Lord of Dread: Chapters 26-30 (Patreon)

Chapter 26

I’ve got my eyes on the gift Elijah purchased me the second he closes the carriage door.

Things may be a tiny bit awkward after running into Ben, but I’m not going to let that hold me back from getting my present. It’s mine, and Elijah said I could have it once we got in the carriage.

“What is it?” I pry.

He snorts and holds the bag out. I don’t hesitate to snatch and drop it on my lap before pulling out the wrapped object.

There’s so much tissue paper it’s impossible to tell, and I cast a nervous glance at Elijah when he leans over and pulls the curtains over the window shut.

“We don’t want anybody peeping in and seeing,” he says.

Why? What’s he gotten me that’s so secretive? My pulse begins to race, doubt making me nervous. Maybe I don’t want to know.

I push my hair behind my ears, his earlier compliment of it still running rampant inside my mind. I hate how much his stupid approval makes me feel good.

Shaking my head, I force myself to remove my hand from my hair. Procrastinating isn’t going to curb my curiosity. Elijah stares at me as I tear open the package.

When I finally pull away the last wrapping, I drop the object to the ground in horror. Is this Elijah’s version of a sick joke? My brain swarms as I look up at him, unable to comprehend why he would buy me such a horrid object. Maybe he’s planning on framing me and using this as a way to rid himself of our marriage.

Elijah bends and grabs the sex toy off the ground. The smooth stone has been carved into the shape of a male, making it impossible not to recognize. While I’ve never seen a bare male before, I’ve seen enough babies and paintings to know what the appendage looks like.

Why would he do this?

“What’s wrong with you?” I hiss.

Elijah holds it in his hand and raises the offending object between us.

“I thought you might enjoy something to assist you during your private time,” he explains.

My private time? I hate that he walked in on me, and I hate even more that he’s not choosing to forget it. Is this his way of punishing me? Humiliate me until he’s certain I’ll never touch myself again. If that’s his plan, he’s sure doing a good job at it.

I’m going to cry.

“I don’t want it,” I say, meaning every word.

Elijah balances it on his palm before curling his fingers around it.

“I chose the one that looks most like me,” he says.

I’m going to rip out my hair and throw myself out this carriage door. I’ll lay on the ground until another comes around and runs me over, ending my sad excuse of a life. That sounds nice. I wonder if I can get Louise to help me with it.

She can hire somebody to run me over.

I want to be buried with my mother.

Elijah continues to eye the phallic stone, and I can’t help but sneakily do the same. That’s what he looks like? It’s so large. Are most men this size? I don’t remember Ben seeming that intimidating when I felt him through his pants.

I gulp, still in disbelief that Elijah purchased this item for me. He is a stupid, stupid man.

“Why do you think I would want this?” I snap.

Elijah leans close, the damned object still held tightly in his hand.

“Do you truly wish to know?” he asks.

That has me thinking I don’t, but I’ll be damned if I chicken out and back away from hearing my answer. I need to know, especially since it’s something he seems to think I don’t want to be made aware of.

“Yes,” I answer.

Elijah sucks in a slow breath. “Your fingers were pruned.”

“What?”

“That night I wrapped your hand, I noticed your fingers were pruned. I thought you might like something a bit more filling,” he says.

I’m doubling down on my earlier wish to be run over by a carriage.

Elijah must have been dropped on his head as a child. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why and how he could be so stupid. He clearly doesn’t know anything about me if he thinks this is a bright idea.

“You’re trying to ruin me,” I spit.

Elijah cocks his head to the side, seemingly confused.

“Ruin you for who? Myself?” he retorts. “I’ve already told you, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with self-pleasure. I want you to find enjoyment, and I thought this might help.”

He makes a fair point, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

“What if somebody sees it?” I ask.

Elijah shrugs, the man the picture of indifference. Does he truly not understand how poorly it would reflect on me, on us? Word would spread like wildfire, and we’d become a laughingstock. People would think we are sexual deviants.

“I like to think you wouldn’t leave it out in the open for the maids to find. Besides, these aren’t nearly as uncommon as you think they are. Many married couples have them,” he says with a stifled laugh. “You should hear the things men admit to after having a few drinks in the gentleman’s clubs.”

I straighten my spine. It’s inappropriate to discuss the conversations had in those private establishments. They would kick Elijah out if they so much as got a whiff of him speaking about the inner workings to a lady.

“Do you understand how to use it?” he asks.

I’m going to scream.

“I’m not stupid!”

Elijah nods, the man once more failing to hide his infuriating smirk.

“Good, then,” he chuckles, wrapping and shoving the item back in the bag.

I refuse to look in its direction as he sets it on the bench next to me, wordlessly giving it over. I’ll take it with me because I don’t trust him to properly keep it hidden out of the eyesight of the maids, but I’ll never use it.

Absolutely not.

Elijah’s grinning like an idiot, and I hesitate before shooting out my foot and connecting the pointed toe of my shoe with his shin. He jolts, his eyes going comically wide as I pull back and do it again. I make hard contact with his bone, and I take great pleasure in how he shouts and reaches for my feet.

I curl my fingers around my seat, careful not to apply too much pressure on my injured palm, and hold it for more leverage as I bring up my other foot.

Elijah manages to move his leg just in time to avoid my kick, and he smacks away my right ankle when it gets too close.

“Rebecca!” he shouts.

This time it’s my turn to smile, and I feel only slightly embarrassed by the maniacal laugh that bubbles up out of my throat as I continue to attack with both my feet. I land another hard kick to his shin before my right foot is snatched up, Elijah finally gathering his wits and holding my ankle captive.

He lets out a loud booming laugh as I try with all my might to get him with my left foot, but I quickly find that ankle captured as well.

“Now, what are you going to do?” Elijah snorts, tightening his grip on my ankles.

He holds my feet so my dress doesn’t ride up and expose anything indecent, but even having his hand on the skin as private as my ankles feels inappropriate. Elijah curls his fingers around them, the action eerily similar to what he did to the sex toy he purchased me.

The sex toy that’s apparently the same size as he.

“I think you’ve bruised my shins!” he huffs.

I yank at my feet in a sad attempt to remove them from his grasp. Elijah grins before bending and placing them flat on the ground. The action brings his face close to my lap, and I stare down at his head before reaching for it.

I don’t know what I intend to do, but it seems it doesn’t matter as Elijah catches on to what I’m doing and snatches both my wrists. His laughter returns as he pins them to the seat, and I screech and try to wiggle out of his hold.

I’m going to hurt him.

My fight against him is futile, and my lungs struggle to fill with the oxygen needed to continue this one-sided game I’ve launched. Elijah releases me the moment he realizes I’m having trouble breathing, his cheesy grin falling as his eyes travel to my heaving chest.

I wave him away.

“I’m fine,” I gasp between breaths. “I just need a moment.”

Elijah doesn’t seem comforted by that; if anything, he seems to grow angry as he reaches around me for the laces of my dress. I panic and try to twist out of his reach, but the carriage is small and there’s nowhere for me to go.

“Elijah!” I shout, throwing out my elbow to try and keep him away.

The exertion only worsens my breathing, and I plant a hand on the wall before dropping my head. Shit. I’m getting dizzy.

