Silent Surrender by Abigail Barnette Page B

mouth, and some part of him that wasn’t solely concentrated on her sopping cunt squeezing all around him thought, Well, she learned that lesson quick enough.
    Sliding his hands beneath her waist, he urged her to rock against him and soon they were going along nicely, skin slapping together as their bodies met. She couldn’t contain her cries for long. Her hips moved faster and faster, her breasts heaving beneath her dress. She clung to him as if she was dying, as if she could not let him go for fear of being swept away. Her hands were still gloved and she cupped his jaw with the soft silk. Not touching her skin was a particular torment, and such a strange contrast, with her bare calves brushing his neck and her hot cunny sliding back and forth around his cock. There was no way to prolong things. A quick, hard fuck, clothes still on, that was familiar enough to him, far too familiar to hold himself back. Only after he’d exploded inside her, his vision going all black-and-stars for a moment, did he remember the brandy and the sponge, and that he’d made a mistake.
    “Oh fuck me,” he groaned, slipping from her body. “I forgot. I’m an idiot, I forgot—”
    She reached her hand up to cover his mouth and ground against him, whimpering. She hadn’t had her release. A pang of guilt hit him. This wasn’t supposed to be about him fucking her when and how he felt like it. It was supposed to be for her. He disentangled himself from her legs, thinking to sink down and take her into his mouth, but her hand was there first, her glove whipped off in an instant before her fingertips moved in a flurry over that hard, red bud. Esau could only watch, fascinated, as her back arched and she came under her own hand, his seed leaking out of her.
    He was sure he’d never seen anything so beautiful, and he was damn sure he would never forget it.
    She lay on the carpet, breathing hard, a cat’s smile bending her mouth as her eyes danced behind closed lids. Still splayed shamelessly before him, she caressed herself with a limp hand for a moment before slowly smoothing her skirt down. When she opened her eyes, he could only smile back at her. There was nothing to say at a time like this, he supposed.
    Still, his guilt assailed him. “I won’t do that again. I’m sorry.”
    “Do what?” Her voice was a loud shock in the silence of the room. He hadn’t realized until then that he’d spoken with reverence, as though the parlor had been made a holy place by what he’d just witnessed.
    A flush crept up his neck. It seemed strange to be embarrassed speaking of it, when they’d just done it. “I…went off. In you. I won’t do that again. I don’t want a shame following you to France.”
    She shook her head, still smiling. “I wouldn’t be ashamed.”
    “You couldn’t live at a girl’s school. Not if you’re a fallen woman,” he reminded her. “And I shouldn’t have done, before you were…finished.”
    She shrugged and sat up, then climbed to her feet. The expression on her face told him that they were done with their talk, done with their encounter altogether. She had donned her strange armor and become a lady once more.
    How odd women were, to be capable of such a sudden switch. And how odd that her change in demeanor stung him, as though she’d rejected him. He felt a fool now, sitting on the parlor floor with his cock out. By the time he’d gotten up and righted himself, Honoria’s mind was far away, though her body still stood near to him. He waved his hand to get her attention. “You’re finished with me now, are you?”
    She smiled kindly and nodded and rose on her tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Yet she was still not with him, and that bothered him more than it would have with a different woman. Probably because she was so fine, a real lady, not a bird he plucked against a tavern wall.
    He had been dismissed, just like a servant would be dismissed, so he left her there and headed to his little attic room. It was