Chapter Five

After picking up some toiletries for Thomas, as well as WD40, a hammer and a screwdriver, we returned to Crimson Peak to try and discover who, or perhaps I should say, what was inhabiting the house.

The lubricant proved not to be up to the task of opening the trunk, so we pried the catches off using the hammer and screwdriver.

The trunk was full of books, most of them fiction novels but there were a dozen leather bound books which appeared to be Edith diaries. We checked dates until we had the most recent volume and I offered to look through it since Thomas looked rather ill at the thought.

I also hoped to gain more insight into Thomas Sharpe and Edith relationship, I'd seen a few snapshots in my dreams but it wasn't enough to really tell me how either party actually felt.

While I read, I told Thomas to write a list of everything he knew about the creature that had taken over Lucille's body, down to the smallest details such as her habits and favourite foods; I didn't know which detail might help us in identifying what she was.

We settled at the dining table, and Thomas sat beside me, writing on one of my A4 pads while I read the diary.

Edith's handwriting was elegant and easy to read and I soon found myself becoming immersed in her thoughts. Thomas also had a habit of reaching out with his left hand and touching me. Most of the time he kept his hand in the small of my back, gently stroking me through my clothes, but sometimes he would move to my shoulder or take my free hand.

Reading her thoughts and having her husband doting on me, all combined to make it even easier to put myself in Edith's shoes.

Edith came across as a woman who was fairly innocent in the ways of the world, certainly by today's standards, but she wasn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination. I could see that she picked up on many things, such as subtext and body language, but in her writings, she tried to reason herself out of her suspicions, as if she had been taught to only ever see the best in people and to think bad things or harbour suspicions, made her the bad person, not whoever she distrusted.

I had a feeling that had Edith been born today, she would have done wonderful things. Alas she was born into the wrong time and wrong class and taught only what she needed to be a Lady.

The position of 'Lady' sounded as if it was much of a gilded prison, as it was a desirable social standing and I have never been more glad to consider myself common than I was at that moment.

'Lucille cares very much for her brother, and he for her, but sometimes the way she looks at me, more like a rival than a sister-in-law, sends a shiver down my spine. I feel awful for even thinking such a thing. Thomas and Lucille are so close because their mother died young and their father was a very distant man. Thomas has told me how often the staff at the house changed; why they had half a dozen different governesses, so they had no security in life except each other. I feel as if I am blaming them for loving each other but having lost my own mother so young, I know exactly how lonely that can make one's life, and my father was not at all cold or distant towards me.

I just wish that Lucille would view me as an addition to their family, not a detractor from it. I have no desire to take her brother away from her.'

Clever girl. I'd picked up on that jealous vibe from my dreams.

'I feel as though I am being watched, almost constantly but most especially when I am in my room. Sometimes when Thomas visits me at night, I swear that I can hear someone creeping around outside my door. But why?'

It's Lucille! I wanted to yell at her, but of course, I could do nothing about past events.

'Last night, after marital relations, I had that same feeling of being watched again and I pulled on a gown and headed towards the door, intending to fling it open and find out if someone was in there, only to hear footsteps running away.

Thomas wanted to know what I was doing and I shared my fears, but he told me I was imagining things and probably just hearing the servants above as they went about their nightly routines.'

Thomas had to know it was his sister, but why he was protecting her? Was it some kind of misguided loyalty, or something more?

'Papa is dead.'

That was all she entered that day, one line, and no more entries for five days.

Her misery was evident just from those three words and I almost felt like crying for her.

'Alan came for father's funeral and just his presence was a huge comfort to me. Thomas has been wonderful, doting on me and taking excellent care of me, yet I just feel hollow. To my detriment, I can't help thinking that Thomas' actions seem guilt ridden, as if he is responsible for what happened to my father. It feels as though there is a distance growing between us and that is probably my fault.'

Alan? I thought back to the news articles, Alan McMichael had been a friend of Edith's, I think.

'I shared some of my suspicions, the bad feeling's I've been having with Alan today, hoping that he would talk me out of them but instead, he encouraged them. He too feels that Thomas and Lucille are hiding something, but he will not say any more.'

Yes! Go Alan! You reassure the poor woman that she isn't imagining things.

'Alan confessed that he believes Thomas knows more about father's death than he is letting on, but I simply fail to understand how that could be the case. My father was in a locked bathroom when he died, how could anyone know what happened in that room?