Elijah takes advantage of my momentary distraction and practically pins my front against the carriage door so he can unlace and yank open the back of my dress. My corset is next, and I attempt to twist away once more when I realize he’s going to see his shirt if he opens it. Over my dead body.

“I’m trying to help you,” he huffs, making quick work of the knot holding the strings together. “Louise tied it too tight.”

A second later I can breathe, and I drop my head against the door as my lungs grow full of oxygen for the first time this entire day. It feels marvelous, and after a few moments, my brain is cleared and my vision no longer tunnels.

Elijah doesn’t say anything about his shirt, the one he can most definitely see, as he begins to retie my corset. His breath is warm against my neck, and I wish for nothing more than the world to swallow me as he begins to repeat the action with my dress.

“Do you need a lady’s maid? You seemed to like Louise despite her lack of formal training so I didn’t think anything about her being yours, but if you need somebody with more experience, I’m happy to put out a posting,” he says, breaking the silence.

I shake my head.

“Louise is wonderful. I asked her to tie it this tight,” I admit.

Elijah clears his throat, his touch lingering on my back before he scoots away and makes room for me to spin and face him.

“Why?” he asks.

I lick my lips. Does he honestly not know?

“Elijah, you married me with haste,” I start, waiting for clarity to come over him. It doesn’t, and I resist the urge to scream as I realize he needs me to spell it out for him. “I need it tight to show I’m not growing.”

He still looks confused.

“People think you got me pregnant, and that’s why you rushed our marriage. Your actions ruined my reputation as a respectable lady, and proving I’m not with a child is the only way to get it back.” My words are sharp and straight to the point, but I have a feeling Elijah won’t understand them if they aren’t.

“But you’re not pregnant? People will surely realize that when nine months pass and you don’t deliver a child.”

Sweet, sweet, innocent Elijah. He knows nothing of the real world.

“Infants die in the womb all the time. Not delivering a child doesn’t mean I was never pregnant. I need to show them there has never been a baby, and I will do that by remaining thin,” I explain.

People will assume I had a miscarriage if I don’t deliver a child, but I want more than that. This is my entire reputation at stake, and I want people to know there was no foul play and I was never with child. There was never a pregnancy.

Elijah’s lips form the shape of an O, and I avoid eye contact as he sucks in a deep breath and reaches for my hands. He slides his thumbs over the backs of my palms before moving upwards to my cheeks.

I still can’t bring myself to look at him as he cups them. What’s he think he’s doing?

“Look at me, Rebecca,” he orders.

I hesitate, debating, before huffing and meeting his eye. He’s frowning and seems even sad as his eyes dart all along my face. I don’t know what to make of it, but I won’t embarrass myself by asking.

“I’m sorry.”

What? Those were not the words I was expecting to hear him say. Elijah slips his fingers into the hair on either side of my head, but I appreciate how he’s careful not to yank on the curls. His eyes briefly flash to them before he levels his stare with mine once more, his expression unreadable.

Why is he looking at me like this? I’ve seen him regard me in many different ways, sometimes with anger or contempt, usually with indifference, very seldom with lust, but never like this. It’s like he’s trying to understand me, and I don’t like it one bit.

There’s nothing about me he needs to understand.

I suck in a shaky breath as he leans forward, his intentions to kiss me made clear. He moves slowly, giving me a chance to pull away, and I don’t know why I don’t.

I probably should. Elijah’s already proven he’s not to be trusted, and I’d be stupid to throw that vital knowledge away because we had one good afternoon together and he loosened my corset. That’s hardly enough to earn forgiveness for how he’s treated me these past few months.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

His lips meet mine, and I hate myself for the way my eyes slip shut and my mouth softens.

Elijah tilts his head to the side and slots his lips between mine, and I grab his forearms as his lips move against mine. It feels nice, and I find myself opening my mouth and letting him slide his tongue between my lips.

A low moan slips from his throat before his grip on my cheeks tightens. It feels good to be desired, and I feel my sex clenching as he slides his hand down my front and settles at my waist. He grazes over my breast, lightly touching it before moving on.

I want him to linger, but I refuse to tell him such.

I don’t have a lot of experience kissing or doing anything, and I hope Elijah can’t tell as I kneel on my seat so we’re closer together. Another quiet moan emerges from him before his hand flexes on my waist, which I take as a good sign and reach for his chest.

I want to feel him.

The shirt he wears is thin, and his muscles tense as I press against the skin over his heart. I can’t feel much through my gloves, but I’m still not ready to take them off.

Elijah pulls back and lowers his lips to my neck, kissing the skin there while I gasp for air. Oh. That feels good.

His lips and tongue have need coiling in my lower abdomen, and I slip one of my hands into his hair before mustering up every bit of strength I have and pulling away. It’s harder to do than it should be, but Elijah doesn’t put up a fight as I clear my throat and sit back down.

I’m sure my cheeks are beet red and my skin flushed. I want to sneak a peek at Elijah and see how affected he is, but I resist the urge.

He clears his throat and straightens his clothing before returning to his seat opposite me.

Things fall silent, and I reach over and yank open the window curtain when it grows unbearable. The light makes things feel significantly less intimate, and I let the sun wash over my face as my fingers itch to grab the infuriating toy Elijah purchased.

He was stupid to buy that.

Chapter 27

It’s staring at me.

That stupid bag and the stupid toy are teasing me, mocking me with their presence.

The room is dark, only a single candle is lit in the corner of my room for light. Even the moon doesn’t cast a glow tonight. It fits my sour mood.

Usually I find sleep to be most pleasant when there’s no light to distract me, but tonight it feels like a tease. A sick, annoying tease. Why did he buy it? I should’ve just tossed it out the carriage window and let it shatter into a million pieces.

Elijah seemed to find great satisfaction in watching me snatch and carry it inside when we returned home, but that smirk could have also been a product of me shamelessly throwing myself at him earlier.

I can’t believe I kissed him.

I can’t believe he untied my corset.

I only wanted to kick him in the shins and cause him pain. That’s not too much to ask, is it? I sure don’t think so.

I purse my lips as I recall how he wrapped his fingers around my ankles to hold my feet still. It’s the same way he wrapped them around the cursed object. The one that’s apparently the same size as him.

What even compelled him to inform me of that?

Was it their only size, or does he take sick pleasure in purchasing and fantasizing about me using a toy the same as him? I bet it’s the latter. I suppose there’s also the possibility that he just wanted to see me squirm.

I bet that’s it.

Elijah has a sick sense of humor. Actually, I don’t even know if I’d call it humor. He has a sick sense of personality. I don’t understand how he and Will came from the same woman and were raised in the same house.

They are entirely different.

The bag stares at me, and I stare right back.

I refuse to be intimidated by some inanimate object. I am a grown, married woman, for heaven’s sake. I’d never tell Elijah this, not over my dead body, but Minnie has confided in me that she and the Duke have dabbled with a few toys.

She was very discreet in her description, but I gather it was something similar to the item Elijah has purchased for me.

Things are different for them, though.

They share a bedroom and don’t have to worry about hurting their reputation. Nobody would be so daring as to speak poorly about the Duke’s beloved wife. He could, and would, ensure the person who opened their mouth found severe punishment.

