by Jackie Ivie
“Where on earth . . . did you procure this outfit?” he asked.
“From my hope chest.”
“Your hope chest? What on earth were you hoping for?”
“A large, handsome, strong, golden-eyed Adonis of a man to fall into my life. What else?” She shrugged, lifting the material along her breasts, where the nipples hardened almost instantly.
Kameron saw it, too. She watched as his eyes moved there and stayed. Constant took a deep breath, pushing her breasts more fully against the material, and watched him twitch. Then, ever so slowly, she bent toward him, angling her arms together to further emphasize her cleavage. She knew she had an ample bosom. Charity had been making snide remarks about it since Constant had grown breasts. She thought she knew now why they were as large as they were. It was for this. Kameron.
She watched him as he watched her, and couldn’t believe how amazingly wanton and luscious it all felt.
She put a hand beneath his chin to lift his jaw. Her pulse beat loud and fast in her ears. Eons of time hung suspended. Glow and warmth imbued everything. And then she moved in ever so slowly to match her lips to his. The moment she kissed him, a moan resonated through the loft, and it came from both of them.
Constant pulled away first, settled back onto her knees, put her hands on her thighs, and regarded him, waiting for her heartbeat to calm enough she’d be able to hear over it. Kameron was probably in shock. Or something. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t blinking. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.
“I told you there was no comparison, Kameron, and there still isn’t. That was what I was finding out.”
“I canna’ allow this to continue.”
He might be speaking of denial, but he’d dropped his eyes, speaking the words to her breasts, and then licked his lips, causing her to smile. Constant lifted her shoulders in a shrug and watched him stare where her bosom pushed against the material.
“That would be a shame, I think.”
“You doona’ ken what you’re doing, Constant.”
“Not this time, Kameron. I know exactly what I’m doing. I think it’s you who is in need of instruction.”
“Oh nae. I am na’ going to tup—nae. I canna’. You doona’ understand. I refuse. It would be a sacrilege . . . of the highest order. You—you’re my angel. The woman who sheltered me. I’m na’ so much a beast as to repay that with ravishment. I canna’!”
“I’m not an angel, Kameron. I’m a woman. And right now, I’m a woman . . . in need.”
He groaned. Constant leaned forward, bringing her bosom close to his face. He was right. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing, but she was following something beyond experience and training. Something primitive and basic, and completely immersing.
“I’m na’ an honorable man, Constant. I should na’ be allowed anywhere near a young, impressionable maid. I’m a fornicator. I get drunk on occasion. And I’m a thief, for pity’s sake.”
“A thief, too?”
She clucked her tongue and slid her left breast, ever so slightly, along his cheek. He shuddered in response. Whispers of gooseflesh slid all along her limbs.
“What were . . . you stealing?”
Constant managed to ask it, although she lost her voice midway. She’d never felt like she did right now. Excitement seemed to spring from the peaks of her flesh and shoot all the way through her.
“Secrets,” he answered.
“Not hearts?”
She felt every one of his tremors, and it was making her body sing with anticipation and energy. She felt as though she could do all her daily chores in less than an hour.
“I’m trying to do the noble thing here, Constant. This is na’ helping. Pray doona’ add to the list of sins I need atone for. Please?” He choked out the words. His body was immobile. Taut. Statue-stiff and unmoving, even as she neared his mouth with a nipple.
“But, what of me?”
“What . . . about you?”
“Everything you’ve said is about you. Your sins. Your atonement. Your thwarted needs and desires. And nothing about me. I’m not doing this for you, Kameron. I want you. I need you. If it’s all I have in my future, then so be it. And you’re not in charge at the moment,” she finished before her voice gave out. “I am.”
He gave an incendiary growl, and then her nipple was in his mouth, still covered by her chemise, shocking her to the core. Constant grabbed his shoulders and did her best to keep from screaming. Kameron rolled her nipple in his mouth and then sucked, gifting her with rivers of ecstatic pleasure.
Then he pushed her away a fraction in order to blow air atop the moistened peak. She moaned, then moved to hold his head, clamping her palms to his ears, filling her fingers with his luxurious long hair.
Then Kameron was feasting on her other breast. Constant writhed. She reeled in place. She cooed. And then she crooned as reality faded away. She wasn’t in a loft. There wasn’t a bed of straw beneath her. There was just Kameron. And what he was doing to her. She might be floating. She could even be flying.
Kameron moved then, pressing her onto her back atop the hay beside him, where he sent breath after huffing breath into the valley between her breasts.
“Constant Ridegly, you are a viciously desirable creature. I suspected it when I got my first look at you, and now I ken it for certain. You’ve tapped every reserve I can claim. But I still . . . will na’ compromise you. I canna’. It goes against everything I hold sacred. I’ve sins I doona’ even remember to repent. I will na’ add tupping you to them. Please? I’m begging here.”
Constant lifted her head and brought him into focus. “You mean there’s more?” she asked in surprise.
Kameron’s laughter made both breasts quake with it. Constant had to hold to their sides to keep them from jouncing.
“What did I say?” she asked.
