Chapter Eleven

Rebecca

My room is dark and quiet. We left Ben fast asleep and I doubt much would wake him, but Will locks the door anyway. After he leads me to the bed, he tugs my gown off. Since I’ve come to his home, I’ve slept in a moonlit room each evening. Not tonight. I’m grateful for the storm clouds that darken the sky and everything beneath.

Will’s brushes his hands over my body, making me shiver.

“Cold?”

“No. I’m not cold. I’m a little nervous. That’s all.”

He pushes me back on the bed. The darkness disorients me, but I sense him over me and then his lips brush mine. Will’s so big and immensely powerful, but the kiss is the merest wisp of a touch. The only point of contact between us. I almost think he’s teasing me. I wrap my arms around his neck and tug him closer.

“I want you, Will.”

A rumble of laughter moves through him and he deepens the kiss, stroking me with his tongue, his hand cupping my breast. He rubs my breast slowly, almost lazily and now I’m certain he’s teasing me. Desire twists inside. I’m writhing beneath him.

He breaks the kiss and moves over my breast, kissing me there, sucking my tight nipple between his lips. I thread my fingers through his hair, clutch him to my breast. I can hardly understand what’s happening but I don’t want him to ever stop.

His hands run down the curve of my waist and lower to my hips as he scatters kisses downward. I’m undone. Barely breathing as I anticipate the wicked plans he has for me. When he nudges my thighs apart, I whimper. His mouth brushes over me and a low, primitive growl rips from his chest.

The vibrations travel across my core and I’m swept into a torrent. Pleasure robs me of any control. I writhe beneath him as he slowly strokes me with his tongue. He takes his time, teasing me with slow and deliberate movements.

“You’re perfect, Rebecca.”

I’m not sure what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because I don’t think I can respond. He grips me in his strong hands, holding me right where he wants me. I’m captive. Pleasure races and coils inside me. I’m pinned to the bed and can’t escape his torment. I arch beneath him, seeking more of his touch.

“Please,” I beg.

He’s always so sweet to me. Kind. Generous. But the soft chuckle that comes from him is anything but his usual tender response. He lifts his head and kisses the inside of my thigh.

“Rebecca, bad girl. I’m punishing you for telling me you couldn’t come.”

I shake my head and whimper with need.

He groans. “I’m suffering more than you.”

“Please, Will. Make me come. I’ll do anything.”

“I like the sound of that.”

He lowers again and this time he gives me more. I’m undone, slowly, but steadily. Each lash of his tongue unravels me more. I shudder. Plead. My words fall from my lips without thought and probably without meaning. Just frantic pleas for more of him.

When he sucks my clit, and strokes my entrance with his finger, I shatter beneath him. Wild sounds tear from my lips as my back bows off the bed. He gathers me into his arms, pulls me against his chest and I melt in his embrace.

He kisses me. “Taste yourself, Rebecca.”

His voice is rough, as he kisses me hungrily.

“That’s the taste of you. Coming. On my tongue.”

“That’s so…”

He laughs and settles over me. “Dirty?”

“Yes. Dirty. I want you.”

Nudging my thighs apart, he presses against my slick core. He’s barely inside of me and already it feels like he can’t possibly fit. I draw a sharp breath.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “We’ll go slow.”

I relax as he kisses me tenderly. With each kiss, he takes me a little deeper. A sharp pain makes me cry out, but in the next instant, the discomfort fades. Every muscle in his body tenses. He’s steel. I can tell he’s holding back, trying to ease me into this new and wonderful moment.

Without any real awareness, I open beneath him and meet his strokes.

He groans, whispering tender words. “So beautiful.”

“Will…”

Stopping immediately, he lifts and cups my face. “I’m hurting you?”

“Not anymore.”

He grips my hip, deepening his thrusts. “Becca, you’re so tight.”

I lift my knees and clasp his hips, drawing a primitive growl from his lips. My body responds to him without my thought or direction. It’s like we’re one. I run my fingers over the broad expanse of his powerful shoulders. He shudders. Each stroke makes my body tighten until I’m writhing beneath him. My cries are as wild and untamed as his, until I fall apart, gasping his name. An instant later, he follows me, snarling his release.

He rolls over, taking me with him in his strong embrace and we both try to catch our breath. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I never thought I would experience an orgasm. I was sure something was wrong with me. I feel like a ragdoll, draped over him as he strokes my back.

“You made me come.” I’m practically slurring my words. I’m so worn out, I feel like I could pass out.

The last thing I remember is him chuckling and telling me, “Twice, Mrs. Branson. I made you come two times.”