by Platt, Meara
He would have no more than a few days with her before he was called away.
His heart was already aching.
He shook out of the thought and concentrated on the beautiful angel before him who was surrounded in that moment by the last rays of sunlight slanting through the window and bathing her in golden twilight.
They were now in his townhouse, in their bedchamber, and he noticed the staff had left a tray of fruit, cheese, and scones atop his bureau, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Candles were lit to cast a fiery illumination around the room.
They were well provisioned and would not need to come out for at least another day or two.
He glanced at the food, knowing they would sup later. At the moment, the only thing he intended to nibble on was Violet.
He removed his jacket, cravat, and vest, knowing she would be shy when he began to unlace her gown, and hoping it would help if he removed some of his own garments first. He made no protest when she assisted him with his shirt, liking the softness of her hands upon his skin as she helped slip it over his shoulders and head.
Her eyes were as round as teacups and her cheeks were stained a bright pink as she looked her fill, taking no pains to hide her admiration of his body.
He was no coxcomb, but he knew Violet was eager to couple with him. She wanted to touch him, taste his kisses, as much as he wanted to devour her. “Your turn, sweetheart. Allow me.”
It took no more than a few tugs at the lacings of her gown to slip it off her shoulders. Unlike the bee incident, he did not stop there. His hands slid along her slender shoulders to nudge the gown off her body. He watched it pool at her feet in a silken puddle.
He’d meant to lift her in order to move the delicate garment out of the way, but the frugal part of Violet was already thinking ahead. She hopped out from amid the silk and picked up the gown to carefully hang it over a chair.
He grinned, knowing she was still thinking practically and not fully aroused yet. But he soon meant to have her hot and purring as she clawed his body and moaned his name.
She was now clad only in her chemise and stockings, having kicked off her slippers when she’d laid out her gown. He could see her body outlined beneath the gossamer fabric, a lightly veiled temptation amid the glow of candlelight. His own body responded immediately, thrumming with excitement at the sight of the dusky tips of her breasts and the dark patch between her thighs.
He could no longer hold back the urge to taste her, to feel the heat of her arousal against his lips and inhale the scent of her essence. Light. Lavender. Liquid and fiery.
He unpinned her hair, catching his breath as her curls tumbled in a wild cascade down her back and over her shoulders. Her hair was longer than he realized, falling below her waist and curling at her hips.
He buried his hands in her hair and crushed his lips to hers, his control about to snap. He wanted Violet so badly, even his skin was prickling and his loins were aching as they’d never ached for anyone before. “Lord, you’re beautiful.”
Wanting nothing more between them, he removed the last of her clothes and carried her to their bed. He set her down in the center of it, pausing only to remove his boots. He now wore only his trousers, but decided to keep them on for the moment.
There would be time to take them off after he pleasured her.
He sank onto the bed and gently rolled Violet beneath him.
Her eyes were wide in anticipation, and her lips were softly parted. He meant to go slow, maintain control, but as he pressed lightly down atop her body and felt the lushness of her breasts against his chest, felt the silky heat of her skin, he knew he was lost. “Violet,” he said in a husky groan that tore achingly from the depths of his soul. He crushed his mouth to hers once more, slanting his lips over her soft, pliant lips, and at the same time cupping one of those lush breasts in the palm of his hand.
He ran his thumb lightly over its budding peak.
She gasped when he replaced his thumb with his tongue and began to lick and suckle, unable to restrain himself, unable to go slow, for a tidal wave of heat and insatiable desire was crashing all around him.
“Romulus!” Violet wrapped her arms around his neck and arched toward him, as though needing him to take more of her in. Mother in heaven! He was going to swallow up this girl, he was so hungry for her.
His swollen member strained against his breeches.
But he kept up the onslaught on her body, swirling his tongue around the rosy peak of one creamy breast until it hardened, and then moving to the other. He suckled and licked one and then the other, evoking soft, moaning gasps from her lips. “Romulus, these sensations…”
“I know, love. Close your eyes and take them in.”
As for him, he was drowning in desire for this girl, desperate to soak all of her in. The lavender scent of her body, the warmth of her skin, the excitement in her sultry, breathy moans.
Her voice was kitten-soft as she purred and arched her body in surrender to his touch, now responsively wild beneath him, squirming, rubbing herself against him, gasping, clutching his shoulders, grabbing onto the back of his head, and tugging at his hair to keep his lips upon her breasts and upon any other part of her body he saw fit.
He nibbled the sensitive spot by her ear.
He kissed his way back down to the tip of her breast.
He kissed lower.
His lips brushed lightly against the patch of hair between her thighs.
She froze, uttering not a gasp, emitting not a breath.
“Trust me, sweetheart.”
“I do,” she replied, closing her eyes and releasing a sigh as he eased between her parted legs.
She clutched the sheets as he touched her core, light and gentle at first. He wanted to give her a moment to get used to his lips and tongue probing the most intimate part of her. He slowly grew bolder, keeping up the onslaught until she was close to the edge of soaring, and then intensifying the pleasurable sensations.
