Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(66)

McKenna’s hand left her, and he touched her face, using the tip of his middle finger to stroke her lower lip. Opening her mouth obediently, she let his finger slip inside the warm dampness. His hand dipped beneath her skirts once more, and this time his finger was slippery when he stroked her. He aroused her softly, massaging the wetness all around until she clawed the upholstery of the daybed and dug her sweating forehead into the cushions. A shuddering sound escaped her as she felt his finger enter her, gliding farther and farther until her swollen flesh had enveloped every joint. Her bu**ocks rose to fit as closely against his body as possible, and she waited in brimming hunger while he stretched her in gentle circling thrusts, preparing her for the invasion yet to come.

Again, that maddeningly light nudge of his organ, a teasing brush of stiff, silken tension. Her breath caught, and she remained utterly passive, her thighs spread in helpless offering. McKenna entered her in a slow thrust…again, she experienced that startling sense of fullness, but this time there was only a brief flicker of pain. He went deep, encountering no resistance as the throbbing depths of her body welcomed him. Each time he pulled back to tunnel inside her again, Aline writhed to press closer to him. His fingers played in the wet curls of her sex, tenderly rubbing the source of her craving, stroking sweetly in counterpoint to the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation multiplied rapidly, building on itself with each delicious lunge, the hardness advancing ever deeper into the slick channel of her body. The pleasure sharpened to a harrowing pitch, gathering in the part of her that he possessed so consummately, until she could bear it no longer. Arching against his fingers, she convulsed uncontrollably, muffling her groans in the upholstery of the daybed. McKenna contained her with a growl, driving hard into her center until a raw sound was torn from his throat and he pulsed violently inside her.

They remained locked together for a long, breathless minute, their bodies joined and clinging, while McKenna’s weight nearly smothered her. Aline never wanted to move again. Her eyes remained closed, her damp lashes sticking to her cheeks. When she felt him ease away from her, she bit her lip to keep from moaning a protest. Instead, she continued to lean against the cushions in a heap of silk and torn linen, her limbs weak in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

McKenna restored his clothing and fumbled for his discarded coat. He had to clear his throat before speaking, his voice sounding scratchy. “No promises, no regrets—just as you wanted.”

Aline did not move as he left the cabinet. She waited until he had left her suite of rooms, listening for the sound of the door clicking shut, before she let the tears slide from her eyes.

The long, hellish supper was over. Although Livia knew that almost everyone at Stony Cross Park suspected that she had gone to visit the bachelor’s house, she felt that it was only decent to try to be discreet. She used a path at the side of the manor and kept to the side of a tall yew hedge before slipping over to the quiet residence. No doubt it would be wise to leave well enough alone, but her concern for Gideon Shaw compelled her to go see him. After she had made certain that he was all right, she would go back to the manor and find some nice long novel to occupy herself with.

Knocking on the door, Livia waited tensely for some response. Nothing. Frowning, Livia knocked again. “Hullo?” she called. “Hullo? Can anyone hear me?”

Just as Livia began to consider the option of going to fetch a key from Mrs. Faircloth, the door vibrated and clanked as it was unlocked. It opened a cautious crack, revealing Shaw’s valet. “Yes, milady?”

“I’ve come to see Mr. Shaw.”

“Mr. Shaw is not receiving visitors at this time, milady.”

The door began to close. Livia wedged her foot in it. “I won’t leave until I’ve seen him,” she said.

The valet’s gaze conveyed infinite exasperation, though his tone remained courteous. “Mr. Shaw is not in a suitable condition, milady.”

Livia decided to be blunt. “Is he drunk?”

“As David’s sow,” the valet confirmed sourly.

“Then I’ll send for some tea and sandwiches.”

“Mr. Shaw has asked for more brandy.”

Livia’s jaw firmed, and she pushed her way past him. Being a servant, he could not stop her—no one in service would ever dare to lay a hand on a lady of the manor. Ignoring the valet’s protests, she surveyed the darkened receiving room. The air was tainted with the smells of liquor and tobacco. “No brandy,” she said in a tone that allowed no room for argument. “Go to the manor, and bring back a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches.”

“He won’t take that well, milady. No one stands between Mr. Shaw and what he wants.”

“It’s time someone did,” Livia said, motioning him away. The valet left reluctantly, and Livia ventured farther into the darkened bachelor’s house. The glow of a lamp filled the main bedroom with quiet amber light. The unmistakable rattle of ice in a glass floated to her ears. Assuming that Shaw was in a drunken stupor, Livia went to the doorway.

The sight that greeted her eyes caused her to gasp.

Gideon Shaw was reclining in a slipper tub that had been set near the fire, his head leaning back against the mahogany rim, one long leg dangling carelessly over the side. He held an ice-filled glass in his hand, his gaze arrowing to hers as he took a swallow. Steam rose in veils from the bathwater, condensing on the golden curvature of his shoulders. Droplets glistened on the amber curls of his chest and the small circles of his ni**les.