Everybody knows that.

I also know Elijah would never do that for me.

He might put out some word to save his name, but he’d never fight for mine.

I sit up in bed and throw the covers off myself. I need to hide this damned thing where it will never be found. Eyes are on my whereabouts after my creek mishap with Will, and I’ll wait until the attention dies down before taking it to the woods and smashing it into a million pieces.

It will probably be hard to do, considering it’s made of carved stone, but I think if I smash it under a rock, I could get the job done.

The ground is cold against my bare feet, the chill distracting. That’s good. I need a distraction.

I snatch up the cursed bag and bring it to my bed. Sitting, I look around for a place to hide it. My room is cleaned frequently by the maids, and there aren’t many spots they don’t go to. Louise is always in my closet and vanity, so those are out of limits, and my small treasure boxes are too small to hold the monstrosity.

My lips flatten into a straight line as I pull the item out of the bag and unwrap it.

I only held it for a second in the carriage before throwing it onto the floor.

Glancing at the door, I eye the lock before standing and rushing to twist it. I don’t want to risk somebody walking in on me like last time. I’ve learned my lesson.

I’m only going to examine it, but I’d still rather not take the risk.

The click of the lock snapping into place feels uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent space, and I pray nobody is on the other side of the door to hear it. Elijah would probably think I was taking enjoyment again.

He’d probably think about my pruny fingers, too, the asshole.

The gall on that man to comment on them. I can’t believe he even noticed, and I feel nothing short of humiliation as I recall the way he touched them while he was bandaging my hand. He is an evil, evil person.

I make myself comfortable on the bed, my legs crossed, before taking hold of the toy.

The stone is cold, and I gulp as I curl my fingers around it like Elijah did earlier today. My fingers barely touch, and I hold the object up to examine it better. Is he truly this large? I thought my three fingers were pushing it.

Maybe I should change my mind about my earlier statement that I want to have children with him in the future. I don’t think he’d be pleased to hear me go back on my word, but I refuse to let this thing inside me.

It won’t fit, and I know it would be painful.

Minnie told me it pained her the first few times she was with the Duke, her descriptions including words like pinch and slight burning. I should have asked her how large he was for comparison.

I bring the toy to my abdomen, wanting to see how far inside myself it would go.

The tip is almost to my belly button, and I bark out a laugh before shaking my head. Absolutely not. There is no way.

Elijah was lying to me.

How does it even go inside? My fingers are thin and relatively easy to slip inside, but the tip of this toy is blunt and wide. My hole is not that large.

I point the tip toward myself. There’s an indentation where the pee hole would be, but this toy doesn’t open up. Is this what Elijah’s hole looks like? Are they always this round?

The toy also has a large vein carved up the underside. Is this how they fill with blood? Does this vein pulsate as a neck vein, or is it still like the ones I can see on the inside of my elbow?

I have a feeling Minnie would be horrified if I asked her these questions, and I’d rather die than ask Elijah.

Then he’d know I looked at his cursed toy.

I run my thumb over the tip before circling my hand around the base. This is a stupid thing to do. I stroke it like I think a man would, sliding my hand up and down. My palm is a bit clammy so it sticks a bit, and my bandage is in the way, but it still makes me feel naughty.

I adjust my position, shifting to lean back against my headboard.

This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

I pull up the hem of my night dress, exposing my thighs to the room. The cool air hits my sex, and I clench before bringing the toy to it.

This is so fucking stupid.

I press the blunt tip against myself. As suspected, it doesn’t slip in as my fingers do.

I reach with my other hand to check my arousal. I’m wet, and I spread my lower lips around the toy before sliding my fingers to the nub I enjoy. I rub it, appreciating the sensation while I press the stone against me.

It hardly budges, but I do feel a slight pressure. It feels good even if it’s not inside, and I continue to press against myself while I rub my nub. Elijah will never have to know.

This will be a dirty secret kept between me and the stone.

My eyes slip shut as I let out a breathy moan, and I lay back on the bed and quicken my actions. It’s been days since I last pleasured myself, and my body is eager for it. I apply more pressure on the stone, upset when it still doesn’t enter me.

Am I doing something wrong?

I’ll worry about that later.

Panting, I lift my knees and spread them wider. This feels so good. I think of the way Elijah’s lips felt against my own earlier today. His kisses made me dizzy, and I wonder if he was as hard as this toy when I slid my hands over his chest.

Did he want to touch me?

Is he going to pleasure himself to the thought of me with this toy?

My body flushes, and I hate myself for the way I imagine the pressure at my entrance being caused by him. I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have any issues getting it inside, and I press harder against myself until the very tip of it slips in.

Oh, my.

I rub harder, clenching around it as I reach my peak. I cum with a low cry and squeeze my legs together until the pulsating stops.

I release the toy and let it fall onto the mattress.

That felt amazing.

I still hate that he burdened me with this object, though.

I take a moment to relax and settle before standing and bringing the object to my bathroom. It’s a tiny room holding my toilet along with a bowl of water and some clean rags, and I use one of them to wash off the tip of the toy.

If anybody ever does find it, I’d rather die than there be any proof of me having used it.

Absolutely not.

I shiver at the mere thought. Once I’m satisfied with the clean, I wipe it dry with my dress before heading back into my room.

Where to hide it?

I still don’t have a good spot in mind. There’s no place in my room that’s well hidden. It will be found, I have no doubt about it.

This is all Elijah’s fault.

This is all Elijah’s fault!

Huffing, I wrap the toy back in its packaging before shoving it in the bag and ripping open my bedroom door. Why should I be burdened with something I don’t even want? My bare feet smack against the floor with quiet thuds as I storm toward his bedroom.

The last time I came to his room at night, he was with that maid, but I push those thoughts from my mind as I reach his door.

Sucking in a slow breath, I glance around to ensure nobody is present before raising my fist and knocking.

I wait, confident this is a horrible idea, before stepping back when the door opens and I’m met with the sight of Elijah’s bare chest.

I push past him, welcoming myself into his bedroom.

“I have no place to hide this!” I huff, shoving it into his chest as he turns toward me.

He looks startled, and sleepy, and I realize only now that he’s wearing nothing more than a pair of underwear. They aren’t tied at the waist, and I feel my cheeks warming as I realize he was naked in bed and probably threw these on in a panic before opening his door.

“What time is it?” he asks, taking the bag from me.

I tap my foot against the ground.

“Late,” I answer.

He nods before opening his mouth in a loud yawn. It’s dramatic, and I look around his room searching for a place to hide the damned object he purchased.

“Do maids help you dress?” I ask.

Elijah shakes his head.

“I dress myself,” he says.

Good. That’s perfect.

I snatch the bag from him and storm into his closet. He follows, but I pay him no mind as I pull open his drawers in search of his underwear. I find them relatively quickly and lift a handful before shoving the bag underneath the pile.

The maids may open the drawer to put things away, but they’ll never have a reason to dig through them.

“You’re acting crazy, Rebecca,” he laughs.

I ignore him. Elijah doesn’t know anything.

I storm out of his closet, avoiding looking at the imposing man standing in the doorway. He steps to the side to let me pass but grabs my wrist before I leave his room altogether.