I seem to continually waver between relief that Alan does not think me insane or a bad person, and guilt for thinking so badly of Thomas. He does genuinely seem to love me but sometimes I see him whispering with Lucille, or they cease talking when I enter a room, and it troubles me.

Thomas seems to dislike Alan and I often see them sharing challenging glancing, as if Thomas is jealous of Alan. I have tried explaining that we've have been friends since infancy and nothing more, but it doesn't seem to alleviate Thomas' jealousy.'

So was Thomas jealous because he loved Edith, or because he feared Alan would take Edith away, thus ending his sister's plans for the girl.

I was getting hungry as we had missed lunch.

"Do you want a sandwich?" I asked Thomas.

He looked up from his notes and smiled.

"Only if it's no trouble." He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"It's fine."

I made ham and mustard sandwiches, probably not his usual fare but it would sustain us, and a pot of tea.

"Thank you," he smiled sweetly as I returned, as if I'd spent hours slaving, rather than just slapping some meat between bread. I could well understand why Edith fell for him so hard, and so fast.

'I am with child! This is such wonderful news, especially in light of our recent tragedies. Thomas is thrilled and even Lucille seems happy for me.

Alan was… less enthusiastic. He even said that he believes I am in danger here. I'm afraid we had something of a falling out and he has gone to stay at an inn in the village. I do hope we can reconcile before he returns home.'

Pregnant. Hadn't Thomas said something about the entity that was possessing Lucille needing or liking infants?

'Lucille has been wonderful to me recently and I finally believe that we are connecting as sisters. She is eager for the baby's coming and I believe she will be as doting an aunt as anyone could wish for.

Our new closeness has allowed me a glimpse of her that I had previously missed and I'm sorry to report that she seems to be ailing. I don't yet feel close enough to her to pry but I do notice that she often tires easily and looks careworn. I do hope that she isn't unwell.'

Was Lucille ill?

"Thomas?"

He looked up from the list he was writing.

"You said Lucille died shortly after you and she were trapped in the other dimension, right?"

He nodded.

"How did she die?" I had assumed that it was from injuries sustained in the fall, but what if it wasn't?

"She had been sickening for some time. Doctors said it was consumption but she had none of the breathing difficulties usually associated with the condition."

I was under the impression that consumption had been a bit of a catch all diagnosis, for any slow, unexplained ailments. It could have been something like cancer, many of them has no or few physical signs of illness, the damage was all done inside the body. Even things like breast cancer, which people were taught to check for these days, might not be spotted, because who thought to look for things such as pea sized lumps in the armpit back then?

"Did you ever get the repairs done to the house?" I asked.

"How do you know about that?" he frowned, almost glaring at me.

I had assumed that Thomas had showed me my dreams, somehow, trying to explain himself before we could actually converse, but what if he hadn't? What if they were another facet of being born slightly psychic? If the house itself was living, maybe I was picking up on what it was broadcasting.

"I had a dream about it," I decided to be honest. Although I'd only seen a few snapshots, if he thought that I knew more a lot more than just what he told me, it might make him more inclined to be honest with me.

He sighed and bowed his head. "No," he answered. "We had plans and a little work was done, mainly on the roof which had a few leaks, but Edith father died, then we discovered she was pregnant and Lucille lost some of her zeal for repairing the home."

"Thank you," I nodded absently, not at all sure what to make of this information, then I turned back to the diaries.

'Last night a ghost visited me in my bed. I don't know who it was, I was afraid to look, but I could swear that it touched me and it felt like… evil. I've seen ghosts before but I have never felt that level of malevolence until now.

I've started to notice odd events even when I'm alone now. Sometimes I could swear that the house… breathes and at night, when everyone is asleep, sometimes I think I can hear a heartbeat. Then the other day, Lucille had a nosebleed while visiting me and, I'm almost afraid to write this, but I would swear that the wall of the house began to bleed too. Lucille said that they had a problem with damp and that was what had leaked from the wallpaper, but it was dark red.

I feel as though I'm losing my mind in this house.'

I know how you feel, love.

'Lucille has taken to giving me tea which she swears is good for the baby. It tastes foul but she is adamant that it will help the baby grow strong. Honestly, I would tip it away if I could but she hovers over me, making sure I drink it.

As much as I appreciate her attempts to connect with me, I do wish she would stop caring so much about the child. I am not even two moths yet and the idea of her being so overbearing for another seven months is a little chilling.

