Ravenwood

by Margaux Gillis

  God, the heat and strength of him, between her thighs was intoxicating. He carried her as though she weighed nothing. She squeezed her legs together, using the leverage to hitch herself up higher, pressing her belly close to his and was rewarded with another delectable sound from him. She was able to pull her head back slightly and look down at him - the way she was hitched on his waist giving her a height advantage she’d never had before. In the sliver of moonlight coming into the library he looked like a Grecian statue - fine edges with delicate eyelashes framing his eyes. His lips were wet - wet from her mouth and his. He blinked up at her and Elinore had the most stunning feeling in her belly and lower, in her sex. Why on earth were there not more books written of this? She would have read them all, she would have read every word, learning foreign languages, if necessary, as long as they’d described this luscious tingling, hot, almost dangerous feeling. Elinore used the strength of her legs to force a rocking motion in her upper body, pressing herself against Caleb and leaning her head down to kiss him again.

  Suddenly, without warning, she heard something fall - papers, books, she didn’t know exactly what and she didn’t care. It was only when Caleb pressed her down on the desk, laying her on her back, that she realized she must have heard his ledger hitting the floor. She giggled at the thought of him sweeping it aside. All his careful work, all his numbers in neat little columns. He pulled away from her, smiling at her.

  “What are you laughing at?” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corner. He pushed her hair back, off her face.

  “You’ll lose your place in your accounting.”

  “I don’t give fuck about the accounting.”

  His harsh language thrilled her, sending a deep wave down her body. It found its home somewhere deep inside her and when he pressed back against her, pushing her into the desk, she pulled at him, her arms firmly around his neck. She could feel his erection hot and hard pressed up against her thigh - the fabric of his pants and thin cotton of her nightgown the only thing between them. The thought of him so close to being inside her made her writhe against him. She used her tongue to lick deep into his mouth, wondering how deep she could go. She wanted to devour him. She wanted to bite at him, to mark him and make him hers. He moved his lips away from her mouth and she wanted to cry at the loss until she felt them against her jaw and then her throat. She tipped her head back, baring her neck as much as she could, showing him the soft, tender skin there. He bit at her jugular and she jolted, canting and rocking her hips against him. One of his hands pressed hard into her hipbone and it hurt, but in the most delicious way. She felt his other hand sliding down her leg, to her knee and then it was under the fabric of her nightgown and against the bare skin of her thigh. His hand was so hot against her flesh and she hadn’t known, she hadn’t known. When she’d read books and they alluded to what happened in darkened bedchambers or the hero kissed the heroine and then the scene cut off and she was left wondering, she hadn’t known this was what happened. This was why wars were fought and stories were told. It was because the heat of Caleb’s fingers against her skin made her gasp, made her rock her hips harder against him, made her squeeze her thighs tighter around his waist, made her want to keep him there, between her legs, giving her this feeling forever. She could feel her sex grow hot, grow wet and it thrilled her.

  His hand moved up her leg and ran over the skin of her hip bone where no one had touched her, neither with clothing on nor without, since she was a babe. He bit at the skin of her throat and she buried one of her hands in his hair and pulled at it, hard, not really knowing why, only knowing that her hands had to be doing something. Her other hand clutched at the fabric of his shirt, her nails digging into the threads, trying to wring something from him, she didn’t know what. She was growing hotter, wetter and his erection was still right there so intimately close to her, riding in the groove of her hip. He moved against her and she wondered what it would be like, if he shifted, so minutely, so slightly, enough to press the hot length of himself against the cloth of her nightgown, right over her, where she ached. A strangled sound worked its way out of her throat as she tipped her head forward and mouthed at the skin of his ear, breathing in deeply, inhaling his scent.

  Caleb moved his head away from her lips, staring down at her, breathing like he’d just escaped the devil himself. She thought maybe she’d done something wrong, but didn’t know what. Then, he dipped down and his mouth closed over the fabric of her nightgown, over her nipple and she yelped. She couldn’t stop the sharp sound from escaping her and it came out high and sharp. He sucked on the peak of her breast through her nightgown, worrying it between his tongue and his teeth and as much as she wanted to watch what he was doing, she couldn’t hold her head up any longer. She dropped it against the desk with a loud ‘thunk.’

  Elinore realized she was chanting, ‘Oh God, oh God,’ over and over and she couldn’t control her mouth. She didn’t want to. She clutched his hair, so soft and thick, pressing his head against her chest, not caring if she should. His hand, the one underneath her nightgown slid over her hip and across her belly and then lower still. She felt nervous and scared but not enough to stop him. She wanted to know if he would do what she wanted him to and then Caleb slipped a finger into her and she gasped, her head coming up to watch him.