I’m not wearing my gloves right now, a foolish decision on my end, but he makes no attempts to touch my hands. It’s good he’s learned his place.

“Rebecca.” His voice is no louder than a whisper.

My pulse races, and I stare at his bare feet for a moment before working up the courage to meet his eye. He looks handsome when just awakened, his hair messy and eyes full of sleep. I want to look at his chest and see the muscles I know live there, but I refuse.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

I gulp, looking around.

“At night? In your bedroom?”

That’s a dangerous slope, and we both know it. It would be too easy to get carried away, and I don’t trust myself after how eagerly I threw myself at him during our intimate moment in the carriage earlier today.

“Yes,” he breathes.

I want to say yes, but that’s not a good decision. Instead, I shake my head and step back, putting some much-needed space between us.

“You can only kiss me in the daytime when we are not so alone,” I decide.

Elijah smiles, the reaction not what I was expecting.

“Deal!” he beams.

I blink, confused, before realizing what I’ve just agreed to. I open my mouth to take it back, to insist that I did most definitely not just give him permission to kiss me freely during the day, but he laughs and ushers me out of his room before I get the words out.

I spin, my jaw slack as he shuts his door between us.

His laughter continues to echo from behind the wood, and I want to scream.

That wasn’t what I meant.

Chapter 28

Elijah is looking at me through his office window, but I pretend I don’t notice as I lift the hem of my skirt and wander through the garden.

The lavender is in full bloom right now, and the smell is fantastic.

I shut my eyes and suck in a deep breath, the scent bringing back happy memories of childhood. My mother loved this plant and had a large garden full of lavender before I was born. Father hired numerous gardeners to keep it alive and strong after she died, and they were able to do so for many years.

The abnormally harsh winter we had my eleventh year killed it, along with the rest of the plants in our garden.

More was never planted, and I haven’t experienced the scent so strong until now.

“Would you like some to be cut and placed in your bedroom?” Elijah asks, walking up behind me.

I didn’t come down for breakfast today, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he took it upon himself to approach. It seems Elijah is more predictable than I initially took him to be. All people are, once you get to know them.

Does this mean I know Elijah?

He places a hand on the small of my back, his touch warm.

I keep my eyes shut, not wanting to ruin this moment by seeing his haughty expression. He’s always wearing some annoying smirk, and I hate it. Even when he’s not, I still hate his stupid face. I should remind him of that soon.

His hand slides from my back to my waist, and I listen to the pebbles beneath his feet crunch as he walks around the front of me. I gulp, my pulse beating a thousand miles a minute as I feel his breath hit my cheek.

He’s waiting for me to pull away, and when I don’t, he’s closing the distance and connecting his mouth with mine. The way I have my head tilted up puts me in the perfect position, and I feel my tense muscles soften as he pulls me into his chest and slots his lips between mine.

The kiss is chaste, and Elijah pulls away before it’s ever truly begun.

I sigh, hoping my cheeks aren’t red when I finally work up the courage to open my eyes. Elijah is still holding me, his hands planted firmly onto my waist. He’s smiling, for once without malice, and I clear my throat before stepping back.

“You’re taking advantage of my misspeak,” I accuse.

His damned smile only widens.

“Yes,” he laughs, moving to stand on my right. “Walk with me? I haven’t truly experienced the garden in years.”

I hum, debating, before taking his arm and leading the way.

“You didn’t enjoy romantic strolls with your mistress?” I say.

The words are petty, I’m fully aware of that, but the sting of him being with her still aches me. Elijah’s chest expands as he sucks in a deep breath, and I find myself holding mine as he stops us and rounds me once more.

“I will say this one time, and one time only. She was not my mistress. There was no romance between us. We didn’t eat meals together, we didn’t spend time together, I didn’t purchase her things, and I didn’t ever want more,” he says, grabbing my chin and urging me to look him in the eye. “She would sneak into my bedroom at night, and we would have sex. Then she would leave. Sometimes, very rarely, I would find a need and call her to my office. For sex. That’s all it was. Sex.”

Elijah looks earnest, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

He rubs my exposed arms before bending and bringing his lips to mine again. This time he’s a bit more aggressive and cups my cheeks before tilting his head to the side and sliding his tongue against mine.

I hate how much I enjoy it, and I grab his forearms as he pulls away and drops his forehead against mine.

“Stop thinking about her. I’m not, and I haven’t for a long time,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning my face.

I purse my lips.

“List three things you like about me,” I order.

Elijah straightens back up and raises a brow, his lips twitching before he hooks his arm with mine and resumes our walk. Our pace is slow, and I let the sun warm my exposed skin before glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

If he compliments my hair again, I’m going to call it. He’ll officially be dead to me.

“I like how loyal you are. I assumed you would mindlessly conform like most of the ladies I’ve met, and while you do care for appearances, you don’t seem to care what people say when you parade around town with Louise. There are also the rumors about your brother, both about him having a relationship with the widow and now with Louise, but you still stand proudly by his side on your weekly meetings at the pastry shop.”

Elijah clears his throat, and I do the same. I wasn’t expecting him to say that.

I know it’s not fashionable to befriend somebody who society considers is below your status, and I know people look at Louise and me with less than favorable mindsets, but they are easy to ignore when we’re having so much fun. Ignoring the glares people shoot in Jack and I’s direction is more challenging, but I would never abandon him.

He’s my blood and will always have a place in my heart.

Even if I disapprove of the widow. She’s much too old for him.

“I also like how loud you are about your desires. I never have to wonder if you’re happy or what you want from me. You make it loud and clear when I’ve upset you and what I can do to improve. It does drive me crazy sometimes, more than I’d care to admit, but I find I like it more often than not.”

That’s good because I’m not going to change and become some meek woman who quietly goes along with everything he does and says. If that’s what he wants, he should’ve taken the time to court women until he found one who best suits him. I will not change my personality because he didn’t do his due diligence.

We cut left once we reach the tall bushes, and I reach out and let my fingertips graze against them as we follow the small path that leads to my private spot. I didn’t realize I was mindlessly leading Elijah there, but it’s too late to turn back.

“I also quite like how fiery you are. You make rash decisions, usually ones that end in me having bruised shins or a bruised ego, but it’s exciting. I often find myself bored around ladies, but I don’t feel that way about you. You have a sharp tongue and an intelligent mind. Both are qualities I admire.”

Nobody has ever called me intelligent before.

That’s a compliment reserved solely for men. I feel my face warming, and I duck my head to hide my reaction to it. When I asked him this question, I didn’t anticipate him giving me genuine answers, let alone ones as thoughtful as this.

Elijah rubs his thumb over the exposed skin of my wrist. His hand is soft, and I stare at it before rounding the final corner leading to my special area.

“This is where I cry,” I say, pointing to a small bench within a wall of tall bushes.

The area is impossible to see unless you’re physically here, which I love. I don’t have to worry about anybody spying on me from afar.

Elijah hesitates as he absorbs my words, his pace slowing.

He doesn’t ask why I cry, which I appreciate. We both know why, and he doesn’t want to hear it just as I don’t want to say it. Admitting his indifferent attitude hurts makes me feel weak, and I hate doing it.

