18
ELINOR
Alistair is laidout before me like a sensual feast. His hair fans out over the rich red bedspread like a decadent crown. He has one hand propped behind his head. The patch of hair on his exposed underarm fascinates me. Even the smell of him makes me want to rub against him like a cat.
Tremaine always reeked of sour alcohol and old sweat.
I resolve never to think about my stepfather in this context again. After tomorrow, I’ll never have to see him again. I have no doubt he will plague me with demands for money, which I fully intend to ignore. Forever.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what to do.”
“You can start by touching me.”
He really wants my hands on him. I could start with the overlarge appendage jutting toward his left hip.
I begin by throwing one leg over him and sitting with his erection trapped between our bodies. Alistair tents his fingers loosely on my hips. Waiting.
Excitement and curiosity—two emotions I have only ever felt in this context with him—start to edge out the anxiety. It’s difficult to be afraid when that glint of humor is dancing in his eyes. He wants me to be comfortable with this, and it makes me want to try for his sake.
I want this to work.
We are going to have the most wonderful family.
How my heart sang when he said that.
I grind down on his erection, feeling the length and hardness of him.
“Gods, Elsie, you’re so wet.” He groans. “Keep that up and this will be a very short experience for us both.”
“You’ll recover.” I bet he rebounds quickly, too. “Are you worried about your ability to keep up with me?”
It’s a cheeky thing to say, considering how I’m not sure how well I could handle the act. But I like pretending to be confident. Maybe if I fake it, I can make it real.
I rack my memories for things that Tremaine liked to do before remembering that he isn’t welcome here. This is about whatIwant to do.
First, I want out of this constricting corset. I twist my arms up behind me to reach the ribbons. They come loose with a few tugs. The front clasps make it easy to remove. Alistair’s hungry gaze never leaves me. He’s busy hiking up the hem of my shift while I’m trying to wriggle free.
“I thought this was for me.” I toss the corset aside.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.”
The only barrier between us is my thin shift. He urges me to sit up enough to tug it out. Then I’m seated directly on his erection. He’s hot against my bare sex. I put my hands on his pectorals. He slides the shift up my back and tugs it over my head. My heart flutters like a trapped bird, but I let him strip it down my arms.
Naked, astride an almost-naked man, is not how I expected to spend this afternoon.
He glides one hand between my thighs to where our bodies are connected. From this awkward angle he finds my nub and makes light circles. Teasing.
“Ride me,” he commands.
“Am I in charge here, or not?” I like that he tells me what to do, though. Without his guidance, I’d probably sit here until he was no longer hard and I started shivering. Instead, I feel like I’m on fire.
“You’re completely in charge. I’m only making suggestions.”
I rock against his stiff length, rubbing myself shamelessly on him. Coating him with my dampness. I glance down to where the rounded base peeps out beneath my bottom. My stomach undulates when I shift my hips. The ruddy head pops into view. I repeat the movement, reveling in the obscene view. Everything below my navel clenches around emptiness.
In theory, I want him to fill me. In practice, I’m less sure. I’m warming up to taking the risk. But this is how I felt last time, too, and that ended poorly. If this is what he meant by sayinguse my body, I suppose I’m doing alright.
Alistair’s dark gaze meets mine.