  Caleb took his mouth off her nipple, raising his eyes to look at her. They were dark, glittering in the night and for a moment, the way the moonlight hit them, they seemed reflective, like mirrors. “All right?” he asked, moving his finger gently inside her. Elinore could only nod, her eyes locked on his. His lips curved slightly, almost a smile, and then he started moving his finger in and out of her and she gasped again. He slid against her skin so perfectly and so easily. She tightened her ankles around the small of his back, staring at him opened-mouthed. He watched her closely as he pushed his finger in deeper and then dragged it out again. She bit at her lips and his eyes flickered down to her mouth, then down to where his hand was under her nightgown and then back up to her face. She liked it, she liked it a lot, but there was something else she needed. She didn’t know what. But she wanted to move against his hand, pull him closer, lick into his mouth again. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressing her nails into the fabric of his shirt.

  “Please, please,” she whispered.

  “What? What do you want?” he asked. He leaned over her, nipped at her lips and then bit at the skin of her neck.

  She didn’t know, she didn’t know what she wanted. She was missing something, but didn’t know what. He pulled his finger out of her and she wanted to cry at the loss, but then he slid two fingers back in and a choked off moan escaped her throat. It was better, it was so good, but it still wasn’t enough. His erection pressed against her leg, hot and thick. God, did he mean to put it in her as well? She was both afraid and excited by the notion - not sure if she should hope for or fear it. He dropped his head again to her breast and bit at her nipple and she rocked her hips harder against him. Then his thumb touched something else inside her, something close to his fingers, but not quite the same and yes, that’s what she wanted, what she needed.

  “There,” she gasped. “Again, that again.”

  She felt him smile against her breast and he rubbed his thumb again against that spot inside, and she pressed back against him as much as she could. She could hear him saying her name, urging her on, coaxing her toward something. His fingers slid in deeper, and he moved them faster and in that moment, if he’d asked if he could slip his hard length inside her, she would have said yes, she would have said anything as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing. Her whole body seized, locking up and she gasped, unable to make a sound as an explosive feeling rolled through her, making her pull him as close as she could. She yanked hard at his hair, pulling him up from where he suckled at her breast and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She bit at his lips and he snapped back at hers as she clenched her legs as tightly as she could around waist.

  Finall
y, her lungs panting, Elinore felt her body relax. She dropped her head back on the desk, trying to catch her breath. She felt so languid, so relaxed, so satisfied that she thought she could sleep on the hard wooden desk and not care. Caleb’s body was still tense and hot against hers. He pulled away from her and then pushed her nightgown up with both hands, exposing her sex, her belly and her breasts and she didn’t feel ashamed or vulnerable. Elinore could only watch with slitted eyes as he tore open his pants and his member sprung free. It looked long and hard in the darkness and without realizing what she was doing, she licked her lips at the sight of it. Caleb gasped, his hips jerking forward and he fisted his hand around his length and started pumping it. She could see the slick on his hands and with a lurch of feminine pride she realized it was hers. He stared down at her, mouth open, and she thought his teeth looked sharper and longer than they should be. He watched her, his eyes moving over her face, then her torso and then back to her face. He placed one of his hands on the soft swell of her belly, pressing into the tender flesh. She felt a rush of feeling and she ran one of her hands down the length of her ribcage, smoothing over top of his, watching his eyes track the movement. Caleb groaned and then he was spurting hot and wet over her stomach and he cursed, filthy and guttural, the ugly word sharp and exquisite; it made her muscles seize and tighten. Elinore clutched his hand on her hip tightly, pressing it into her flesh as he spilled his seed on her.

  Caleb panted, staring down at her, and then he reached forward with his wet fingers, the ones that had been inside her, and he rubbed his seed across her belly, massaging it into her skin. Not thinking, she snatched up his hand and pulled it toward her mouth and sucked two of his fingers deep inside, tasting her own slick and his seed. She bit at his fingers and he lurched forward, burying his mouth against her neck. She felt his teeth, improbably sharp against her skin, and then he bit down. She arched against him, pushing as much of her against him as she could and God, she felt his teeth break her skin and it hurt, but it felt good. It felt like belonging and she wanted to settle her own teeth against his skin, she needed to feel his flesh give away under her jaw. Elinore found the meaty part where his neck met his shoulder and bit down as hard as she dared, not feeling the skin break, but knowing she was leaving deep marks on him that would linger for days, perhaps weeks.

  Caleb collapsed against her, laving at the broken skin of her neck. She felt wetness and wondered idly if it was saliva or blood. Truthfully, she didn’t care. She ran her fingers over the indentations her teeth had made in Caleb’s neck, feeling the divots in his skin where she’d left marks that would surely bruise up. He pressed his lips against her throat, then her jaw, and then, finally, her mouth. He kissed her softly and lethargically and she made a low sound of approval deep in her throat.

