Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

W rapped in her robe and nightgown, Phee sat on Harrison’s bed, watching him undress. The actions were provocative, yes, but they were also familiar. There was a comfort between them as he undid the buttons of his waistcoat, his hands moving to untie the intricate knot at his neck, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet on the bedroom floor. It was all so cozy, these actions reserved for the private moments of one’s life.

“Your mother seemed pleased with the turnout this evening,” he said, throwing his cravat on a chair that held the remains of his jacket and stockings.

Phee smiled, recalling the joy that had filled her mother’s face as she had gazed upon the ballroom, the attendees swarming and swirling in their finest. “I think even given the stress that plagues her year after year, when she sees the results, it merely gives her more reason to host another the next season.”

“It’s obviously something she enjoys even given the stress it brings. Like you and your bees,” he said, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirtsleeves and rolling up the cuffs as he walked toward her.

Phee nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. The product of her hard work brings her joy, just like my bees do for me. Or your pottery does for you.”

Harrison frowned. “No, my pottery is an absolute mess that brings me little joy and only frustration.”

“Why is that?”

“There is nothing I produce that leaves me feeling like my work was worthwhile. Each piece is a disaster. It’d have been better as a hunk of clay than whatever monstrosity I’ve attempted to form it into.”

Phee shook her head, holding out her hand to him. “I don’t believe that. I’ve watched you work on your pieces. You find peace in it even if you do not see it, and your pieces are a sign of growth and change. Of betterment.”

He shook his head as he took her hand, one knee coming down to rest on the mattress before her. “It’s just a silly hobby. Something to waste my time.”

Phee frowned at his words. He gave himself such little credit for the many wonderful attributes he contained. She could not fathom how he did not see what a phenomenal contribution he was, could not see what value he held and brought to those around him. Pulling him to her, Phee rose onto her knees, her free hand sliding up his chest and into his hair. She could spend a lifetime pronouncing the amazing values of her husband, but knew it would fall on deaf ears, so instead, she would show him. Show him just how much he gave to her. Show him just how much value he had.

Lowering his head to hers, Phee touched her lips against his cheek. It was a fairy kiss, so soft she was not certain he would even feel it, but something urged her to be gentle with him. To kiss and caress with such care that he would surely feel her love and devotion.

She trailed kisses along his jaw, across his chin, pouring as much love as she could into each press of her lips. And with each kiss, Harrison squeezed the hand she still held, his breath pausing with each touch before starting again. Phee’s heart ached, the overwhelming need to protect this man at all cost firming her resolve and propelling her motions.

“Phoebe,” he whispered.

Pulling back, Phee cupped his cheek, meeting his gaze. “Silly man. Do you have any idea how wonderful you are?”

Harrison’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, no doubt ready to argue with her statement, but before he could utter a word, Phee leaned forward and kissed him, her lips a whisper against his. “You are wonderful and I’ll never believe anything else,” she said, kissing him once more. “Wonderful and mine.”

At her words, Harrison’s free hand rose, sliding into her hair as his lips crashed against hers. He was a tempest as his tongue tormented her, sliding and savoring every morsel it found, his hand directing the kiss like a conductor guiding an orchestra to its crescendo. Like a ship at sea, she was tempted to release the wheel, to allow the waves of his want to steer the moment, but something called to her, begged her to love him just as ardently as he did her.

Placing her hand on his chest, Phee gently pushed him away. His brown eyes were hooded as he stared at her, his lips swollen and pink from the pressure of his kiss. With a smile, Phee pulled the hand at her hair away, kissing the palm of his hand before placing it at her breast. His fingers curved around the globe as a soft groan escaped his lips.

Removing her robe, Phee moved closer to Harrison and pulled his shirtsleeves from his trousers, guiding the fabric over his head. Harrison growled as his hand left her breast and Phee could not help but smile at the emphatic response, nor could she help the small giggle as his hand returned to its prize after she freed him from the linen.

As his hand cupped and molded her, tweaking her nipple into a stiff point, Phee’s hands fell to the placket of his trousers. There, his length pressed against the fabric, making its presence known, and she rubbed her hand against the front of him. Harrison’s breathing grew sharp at her touch, the hand at her breast stilling as if afraid any sudden movement would scare her off. Instead, it only emboldened her further. For weeks, uncertainty had kept her frozen, unsure and timid to explore the dips and lines of his body, but courage surged through her now and she felt emboldened by the power.

Guiding her finger in a swirling motion, Phee drew hearts and stars against the raised flesh like a schoolgirl did in the margins of her notebook. She wrote her name, her title, her birthdate, until the length had become so hard beneath her finger it was more rock than phallus and Harrison’s breathing had turned to ragged pants before her. Given his apparent desire it was little wonder that the folds of her sex ached, moisture pooling as she tormented him with her touch.

“Phoebe, I will give you a minute more of your torment before I lay you down and make you pay for this agony,” Harrison said, the words a growl as the hand at her breast began its own expedition, sliding its way down her belly as his fingers pulled up the hem of her nightgown.

Phee smiled, even as her breaths came in pants at the motion of his hand. “Agony? Torment? Are you not enjoying yourself?”

Harrison chuckled, the sound devilish. “I will be soon,” he said. “Thirty seconds.”

Her heart raced as her hand picked up its speed, drawing flowers and bees and flightpaths against the fabric covering his length. “Wait. I’m not done.”

The hem of her nightgown rested upon his wrist as his hand slipped beneath, his fingers finding where she was warm and wanting. “Yes, you are,” he said with a growl as he spread the lips of her sex, the pad of his finger brushing against the aching bud of her sex.

