Throughout the encounter, she could feel Ottavio’s eyes on her. She tried not to look directly at him, but when the orgasm crashed through her, her eyes flew open. Her gaze locked with his as the spasms racked her body, an involuntary cry escaping her lips.
Her vision blurred as she slumped against the wall. The sight of her—breasts exposed, skin damp and hot from climax—proved too much for the lustful servant. He tore open his breeches, exposing his large engorged member and pumping it hard. Repelled, Isobel squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into her demon husband’s back.
Matteo took it as a signal to move. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her up until she was suspended in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.
It was as if she weighed nothing. Overwhelmed by the power the smooth controlled motion betrayed, she held what little breath she had left for an endless moment before he plunged inside her.
She moaned loudly, throwing her head back. Her body was no longer under her control. She moved up and down helplessly as it willed, an eager recipient for every thrust, bite, and hot sucking kiss.
It was the same as the incident in the library. She was simply carried along, her pleasure the demon’s only goal. Like a true incubus, all it wanted was her surrender.
So she gave it to him.
His hands were busy, one roughly moving up over her breasts and down her waist. Meanwhile, the fingers of the one supporting her stroked the smooth skin of her bottom until one worked into the forbidden little nether hole, making her scream aloud at the unexpected invasion.
She clutched hard at Matteo’s hair as a dark wave of pleasure rose and crashed over her, but his tempo didn’t waver. He continued to piston in and out, her spasming channel gripping him tightly as he rocked her against the cold glass.
Her scream of completion was still ringing in her ears when Matteo turned his head enough to take one of her hands into his mouth. He nipped at her fingers before he began to suck them. His tongue caressed each in turn before drawing on them hard, sending a streak of fire straight into her sex. Trembling violently, Isobel pulled her hand away and tugged his head down to her neck.
He obliged her by sucking and biting at the tender skin there, the pain mingling with pleasure to create an alien state of euphoria that was probably another climax, a long slow burning that took as much as gave. This one stole her vision, as if she’d been staring at the sun too long.
Lost in abandon, her head lolled weakly until it came to rest on Matteo’s shoulder. Barely able to see, she glanced past him, too weak to react when she saw Ottavio. She had forgotten about him. He was still there…looking spent.
Isabel shut her eyes tightly, burying her face in the crease of Matteo’s neck. Distantly, she heard him shout. His cock jerked inside her and his seed coated her womb in hot bursts.
Time was unimportant in the dark. She felt movement, warm skin against hers, things hard and soft—but the ability to distinguish between them was gone. Everything—every object, every texture—blended into the next.
She didn’t open her eyes for a long time. When she did, she was cradled in Matteo’s lap, his concerned brown eyes looking down at her in surprise. Listless, she reached up to touch his cheek, dropping it when the now warm bristled surface proved too much for her hypersensitive skin.
Turning her head, she looked at the empty room around them. They were alone.
Chapter 23
Matteo’s memories of what happened in the conservatory were confused, to say the least.
Isobel had been surprised that he recalled anything at all. His memory of their wedding night was clear enough, but she attributed that to his being normal at the start. However, he hadn’t mentioned what had happened in the library at the Southmont’s ball at all.
But now he remembered his anger and jealousy over Gideon’s flowers, how they had overwhelmed him until they were catalyzed into lust. The rest was in bits and pieces…which was more than enough.
He was racked by guilt. He kept apologizing and casting her tormented glances whenever they happened to be alone together. It was decidedly inconvenient, considering all she wanted was to forget the incident.
Isobel didn’t blame herself for succumbing to his demands. What she didn’t want to think about was how much she enjoyed it. Not that her body let her forget. She would be working in the library when a snippet of memory would intrude into her thoughts, overwhelming her with heat and sending a pulse of forbidden pleasure through her. The unexpected arousal was uncomfortable and embarrassing.
She could barely look Niko in the eye and avoided Ottavio at all costs. Luckily, he spent most of his time with Matteo, who at this moment was mostly avoiding her too.
The thought of making an excuse to dismiss the younger servant crossed her mind more than once. However, there was nothing she could think of that was sufficient grounds for dismissal, yet benign enough to avoid sending Matteo into another fit.