The Frost of Springtime

by Rachel L. Demeter

  The carriage house was snug and cozy, though the night air held a biting sting. He prayed that Sofia would not catch a chill … then nearly laughed off his concern—noting the delicious heat that steadily wallowed between their bodies.

  Disposed of her garment, Sofia lay beneath Aleksender, donning nothing but her damp chemise and charming blushes. His manhood immediately jerked in appreciation, beguiled by the heavenly vision. He was bursting—throbbing—to the point of pain. Never had he been so aroused.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, tracing the curve of her cheek, the curve of her breast.

  He hovered high above her like a magnificent bird of prey, body propped onto each elbow, eyes glazed with desire. Thick strands of hair hung over his jade eyes in a black veil. Rainwater mixed with perspiration as sweat rolled down the slopes of Aleksender’s quivering muscles.

  Sofia tensed as Aleksender swiped away her mass of curls, exposing the pale arch of her right shoulder. His green eyes darkened and narrowed into blinding slits. He glared down at the countless cigar burns that marred her body. Familiar anger infused Aleksender; it pumped through his veins, pulsating with the beat of his heart.

  His lips descended, ghosting across the warped flesh in feather- light kisses, tentative and determined. “She was not your mother,” Aleksender growled against her skin.

  He held Sofia close and whispered sweet nothings into the hollow of her ear. “I care for you so much,” she cooed in reply. Her lashes swept over his neck as her eyes fluttered shut. “There’s nothing I would not do, nothing I would not give.”

  Aleksender’s mouth descended in a fierce swoop as his lips brushed insistently against her own, back and forth, commanding her complete surrender. As always, she obeyed him without thought, expressing her submission through coos, sighs and wildly feminine moans.

  Aleksender gathered her to his chest. He pressed deep, ravenous kisses down the delicious arch of her neck, feasting upon her flesh like a starved man.

  With Sofia resting so freely in his arms, all of Aleksender’s rational thoughts and self-restraint were lost to a primitive hunger. It was a hunger to possess what was rightfully his. He ravished Sofia without restriction, allowing his darker side to take over. He kissed her with every ounce of his suppressed passion. He kissed her with the intention of winning her soul.

  He could not contain himself. In the back of his mind, Aleksender feared that his passion would startle Sofia. But desire made up for inexperience, igniting her heart, body and soul with a natural sexuality. And the result was exquisite. Never had Aleksender witnessed something so beautifully reckless. So primitive and so erotic.

  She rubbed against him with a raw desperation, grinding herself against his flaming erection. Each movement further inflamed his groin. His deep, husky chuckle rumbled against her abdomen. He steadied her swiveling body and bellowed a rough growl.

  “Easy, chérie, easy, or you shall be the death of me. It would be a rather pleasant death, but death, nonetheless.” Kissing her forehead, the heat of his words wafted against her neck. “I intend to savor each and every moment.” His lips pressed against her earlobe, breaths unbearably hot and ticklish. “I intend to savor you.” His lips skimmed her flesh, ghosting across the smooth porcelain, moving southward.

  His tongue swept over her throat, lapping up Sofia’s heavy pants—settling on the erratic beat of her pulse. It tasted light, airy, and bittersweet, much like the melodic thrumming of a butterfly’s wings. Teasing love bites were branded upon her skin.

  He stared into her gaze as poetic words poured from his soul. “Your eyes—they are a rare sapphire, like the frost of wintertime …clear as La Havre’s morning sky and deep as the ocean.”

  Aleksender ghosted kisses down the column of her throat—down, down, down—swirling his tongue over the creamy swell of her breasts. One then the other. She tasted of rainwater and roses—delectable. Both of her dusty nipples were painfully erect, echoing the very state of his swollen manhood. And, much like the source of his physical affection, they jutted forward in sinful invitation—tenting the material of her chemise. The thin layer of silk clung to her like a second skin. It was a most delicious skin, waiting to be shed. Head inclined, he latched onto a hardened bud and tugged the coated flesh between his lips—suckling her straight though the chemise. A masterful hand kneaded Sofia’s opposite breast, caressing and fondling—cupping the voluptuous weight in a holy grail. She tossed her head back and moaned.