Instead, he pulls me to the bench and gestures for me to sit. I do so, and I hug my arms around myself before realizing how timid that makes me look and drop them back to my sides.

“I’m sorry I purchased you that toy. It was thoughtless,” Elijah breaks the silence.

If possible, my cheeks redden even further.

“It’s fine,” I mumble, not wanting to talk about it.

Elijah nudges his elbow against my side.

“It’s fine? Yesterday you attacked me for it,” he laughs.

I don’t answer him, but it seems I don’t need to as seconds later he spins to me with a wide grin. I don’t like it, not one bit, but he hardly seems to care as his eyes turn dark and he lets his eyes trail me head to toe.

“You used it,” he says.

I gasp, turning to meet his stare. How dare he accuse me of such things?

“Did you like it?” he continues.

Flustered, I turn back away, unwilling to indulge his nosy questions. It’s none of his business what I do in the privacy of my room.

“No, I’m willing to bet you didn’t. You wouldn’t have brought it to me if you did. You’d have stashed it away in your room and never brought it up again. What happened?” He sounds genuinely perplexed, but I won’t give him an answer.

“Rebecca?” His voice takes on a taunting tone. “Maybe you did like it. Maybe you’re scared of how much you enjoyed it. Did you pretend it was me? I bet you did.”

I’m going to gouge out his eyes and feed them to the crows.

“It didn’t even work!” I snap, spinning to face him.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Shit. Elijah cocks his head to the side, and I straighten my spine and pretend to be confident. Why do I keep saying these stupid things around him? First it was the permission to kiss me in the daytime, and now this.

I’m going to die of humiliation long before I’m old.

“What do you mean it didn’t work?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Rebecca…” Elijah trails off and clears his throat.

I narrow my eyes and watch him shift and run a hand through his hair. His lips twitch a second later, the sight of it enraging me.

“Stop laughing at me!” I hiss.

Elijah recoils, his eyes widening as he takes in the venom in my voice. I may tolerate many things, but I don’t like being laughed at. I’m not a joke.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he defends, his throat bobbing before he grabs my hand.

His hold is firm, and I glance at my gloved fingers as he brings me to his body. Elijah’s movements are slow, giving me ample time to pull away before he lowers my palm onto the hardened appendage between his thighs.

“I like the thought of you using it, Rebecca. A lot,” he admits, curling his fingers around my own until I’m holding his manhood.

I have no words. No thoughts. Not even any air in my lungs. He feels about as large as the toy, much bigger than Ben, and I stare in shock at my hand. I should pull away. That’d probably be the smart thing to do.

Elijah slides my hand back and forth, urging me to stroke him through the material of his pants.

“What do you mean when you say it didn’t work?” he asks.

I tighten my grip, enjoying how he curses and drops his head. Elijah’s hips twitch, his trust in me not to squeeze and rip surprising. I’d be scared of myself doing that if I were him.

“I couldn’t get it in,” I whisper.

Elijah curses, and I can’t help but let a tiny moan slip from my lips as I continue to stroke him. It feels good having a man desire me, especially one as attractive as Elijah. I have a feeling it will feel even better when he begs.

With that thought in mind, I pull away.

His eyebrows furrow at the lack of contact, but he releases me immediately.

Elijah lowers his hand to my thigh. Even through the many layers of fabric of my skirt, I still feel the weight and warmth of it.

“Come to my room tonight,” he whispers, leaning in and rubbing his lips across mine. “I’ll show you how to use it.”

He lowers his mouth to my neck, and it takes everything in me to stay strong as I feel his tongue dart out to lick at the sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my neck. Still, I shiver, and he takes that as an invitation to close his mouth around the area and suck my skin into his mouth.

His teeth graze against it before he pulls away, careful not to leave a mark.

“I’ll help you get it in, and then I’m going to watch you pleasure yourself while I do the same to myself,” he promises.

I pant, my eyes darting to his still hard length. It’s visible through his pants, his erection impossible not to notice. It strains against the fabric, and I shift my attention back to his face as he curls a hand around it.

“Over your dead body,” I say.

Elijah only laughs, which I hate.

“You wish,” he teases, standing.

He readjusts himself before holding out a hand for me. I stare at it, debating, before standing on shaky knees and looping my arm through his. He’s always messing with me, but he’s in for a surprise if he thinks I’ll ever come to his room.

No way.

Chapter 29

I enjoy watching the fire crackle, and I cock my head to the side as one of the burnt logs crumbles under the weight of the ones above it.

It causes everything in the fireplace to shift, and a few glowing embers fly up into the chimney. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve chosen to lounge in this room after dinner instead of heading upstairs to hide in my bedroom, but I can’t lie and say I’m not enjoying it.

It feels nice not to be a prisoner in my own home.

“Would you like a drink?”

I turn toward Elijah. He’s standing near the bar and pours a glass of whiskey for himself as he waits for my response.

“I’ll have a glass of wine,” I decide.

He sets down the whiskey and pours me a glass of red, one larger than it probably needs to be, before sauntering over to the couch I’m lounging on. I accept it from him with a slight dip of my chin and remain silent as he moves to sit in the chair opposite me.

We’ve never spent time together like this, and I try not to read too much into the fact that he’s willingly trying to spend time with me as he grabs a book and makes himself comfortable.

It’s one I’ve never heard of before, but I don’t have a huge interest in reading so I’m not surprised.

I sip my wine and stare at the flames, wondering what my life will be like in five years. Will Elijah and I ever find happiness? I’m comfortable with the contentedness we’ve recently grown into, even if he still annoys me half the time, but this tension worries me.

I’m not sure if I can ever trust him enough to try for a real marriage. I will lay in his bed when the time comes and allow him to fill me with children, but I don’t see myself ever thinking of his bedroom as my own.

Louise steps into the doorway with a grin, but it falls once she realizes Elijah is here. I asked her to get playing cards and berries from my bedroom before he arrived, hoping we could play a few games.

My lips purse and I give a slight shrug. I’m bummed by it, too.

Weeks ago, I would have just up and left, choosing to spend time with Louise instead of Elijah, but I have a feeling he would take offense if I did that now.

“Come in,” Elijah says, glancing at her over the top of his book.

She goes red in the face before clearing her throat and rushing to my couch. I glance at Elijah, trying to read him, before sliding onto the floor in front of the coffee table. He doesn’t bother to hide that he’s watching as I grab the cards from her and whisper for her to get herself a drink.

If he’s going to be kind tonight, I’m going to take full advantage of it.

Louise hesitates before getting up and pouring herself a glass of wine, and I can practically see the steam pouring out of the other maids’ ears. It’s not typical for a worker to be given such liberties, but I think of Louise as a friend more than an employee.

As she walks back over, I deal our cards and count out ten berries each.

I pop a few extras into my mouth and laugh when she sits and does the same. It’s doubtful there will be any left by the time we are finished tonight. I’ll have to see if I can get somebody to pick me more.

I doubt I’ll be allowed to venture into the woods to get them after the last incident.

We play multiple rounds, our giggling growing louder with each hand. I’m out of berries before I know it, and Louise holds eye contact as she grabs a handful and tosses them in her mouth. She’s such a sore winner.

I thought tonight would be the night I won.

“Can I play a round?” Elijah asks, setting down his book.