“Oh, love, there’s mountains more. Oceans. Continents. The heavens and the stars. I only wish I was the man who gets to deliver them to you.”
“But . . . you have to be the man, Kameron. I couldn’t let any other man near me. Surely you know that.”
He sobered and lifted his face from where he’d been pillowed. There wasn’t anything carefree about the look he gave her. Lines etched his forehead, and there were shadowed areas about his eyes.
“I canna’ take your maidenhead, Constant. Na’ tonight. Na’ ever. It belongs to the man you will wed, whoever that might be. It will na’ be me. I canna’ offer you a future. I never could.”
“Did I ever ask for one from you?” Her reply was a bit breathless but crisply delivered despite how everything that was good and virtuous inside her got stood on end from his statement. She hoped she hid it well enough.
“What is it you do want, then?” he asked.
She forced herself to continue with the same tone and inflection. “I was taking your mind off your pain. What else?”
His groan came from the depths of him. She felt it. Perfect golden-brown eyes bored into hers and Constant watched as they seemed to fill with black.
“You are severely testing my resolve, Constant. I want you to ken this. I thought I was impossible to break. I doona’ cave in to force. I have the scars to prove it. But this is beginning to feel worse than a torturer’s embrace. I’m known as a heartbreaker, a man who can love a woman and leave her without a backward glance. I will na’ do so with you. I will na’.”
“And that means?” she asked.
He chuckled, blowing air across her again, and he watched her nipples tighten. His face twisted. “It means I’ve had about as much of this as I can stand. You are going to have to move. Now.”
“But you’re atop me,” she replied.
“And you’re about to find out what being beneath me means. Out before that happens. Now.”
He started to lift himself with his arms, just like always, but his sudden intake of breath, and the way he collapsed, told her something was wrong. As did his groan.
“Kameron?”
>
He was puffing the air from between his lips, his eyes squinting.
“What?”
“Are you in such pain?”
“Nae,” he replied.
“You are going to have to work on your lying.”
His eyebrows rose at that and he opened an eye. “You’re teasing with me. I happen to be a perfect liar. Always was. Always will be. It’s one of the myriad of sins I’ll be repenting.”
“Are you ready to cut through another of your bonds, then?”
His other eye opened. “You are na’ to move for a bit, Constant. Just . . . doona’ move. Fair?”
“But why?”
“Because there are some parts of a man that just will na’ listen to his intentions, good or otherwise. Doona’ move. I forbid it.”
She wriggled slightly and felt him tense.
“Constant, I’m warning you—”
“About what this time?”
“I think you have sadistic tendencies, Constant, my love. And here I thought you the most compassionate woman birthed.”
“And I think you think too much. Roll off me and let me proceed.”
“I canna’ roll. I can barely continue breathing.”
Her eyes widened. “Your ribs. I clean forgot. Does it pain terribly?”
“Hell, yes. I mean nae. Oh Jesu’. Just get out.”
He shoved himself up and off her with a wrenching motion. He grunted as he came in contact with the hay-covered loft floor. Constant turned to her side to face him and supported her head on her upraised arm.
“If you’re not in pain, do you wish me to continue?” she asked when he wouldn’t look at her.
“What? Nae. Yes. Go away.”
“Go away? But I have to help you.”
His reply came between clenched teeth. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to finish. Pick up your skean and cut me free.”
“Do you want to support your leg with the splint before I release it?”
“Nae,” he answered quickly.
“It will hurt more if you don’t.”
“Right at the moment, I doona’ care. I’m looking for pain. I need an entire existence filled with it.”
“I don’t understand you at all.” Constant moved into a sitting position, crossing her legs before her. “You asked me to take your mind off pain. And now you want it back?”
“Well, you certainly managed that. My mind is definitely on other things.”
“Really? Like what?”
Another groan, and then he turned his head toward her. She watched as he ran his eyes from her head to the shadowed area below her chemise and then moved back to her breasts. He shuddered. He gulped. Then he closed his eyes and took a huge breath. This time when he opened them again, his eyes were glassy and without expression.
Constant stared.
“Things such as that truly bountiful bosom of yours. However did you keep it hidden from me for so long? I usually ferret out such things quicker. I must be losing my touch.”
She barely kept from crossing her arms about herself at his words and his tone. He made it sound ugly and sordid. “It wasn’t something I wanted noticed,” she answered.
“Classic mistake, Constant, my love. Any man looking at what I am would give you anything you desire.”
“What if I . . . desire you?”
His eyes widened a fraction and the opaque sheen slipped. Then it was back so quickly that if she’d blinked, she’d have missed it.
“A child’s wants can be confused for many things, Constant, my love.”
“Who are you calling a child?”
Constant straightened her back, angling forward into the sodden areas of her chemise. She knew it worked as Kameron’s eyes cleared back to golden brown and he focused exactly where she wanted him to.
“You temptress. You vixen. You wanton.”
Constant tilted her mouth into a pout. “You . . . knave. You thief. You spy.” She answered in the exact same tone of voice he’d used.