He felt her tightening, and then felt the nub of her essence quiver. She was nearing her release, about to soar to a never before experienced height. She moaned and tugged at the bed-sheets, her grip on them fierce as she wound and twirled them between her fingers. He extended her pleasure, unrelenting as he touched her and tormented her with each swirl of his tongue.
He kept his hands around her waist to hold her firm as he pressed his mouth to the most intimate part of her responsive body. He could feel the heat emanating from her. He heard her soft, purring breaths that ended on one sobbing moan as she finally gave in to her pleasure. “Romulus!”
“I know, sweetheart.” He wrapped her in his arms and held her close until her beautiful body experienced its soaring climax, and she drifted back to earth.
He caressed her, kissed her on the forehead, on her cheek, on her lips. He rolled her atop him, loving the feel of her hot, damp body against his. He felt the pounding of her heart as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him similarly, on his neck, his jaw, his lips with ardent sweetness.
“I had no idea.” She laughed breathlessly and burrowed against his body.
“Neither did I,” he admitted, for nothing had prepared him for joy that shot straight to his heart and had him reeling as she experienced her release. Nor had any of the wild, rakish moments of his past prepared him for this deep stirring of his heart, this recognition in his soul.
He’d found his mate.
More than that, it was as though his soul had been asleep until now, waiting for her, and now aroused by her familiar scent. Lavender. Aroused by the taste of her liquid sweetness. The silky warmth of her skin.
Mine.
She is mine.
It was a primal recognition stretching beyond the bounds of time.
Did she feel it as well?
*
“Violet…”
She knew he’d held back to give her this pleasure. Dear heaven, his voice was raspy and straining from the effort. She felt his rigid fullne
ss against her thigh, and now she was determined to give him a similar pleasure. The only problem, she did not know quite what she needed to do, for although her cousins had spoken to her about what would take place on her wedding night, and her aunt had talked in circles about it, none of them had given her explicit details.
“Romulus, tell me what I should do.”
He gave a groaning laugh and caressed her.
She loved the look of him, his muscled strength and the taut planes of his body as he lay on his back and reached one arm around her to draw her closer to his side. His muscles rippled upon his golden skin as he nudged her atop him.
But as he did so, she noticed that a few, thin lines of white marred his chest and arms. Scars from naval battles, she imagined. Some of them appeared new, still thin, red and puckered. “What you should do?” She rested her head against his chest, her breasts pillowed against him, and her legs entwined with his, although his were much longer.
He gently ran his fingers through her hair, studying her as the long strands spilled across his arms and over his chest. “Yes, tell me what to do. Neither The Book of Love nor the women in my family went into detail about this moment. I should have spent last night reading an altogether different sort of book.”
He chuckled. “You don’t need reading material for this. You’re doing just fine.”
He took a moment to remove his breeches.
Her eyes widened, not expecting…but she’d felt his stiffness against her thigh, and should not have been surprised by the aching need that suddenly swept over her. She wanted him inside her, wanted their bodies intimately connected.
What they could not yet say in words, they would say with their bodies.
“It may hurt a little at first, Violet.”
She eased onto her back and opened her arms to him. “You won’t hurt me.”
It was all the encouragement he needed.
His big, solid body settled over her, the weight of him exciting even though he was careful to carry most of it on his elbows that were propped on either side of her. She ran her hands across the spray of gold hair on his chest and along the rock-hard bulge of muscles on his arms.
As she closed her eyes and breathed him in, she caught the familiar bay spice scent on his warm skin. She kept her eyes closed as he settled himself between her legs, but her heart pounded with the uncertainty of what was to come. Of course, she trusted him and was calmed by the sweet words he whispered in her ear.
To her embarrassment, it took nothing before she was ready for him, for he worked every part of her at once with his fingers and lips, building her desire with deep, probing kisses and a light, magical touch. He cupped his hand around her breast and rolled his thumb over it to tauten its tip. At the same time, she felt the press of him along the most intimate part of her.
His thrusts were uncomfortable at first, but the discomfort quickly melted away, leaving in its wake sensations of pleasure she never dreamed could exist. She held on to his massive shoulders, felt herself carried along on a beautiful wave that ebbed and flowed, dipped and rose with his every thrust as he eased himself inside her.
She marveled at the hot glisten of his skin, ran her hands, palms flat, along his body, and felt every strain and stretch of his powerful muscles.
Somehow, she felt the intense build of his own need along with hers, and was amazed she could evoke such feelings in him. The Book of Love had explained a man’s urge to mate with any desirable female, but this was something more, something that could only exist between Romulus and her.
As his own wave began to swell, hers did, too. They were both carried on magnificent crests that pulsed and pulled them along on an endless, quivering tide. He spilled himself inside her. “Violet,” he whispered, his breaths short and her name spoken in a groan. In this moment, she knew they were united forever.
He held her close.
He’d given her everything.
The most precious gift he gave her was his heart. He trusted her to love him and hold him dear forever.
She hugged him fiercely.