  Caleb pulled back and she stared up at him, her eyes meeting his. She should feel exposed, awkward, or nervous. Her nightgown was under her arms, her housecoat tangled beneath her. His pants were open and his member lay against her sex almost innocently - lazy in its position. She smiled at him.

  “I only meant to apologize if I offended you,” she said inanely.

  His lips quirked in a smile. “I only meant to tell you no offense was taken.”

  Elinore rocked her hips slightly, feeling his member twitch against her. She wanted to apologize daily if this was the response. Caleb sighed, his eyes fluttering shut and he leaned over her, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Then you should go to sleep.”

  He pulled back. “Will you come with me?”

  Elinore threaded her fingers through his hair, deciding it was indeed as soft as she imagined it would be. Would she go with him? What would the staff think if she was found in the morning in Caleb’s bed instead of her own? Would they notice? Would they care? Did she?

  “Yes. Yes, I will.”

  Her legs were a little wobbly when she stood and she suddenly felt the need to straighten her nightgown. She had a fit of giggling as it fell back around her ankles and she tried to right her housecoat. Caleb’s hand was strong and firm on her elbow.

  “Are you all right?”

  He looked so earnest and worried, she smiled. “Very.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She was unaccountably happy. Caleb fixed his trousers and she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he did and then kept them focused on him as he bent over to gather his accounting books and set them back on the desk. She would never look the same way at that desk again. She trailed her fingers over the sharp corner of the edge as Caleb righted his ledgers. He seemed to pause for a moment and then held his hand out for hers, as though he were afraid she would not take it. She slid her fingers into his hand, feeling his skin against hers. She felt her heart beat double-time for a moment and her stomach fluttered, knowing what their hands had just been doing. He grinned at her, as though he could hear her heart beat.

  Caleb led her quietly through the house and she realized that he could move soundlessly when he wanted to. His footsteps made nary a noise on the tread of the stairs as they climbed. She tried to be as quiet, but her own footfalls were loud, almost clumsy. They reached his room, several doors from hers, and he let go of her hand to light some candles. She paused just inside the door, peering around, trying to learn what she could of him from his space. It was rather spartan. He had a large four-post bed with dark colored bed-clothes and only two pillows. The curtains over his window were of the same dark fabric as the bed. He had a desk and, by the looks of the papers and inkwells spread out, he used it often enough. There was a small bookshelf along the wall, its contents haphazardly stored and stacked. The spines were all facing out, but some books lay flat and others stood upright. She squinted and, even in the near dark, could make out some titles were upside down. She couldn’t help but take a few steps closer, bending her head slightly toward the shelf, trying to read the titles.

  More mythology and other-wordly fiction. She paused as she read one title.

  “Bram Stoker?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

  Caleb came up behind her, ringing his arms around her waist and she shivered. It was so familiar and wonderful. His body was a hot mass against hers and she marveled at it. “That surprises you?”

  “You never mentioned you were interested in the supernatural.”

  He made a low, ‘hmmm’ sound against her ear, the timbre of it making the shell of her ear twitch. “Will you come to bed?”

  Dear heaven that sounded so illicit. Was she ruined now? Was this what it meant to be ruined? She didn’t know. She didn’t feel ruined. From what she’d heard, perhaps she should have felt like it had been an ugly thing, a tainted thing. If anything, she felt the complete opposite. Elinore felt light, happy and giddy. She felt alive. Caleb turned away from her, holding her fingers lightly and led her to his bed. She bit her lip staring down at it. This was where he slept, where Caleb would be at his most vulnerable. Now she’d seen it. Now she knew where it was. She was going to share it with him. He stood behind her and slipped his hands under her housecoat, easing it off her shoulders. Was she expected to take her nightgown off too? Was that what women did? Elinore didn’t know. She heard the rustle of fabric behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Caleb taking off his clothes and she hurriedly looked away and then had another fit of giggling at the absurdity of it.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that men’s egos are terribly sensitive and fragile? Giggling while one is disrobing is quite distressing.”

  She spun around to face him; her hand flew to her mouth in dismay. “Oh no! No, that’s not it at all! You’re incredibly…” her eyes darted down his naked body, “virile! Robust! And muscular!” She saw his jaw twitching, lips quirking and realized he was teasing her. She exhaled in relief. “You’re teasing me,” she said, needing the confirmation.

  Caleb stepped closer to her, seemingly unconcerned with his nudity and clasped her fingers with his own. “Yes. I am.

  “Should I.
. ? That is… Is it customary for women… I mean the women you know… not that I want to know about women you know. I mean other than women you know socially. Not that I want to speak about them either right now, but-“

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, and she stopped rambling. She took a deep breath, Caleb looking her in the eyes the entire time and then she blurted, “Am I supposed to undress now?”

  He raised his eyebrows in amusement, but she didn’t feel as though he was laughing at her, only that he found her question charming. “Do you want to get undressed?”