Sometimes I would swear that she cares more for the baby than me. The other morning I already felt nauseous but she still insisted that I drink her concoction. It made me sick, and then she insisted I have another cup. I was rather forceful with her, I'm afraid, and she stopped badgering me for a time, but she insisted I drink it after lunch.

I have tried to speak to Thomas about this but he insists that she has my best interests at heart but sometimes I wonder, do either of them?'

Something about that passage set alarm bells ringing, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

I mean, yes, Lucille was sick and yes, she probably intended to switch bodies to the baby (possibly even the foetus) and that tea she was forcing on poor Edith was probably some nasty potion to facilitate that transfer in some way.

None of that was particularly alarming though, so why did I feel as though someone had walked over my grave? I already knew that Lucille had her eye on possessing me.

I continued reading.

'Alan returned today, begging me to return to America with him and leave Thomas. He assured me that he can raise this child as his own and even if I am unable to get a divorce, he will stay by my side, living as husband and wife even if we cannot legally be so.

Thomas and Lucille are arguing almost constantly, but always in hushed whispers. They both refuse to tell me what they disagree over, not wanting to upset me in my 'delicate state'. I am not an invalid and honestly, not knowing what's going on is upsetting me far more than knowing could.

I feel like such a fool. I allowed the exotic Sir Thomas and his charm to turn my head, when I should have looked to the steadfast and loyal Alan, my best friend for as long as I can remember. If only I had thought to look beyond our friendship earlier.'

I could feel her confusion and disquiet, probably because I felt much the same.

Thomas' hand was resting on my shoulder, his thumb gently caressing me but it didn't feel sweet suddenly, it felt…

I shuddered.

"Are you cold?" he turned to me.

"I'm fine." I gave him as reassuring smile as I could.

"Here," he stood and removed his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Now you'll be cold."

He sat back down and this time his hand rested on my thigh. It was equal parts comforting, disconcerting and erotic.

"I'm used to cold houses," he assured me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Have you learned anything helpful?"

"Hard to tell," I hedged. I'd been turning down the corners on pages that might be helpful but for some reason, I felt unwilling to share much with him. Partly I didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that his wife distrusted him to such a degree, but there was more to it. After reading her thoughts, I wasn't sure I still trusted him.

'I saw Lucille entering the basement stairs again today and tired of excuses, I waited in the library until she came up again and ventured down there myself. I saw no signs of the mould that they said could be harmful for the baby, but was not at all nice down there. If I'm honest, it felt alive down there. The walls seemed to thrum with some sort of unknown energy and I could swear that the further I walked from the stairs, the more intense loud excited the house became.

I don't know what to make of what I saw down there. They looked like covered circular baths, padlocked closed so I could not see what was inside them. I can't ask because I know I ill be rebuked for going down there, but what is the point of those vessels?

I can't explain it and to my shame, I fled quickly. All I have is more questions but still no answers.'

I hadn't been in the basement, I'd have to go down there.

'I have decided to leave with Alan. I simply cannot stay in this house any longer.

I feel awful because Thomas has been very sweet lately but everything about this place makes me feel corrupted. I feel as if I haven't breathed clean air in months. I know Tom will try and stop me, as will everyone, actually, so we plan to leave surreptitiously. Alan is making the plans and will tell me once everything is in place. I feel awful for taking Thomas' child away but if I don't leave, I think this house and this family, will swallow me whole.'

That was the last entry, dated two days before she was found wandering, alone and bloody, everyone else missing or dead.

I supposed if I wanted answers, I'd have to ask Thomas.

He was gently tapping his pencil against the pad, so I supposed now was as good a time as any to get some answers. Whether or not I could trust his answers was a question for another time.

"What happened on the night you and Lucille entered the other dimension?

He looked over and it seemed to take him a second to register my words.

"I'm still not entirely sure myself," he admitted. "The day started like any other. Edith was with child and suffered dreadfully with morning sickness, so I went to see her in bed. If she took things easy and rose later, she generally had an easier time of it. I tried to coax her into trying some dry toast but she didn't feel up to it. She was distant… almost cold. I'd never seen her like that before, then as I was about to leave, she called me back, sat me on the edge of her bed and took my hand."

"What did she want?"

"She asked me to leave with her, leave the house, leave Lucille, just let it be her and I."

"What did you say?"