  “Alek. Let me touch you.”

  His reply was muffled. Aleksender lowered his head until his dark hair wisped against her, tickling the sensitive skin beneath her chest. As he spoke, he tongued the undersides of her covered breasts and dampened the fine material. His words were husky and slicker than sin. “I want to worship you, all of you, as a servant worships his goddess.”

  Sofia instinctively arched against his hot mouth—unable to speak—weak moans oozing from her lips. She met his every demand, craving a foreign relief, an unnamable relief … a relief only Alek could provide. He shuddered against her, steadying those maneuvering hips with a low, tortured groan. Then his mouth descended once more. His tongue drew invisible circles, sliding over each swell, teasing her with wicked intentions and pleasurable promises.

  “Dancing nymph,” he murmured against her sweat-slickened chest. The raspy baritone made her senses simmer and churn with pleasure. An acute ache pooled between her legs and coiled around her nerves—making her desperate for something … something she could not fully understand nor grasp … something so close, yet out of her reach.

  The feeling intensified with each little tug, each caress and whisper. Soon, it seemed to splinter her very bones.

  “Oh … I … I need—”

  “I know precisely what you need,” came his throaty reply. “And I shall give it to you. Again and again.”

  She quivered at the vow. The force of his conviction sent shivers up and down her spine. Aleksender curled his fingers beneath each strap. “I must see you,” he gasped, slowly dragging the chemise down and over her curves, her hips, inch by glorious inch.

  Sofia crossed both arms with a blush, hiding her bare breasts in an adorable, maidenly gesture. Aleksender wordlessly shook his head and unraveled each of her arms. “Do not hide from me. Let me see all of you.”

  Her breasts were true works of art—luscious, full and finely sculpted. And Aleksender had always been a connoisseur of fine art.

  He licked one of his fingertips and lowered it to a pebbled nipple, tracing the tender mound of flesh, delighting at how it tightened beneath his touch.

  “You could shame Aphrodite,” he praised in breathless admiration. Aleksender dipped forward and replaced the fingertip with his tongue—swirling it around and around the taut tip. Sofia clawed at his nape, blinded by overlapping emotions and sensations. Then he inhaled deeply and pressed his lips against her heart. Sofia nearly wept from the gesture.

  Between his deep kisses, Aleksender rasped in a guttural tone, “May I tell you the first time … the first time I knew I loved you?” He pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck and nuzzled her skin, inhaling her essence. “The first time that I knew that I couldn’t live without you?”

  Aleksender stared into her eyes. “I saw your smile. After I had taken you under my protection, after I had become your guardian.”

  Her eyes fell shut as she relived the memory.

  “No. No, Sofia, no. Look into my eyes. Let me know you are here with me.” She did as commanded. “That first night I saw your happiness. Happiness I had given you.” Her lips parted in wonderment. “I adored and cherished you, very much so—as a father does his child. But you matured as did the very depth … the very core of my affection for you.”

  “Alek, just love me.”

  His response sent her soaring.

  Sofia shivered beneath him, lost in the throes of passionate ecstasy. Aleksender growled into the tight chamber of her throat, dominating her with an erotic possessiveness
and raw desperation. His hand slid between her lush thighs and went in search of her very core. A clever fingertip skirted across the thin barrier of her pantalettes, tracing the lips of her feminine folds through the damp material.

  Aleksender tore away her slippers and threw each one aside, allowing them to join the ever-growing mountain of discarded clothing. He buried all ten fingertips beneath the waistline of Sofia’s hosiery, held his breath, and freed her from the wretched garment. The apex of her thighs was slick with desire and want. Aleksender gasped in appreciation as he centered himself above her body.

  He paused for a moment and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Then he pulled back—shocked to find that her cheeks were damp with tears. “Sofia?” he whispered against her skin. “What is it?”

  “To think you’ve shared yourself in this way all those times. Your body, your—”

  “Yes. My body. You understand me? I love you, Sofia. I love you as I’ve never loved anyone.”

