Stalking Jack the Ripper Oneshots

CTD Chapter Sampler Continuation *NSFW*

Misjudging my response, he froze. "I ought to go—"

I stared at his mouth, trying to corral my emotions. He should go to his chambers. And I should let him. Our virtues could go to hell in just a few hours, after we were wed.

But instead of agreeing, I reached for the waistband of his trousers, pulling him against me. I didn't want to wait any longer. I needed him. Suddenly shy at what I was asking, I averted my gaze.

"Stay here with me tonight. Please."

He tilted my chin up, staring deeply into my eyes, and I knew with utter certainty that he'd give me everything I wanted and more. "Forever, Audrey Rose."

I raised my hands to his cheeks, cupping them gently in my palms as I brought his face back to mine, capturing his lips in my own. The moment his tongue brushed against mine, I let out a soft moan against his lips, hyper-aware of his hands slowly caressing up the length of my thighs. I pried my mouth off of his long enough to echo in a breathy murmur, "Forever."

Within the following moment, Thomas's hands slipped beneath my thighs, hosting me into his arms as he stood—chests flush against one another, my legs secured tightly around his waist as my arms looped around his neck. He didn't hesitate to kiss me once again.

Thomas carried me over to the large bed against the wall, laying me out on the sheets before him. He pulled back, watching me from where he stood at the foot of the bed. I reached my arms out for him, my body suddenly cold from the lack of his warmth, wiggling my fingers with need and want. Thomas grinned before kneeling on the bed before him, crawling towards me.

As soon as he was in reach, I pulled him down against my body, parting my legs to accommodate for his place between my thighs. Raising my chin in an attempt to kiss him, Thomas seemed to have an alternate plan, dodging my lips entirely and instead placed slow, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and neck. I slipped my fingers into his hair, my fingernails gently scraping against his scalp as his lips leisurely worked on the column of my throat. Suddenly, he pulled back, meeting my gaze. "How far do you wish to go, my love?"

"What I want and what is proper are two vastly different things, Cresswell. It is not a matter of how far I wish to go, it is a matter of how far we should go," I answered though, by every passing second, my deep desire and need for Thomas only grew, making the idea of stopping far too unpleasant and challenging.

He brushed his nose against mine, smiling softly. "When have you ever respected society's norms for what is or what is not considered proper? I do believe our dishonourable tryst in the bath on the eve of my eighteenth birthday has already crossed many of those boundaries, love." Thomas paused, taking the opportunity to trace his finger from my temple down the side of my face, proceeding the imaginary line across my jaw to my chin, angling my face up to his so our lips were merely a hair's width apart. Thomas continued, "So, în curând să fiu soție, how far do you wish to go?"

As much as I wanted to go all the way with him here and now, I knew I would regret it by the time our wedding night would arrive tomorrow night. I wanted our wedding night to be special. And I knew any moment with Thomas would always be special to me, but I wanted something vital to transpire to mark the occasion.

"Not completely," I returned softly. "I wish to save that for our wedding night. Nevertheless, there are many other ways we can occupy our time without going all the way—ways that are just as enjoyable..."

Thomas's hands returned to my thighs, trailing them higher and higher until the skirt of my nightgown was hitched around my waist, his hands resting on my bare hips. Quietly, he muttered against my lips, "May I?"

For a brief moment, I hesitated, not because I didn't want to continue with Thomas, but rather due to the thought of him gazing upon my completely naked body. I was never typically self-conscious with my appearance, however, in a society where many standards were placed upon women for how they should look, specifically for their husbands, there was always a lingering sense of embarrassment. I recalled mine and Thomas's scandalous moment in my bathing chamber a mere two weeks ago, how he had seen my entire bare figure then and had only showered me with compliments and domestic endearments. At last, I nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I whispered, "Please."