He met my eye only briefly then looked away, as if guilty. "I told her she was being silly, that she had nothing to fear from the house or my sister, and that she should try to remain calm, for the baby's sake. She asked again, begged really, she said that if I loved her, even if I didn't understand why, I would do this for her. I grew angry. I knew Lucille was a difficult woman to get along with but to take against her as Edith seemed to have, felt like madness. Eventually I accused her of being hysterical and threatened to call a doctor out of she didn't try to calm herself."

He sat silently for a few long moments, then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I often wonder what might have happened if I had agreed."

He sounded so forlorn that I reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Lucille wouldn't have let you," I told him. "I can't see any way that this could have ended well, for any of you."

"Perhaps," he shook his head, as if shaking off his sadness. "After that, I went about my normal activities. I breakfasted with Lucille, asked her to visit Edith today and try to make an effort with her. I didn't tell her what Edith had said, about leaving her behind. Then I went to the study to open the morning's post and return any correspondence, I checked on my business ventures, wrote a few letters, that sort of thing. I had intended to go into town but given how upset Edith was, I delayed that trip and went to see her again.

"She was up and dressed that time, eating lunch in her rooms. I joined her but she didn't welcome me and I seriously considered giving into her demands. We had been so happy in the early days. It was hard to believe that barely three months after our wedding, she was being so cold towards me. Reason won out over romanticism, of course, and I didn't agree. I left telling her I would see her at dinner."

He frowned then.

"What?"

"Edith had said something a few days before, about the basement. I thought she was… well, paranoid is a nice way of putting it, but the thought kept nagging at me. Finally I went down there."

"And?"

"And I felt as she did. I hadn't been to the basement since we were children, we ran away from our governess once and hid down there. I was young, not even five, and I don't remember what happened, only that I was terrified. The staff found me down there, screaming and crying."

"Where was Lucille?"

"She was down there too, watching me, they told me, unaffected by it, even though she was two years younger. I've been down there only a handful of times since then, and never since we grew up."

"So what happened that day?"

"I finally understood what Edith meant, why she was so disquieted down there. She said it felt alive but I couldn't see it. I could hear it though, like a pulse, like a heartbeat, almost."

"Then what happened?"

"I decided to leave, take the coach into the village overnight then we'd journey to London and rent a house for the winter. The season was long finished, so there would be plenty of choice. I felt better having decided and I went to tell Edith. She was thrilled." He smiled at the memory of how she must have reacted. "She threw herself into my arms and began to weep. We kissed and… made love, but we delayed too long. I called for a carriage to be readied and we began to pack the essentials, intending to have the rest sent on, when there came an inhuman shriek.

"We both ran to the landing where we saw Dr McMichael, lying dead in the hallway. The front doors were open, the snow was blowing in but there was no one else about. I told Edith to lock herself in her room and not come out unless it was me calling her. I think she was in shock because I had to repeat myself a few times before she tore her gaze away from her friend and heard me, then she did as I said and I waited until I heard the lock turn.

"I closed the front doors, covered Dr McMichael with a blanket then went in search of someone. Anyone, but I couldn't find any signs of life.

"I realised that a sudden storm had set in and we would be going nowhere that night. I could hardly see anything out the windows, it was a blizzard. In the kitchen I found our evening mean still cooking on the stove, some kind of stew, and took a large bowl and some bread up to Edith. I also pocketed a few knives. I explained the situation to Edith as we ate, that we would have to stay until tomorrow and although disappointed, she agreed that the roads would be impassable.

"I had to check on Lucille though, I worried that whoever had attacked Dr McMichael might have hurt her too, so I left Edith with a knife and told her to get ready for bed and lock herself in."

He fell silent then, and I squeezed his hand to encourage him.

"The rest all happened so quickly. I found Lucille in the library, looking out at the blizzard. Her hands were bloody and I thought she was hurt but when I found no wounds, I knew she had killed Edith's friend… She tried to make me understand, told me Edith was planning to leave with the doctor, taking my child away, so Lucille felt she had to stop her. I told her it was murder, that she would be the one taken away when people found out, and she laughed. So bitter and hollow. She said it didn't matter what happened to her, she would be reborn soon, as long as Edith didn't leave.

"I began to back away but she wouldn't let me. We fought, I hurt her, cut her with one of the knives I'd procured from the kitchen, but she gained the upper hand and began strangling me. Edith must have heard and she came at Lucille with her knife. Lucille back handed her away and she fell, hard, and when Edith gripped her stomach screaming in pain, Lucille cried out too, at the exact same moment, and her face deformed into something grotesque.

