by Chloe Harris
Emiline had said it absently, almost in jest, but something in that statement brought a tiny bit of the past with it. It must have for Reinier also, because his expression changed. His eyebrows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.
“It’s incredible how well you’ve done. How strong you are.”
Why couldn’t she fight the feeling that he hadn’t referred to their encounter just now? Spitefulness roared in her and she wanted to respond once again that she’d had no choice. But she decided to let it go.
She knew she should want to talk about it, try to make him confront what he’d done and how they’d gotten here. But as it was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think of the past or the estate. She just wanted to let go and feel. She wished they could just enjoy their bodies again. But the look in his eyes…It was so far away, maybe even a little unguarded.
“Your father taught you well.”
Emiline wished that he could let it go also. With a sigh, she nodded. “In the time that he had, yes.”
Averting his eyes, he lifted his upper body. She crawled up, and as soon as he was free of her weight, he turned away, watching the ocean. Emiline remained sitting behind him. “My father always said only a petty tyrant rules by fear. A true leader rules by loyalty and care.” She refrained from running her fingers along the scar on his back. “He ran the estate like he ran his ship.”
“Would that he’d been my first captain.”
Reinier’s murmur had a strange shudder run down her body. “Father had retired well before you took to the sea.”
What an odd comment. Maybe she’d heard him wrong, because his words had been barely audible. But maybe she hadn’t?
“Never mind.” He turned fully to face her. “I was being maudlin, and we have no time for that, do we, Lily?”
Emiline let herself hope it was regret she saw in his grassy, pale eyes just before that familiar, despicable veil closed over them.
On the other hand, it was better this way. She smiled with genuine relief in the change of subject. No need for her to know something she’d have to make herself forget when—
“No.” She interrupted her own train of thought right there. “No time for that, monsieur.”
Her lids lowered as she let her eyes wander wantonly over his glorious, naked body. She reached for the golden patch of wiry hair between his legs but stopped in midmotion.
Blinking up, she asked before she proceeded, “May I?”
A wily grin spread over his face. He stretched his legs, leaning back and bracing himself on his forearms, waving one arm in invitation. “By all means.”
Emiline leaned forward, her lips just a whisper away from his tight, male nipple. “You’ve been so generous before, monsieur. I’d very much like to return some of it.”
His gaze filled with heat and mirth. “How noble of you to strive toward such a high goal.”
The tip of his tongue traced his full lips and she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick his nipple. “Oh, I’m very ambitious. You’ll see.”
His whole body twitched and his lids lowered as he let out a low, soft groan. Emiline had always admired that he was so sensitive there. Come to think of it, she remembered now he was sensitive all over. Time to use that information for her own purposes.
She let her mouth wander over him, tasting and licking the salt from his skin, her fingers fondling the hard peaks and grooves of his magnificent, muscled body. Her teeth nipped at his skin, and with every kiss and lick and soft bite, his body twitched and gooseflesh drizzled over him. With her mouth open, she kissed his chest; then her tongue traced the intriguing pattern of muscles at his sides while her fingers splayed and followed the path she drew down his body. He was growing harder with every touch.
Emiline thrust her tongue into his belly button, while her fingers ran over his hard flesh in a tantalizing, slow caress. Reinier arched under her.
“Oh. I see. Now.” His words were jerky and distorted by his gasps of pleasure. She would have given in to the silly titter she felt in her chest if she hadn’t been already occupied with the pleasurable task of licking over the tiny slit in his erection, savoring the salty drop that had leaked forth.
Her eyelids drooped and she let out a low moan as his taste spread over her tongue and immediately seemed to permeate every fiber of her body. She laid her head on his lower belly and let only her tongue run around the tip several times, her fingers cupping his sack and playing with the balls inside, feeling their weight, joggling them.
His breath pitched and she let her lips close over just his tip for now, sucking it slowly while her tongue continued to tease him. She heard him groan and she almost lost her strong hold on him. Bracing herself on her forearms, she saw he now lay there like an offering. He’d let his upper body drop to the ground, closed his eyes, arms at his sides.
Emiline quickly crawled up and straddled his calves, bending forward to resume licking and sucking him, worshipping all his length, distributing her kisses and nibbling with her lips at the soft skin spread tight over his hardness.
His breath came in shallow gasps and his hands twisted at his side, curling to fists and opening again. He’d always been so responsive to her ministrations, but he was even more sensitive today.
Her one hand found his sack again, and pulled and pushed and squeezed it gently while her other hand wrapped around the base of his erection, pumping him once before her mouth engulfed him and she immediately swallowed two thirds of him. Her tongue continued its teasing game as her lips and teeth ran over him, up and down…
She’d deliberately chosen a quick pace right from the start, hoping she could drive him insane with wanting, just as she’d desperately clung to her sanity before. It worked; his hips rolled up in frantic, choppy motions, seeking to sink even deeper into her mouth while his whole body tensed. He pressed his head into the ground, swallowing tiny gulps of air through his open mouth.
Emiline released him with a soft plopping sound and sat up. Instantly, his head snapped up and their gazes met. Hunger darkened his eyes.
