Hi there! I'm sorry for my delay but Christmas holidays got the best of me!
However I hope I can make up to you with this long, steamy and smutty chapter. You've been warned! *wink wink*
I still haven't recovered from the CS, have you? *falls to the ground and FEEEEELS*
Also, I meant to talk to you about that so called journalist that made Phyllis read aloud an M rated ff. I was absolutely appalled by that behaviour but at the same time I thought "Bugger that, if I want to write a M rated ff I just do it". And here it is, a complete series.
There are so many talented writers out there - you are talented, guys. Don't let anyone ever put you down. I enjoy very much every one of your stories. I know how difficult it is to write and respect the IC of the characters and create a good plot.
I respect you. All of you. Bugger all that nonsense.
Okay, I think I should leave you to your reading now. Have fun!
Four.
Charles shut his eyes tightly, expecting her to push him away or to slap him but not willing to let go of her.
Surprisingly, she kissed him back with such increasing eagerness that left him thinking she had been waiting for this as much as he had.
Elsie slid her arms around his neck, pressing her naked flesh against his starched shirt, while he tangled his fingers in her damp locks, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms again after all that time.
His hands moved from her hips down to her backside, kneading her buttocks and eliciting a low moan from her.
He then slid his hands upwards on her sides, feeling the softness of her hips and belly, the goosebumps on her skin, the shape of her ribs on her upper body, the outline of her breasts.
Elsie shuddered under his gently ministrations, suppressing a sigh.
She was a strong woman and she always had been, unbreakable, unbent, unyielding. Yet he could make her feel like a little lamb ready for sacrifice, trembling under the steel of the high priest.
He made her feel fragile, vulnerable, he made her stone façade (for she had built a façade too in those months, she had learned from the best) crumble, turn into thin air.
In another scenario, in another life (or maybe in this one as well), with another person, she would feel angry, violated, undervalued, but with him, now, she didn't.
In was just his way, she supposed. It was just his being, his soul, his body crushing on hers and enveloping her tightly, almost suffocating her - no, never suffocating, but intoxicating, oh yes.
He must have felt it long before she did. Her absence, her indifference, his longing, his desire for her.
And she had been the cause for it, for all of this, she had turned their bed into a cold pallet, their house into an uninhabited castle, long since destroyed and full of memories.
Now that she felt the longing and burning, consuming desire as well, she understood him.
She understood why Charles had been so cold, barely speaking, stealing glances her way when he thought she wasn't looking but otherwise not bothering to look at her the whole day. She understood why he had returned in the bathroom, red faced and flustered, grabbing her roughly by the hips and kissing her.
She liked this, his skin against hers, his warm and big hands on her sides, on her breasts, teasing her nipples gently, kneading her flesh.
Elsie put her hands on his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, careful not to wrinkle it, not daring to look at him in the face, slightly afraid to see the expression on his visage, the light in his eyes, but he gripped her shoulders tightly, squeezing them until she finally understood what he wanted.
She stopped attempting to free him from his clothes and raised her head, trying to seem every bit like the stern and capable woman she had been in her work, hardened by the harshness of life in service... but resulting only in looking like a trembling child searching for comfort after a nightmare.
She forced herself to put on her most cold and defiant stare, challenging him into taking action, wanting to see how much further he would bring it.
But she must have failed, because his enraged expression and that intimidating light of lust in his eyes had extinguished and now he was looking down at her with an unexpected tenderness, his brown eyes reflecting the soft glow of embers, the fire of anger gone.
Only then Elsie understood how much Charles had been kind and patient with her in those months.
Only then she understood just how much he had been good with her, too good for her.
She stood on her tiptoes and reached out for him, kissing him once again, hard on the mouth, rubbing herself against his chest, half exposed and half covered by his shirt.
Elsie made short work of it, all the while kissing his strong neck while he grabbed her hips to press her flush against him, his groin against hers, her mound against his crotch.
She moved a few steps towards the door, Charles pacing backwards and releasing his grip on her to open it, carefully maneuvering them into exiting the bathroom.
They then moved along the corridor uncertainly, she faltering and stepping on his feet, he almost tumbling down and bringing her with him.
Uncomfortable with not seeing where he was going (not that Elsie did) he pushed her against the wall, ravishing her neck with kisses while she tried unsuccessfully to unbuckle his belt, his touch driving her to distraction.