"I was still seeing stars but when the screaming stopped, Lucille rounded on Edith, calling her all sorts of vile names. Edith was bleeding, losing the baby, but she still had the knife and she kept Lucille at bay for a while, until I could get to my feet.

"Then it was… I don't know how to explain it. Lucille knocked her knife away and I ran at her, intending to tackle her to the ground, but then Edith shouted 'Go away, leave me alone' and it was like some kind of force came with her words, Lucille and I were both propelled away from Edith and I could see I was heading for the banister but Lucille wasn't. I grabbed her wrist at the last minute and pulled her over with me, then we landed in that place, where you visited me. It looked almost like my home and I ran back up the stairs to Edith, but she wasn't there any more. I called for her, frantic, then I saw a glimpse of her, crying on the floor, exactly where she had been.

"I kept calling, trying to see her again, then I saw Dr McMichael but he was different, just a vapour. If he was there and Edith wasn't, I surmised that we were dead and Edith had lived. I managed to see another glimpse of Edith, holding tightly to the banister as she made her way downstairs, still in her nightgown, but that was the last I saw of her." He looked into my eyes. "Did she…?"

"She survived. She was found waking into town, covered in blood, rambling about demons and ghosts."

"But the storm?"

"Must have stopped. Nothing I read mentioned a blizzard, so it must have been something Lucille did, localised here, or maybe an illusion or some sort to keep you here."

"Do you know what became of her?"

"She was institutionalised for a time, then released. I think I read that she returned to the states. Once she was released, she claimed not to remember what had happened, and no bodies were ever found, not you, Lucille, staff or the doctor."

My stomach rumbled and I realised how late it was.

"We should eat," Thomas suggested.

"I'm not really up for cooking, so shall we visit the restaurant?"

"If you would like," he smiled.

"We'll have to change, dinner is rather formal here." He was still in his loose Victorian shirt, trousers and waistcoat, while I was in jeans and an oversized shirt. I wasn't looking forward to dressing up, I prefer casual clothes but I had to admit, I was keen to see Thomas in his new clothes.

Thomas allowed me to dress him up as I saw fit, although we were delayed a little as while changing, we both awoke a rather more carnal appetite, but we soon sated our hunger. Surprisingly, the lingering suspicion that Edith's diary had put into my head didn't trouble me, but I couldn't say why.

I did briefly wonder why a man like him was with me but our future was so uncertain right now, that I simply didn't have the mental capacity to worry about where the relationship was going. If we survived, we could worry about that but until then, I intended to just enjoy this for whatever it was.

Thomas looked very dapper in a charcoal suit and blue shirt, with the collar unbuttoned to give it a casual air. I opted for a black maxi dress and a fitted blazer over it, then I twisted my hair up into a claw grip and applied a little mascara and lip gloss.

Thomas offered me his elbow and escorted me downstairs.

As we walked, he looked around at the details of the house, seemingly fascinated.

"Did they do a good job restoring it?" I asked.

"Pardon?" he took a moment to digest what I'd asked. "Oh, yes. I was actually thinking how odd it feels to me in my house, yet it's owned by someone else now."

"That must be freaky," I sympathised.

Dinner was a quick affair, neither of us having much appetite for socialising at the moment and being surrounded by other diners, we weren't even free to talk about our investigations, so we ate and ran, as it were.

As we walked back through the reception, he paused by a table covered in brochures, designed to publicise the house, and Thomas picked one up and leafed through it. I'd already been given one and as well as detailing some of the restoration, it was full of pictures to advertise the various uses the house could be hired for, such as conferences and weddings.

"I'll see you back at the room," I offered, but he closed the brochure and took it with him as we walked back.

Once back in our apartment, I checked my email to see if I'd had a reply from the professor who was an expert on Faust, but there was nothing but work and spam emails.

"How did you get on with the list?" I asked Thomas, who was looking through the brochure he had brought.

"I think I've included every detail I can remember," he said, handing me the pad he's been writing on. He'd filled three pages with notes but I was getting tired and I decided this could wait until tomorrow. I hadn't been sleeping well recently and I was exhausted.

Thomas was more than willing to retire early and it never even occurred to me to make him sleep elsewhere.