Louise quiets, and I think it over before scooting to the side so he has room to sit at the coffee table. There’s a formal game table with chairs at the other end of the room, but I like sitting near the fire. The heat feels good against my skin, and Louise gets cold quickly.

Has Elijah ever sat on a floor before? I doubt it. Still, he looks smooth as he lowers himself to his knees and grabs the cards to shuffle. His arm brushes against my own, and I do my best not to react to it.

I want to both pull away and press harder against him.

His daring proposition from this morning still hasn’t left my mind, and I stare at his hands as he shuffles and deals out the cards. He urged me to touch him, to wrap my fingers around his manhood, and he promised to let me watch him pleasure himself.

I’d enjoy watching him, but I’m unsure if I’m willing to hold up my end of the deal.

He wants to put the toy in me and watch me rub myself.

We don’t bother sorting out the few remaining berries to play with, and I resist the urge to smack Elijah’s hand when he reaches over and pops a few in his mouth. Those are mine. I worked hard to bully his brother to pick them for me.

Elijah seems to sense my annoyance as he turns and glances in my direction with a raised brow. He holds eye contact as he slips another one between his full lips, and I find myself entirely entranced until Louise clears her throat and breaks us apart.

I scowl, angry with myself for being so distracted by him, before picking up my cards and looking them over.

I have a good hand.

Louise starts, and it takes everything in me not to bounce as I play my cards perfectly and win. Even Elijah seems shocked, and I take great pride in counting his points out loud and declaring him a loser.

I’m an even poorer winner than Louise.

“You are a menace,” Elijah turns and whispers, his lips grazing the skin of my ear.

I gulp, refusing to look in his direction.

“I hope this good attitude of yours is here to stay,” he continues. “I like when you are vibrant.”

Oh, heavens. Why does he have to say things like that? His words aren’t meant to be erotic, but I feel my sex clench anyway. I love being complimented, and Elijah sure is good at it when he wants to be.

Louise looks between Elijah and me with a frown, and before I can pull away, she’s loudly stating that we should go upstairs so she can help me get ready for bed. I’m embarrassed, and I wonder briefly if this is what having a mother is like as I stand and wilt under her sharp gaze.

Elijah snorts but doesn’t say anything as I follow Louise to my room.

“What’s going on between you two?” she asks the second we’re alone.

I shrug, not having a good answer.

“I’m not sure. I think we are friends,” I admit.

She doesn’t seem to believe me, not one bit.

“Friends don’t giggle like lovesick birds whenever they are near.”

I gasp, thoroughly offended. I do not giggle, and I am not a lovesick bird.

“I’m not judging you, Rebecca. I’m happy if you’re happy. I just want to know if I should prepare to begin doing our nighttime rituals in his bedroom instead of yours,” she says, walking to my closet and grabbing my night dress.

I sit in my vanity chair and begin pulling the pins out of my hair. Louise has never been one for beating around the bush, which I usually appreciate when it’s not directed at me. She moves to help me, and I watch through the mirror as the few pieces of hair she pulled out of my face and pinned at the back of my head fall to my shoulders.

She grabs a brush next, and I grimace at the sight of it.

Brushing through my curls will make them expand, but there’s no way I can tell her not to do it without drawing attention. Instead, I hide my horror as she works her way through the strands and my hair doubles in size.

This is not ideal.

I don’t respond to her comment about us sharing a bedroom, and thankfully she doesn’t push again. I don’t have an answer for her. I don’t know what Elijah and I are doing.

Thoughts of Elijah continue to swirl through my mind as I mindlessly undress and enter my bathroom for a bath. I make quick work of it but carefully wash all my essential bits thoroughly.

Just in case.

Louise doesn’t comment on it, but I can tell she’s hiding a smirk as she helps me into my nightgown. She hums quietly as she words, the sound soothing, and offers me a kind smile before leaving and closing my bedroom door behind her.

Should I go to Elijah’s room? I’m tired of letting our history ruin any chances of a future. As annoying as it is, he’s my husband and that isn’t going to change. If we could come up with some agreement and find even moderate happiness with one another, I wouldn’t have to run away.

I’m not looking for him to love me. I only want a kind man who respects our marriage and is a good father to our children.

I sit back in my vanity chair and stare at myself. Sometimes I think my reflection is judging me.

My hair is messy, and I struggle to tame the curls before giving up and tying it in a loose braid. Damn Louise and damn that brush. I have a feeling she did it on purpose.

I’m a married woman. Elijah my husband, for fuck’s sake. I should be allowed to indulge in him every once and a while. There’s nothing sinful about that. Everybody probably thinks we are doing so anyway.

I head to my closet and pull out one of my slinkiest dresses. The silk is black in color and sports a low neckline and high hem. I slip it on, enjoying the feeling of it on my body, before grabbing my matching gloves.

Elijah still doesn’t deserve to feel my touch.

And I don’t want the sight of my giant bandage to ruin the moment.

The wound is healing nicely, and hopefully it will be as good as new in only a few more days. Or at least good enough that I no longer have to bandage it.

I wrap a long robe around myself before opening my door and peering into the hallway. It’s empty, and I suck in a shaky breath before running to Elijah’s bed chambers. It’s early enough that a maid or two might still be wandering around, so I push open his door and welcome myself inside without knocking.

He’s sitting behind the small desk in the corner of his room, the man looking more relaxed than I think I’ve ever seen him before. He’s taken off his jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and he seems to be writing a letter.

“You’ve come,” he says, sounding surprised.

I’m glad I was able to shock him.

I press my back against his door, nerves making me breathless. Elijah sets down his pen and walks around his desk, and I let my eyes wander over his muscular frame. This man is my husband, and he’s mine for the taking, just as society deems mine is to his.

Is this a mistake? Probably.

“Is this vibrant enough for you?” I ask, lowering my robe.

Did that sound too cheesy? I wanted to sound sexy, and I liked when he called me vibrant earlier.

Elijah works his jaw side to side as he approaches. His eyes trail down my frame, lingering on the skin exposed by my practically nonexistent slip as he comes to a halt in front of me.

I feel that my nipples are hard, and they brush against the silk as I slide my robe off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

The air is thick between us, tension rippling as his large frame pins me to the wall. Heat coils in my abdomen, but I refuse to back down as I place my palms on his chest. The muscles are hard, and I drag my gloved hands down them before deciding to be daring and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his pants.

Elijah gasps. I take the noise as a success and look up just as he leans down. I enjoy it when he kisses me, and I tilt my head to the side and moan into his mouth as his tongue brushes against mine. He slides a hand up the column of my throat and uses it to hold my head steady, and I can’t help but shiver in response.

Elijah tightens his grip before pulling back so he can admire me again.

“Where did you purchase this?” he asks, sliding his hand down my waist. “I wish to buy you more.”

My lips curl. I’m happy he seems to appreciate it.

“I made it myself. Reputable seamstresses don’t make things like this and I can’t be seen going into the shops that do,” I admit.

Knowing only one layer of fabric separates his hand from my bare skin has me shivering with need. I will be truly touched for the first time tonight, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I long for the feeling of a man pleasuring me.

“Then tell me what fabrics you need and I will purchase them for you in every color available,” he says, his eyes growing dark.