He took her hands and pinned them against the wall, bending his head to kiss the valley between her breasts. He could taste the soap and water on her skin and her moans were driving him mad.
She raised a leg over his hip and he felt her wetness against the bulge of his trousers. Charles groaned at the feeling and grabbed her buttocks, squeezing them hard.
Finally having her hands free, she moved them painfully slowly to his shoulders, sliding down to his chest, caressing his hair and stopping at his navel.
Charles, who had been watching her all the while, barely contained a disappointed whimper, whishing for her to touch his most intimate parts.
When the corners of her mouth lifted upwards in a smug and self conscious smile, it was his undoing.
He took her other leg, positioning it on his left hip, so she was trapped between him and the wall, her sex brushing against his belly.
He cupped it with one hand, feeling the heat radiating from it. He started by teasing her around her labia, his touch soft and gentle, his fingers like feathers.
She squirmed under his hands and pushed her heels on his lower back, straining to push herself higher on the wall, to escape his unbearable teasing.
However, he kept her steady with one hand on her hip and thrust one finger inside her, basking in the loud moan that got out from her lips.
Charles then kissed her, mimicking with his tongue the circular motions he was applying on that other part of her.
Elsie let out a throaty sigh, the warmness of her breath tickling his upper lip.
"Charles," she murmured, closing her eyes and swallowing.
He inserted another finger and kissed the column of her throat, while she locked her arms around his neck, pushing his head gently towards her chest, which he covered in tiny kisses, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his path.
"Charles, she breathed once more.
He stopped his ministrations and looked at her, waiting for her to speak.
Her face was flushed, her damp hair tousled, her light blue eyes sparkling.
She bit her lip hard, almost drawing blood.
He didn't know how much it cost her to say those words.
Charles blinked. He released his grip and helped her to come down.
Elsie glanced up at him again, obviously ill at ease.
She inhaled deeply and let it all out. She couldn't do it.
"Please," she only managed to say, in a croaking voice. It was the first time she spoke after he had kissed her in the bathroom.
"I need you," she added in her mind.
He didn't need further explanations. He understood want she wanted.
He would have wished for an excuse, or a simple and explicit request to take her to bed...
She hadn't said anything of that. She had only said 'please', but in that moment it was more than enough for him.
Charles would do anything for her.
Offering her his hand he led her to their bedroom, to worship her like she deserved.
She was his goddess, the object of his veneration, not the victim ready for sacrifice.
She was his stone simulacrum, not a lamb raised for slaughter.
Elsie laid down on the bed, extending her arms out for him. Charles bent down to undo his shoe laces, then he unfastened his trousers and let them fall to the ground, proceeding to do the same with his underwear.
He gladly took her hands and neared her, his body covering hers. Her hands moved on his sides like he had done with her before, sliding down his strong arms, tracing the outline of his buttocks.
Charles touched her lips with his softly, while positioning himself at her entrance. He raised his head to look intently at her as he entered her slowly, giving her the chance to adapt to his member and get used again to the feeling of having him inside her.
She let out a low cry of pain we he entered her, she felt her walls stretching as he buried deeper inside her and bit her lip again to stifle her whimpers.
He looked down at her, concerned. "Everything alright?"
She nodded. "Yes," she said, before taking his face in her hands and kissing him tenderly.
He started moving inside of her, thrusting not too fast, not too hard.
It wasn't the night for a quick romp, he would take his time and worship her body with his.
Elsie deserved this, they both deserved this. After such a long time, being reunited with her felt like retrieving a part of his soul he had long since lost.
A solitary tear threatened to fall and he glanced up at the ceiling to stop its course, but it streaked down his cheek and fell on the valley between her breasts.
She smiled slightly at his emotional reaction and cupped his cheek with her hand, kissing him hard, pushing herself up to meet him at the same time.
He didn't know how it happened, he simply lost control (that wonderful woman beneath him, controlling his body like he was a puppet) and spilled himself inside her.
He then kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and mouth to apologize for finishing before her, whispering "I'm sorry".
But Elsie pushed him away gently, separating from him and curling in bed like a tiny ball, giving her back to him.
Charles put his hand on her hip trying unsuccessfully to turn her to face him. He neared her and enveloped her in his arms.
"Elsie? Whatever is the matter?"
He felt her body rock and tremble with sobs.
Then she spoke in a strained voice, barely audible. "I am the one who's sorry."
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Seriously, I posted this at 1.30 AM for you please rewards my efforts I'm sleepy.