I used the bathroom first, brushing my hair out, taking my makeup off, then I brushed my teeth and took my birth control pill, then I let Thomas in for his turn while I undressed for bed. I intended to go straight to sleep but as I watched Thomas disrobe, I was captivated by him once more. He had this combination of lithe gracefulness which made me finally understand the phrase, poetry in motion, but he also had a sort of raw masculinity that emanated from every pore and turned me on something rotten.

Once naked, he locked eyes with me as he slowly stalked towards the bed, and I knew I was going to be his next meal.

I felt unable to look away from him and before he had even laid a finger on me, my breathing was becoming shallow. Once standing right beside me, he took a corner of the duvet and yanked it off, revealing me in all my… clothed glory.

His eyes glinted with displeasure as he took in my shorts and t-shirt but to my shame, it turned me on. I'm supposed to be an enlightened woman, a feminist, someone who believed in female sexual empowerment, and here I was, worrying that I'd upset someone I'd known for only a day with my pyjama choice.

I shouldn't care if he likes what I wore to bed, but I did.

Thomas reached under my t-shirt and grabbing the waist band, peeled my shorts off. I raised my hips to facilitate him, not even considering denying him. He tossed the garment over his shoulder then took hold of my wrists and brought them over my head. When he released me, I didn't even contemplate moving but again, I sat up slightly to enable him to remove my t-shirt.

I lay back down as his eyes raked the length of my body and I shivered with desire. I knew I was already wet and I wondered how he could make me so without ever touching me. I'd never met anyone who could reduce me to putty in their hands, as Thomas could, and I was surprised. Weren't the Victorians supposed to be prudish?

He caught my eyes again and held my gaze as he walked to the end of the bed, where he stood for a moment. My hands were still over my head, where he had placed them.

"I'm going to make you scream," he told me, then he crawled onto the bed. My legs parted of their own volition and he smiled, pleased by my visceral reaction to him.

He started by kissing my abdomen, slowly working his way down to my mound and I couldn't believe how turned on I felt. He hadn't even touched my sex yet and I felt that I might even be able to come without that stimulation. It was as if he was making love to my mind, far more than my body.

Eventually he parted my lips with his fingers but rather than diving in, he just stared at my sex for a few, long moments.

"Beautiful," he breathed. Then he put his lips together and gently blew cool air on my exposed sex.

I gasped both with desire and surprise that such a simple thing could be so erotic.

Finally he lowered his lips but still did not give me the relief I wanted. He focused his attentions on my labia, licking, nibbling and kissing them, until I was thrashing around on the bed, whimpering.

"Please," I begged, my hands going down to his head and threading my fingers in his hair, I tried to pull him closer, to make him do what I wanted.

Thomas just looked up at me, his eyes blazing with irritation.

"Put your hands back," he ordered, and I did. "Keep them there." He hadn't spoken harshly or shouted but I would no more disobey him than I would dare disobey a drill sergeant.

He went back to work and I wondered how long this beautiful torture was going to last. Had this been an interrogation, I would have told him all my secrets by now, I was sure of it.

"Please," I whimpered again. "Make me come."

I could feel him smile but he didn't indulge me. I writhed under his skilful mouth and issued a series of sound that I wouldn't have believed a human could make, from plaintive wails to needful keens.

"Please!" I was nearly sobbing and he took pity on me. His lips clamped around my clitoris and as his tongue rubbed over the sensitive tip, I came, letting out a string of expletives that should have made a gentleman blush. I writhed on the bed, my body twisting with each new wave of pleasure that flooded through me, but I never moved my hands.

He watched me avidly, still ribbing my clit with his talented tongue, prolonging my pleasure for as long as possible. Only when my body settled down, and I was left a languid, panting wreck, did he crawl up and position himself at my entrance.

He entered me with one smooth, long thrust, seating himself to the hilt inside me. The intrusion was easy but still shocking as I felt full to bursting. He set a steady pace ad he kissed me; I could still taste myself on his lips.

"Look at me," he said and although it was hard, I opened my eyes and held his powerful gaze. I felt laid bare before him, as if he was staring into my soul.

After a few minutes, his thrusts increased in tempo.

"Come for me," he ordered.

I wouldn't have believed it was possible again so soon but as his thrusts became harder, his pelvis hit my clitoris with each insertion and a second climax had my sheath clamping down on his length, making him feel even bigger as he spilled his seed into me.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine as we both recovered, then he kissed me softly and withdrew. I missed the feeling of having him inside me but, feeling both sated and happy, I curled into him and fell into a dreamless sleep.