His mouth is back on mine a second later, and I am entirely breathless as he pins me to the door and squeezes my waist. He makes no attempts to touch my breasts or what lies between my thighs, and the wait only makes my need grow.

I want to feel his mouth on my breasts like Ben did, and in an attempt to move things along, I reach forward and palm at his hips. He’s already erect for me, and it’s not hard to find and curl my fingers around the appendage as he showed me earlier.

Elijah moans, the noise low and throaty, as I give him a firm squeeze. I want him so badly.

His breaths grow heavy as he finally slides his hands up my body, his touch burning me through my dress as he finally reaches my breasts. He cups them and runs his thumbs over my hardened nipples, and I arch into him for more.

That feels good.

“I want more,” I moan.

Elijah curses, his voice full of need as he pulls away and directs me to sit on his bed. I don’t hesitate to do so, and I lower myself onto the edge of his mattress while I wait for further instruction.

My skin feels cold when he’s not on it, and I wait impatiently as he runs to his closet where I hid the toy yesterday.

Elijah returns a second later with the object in hand, but instead of going for the hem of my dress as I expect him to, he places it on the bed next to me. I curl my fingers into the sheets, hoping he can’t sense my inexperience.

We both know I am, but I don’t want it to seem so.

He towers over me, and I can’t help but pant as I stare at him. I want him to touch me.

“Relax. We’re going to take our time,” he promises, dropping to his knees.

Why’s he doing that? I try not to let my confusion show as I lean forward to kiss him, but he places a hand on my belly to hold me still. He smiles at me, his expression soft, before turning and kissing the point of my exposed knee.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

I laugh.

“It already is,” I tease, gesturing to his mouth currently resting against my leg.

Elijah shuts his eyes and shakes his head, and I watch in shock as he urges me to spread my knees. My dress rides up my thighs, and I hope he can’t see my sex as he slots his torso between my legs.

He grabs my hand and brings it between my thighs. I’m speechless, but I don’t try to pull away as he urges me to slide my gloved fingers higher. Elijah looks at my face the entire time, and I can tell he sees it in my expression when my hand makes contact with my sex.

His fingers are wrapped around my waist, and I feel him trail them down mine until he reaches the very tip of my nails and his are just barely grazing against the bare skin of my lower lips.

“Can I put my mouth here?” he clarifies, sliding down lower until he’s touching me entirely.

Oh.

I gulp, still reeling over the fact he wants to put his mouth there as he places his fingers over mine and urges me to rub myself. His mouth captures my attention, and I watch his tongue dart out and wetten his full lips. Will that even feel good?

Chapter 30

Elijah maintains eye contact as he bends forward and presses another kiss to the side of my knee. His coarse stubble rubs against my skin, and I gulp as he places his hands on my waist and drags them down my thighs until they reach my knees.

My fingers go still without his direction, my rubbing gradually pausing, but Elijah shoots me a pointed look until I move them again. My gloved fingertips are soft where they rub against my clit, and I hold my breath as Elijah slides his lips further up the inside of my thigh.

“Can I, Rebecca?” he asks.

I still can’t believe he wants to put his mouth on me. I’ve heard rumors of women putting their mouths on men, but I didn’t realize the action was reciprocated.

He shuts his eyes and moans when I nod, permitting him to do as he pleases. I’ve been in his room for less than five minutes and already he’s got me a needy mess. I’d let him do whatever he wants to me right now.

Elijah kisses his way up my inner thigh, and when he reaches the hem of my dress, he places a hand on my belly and pushes down.

“Lie down,” he orders.

I fall onto my back. The action pulls my dress to the tops of my thighs, and my face turns red as the fabric is picked up and moved to my waist. Elijah slides his hands up the backs of my calves before lifting my legs and sliding them onto his shoulders.

I don’t even want to think about his view right now.

He’s got a clear shot of everything I have to offer.

“Don’t stop,” Elijah teases when my fingers grow still once more.

I groan. This is so embarrassing.

He chuckles, the noise low, before placing his fingers over mine and moving them for me. I clench around the air, the touch on my nub more than a little pleasurable. It feels fantastic, and I squeak when I feel his breath on my sex.

His hair tickles the insides of my thighs, and I give myself another slow rub just as his mouth descends on me.

“Oh,” I gasp, at a loss for words.

Elijah’s tongue is soft and warm, and the muscle feels unlike anything I’ve ever experienced as he licks a broad stripe up my slit. I move my hand away when his tongue reaches my fingers, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he brings his lips to the nub it was just covering.

My body jerks, and I accidentally squeeze his head between my thighs when he makes contact with it.

He moans into my sex and sucks me into his mouth, and I have to shut my eyes when the sound of his licking makes its way to my ears. It sounds filthy, and he grows even louder as he sucks and laps at my sex.

His tongue flickers over my nub, and I can’t stop my hips from twitching as I rock against his mouth. He hums and grabs my hips, pinning them to the mattress so I can’t move.

I choke back a moan before pressing a fist to my lips to hide it.

It feels too good, and I stare at the ceiling before working up the courage to look at Elijah. His dark hair is practically black in this dim lighting, and I gasp when I see his mouth on me.

His lips are coated in my arousal and his spit, and he looks up just as he runs the flat of his tongue up my sex. He smiles, his heated expression full of sin before he pulls away and grabs the toy.

“Are you ready for it?” he asks.

I nod, a bit nervous but still excited, and prop myself on my elbows.

Elijah leans back to make room, and I readjust my legs as he wraps his arm around my thigh and brings the toy to my sex. He uses his fingers to spread my folds and expose my entrance to him, and I gulp as I feel the broad head press against me.

“Let me know if anything hurts,” he urges, maintaining eye contact as he leans in and licks me at the exact moment he pushes.

I squeak, feeling the fullness even as he uses his tongue to distract me.

He focuses his mouth exclusively on my nub as he eases the toy into me, his movements surprisingly gentle as he pushes it in a bit before pulling out and repeating the process.

The stone is cold, but the coolness helps to dull the slight burn it causes.

“Your pussy is so greedy for it,” he breathes.

I gasp and knee him in the side of his head.

“Elijah!” I scold.

He can’t speak like that.

The man hardly seems to care as he beams up at me. I can tell by his expression that he’s teasing me, and I move to knock him with my knee once more when he laughs and jerks his head away. A second later the toy is pushed further into me, and I jolt at the abrupt entrance.

Oh.

“Feel,” he urges, grabbing my glove and pulling it off.

He grabs my wrist and brings it between my thighs, urging me to touch where the toy enters me. I do, trailing my fingers over the top of the stone before spreading them and feeling where it disappears.

Elijah works it in a bit more, the stone sliding against my fingers before he pulls it out to the tip and pushes the entirety of it inside.

I groan, shocked it’s all in me. I didn’t think it was possible.

Elijah moans, and I collapse into his bed as he reconnects his mouth to my sex. He licks and sucks at me until I’m shivering around his tongue, the fullness of the toy only adding to the pleasure.

He doesn’t pump it in and out as I thought he would, instead choosing to rock in slow, smooth movements.

It feels good, albeit a bit peculiar, but in only minutes that doubled with his wet tongue have me stiffening and falling apart. Elijah licks me through it, the moans that slip from his throat growing louder.