He grinned at her. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”
“Spectacular.”
He growled low in his throat, obviously pleased by her answer.
“What did you think of it, Romulus?”
“I don’t know if I can quite put my feelings into words.” He shifted off her, but continued to gaze at her, now frowning.
“Oh, you didn’t like it.” She tried to mask her disappointment. The moment had felt so special for her. She thought it meant something special to him as well. Was she mistaken? “This was my first time. I wasn’t–”
He kissed her on the mouth. “I liked it very much. You stirred something deep inside of me, something I did not think could ever exist.”
“What sort of thing?”
He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “You awoke a sleeping dragon. I don’t know how else to describe what I experienced while holding you in my arms and claiming you as my wife. Mythology has it that a male dragon takes only one mate for life. There is no courtship involved, for he knows her instantly. By her scent, I imagine.” He cast her a wicked grin. “By his first glimpse of her luscious, scaly skin. By her wing span that carries her lithe body through the air.”
“Romulus–”
“I know.” He cast her another grin, this one appealingly boyish. “Your skin is silky smooth, not scaly. Nor do you have wings. My point is, I knew you instantly in that way. In that deep recognition of the soul. It is said dragons roar together when they couple.”
She inhaled lightly. “Was I noisy?”
“Delightfully so. But so was I. Could you not hear me roar in victorious conquest? My throat is strained. The noises I made are still rattling between my ears.” He kissed her again and drew her into the circle of his arms. “When one dragon dies, the heart of the surviving dragon dies along with it. This is what I felt when coupling with you, that we are one now. One heart. One heartbeat. That if I ever lost you…I would lose the greatest part of me.”
She nestled against him, overwhelmed that he should feel this way. He was noble and handsome and heroic. That she would feel this oneness with him was not surprising. What made her so special that he should feel it with her?
It still made no sense.
Did love ever make sense? Or was it just a wondrous, magical sensation meant to be accepted and not dissected and debated until all the magic washed away?
“You are quite the romantic poet, for a sailor. But this explains how I felt the first time you touched me. When you pulled me into your kitchen and unlaced my gown to rub vinegar on me, it was as though I recognized you from somewhere deep in my soul, out of the eternal mists of time.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “Do you think there is such a thing as a dragon song?”
“Oh, Lord. Violet, are you going to sing to me now?”
She laughed. “No, you wonderful but still horrid man. You’re cringing again. I was merely curious how one dragon mate calls to the other.”
“It is a silent call that carries through the air from heart to heart. The operative word being silent.”
“That is nonsense. You were roaring. I was making all sorts of ghastly purring sounds.”
“I liked your sounds. I’d like to hear them again, if you’re not too sore to have me inside you again so soon.”
“I’m not too sore.”
He shifted their positions so she was under him again. His gaze intensified, his eyes a beautiful, opalescent green. “Violet,” he said, stroking his hand lightly along her body, “there’s something you must know.”
“About this second coupling?”
“Yes. No. About us. To hell with books and their advice. To hell with how we ought to feel and when we should say something.”
“Or when we should keep silent?”
His smile was devastating. “We needn’t stay silent any longer. We were both thinking it at our wedding ceremony. We should have said it to
each other then. It is obvious we’ve felt this pull to our hearts from the first. We don’t need dragon metaphors to state the obvious. Or fear it is a mistake to say it to each other now. I love you, Violet.”
Her heart felt ready to burst with joy. “Say it again, Romulus. It sounded so nice.”
He growled and nuzzled her neck. “I love you, Violet.”
“I love you, too.”
They coupled again, laughing with awareness as they exploded in bursts of starlight together, he roaring and she purring, their limbs hopelessly entangled. Their hearts rampantly beating as one. Their lips upon each other’s lips to keep their laughter and their noises muted. But mostly, it was because they liked to kiss each other.
As they calmed, their bodies side by side and their fingers entwined, for Romulus had taken her hand and not let go of it, he turned to her with a wicked smile. “Are you hungry?”
She arched an eyebrow. “For you? Yes, but are you recovered so soon?”
He shook his head. “I’m wrung dry. You do that to me. But I meant actual food. We ought to keep up our strength.”
“For more coupling?”
He gave her a light, affectionate kiss on the lips. “No more tonight. You’ll be too sore to walk in the morning. I wasn’t as gentle with you as I meant to be.”
She placed a hand to his jaw, the short, bristly hairs of his new stubble of beard rough against her palm. “You were wonderful. Did I complain?”
“You’ll feel it in the morning. It’s like any exercise or exertion. Feels great in the doing, but you ache to your bones the following day.”
“I’ll take your word on it. Right now, I feel warm and giddy. Still tingling.” She reached for her chemise and drew it over her body. It was one thing to be naked under the covers, but quite another to strut about without…well, Romulus did not appear to feel that way.
He rolled out of bed and crossed to the bureau to collect the tray and place it on the small table by the window. He drew two chairs to the table. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating his lean, warrior body.
She thought him incredibly handsome when clothed.
Romulus unclad…
