“Look,” he said again. “I want you to watch me fuck you.”
With one hand, he cupped her breast. With the other, he spread her open so that she could see every detail. It was depraved. It was more than she could bear. But she looked, and the moment she did, he began to move. Together they watched each thrust, and when he knew she wouldn’t look away, his hand fell away from her breast and found her clitoris again. She gasped, her hands grappling with his, urging him on, harder, faster.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “Where did you go, Evangeline Jones? There’s nothing left of you.”
It was true. She didn’t recognize the woman writhing in his arms. She cried out, the tremors taking her so violently that she couldn’t think, only feel as her body shuddered with pleasure. For that one moment, he’d defeated her.
He held her tight, tender until the shaking stopped, and then he began again. He thrust wildly with relentless selfishness until he cried out in turn.
And she knew she’d defeated him, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Alex woke from dreams filled with loss, though the details faded before he’d even opened his eyes. He rolled over in the dark and knew something was wrong.
Evie. Where was Evie? Her side of the bed was cold.
His first thought was that she had left him. That she didn’t trust him to keep her safe and so she’d struck out on her own. He sat up, expecting an empty room. Someone was standing by the window. A dark figure in top hat and tails. In that moment, confronted with an unknown intruder and with no way of knowing where Evie was or if she was well, he was truly afraid.
Something about the figure struck him as odd. The coat hung far too low.
His racing heart began to slow as he understood what he was seeing; Evie stood in quarter-profile, gazing out into the night. A whimsical figure. What he’d taken for a gentleman’s tailcoat was actually his own discarded evening coat. The top hat was his too, one of several he kept in the adjoining dressing room. She’d been restless while he slept. As always, he wondered what she was thinking. Still fascinated, even though he’d finally had her. Somehow he’d known it would be so.
Being with Evie had been different from all his other sexual encounters. He hadn’t felt his usual constraint, had asked for things he hadn’t even known he’d wanted, done things he couldn’t quite believe. In his mind’s eye, he could still see how they’d looked in the mirror. It had been the most exciting encounter of his life by far, yet he wanted more. Not simply to bed her again, though he wanted that too, but more. Somehow, the woman standing by the window was as distant as ever.
If Evangeline Jones had disappeared last night, Evie had still been playacting. That had been Sally Harper pinned beneath him and, much as he’d enjoyed the fulfillment of that particular fantasy, it was only a fantasy. People pretended in bed, he knew that. But last night, Alex hadn’t, and he wanted to feel the bond between them in bed as well as out of it. He wanted to know her true name.
The air was cold on his naked skin as he rose. She must have heard him moving, but she didn’t turn. He paused when he was about a foot from her, taking in the incongruous sight of her wearing his things. The top hat in particular he found adorable, but it was in his way. Without a word, he removed it and set it atop the mirror.
She stiffened as he placed his hands on her shoulders but all he did was ease her back against his chest. Rigid as she was, he half expected her to pull away, so it was an unforeseen pleasure when she relaxed against him.
“Cold?” he asked, his lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.
She nodded.
He’d always known what to say with previous lovers in the aftermath of lovemaking, not because he’d felt any affinity with them but because he hadn’t cared. Like any type of social discourse, there was an etiquette that kept things civilized and prevented things from becoming sentimental. None of those polite nothings would suffice here when his feelings transcended sentiment. And when last night had broken all his rules.
He’d been crude with Evie, even rough at times, behavior she’d certainly enjoyed, but what if she was hurt by it now in retrospect? He wanted to ask her, but though he’d found the acts themselves occurred naturally at the time, he found them impossible to speak of now. Defeated by his own inconsistency, he rested his chin on top of her head and joined her in staring into the dark.
The horizon began to take on the grayish tint of earliest dawn. Other than that, there wasn’t much to see. One didn’t stargaze in London. The air wasn’t clear enough for that. He was glad he was taking her to Yorkshire. He found the city suffocating if he stayed too long.
They remained that way, each lost in their separate thoughts, for nearly half an hour. They might have stayed there until morning if he hadn’t grown cold and slid his arms around her waist for warmth. She turned in the circle of his arms and looked up at him with her fathomless brown eyes, and he realized he hadn’t kissed her last night. Not since the Blue Room.
She had the most extraordinary mouth. Though her lips were thin and showed displeasure more readily than anything, whenever she smiled, her entire being seemed transformed. He’d seen it only once or twice and each instance felt like a gift.
He wanted a kiss, nothing more, so he touched his lips to hers almost chastely. Her mouth was soft, feather-light on his. Such a sweet kiss would have been impossible last night with so much turmoil in the air. When she didn’t pull away, he kissed her again, tasting her this time. Her arms slid around his shoulders, then up until her fingers tangled in his hair. Something sparked between them, then caught light.
He wasn’t surprised when she broke the kiss and stepped back. He couldn’t help his body’s reaction and it hadn’t occurred to him to conceal it. Her gaze shot unerringly to his erection and her eyes widened. Last night he’d stayed behind her and she had seen more of her own body than his, so now he stayed where he was and let her look. Even half an hour ago, he couldn’t have imagined he would stand this way, allowing her response to fire his. She seemed almost shocked by the sight of his cockstand.
Her confidence last night, her insistence that he refrain from being gentle, had made him think his original assessment of her past experience accurate after all, but now he wondered. He might have asked her but he sensed she wouldn’t appreciate the question. Perhaps, when all was said and done, it was none of his business. If she wished to confide in him, she would. The same was true of her real name.
More pertinent was the glazed look in her eyes. The rapid rise and fall of her bosom, its shadowy curves partially visible beneath the coat. His lips curled with satisfaction. “Again?”
“Yes,” she said. No orders this morning. She seemed different. Tentative.
He gathered her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. The coat fell from her shoulders as they crossed the room, so she was entirely nude when he settled on the bed with her on his lap. When she straddled him, her wet cunt nudged his cock until he groaned. Unable to resist the pert breasts mere inches from his face, he leaned forward and tasted one nipple. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting her chest at him—an invitation he was eager to accept. He sucked, the little bud hard on his tongue, until she cried out. Her hands fluttered at his shoulders as he transferred his ministrations to the other nipple, biting and nibbling.