Just to Have You (Blackwood & Friends #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Griff: "You have to keep the button! It popped off the moment I found a shilling on the ground outside Mr Coppinger's. That means it is lucky!"

Ben: "If I kept all the buttons that popped off every time something pleasant happened to me, I'd have quite a few buttons."

(B & G conversation on good fortune 7 years prior)

"This is indecent!" Amy hissed, but his head had already ducked under her skirts, his teeth and lips skating across the lacy edge of her garter.

"Do you wish me to stop?" he asked, his voice muffled and dark. His hands were poised at the backs of her thighs, his mouth whispering against the top of her knee, but Oliver did not move further.

She released a tremulous breath, her entire core alive with his nearness and his wickedness, and perhaps she matched him for it.

Because, Lord help her, she did not want him to stop.

She didn't want him to ever stop.

The urgency and need for him was potent in its insistence, as if her body were trying to consume all of him and the pleasure he granted her for the every year she had ignored it.

She shook her head, swallowing hard, then realised he wouldn't be able to see the gesture, and a husky laugh escaped her. "No."

"Thank God," Oliver breathed, his breath hot against her skin. Then he swiped her leg up, over his strong shoulder, spreading her wide for his questing lips. A startled sound escaped her and she almost caved against him. "You may wish to hold on to something for this, love."

Wicked, wicked man, she thought frantically before every conscious thought scattered entirely at the first touch of his lips against her. A hand gripped her bottom, pulling her against him intimately, and when his lips pressed sensuous, explorative kisses at the juncture of her legs, she moaned explosively, her fingers latching on to the edge of the counter for support.

He dipped his tongue between her sensitive folds and his groan was appreciatively intense. "I have been dying to taste you like you this for days," he moaned into her and then he ravaged her with his mouth and tongue.

She was entirely at his mercy, held wide by him, and the feel of his tongue stroking every inch and seam made her body jolt and flex with rippling pulses that he conspired to wring from her. "Ben!" she cried when his tongue probed her deeply, a hum of rumbling approval moving his shoulders beneath her, and she dropped one hand to his head instinctively to urge him deeper or away, she couldn't be sure. "Oh, God..."

He withdrew, nuzzling her gently, only to push a finger into her while he began to rake the broad side of his tongue over the rest of her greedily. Flushed and mostly oblivious to anything else other than what he was inflicting on her body, Amy hardly heard the person who pushed open the door of the shop. If it wasn't with a ferocity that made the wood crash loudly against the shop wall, she would have probably missed Clarabelle's entrance entirely.

As it was, her fingers clenched against Oliver's hair in warning, though unnecessary seeing as his administrations had halted abruptly with the intrusion.

Halted, but not removed.

"Amy Griffiths!" Clarabelle shrieked indignantly, coming to stand before the counter where, if she were to lean over only very slightly, her friend would witness quite the most scandalous thing to ever happen in the peculiar village of Haventry.

Flushing, mortified, and feeling the man between her thighs laugh silently against her most intimate of places, Amy slowly braced her hand back against the edge of the counter and squeezed her fingers tightly in an attempt to ignore how her body was still reacting deliciously to Oliver. "Afternoon, Clarabelle," she managed to wheeze. "How... nice to see you."