Straightening her thighs and bracing herself on her hands, she crawled up his body, her eyes never leaving his. She lowered her hips over his just as she lowered her mouth over his. Grinding her core against his hard flesh, she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, reaching down with one hand to lift him skyward.
Never breaking the kiss, she slowly sank down, moaning into his mouth when she felt his thickness impaling her. Simultaneously, he rolled his hips upward to drive his shaft deeper into her slickness.
At first, her hips moved in a slow, circling pace until he bucked against her. His teeth locked on her lower lip, biting down. She closed her eyes briefly as the pinprick pleasure in her lip went straight to her groin and had her gasp long and loud.
Opening her eyes again, she saw his calculating grin. He might have allowed her to take charge, but she couldn’t fool him, nor could she fool herself. She was doing what he wanted her to do, his gaze said, and realizing that changed something in her. All the gentle playfulness was forgotten. Like a volcano, passion erupted in her and had streams of molten lava run through her veins. His gaze and the message it conveyed had been the incentive she hadn’t known she’d needed to once again turn into a lust-crazed wanton.
She ground hard on his thick shaft, increasing the rhythm, and he responded, lifting his hips to meet her every stroke. Emiline went wild with the heat building up inside her and threw her head back, moaning her pleasure out loud.
His hands snaked up and fisted in her hair, urging her head back down for a smoldering kiss that sent her into a delicious frenzy. She was pumping hard against him, and harder still, wanting, craving, yearning for more.
He rolled her off him and effortlessly turned her on her side so quickly she didn’t realize it at first. His hands spread her thighs wide and he entered her with a quick, relentless thrust until his thighs pressed against the back of her legs. His fingers foun
d her nub and rubbed it tenderly while he pumped into her harshly. The contradiction snatched a piece of her mind away with each stroke.
But then his motions slowed down more and more until he didn’t move at all. Emiline was twisting in his arms, one hand fisted in the blanket, one in his hair. Wild and crazy with passion, she didn’t want it to stop; she wanted more, so much more, and she wanted it to go on forever and ever.
“Relax and open for me.” His whisper didn’t make sense. She had already opened, she thought, sobbing as she felt him retreat completely.
Then his fingers were buried deep inside her for the fraction of an instant before she felt one of them pushing into her farther back again. She remembered what it was like. She remembered how delicious it felt, how intimate the touch was, and she welcomed the sensation once more, sticking her backside out for him and pushing against his hand. His finger was entering her slowly, and now she knew what he’d meant. She wanted more. With a groan, she twisted her upper body, bringing her lips closer to his. Her tongue snaked out to brush over his lips before she moaned, “More.”
She’d barely spoken the word when she saw that spark darken his eyes and she felt him spreading her wider, entering her with two fingers now. Emiline sucked in a ragged gasp of air when she felt him stretching her. She was so sensitive there. The sensation was delectable, tearing a low groan from her throat.
“More?”
His question was superfluous, she thought while pumping into his hand. Her body was asking, pleading, begging for more still and she was in no state of mind to think about it. Her breath pitched when she was being broadened even wider and she almost grunted in disappointment when he left her. But even though the feeling had been extraordinarily delicious, feeling his thickness in her core again made up for it.
But then he was gone again and his thick, rounded head pressed against her back there. Emiline’s eyes flew open as she fully understood what he’d meant earlier. It was too much, she thought, he was too thick, he’d hurt her. Did she really want this?
“Shh,” Reinier breathed soothingly into her ear. “Relax, Lily.”
His arm wrapped around her and his hand went straight to her core. Opening her folds, his clever fingers strummed her clit, and that was all she needed to let herself fall. Pleasure rippled through her body at the touch of his fingers; passion peaked as he slowly sank inside with seemingly no effort at all. He stopped there and didn’t move. Only his fingers tirelessly played with her sensitive button.
The soft pressure she felt against her tender walls as they stretched and loosened to take him in felt marvelous. He rolled his hips slowly to let her adjust to him, she supposed. Heat, thickness, and strength spread her. The sensation was unbelievable, the pleasure in his thorough conquest barring words.
She could hear his soft groans with every move he made, and those were the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. They spiked her passion, heightened her ardor. She felt so close to him, connected in the most intimate way. It was breathtaking. A very special bond formed between them; Emiline could feel it. With each thrust she experienced, with each moan she uttered, with each groan she heard, that special bond grew more intense. They fed each other’s lust with heat and ecstasy.
His torso rolled against her back, his strong arm was still around her, his fingers strumming her center. It was so delighting; she shivered at each new, deep penetration.
“Feel me in you, Lily.”
His voice was a low purr, almost as erotic as the silken strokes of his cock. She obeyed, bringing her hand down, shoving two fingers deep into her sex. His hand left her, clamped down on her hip to hold her in place, but it didn’t matter. The heel of her own hand provided the pressure she needed just now, and her moans pitched as she felt him move in her through the soft tissue of her dam.
His thrusts became more urgent and Emiline felt her consciousness splinter—the fierce strokes of his big cock, his lips moving on the side of her neck, his teeth clamping down, pleasure spiraling through her, down to her center. Too much.
All too much.
