Ch. 9
Irene ran a hand through his hair, and their eyes locked. He held her gaze, and found something very strange. There was desire, of course. But there was something else in her eyes, something he didn't think she meant for him to see. Her dark ember eyes always glowed with a white hot intensity and sexuality, and her gaze could break even the strongest will of a man. Hell, look at him. She had broken him, hadn't she?
But underneath that mask—the confident, powerful Irene—there was something surprising. Something much gentler. She looked at him the way he never saw her look at anyone else. He had spent months studying her, trying to figure her out. He saw the way she looked at other men. John. Mycroft. Like she was watching a loaded gun. Always searching for weakness, cracks in the mold. But the way she looked at him… it was like he was one of the only men she didn't have to fear.
He blinked several times as the realization hit him. He took a deep breath, and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. This time it didn't feel forced. He let himself take his time, savoring the feeling of her lips, the taste of her. She moved her lips in tandem with his, and took his bottom lip between hers. She moaned against his lips, and the sound sent a wave of electricity through his entire body. She placed both her hands on his neck, pulling him into her kiss. His heart skipped a single beat as she lowered herself onto him, and suddenly he was inside her. He let out a helpless moan, and clenched his eyes shut. The feeling of her was so intense, he almost couldn't breathe. He gripped her thighs, hard, and broke her kiss. He couldn't stand the intensity of the sensation, it was sending wave after wave of such immense pleasure through his entire body. He rested his forehead against her collarbone, and she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. His breaths were coming in long, labored gasps as she slowly began to move her body. He could feel the pressure building already, and wrapped one hand around her lower back, pulling her closer. His body was trembling uncontrollably, and he couldn't even form logical thoughts. All he could think about was her. How immensely he had wanted her. For months on end. And now he had her.
He let out a small whimper as the emotions and sensations flooded his mind. He couldn't hold back any longer. This wasn't just an experiment. He couldn't imagine her as just another variable anymore. The Woman that had finally broken him deserved more respect than that.
He spun her around, onto the couch, so he was on top of her. He kissed her lips, but with more passion than he had ever felt before. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he relished the feeling of her skin on his. His own body weight made him press down against her, and he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. It was beating just as wildly as his was.
He began kissing her jawline as he timidly began moving his hips. He was unsure of himself, but he knew he couldn't stop. He felt like no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get enough of her. His hand shook as he softly caressed down her side, to her hip, and down her leg. She clenched her legs around him, in reaction to his touch. She arched her back, her stomach contacting his, and clawed at his back, her fingernails dragging down his flesh. He let out a somewhat loud cry, and his hips bucked forcefully once. Irene chuckled quietly, the amusement in her voice clear. It was both annoying and sexy. Her giggling. He felt like shutting her up.
He reached up and held her throat, his thumb caressing her jawline. He kissed her neck, relishing the feeling of her pulse on his lips. He moved his kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, as he continued moving his hips in a steady rhythm. She squirmed beneath him, and moaned long and slow, his name escaping her lips breathlessly. He shuddered violently at the sound of his own name being whispered like that, with such desire. He had never felt wanted like this. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't believe the effect it had on him. He whimpered involuntarily, and his hips began to move faster. He felt a pressure building quickly, and ached for release. He wanted so badly to get a hold of himself, get a grip on his thoughts, but he had never needed anything as badly as he needed her, right now. He was insatiable—couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't get enough of her. He tried to pull her closer, but only managed to press their bodies together harder, creating an unbearable friction. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, as more uncontrollable whimpers escaped his lips. He knew what was about to happen, but could not have been more poorly prepared for it.
He felt as though tension had been building from the moment he met Irene Adler. And all that time it had just kept building and had never been satisfied. He was unaware of how powerful it truly was until it came crashing down on him. All at once, right here, on his couch, with Irene's flawless, naked body wrapped around his. It coursed through him, making his skin crawl and the muscles of his entire body contract in the most extreme and incredible loss of control he had ever felt. All that tension that had built up within him exploded throughout his body. He clenched his fists against the intensity of it, and his toes curled as he released an involuntary cry, his hips thrusting hard against her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked his entire body before allowing him to collapse in exhaustion on top of her.
He was completely unable to move, to even think. He just laid there, trying to catch his breath as the weight of what had just happened slowly sank in. Irene ran her hands through his hair gently, and he couldn't help but get lost in the sound of her heartbeat, her steady breathing. He didn't know how long they stayed there, but he was grateful for Irene's silence. He was attempting to sort through so many emotions, many of which he had never felt before, all with a brain that had just been put through hell and wasn't working very efficiently. He got the feeling that Irene understood that. Understood him, better than he'd like to admit.
A thought crossed his mind, and before he knew it, a small giggle escaped his lips.
"What?" Irene said, the curiosity obvious in her voice. Sherlock looked up at her, that debonair smile of his spreading across his lips.
"You only got one. You said 'twice.' You failed, Miss Adler," he said, staring daggers into her eyes. She laughed heartily, and leaned in close, her lips inches from his.
"That's where you're wrong, Mister Holmes. I'm not finished with you yet,"