He wanted her blind with desire. He wanted to hear her call his name before he entered her, before he found solace inside her. He wanted to know that it was he and only he who could drive her wild.
He reached behind her and swept everything from the table. All of it. The lamp, the pens and paper from earlier, when he had been preparing the speech for his press conference. He wanted all of it gone.
He wanted to hear the cries of pleasure he knew were waiting on his wife’s tongue. He wanted to block all thoughts—hers and his—of the future that was to come and simply immerse them both in this heady, impossible passion that threatened to consume them whole.
He pushed her back against the smooth wooden table top and gathered her small feet in his hands. Such delicate feet...he had never realised. He smoothed away the silk of her dress, pushing it up the shapely calves he found hidden beneath the material, up further past thighs of such smooth skin that it was almost enough to undo him right there and then.
Eloise moaned from the table, almost rising up to greet him, but he placed one palm on the plane of flat skin between her breasts, gently pushing her back down.
Hard. The thought came into his mind once more. He had never been so hard. So turned on. And for that he would ensure that she felt exactly the same. He relished the delicious punishment he was about to bestow upon his wife.
He pushed the skirts of her dress over her hips and found the tiny black thong covering the core of her femininity. And that was what he found there—nothing but utter femininity...
* * *
Eloise felt so incredibly open and exposed it almost took her breath away. She felt the heady combination of being both utterly vulnerable and incredibly powerful. Her husband—the most imposing, commanding man she knew—wanted to please her in this way, was looking at her with lust-filled eyes...eyes that promised and brooked no argument.
Somehow, in a room that was silent of everything other than the sounds of their harsh breathing and the desire-fuelled cries that seemed to come from somewhere other than her, even though she knew it was her, he was telling her what he was going to do. He was giving her time both to anticipate and prepare herself, for there was no stopping him now.
That was what his look told her before he dropped to his knees and began pressing open-mouthed kisses along thighs that had never even known the touch of a man, let alone the hot trail of his tongue.
His lips moved away from her thighs and she felt him press that same mouth that had toyed with her only moments before against her wet core. She felt the pressure of his tongue through thin fabric of her thong and she cursed it—shifting her hips beneath the gentle pressure he maintained, desperate for him to remove the last barrier between them. She cried out loud—a keening sound that she could not recognise as herself—and somehow she knew that he was smiling.
She shifted her legs, brought her foot up to rest against the corner of the table and used it to push herself further into his kiss.
And he took instant advantage, allowing the lift of her bottom to pull the tiny thong down around her thighs. Her fingers moved of their own volition, reaching for the thin ties to pull it off, but his hand reached out and held her, stopping her in her tracks.
‘No,’ he commanded.
With her thighs held in place by the binding of her underwear, stretched almost to the breaking point, he dropped his head and with one long stroke of his tongue almost brought her to orgasm. Almost—because she knew he could tell how close she was and he stopped.
He was playing with her, and in that moment she both loved him and hated him for it.
* * *
Never in all his life had he tasted anything so sweet. He knew how close she was to orgasm, and thanked his lucky stars that she had no idea how close he was. With his thumbs he massaged the inviting hollows just above the juncture of her thighs, opening her further to him. He let the pad of his thumb caress that delicate bundle of nerves and was surprised by the jolt that ran through her.
Never before had he felt so powerful. Never before had he seen such an instant reaction to his touch. And he couldn’t help himself. Again he thrust out his tongue and swept it across her—this time not for her but very much for him. And he was rewarded with the one thing he had wanted since he had been mad enough to touch his lips to hers earlier that evening.
His name on her lips echoed out into the room and he swept his tongue across her once more, just to hear it again. He wasn’t disappointed.
‘Please,’ she whispered, her voice fractured by her breathing. ‘I want to feel you. I want to feel you inside me.’
She was begging now, and he’d never heard anything so good.
He smiled against her thigh, shaking his head. He couldn’t speak—he didn’t want anything to intrude against the sound of her pleas.
He plunged a finger into her and felt glorious as her hips thrust her further and deeper against him. Her thighs, still bound with the ties of her thong, began to shake and her chest lifted from the table.
He lifted his free hand and placed it back on her chest, sweeping beneath the material of the halter-neck and gently tightening his fingers around the taut nipple he found there...
* * *
With one last stroke of his tongue