She felt her secret muscles grip and convulse around her own fingers even tighter. Her fierce orgasm shook her, wrenching a sharp, ecstatic bellow from him as he also crested.
He rolled his hips some more, rocking gently against her while her body continued to ripple with ecstasy.
Then she went limp. And her mind went numb.
13
“No, don’t.” Reinier grasped Emiline’s hands, stopping her from piling her dark chocolate curls back up on her head. “Let it loose.” His tone was softly pleading. Her golden highlights were more intense when her hair was an untamed cascade down her back. Any restraints were, in Reinier’s opinion, absolutely unnecessary.
Turning around, Emiline blinked. “But it’s still wet.”
And, Reinier added to himself, recalling their recent bath in the sea, probably dotted with little bits of sand as well. Had their skins not started to shrivel like apples left in the sun, they’d still be there in the water doing what they’d been so reluctant to interrupt—or rather finish, yes, by now they would…
Clearing his throat, Reinier tried harder to close the fly of his breeches. When he was in his trousers, his shirt still untucked, he took a step closer to her to run his fingers through her glorious mane. “I like the way it curls even more when it’s still damp.”
He saw she mirrored his loving gaze and fell into his arms. While they clung to each other, he pressed the softest of kisses on the crown of her head. Her fingers dug deep into his back as if she desperately held on. Her head was on his shoulders, just where it always should be. He could stay like this forever.
“When did the sun begin to set?” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
With a heartfelt sigh, Reinier broke their embrace. “I don’t remember, but we should probably head back before people think I’ve done something unspeakable to you.”
Cheeks blushing, she tried to hide a giggle in her hands. “Reinier, you have done unspeakable things to me.”
At her mock reproach he gave a brief chuckle, fingers capturing her chin to lift her head. “We’ve done wonderful things together.”
Her answering nod was a little shy. Reinier kissed the tip of her nose and, leaning back, he fell into the depths of her aquamarine eyes, drinking in all the tender emotions and feelings they conveyed.
She was so beautiful, she robbed him of speech. He could look at her like that always and he’d never tire of it.
And if she always looked at him the way she did now, he could stay. Forever.
At the thought, the smile on his face crumbled and he quickly turned away to hide the change from her. He couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t go on with this heinous ruse he’d concocted. He’d stay if she let him.
But now was not the time for talking about any of that. They should talk over dinner. It was only fitting; it had all started at dinner, after all.
Thus resolved, Reinier tucked in his shirt and made himself presentable so the servants had no reason to gossip. Then he helped Emiline gather the ceramic bowls from the picnic and placed them back into the basket. They folded the blanket together. When they walked toward the gig, they didn’t just walk hand in hand but with their arms wrapped around each other.
Reinier became aware that it had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of stillness in him. It had been a long time since he’d last felt this free. It had also been a long time since he’d felt this loved and could return that love from the bottom of his heart.
Helping her up into the gig, he quickly walked around it to take his seat, thankful that contrary to what the groom had predicted, the mare hadn’t bitten through the reins. Taking them in his hands, he clucked his tongue twice and they rocked into motion. Reinier put his arm around Emiline and she snuggled close. He let his chin rest on her head as they trotted back to the manor.
Her happy sigh made his heart jump. How would he begin? How could he make he
r talk about it at all? Should he wait until the main course was served? Which would be the right moment?
Suddenly, she wiggled out of his embrace. “Stop the chaise.”
Reinier gave her a look that must have shown all his bewilderment, because her eyes pleaded with him, yet the tone in her voice remained determined. “Stop the chaise, Reinier. Please.”
He did as she’d asked, tucking the reins under his thigh just as she grabbed his hands. She brought them up, raining kisses on them. Reinier could only watch as if he were merely an onlooker to his own body.
Straightening, she swallowed and licked her lips. “Reinier, we need to talk.” Her words were low. She lifted her head and they locked eyes. “This is…We…I mean…” She laughed and shook her head, then took a deep breath.
Her eyes radiated so much warmth; Reinier couldn’t help but smile back, although he must have looked very much like the besotted simpleton he felt at that moment. Was it possible? His heart beat heavy in his chest and hope had him thinking that maybe she felt the same, maybe she didn’t want to wait until dinner.
“Reinier, I l—”
Whatever she’d meant to say died on her lips and she leaned to the side, eyes narrowing past him at something in the direction of the harbor. Her face suddenly sobered like a slap had wiped her smile away. With a nerve-wracking slowness, she turned back to face him. Tipping her chin up, her hands left his.
“Whose ship is that?” Emiline’s voice was totally devoid of emotion.
Perplexed, Reinier drew his eyebrows together. There was his ship, the Sirene, but—
At the dark, callous glare in her eyes now, Reinier turned in his seat to see what she was talking about. He inhaled sharply. The cold, foul breath of doom skittered along Reinier’s back and something in him exploded with a deafening shatter until he could almost taste the bitter shards in his throat.
“The Coraal.” His whisper sounded loud to him in the quiet as his heart missed a beat. Molars grinding, he looked down. A sudden silence spread in him, like a snake coiling and waiting to strike. “That’s Connor’s ship.”
