orgasm went on and on, her hips bucking and her grip tightening in his hair. He loved the strength of her reaction. It made him feel like the most powerful man in the world.
When she began to relax, he softened his touch. He loved this part, when a woman was limp and soaking wet. With any other partner, he might rise up and slide his cock inside her. With Justine, however, he had another plan in mind.
He pumped his fingers, stretching her. She panted, her hips rocking to pull him in deeper, and he smiled. He kept his kisses light and gentle, biding his time. She was tight around his fingers but so hot and slick. Her channel would have felt like absolute heaven wrapped around his cock, if tonight had been about fucking her.
Soon, but not now. When he finally took her, he wanted her begging for it. Absolutely certain, with no chance for regret.
This time was about showing her how good it was between them and earning her trust. Making her feel adored and cherished. Pleasuring her until she couldn’t stand.
“That was amazing,” she said. Her eyes were closed and she had a satisfied smile on her face.
“I am glad you thought so, chérie. However, if you’re still capable of complete sentences, then that means I’m not quite done yet.”
And he started the entire process all over again.
Chapter Fifteen
As shaky as a newborn foal, Justine crept into the Greene kitchen, careful of her every move. Though it was the middle of the night—and her parents were still away—she didn’t wish to wake any of the servants. It wasn’t easy. Her coordination and agility had been left on Mulligan’s bed about an hour ago.
She’d come three times before he finally poured her into Rye’s carriage and saw her off. The goodbye barely registered, she’d been so dazed. She remembered him kissing her sweetly, his mouth and tongue tasting of her, and saying he hoped she’d enjoyed herself.
Hoped she’d enjoyed herself? Any more enjoyment and she’d have died.
By the end, she had begged to touch him. He merely laughed and told her not tonight, but soon. When, soon? Tomorrow night? She needed to see him equally undone, pleasured by her hand. Or mouth. Or . . . elsewhere.
Her sore lady bits gave a squeeze in anticipation.
She took the stairs slowly. Her legs felt like leaden weights. Her drawers were soaked, too, likely ruined. A small price to pay for a night she’d never, ever forget.
Though she was tired, a bath sounded like absolute heaven at the moment.
The house was dark and quiet, but she knew these halls well. She made not a sound as she crept past Florence’s room on the way to her own—though it was likely a wasted effort. With their parents gone, Florence had been spending every free moment with Clayton Madden. Justine couldn’t blame Florence, even if she did miss her sister’s presence in the big house.
Turning the knob on her door, she slipped inside—and nearly tripped when the light suddenly switched on.
Her two sisters were sitting on Justine’s bed, waiting. Arms folded, both wore flat and unhappy expressions.
Worry slid along Justine’s spine. “What is wrong?” Had something happened to their parents? Granny? “Has someone died?”
“Where have you been?” Florence asked.
Where had she . . . ? Oh. “Wait, why are you both here?”
“We have been waiting for you since ten o’clock,” Mamie said. “It’s now”—she glanced at the mantel clock—“half past three.”
“Waiting for me? Why?”
Florence’s hazel gaze narrowed. “You didn’t show up for dinner and we waited to show you the telegram from Daddy that arrived tonight.”
Dinner? That reminded her, she was starving. “What did it say?”
“You have not answered my question. Where were you, Justine?”
Justine looked from one sister to the other. “Are you both upset with me for sneaking out? Because that would be incredibly hypocritical of you.”
“No, not necessarily,” Mamie said. “We’re more concerned as to whom you are sneaking out to see.”
“I don’t see how that is any business of yours.” She met Florence’s eyes. “Or yours.”
“If you are doing something dangerous, then it is our business.”
Justine barked a laugh. “I don’t recall making it my business when you two were running amok a few years ago. Casinos, dance halls, poolrooms . . . neither of you worried about safety or propriety.”
“This is different,” Mamie said.
“How?”
“Because we know you’ve been with Mulligan.” Florence gestured to Justine’s hair. “Intimately.”
Justine put her hands up to her disheveled hair and began pulling pins loose.