“Harrison,” she said, her hand wrapping around his bulge, squeezing and massaging him even as she quivered from his touch.

“Christ.” With speed, her pulled the nightgown over her head and laid her down on the bed, his mouth falling to her breast, his devilish tongue making short work of first one and then the other while his fingers returned to her heat, rubbing and circling the place where she needed him most.

A small semblance of sanity remained, nudging her, reminding her that she had started this for him. Fisting his hair, Phee pushed him away. “You. What about you?” she asked, the words escaping her in a breathless gasp.

“This is for me,” he said, kissing her lips, her chin, her cheek. “Hearing you scream my name. Feeling you come because of me. Knowing that you’re experiencing the best pleasure of your life because I’m giving it to you.”

“Harrison…”

“This gives me pleasure, Phoebe.” Dropping his head on her chest he traced his lips across her collarbone. “You give me pleasure.”

Phee tugged at his hair, forcing him to look at her. “I want to feel you inside me.”

His gaze narrowed, his pupils black in the firelight. “You’re sure?”

“More than anything,” she said, her throat constricting at the look of want in his eyes.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he said, rising to kiss her on the mouth before leaving the bed to remove his trousers. When he returned, he pulled her into his arms. “You won’t feel any pain, I’ll make it so good for you.”

Phee kissed him attempting to pour every bit of love into the action, every iota of trust into each touch. “I trust you,” she said against his lips.

Harrison laughed, the sound harsh. “I’m shaking,” he said with a dark chuckle. “You have me shaking, Phoebe.”

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Phee lifted her head, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Harrison.”

He froze under her hands, his eyes blinking as he stared at her.

She smiled softly, cupping his cheek. “I love you.”

His head dropped, his lips capturing hers in a kiss so tender, so deadly, Phee was not certain she would survive it. Her heart burst with joy as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he destroyed her senses, his hands pulling her in close until their bodies aligned.

He was everywhere. His mouth on hers, his hands lighting a fire within her that burned so bright it would surely never be put out. All she could do was hang on as he touched and swirled, kissed and rubbed until she writhed beneath him, a touch, a spark, away from combustion.

“Harrison,” she said, his name a cry, a plea.

“Yes, love?”

“Please…”

His mouth captured her nipple while his fingers tormented her sex. “Please what?”

“I want you. Please, I want you.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said.

Spreading her legs, he took the place between them, his hard sex nudging against hers, and Phee swiveled her hips, aching to feel his long length inside her. Instead of pushing it in, however, Harrison circled the bulbous head around the outside of her opening, the movement, combined with his nimble fingers playing at the bud at the top of her sex, took little to bring about her pleasure. Wave after wave of warmth flew through her as her body convulsed, but Harrison merely continued his ministrations, ensuring that every drop of pleasure was pulled from her.

As she began to settle, Harrison kissed her chest, the head of his penis pressing against the opening of her core while his hand circled the hills and valleys of her quim. “Again,” he said.

Shaking her head, Phee bit her lip as her body tingled, her hips rising and falling against the pressure at her center. “It’s too much.”

Harrison kissed his way to her neck, his tongue swirling at the tender spot where it connected to her shoulder. “Take me inside you and come on my cock, Phoebe. Squeeze me until I see stars.” His teeth pulled at the lobe of her ear as his length pressed inside her, stretching her aching core. “Love me, Phoebe.”

Phee wrapped her leg around his hip and undulated, taking him deep inside her. There was no pain as she stretched to accommodate his length, only a sense of fulness, as if a piece of her that had been missing was finally returned.

“Sweet Christ,” Harrison whispered in her ear, his body like stone beneath her hands. “So good, love. You feel so good.”

Pushing onto his forearms, he kissed her face, his stubble scratchy against her skin. “All right?” he asked, the words soft.

Phee nodded, kissing the underside of his chin.

With a piston like motion of his hips, Harrison withdrew his cock from her core before pushing himself back into her depths, the motion sending Phee’s eyes closed as the intoxicating feel of him filled her. “Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, the word a moan as his hips pistoled forward, his cock strumming against a place that felt like heaven. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he said against her ear as he rocked against her, the fire he had started rekindling with ease at the motions.

Lifting her hips, Phee moved with him, her body accepting him with each thrust of his cock. Taking her hands in his, Harrison placed them above her head, his fingers lacing with hers as his mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue tangling with hers, luring her to pleasure again as his sex took her to new heights.

Fire pooled in her belly as her climax built and Phee clung to Harrison, his sturdy presence reassuring as she was thrown from the cliff once more, her body convulsing beneath his. With a groan, Harrison pulled himself from her and thrust once, twice against her quim before streams of seed spilled on her stomach.

Phee held onto him as he shook in her arms, her body pulsating as she came down from her climb. When he finally pulled back to look at her, she smiled at him, eliciting a chuckle to fall from his lips.

“You’re amazing,” he said, kissing her lips before pushing himself off of her. He moved across the room and cleaned himself with a cloth and water from the washstand before returning to the bed and wiping down her stomach and thighs. Throwing the rag to the floor, Harrison climbed back up into the bed, wrapping his arms around Phee and pulling her into his chest before covering them both with the coverlet.

“Is that what it will always be like?” she asked, her fingers dancing along the skin of his chest.

He shrugged, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ve got forever to find out,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and wiggling her head against his shoulder. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. “I love you, Harrison.”

He tensed against her before saying, “I love you, too.”

As Phee drifted off to sleep, a notion niggled at her, pleading for her to notice that even as he said the words back to her, there was a sense of reservation in his tone. How odd.