He only pulls away when I fall limp, and I watch with a slack jaw as he undoes his pants. He pauses, ensuring I’m okay with this, before shoving them to his knees. I gasp as I lock eyes with his manhood, and I can’t bring myself to look away as he kicks his pants off and stands naked in front of me.

He’s large, maybe even a little bigger than the toy, and colored a dark pink. He has hair surrounding the skin at the base of his shaft, but it looks trimmed and well cared for. I want to touch it, touch him, but I resist the urge.

There’s a tiny bead of liquid at the tip, pre-ejaculate I’ve heard spoken about in whispers amongst women, and it trails down the head as if it’s noticed my stare.

Elijah’s body screams male, and the muscles in his abdomen flex as he takes hold of himself. He lets out a low moan as he curls his fist around his shaft, and I feel my sex clench in response to it. His noises are filthy, and he makes no attempts to hold them back.

The toy is still inside me, and Elijah stares intently as he slides his hand up and down his length.

I wish to reach out and touch him, but I resist and remain on the bed. I do readjust my positioning so I’m better propped up on my elbows, though.

“Does it feel good?” he asks.

I have to shut my eyes. The sight of him is doing things to me, and hearing his gaspy voice so full of desire is just too much. I want more, and that’s a dangerous feeling to have.

“I feel full,” I admit.

“Fuck.”

The whispered curse is felt in my core. Men don’t swear around ladies, but Elijah doesn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the words he’s spewing. I almost like that. He’s so lost in his lust he’s babbling naughty words he can’t contain.

He steps closer, bringing himself between my thighs.

My fingers itch with the urge to touch him, but I bring them between my legs instead. Elijah groans, the sound low and gravely as I feel where my skin is stretched around the toy. I’m unsure how he managed to get it inside me, and I trail my finger around the base before nervously pressing against the bottom and pushing it further in.

“Yes, baby,” he grunts, watching my every move. “Your cunt is fucking perfect.”

I still, leveling him a sharp look. He only smiles, not the least bit concerned, before leaning in and bringing his lips to my ear.

“Are you embarrassed when I say dirty things to you? You let me lick you, let me bury my face between your thighs and taste your wetness while I work a stone cock into you, but you flush a deep red when the words cunt and pussy slip from my lips?” Elijah teases.

Oh my. His words are felt in every inch of my body, and I clench around the toy as I sink my teeth into my bottom lips and give a jerky nod. Elijah offers me an award-winning grin as he straightens back up and returns his attention to my sex.

He continues to pump himself with his right hand while his left moves to the toy. He grabs the base and begins to ease it in and out. His movements are slow and gentle, a drastic change from how he roughly handles himself.

Elijah curls his hand around his tip before releasing himself and sticking his palm underneath my chin.

“Spit,” he orders.

I blink, more than a little confused. Why on earth would he want me to do that?

“There’s friction, baby,” he explains, his voice softening. “Your spit will make it feel better.”

This feels so wrong, and I hope he’s not playing tricks on me as I collect all the moisture in my mouth and spit onto his palm. I can’t believe he’s asking this. To spit on somebody is the highest insult.

Elijah smiles, satisfied with what I’ve done as he brings his hand back to himself. I watch him press his palm to the side of his shaft, spreading my spit around before retaking hold of himself. His length shines where my saliva has moistened him, and I realize what he meant by friction as I watch his hand glide smoothly over his skin.

“I wish I were that toy,” he grunts, quickening his motions. “I never thought I’d be jealous of a fucking sex toy.”

I’m going to scream. My body aches for another orgasm, and before I overthink my actions, I bring my fingers to my sensitive nub and rub it.

“I thought of you when I used it,” I admit.

“Fuck.”

“I wanted to know how it would feel to take you.”

“Shit. Keep talking, baby. I’m so close,” he cries.

I press harder against my nub, and Elijah rocks the toy into me with more speed. It’s still not much of an in-and-out movement, more of a rubbing against my inner walls, but it feels incredible. The angle he has it at is perfect, and the toy reaches parts of my body my fingers never could.

“I want you to use this toy on me again. I want your tongue on me again.” My breath hitches as Elijah drops to his knees and connects his mouth his my sex once more.

It seems I didn’t need to tell him twice.

He licks at me between loud moans, and I can hear his fist smacking against his abdomen with each thrust of his hand. It feels so good, and I curl my hands into his sheets as my thighs shake around his head. Seeing Elijah pleasuring himself has me more turned on than I ever thought possible, and the feeling of his wet tongue slipping between my folds and flicking over my nub has me on the very edge.

I’m going to cum. I feel the desire pooling in my abdomen and spreading toward my core. Each pointed flick of his tongue and movement of the toy pushes me closer to the edge, and it takes what feels like only seconds for me to find another release.

Elijah sucks at me, the vibrations of his low moans teasing my already sensitive skin. He grunts, the sound of his stroking quickening before he lets out a groan louder than all the rest and stills.

The only noise is our breathing, both of us panting as we come down from our highs.

The toy is still inside me, and Elijah shivers before carefully pulling it out. I wince, not enjoying the feeling of it sliding out of me, but Elijah presses distracting kisses to the inside of my thigh until it’s entirely removed.

I can feel the sheets under me are wet, a mixture of Elijah’s spit and my arousal, and I scootch back on the bed until I no longer feel it.

Elijah stands, and I can’t look away from his softening manhood as he walks into his bathroom and fetches a washcloth. He cleans his hand before folding it in half and bringing it between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Cleaning you,” he responds, wiping at my sex.

I’m sure my cheeks are a thousand shades of red as he nudges my knee, urging me to open up. This is humiliating. I try to snap my legs shut, uncomfortable with the intimacy, but Elijah shoots me a sharp glare until I fall back on the bed and let him do what he wants.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, tossing the washcloth to the side. “Does anything hurt?”

I shake my head. My sex feels tender, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt. Elijah was gentle with the toy. More than I thought he’d be.

This bed is comfortable, and I force myself up as my eyes grow heavy. Elijah is walking around his room, still naked as the day he was born, blowing out the few candles still lit. He spins as he hears my movement, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Aren’t you staying the night?” he asks.

Absolutely not.

“What would the maids think?” I laugh.

I expect Elijah to find humor in my joke, but instead he stomps toward the bed and towers over me. He can’t bully me into staying, and I huff before nudging him out of the way and moving to the robe I tossed aside earlier.

“We’re married, Rebecca. They won’t think anything.”

I shrug. It’s not a secret Elijah and I don’t share a bed, and I’d like to keep the gossip about me to a minimum. I’m sure word that Elijah and I are coupling would only draw unwanted attention. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.

I can’t help it.

“Rebecca?” Elijah sighs when I slip the robe over my shoulders and tie it at my waist. “Stay. Please.”

A small part of me yearns to know how it would feel to fall asleep with his arms around me, but that’s not a desire that will be fulfilled today.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I blurt, unsure what else to say.

Elijah crosses his arms over his chest and levels me with a sharp glare as I spin and hurry from his room. He can be pouty all he wants. Sleeping in bed with him would be nothing short of a colossal mistake.

____

I am in love with them