Kameron’s lips twitched. Then he was grinning. Then he was heaving himself onto his arms and lunging for her. Constant was more than prepared for him, allowing her knees to drop to make it easier for him, when sudden agony laced across his features and he fell.
She was instantly on her hands and knees beside him. “Kameron?” she whispered.
“Come here.”
He accompanied the command with his arms gathering her, rolling onto the side with his good leg in order to hold her against him. Then he was sliding down to her bosom again and nuzzling. Then he was kissing and caressing, and then he was sending his words to her breasts again.
“A man who has just partaken of your bounteous bosom needs more, Constant. An endless supply of more, God help him.”
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips.
“Allow me to demonstrate.”
He was more than demonstrating. He had her squirming against him, pulling at his hair, her body heaving against him while he lavished attention on her. And when he’d finished and was licking each nipple in turn, instead of sucking and pulling, Constant was such a trembling mass, it took her some moments to decipher exactly where she was, and why.
Kameron wasn’t unaffected, either, although he’d done his best to keep his still-covered male part away from her. Constant had tried to maneuver herself near it—she’d even opened her legs and tried to force him between them—but he shoved himself into the space between her knees and just settled there, where his male organ pulsed in place.
He was too big, and he was too heavy, and he was taking all her desire and turning it into such a conglomeration of heat that her breasts felt as though they’d doubled in size—and that would be enormous. Constant put her hands on his shoulders to stop his incessant caressing.
“You must . . . stop,” she whispered.
“Lord, doona’ I know that. We’ve bent the bounds of decency too far already, and everything on me is angered and yelling at me over it. I ken we have to stop. I just doona’ want to. The word is na’ in my vocabulary at present, I’m afraid.”
“But I have . . . to cut your bonds . . . while I still can.” The words were panted. Wheezed.
“Verra well. We’ll stop. But doona’ look at me like that again.”
“Like . . . what?”
He slid his gaze sideways to her and Constant felt certain he’d see the flip her heart made as their eyes connected. Then he slid away, settling with an awkward-looking shimmy into the hay.
“You’ve a wild and sensuous look about you, Constant. Feral. Passionate. My body recognized it instantly, although my mind did na’ put it together for me until tonight. ’Tis verra rare. Afore long, you’re going to have males falling about your ankles just for a chance to taste what I’ve tasted and dream of what I dream. Mark my words.”
“I will?” she asked.
“Aye. I’m afeard of it, too. Listen to me . . . afeard? I’m turning into a bairn. You’d best start your cutting. It might save me what’s left of my self-respect. What are you looking at? Get your skean and start carving. I’m sufficiently fortified to withstand it.”
He turned his head away, and his back was clenching and unclenching spasmodically, making the cheesecloth flex and warp where it was stuck to purplish-red lines.
Constant crawled toward him, using one arm to support her breasts. She looked down at them. She hadn’t enlarged. It only felt that way. Actually, she’d never felt so attuned to her own body. She knew if she listened, she’d be able to hear her own blood pumping through each breast.
“Well? What’s keeping you??” Kam asked, with a slight edge to his voice.
“I feel different,” she replied. “Bigger. Lots bigger. I wanted to make sure it was my imagination.”
“If you get much larger, Constant, I’ll need an assist to hold you. I’ve large hands, but—”
His words halted the moment Constant straddled his lower bac
k, facing his feet. Underneath her, she felt him react with such an upward lunge she had to clench both knees to keep from falling, while an unearthly groan came out of his chest.
“Good Lord, Constant! I’m only human. Doona’ do it this way, please? It hurts.”
“But I haven’t even touched you yet,” she replied.
“It’s na’ my legs!”
“It hurts in places other than your legs?”
His answer seemed to be a couple of puffed breaths followed by a string of curses. She slid to his side, and that’s when she saw his distended rod, still encased in her old pantaloons. She covered her mouth with a hand to keep any sound inside. Kameron was glaring at her as he used one arm to flatten himself prior to lying down again. Constant leaned forward to watch, and then sat up once he was settled.
“Is this interesting you?” he asked.
“Does it feel like my breasts do? All aware . . . and full and sore?”
He rolled his eyes. “Nae. Will you just cut the rope?”
She moved down, hovering above his knees and slid the knife under the rope. The flesh where she’d taken the rope off him earlier wasn’t quite as black. It was more purplish, like a bruise. She started sawing. He tensed only once before she was through the rope and had it eased from beneath his knee, although he had to lift his leg for her, and that couldn’t be easy for him.
There was only one more rope holding his legs together. She put the blade under it.
“Constant?” The word stopped her. It sounded choked.
“Yes?”
“Come up here. Now. Please?”
She scooted up toward his head.
“I need a reminder.”
“I hurt you, didn’t I?”
He reached a hand out and slid a strap off her shoulder. Then he removed the other. Constant watched him watching her, as the material held for a moment to the peaks of her breasts, before falling to her stomach. He half lidded his eyes, shook for a moment, and then opened his eyes fully. Gooseflesh started and continued all over her as he looked, and kept looking. He didn’t touch. He just looked, licked his lips occasionally, and then looked some more. And then he spoke.
