his groin. I suppose that answers my question.
‘Hold me,’ he whispers, his voice hoarse and desperate. His words drive me into action, as does my lingering annoyance, and I slowly open my hand and take him in my hold. A small hitch of breath escapes the second the hard heat of his flesh touches me. I feel the pulse. I dare not look down, so I keep my eyes on his strained face, finding it soothing.
‘Move your hand,’ he hisses, his head dropped, but try as I might, I am frozen beneath him. ‘Eliza,’ he says, almost brusque and short.
‘I know not what to do,’ I confess, overwhelmed, thinking how ironic it is that one can feel desire, one can sense it, but to sate it is another matter entirely. ‘I apologise,’ I murmur, lying like a stupid idiot, unmoving and incapable.
His smile, one which is unmistakably sympathetic, makes me feel so very small and stupid. I am not like his former lovers, full of confidence, I’m sure of it, and without the need for instruction to pleasure him.
‘I wish to be a memorable lover,’ I say, unable to prevent my thoughts falling out of my mouth. I cringe as a result.
‘You are already memorable, Eliza,’ he says softly as he positions himself over me, astride my waist, his hard, hot penis being flaunted without apology. I am engrossed, even more so when he rises to his knees and takes himself in a firm grip. I flick my eyes briefly to his face, seeing him looking down, his lips parted. It’s a pleasurable sight, which only leaves me wondering what’s to come. ‘Let me show you,’ he says, stroking himself slowly up and down. My stomach spins, my legs shifting beneath him, tingles exploding between my thighs. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks, resting a palm by my head, his face suspended over me.