  Aleksender propped up his weight and studied her from head to toe. “But such a thing cannot be undone.”

  “I need it to be you. Only you, always you. Alek …” She smiled and reached for his face. “Let me have you in the most intimate of ways, let me give you a part of myself that no other man may touch. Make me yours forever.”

  Aleksender responded with his caress. Broad, weathered hands skimmed over the valley of her curves as he traced each and every bend. He pressed a wet line of kisses down her neck, her torso—felt a sharp intake of breath as he ventured lower … lower …

  She squirmed beneath the weight of his body, fingertips tousled in his hair.

  Aleksender parted her intimate curls and circled the sweet bud in repetitive and loving strokes, stabbing in and out of the moist heat. He angled his lips and drew the tip into the hot cavern of his mouth. Long, teasing sweeps fell across the hardened tip, delicate pressure was applied … a little more … more … just enough …

  Moans shook Sofia’s body from head to toe. He steadied her hips as he suckled, drinking her in. She cried out in a burst of pleasure, swept with pure euphoria, every inch of her flesh tingling and on fire. Spasms quaked through her body. As they subsided, Aleksender slid up her body and claimed her lips in a powerful caress. He grasped onto her pale hand and guided it down the front of his trousers. She massaged him through the material, wrenching a tangle of moans from inside his throat. He felt harder than steel and impossibly large. Slender fingertips molded around the hidden length, massaging, moving up and down … down and up …

  “Dieu. Sofia,” he panted between heavy intakes of air as he wrenched her hand away. “It’s too much. I’m going to take you now.”

  Aleksender stripped away his trousers and freed himself with a groan, rejoicing at the feel of Sofia’s smooth skin against his own. Legs entwined together and mouths connected, he centered himself in front of her heavenly gates. For a weightless moment, a rekindled rush of guilt consumed his mind.

  And then everything vanished—leaving only the two of them and their mutual affection for each other.

  Sofia submissively angled her chin forward. Aleksender cradled it in his moist palm, lifting her eyes to his powerful gaze. “I love you, Sofia Rose. And I won’t pretend that I am deserving of you.”

  She nodded her love, voice stolen from her breast. Parting her velvet folds, he slowly slid inside Sofia. He quivered from the painful anticipation and promising release to come. Sweetly kissing the top of her forehead, he sighed, “Forgive me.”

  And in a single, fluid motion, they were made one. Tears swelled her eyes at the deep burn. Aleksender carefully maneuvered in and out of Sofia at a steady pace, in and out, as he allowed her to grow accustomed to the sensation and his size.

  She grasped onto the uneven terrain of Aleksender’s back, holding him firmly to her breasts. Her heels dug into the hay carpeting as the uncomfortable, raw ache gradually transformed into something magical. Pain was replaced with a spine-tingling pleasure … a pleasure only Aleksender could reward her. He increased his speed and pressure with a hoarse grunt of effort. A thick film of sweat gathered above his brow and shone in the moonlight. With each thrust, her body gripped onto him in an unyielding clasp, forcing them back as one. Aleksender curled his face into the crook of her neck and held her tight. He murmured words of love against the fine cartilage of her ear, “Amour de ma vie … ton image hante mes nuits, me poursuit le jour, elle remplit ma vie …” Love of my life, your image haunts my nights, follows me all the day, fulfills my life.

  Strong, muscled arms hooked around her torso, elevating her the slightest bit. Remaining connected in the most intimate of ways, he sat on his haunches and lifted Sofia against his chest. She ground against him in instinctive and intuitive movements …brushing back and forth, swiveling her hips full circle—one direction than the other. Aleksender raised a hand and gently trailed a fingertip down her body in a feather light caress igniting her skin from breast to bellybutton. Like a true dancer, she varied her tempo and movements in a creative, soulful rendition. Aleksender angled his chin back and propped both hands onto the cloak, lost to pure ecstasy. Encouraged by his deep moans, Sofia gained a steady momentum as she made love to Aleksender with her heart, body, and soul.

  “Oh, Alek, I—” Sofia was rolled onto her back just as the sweet force of her climax curled her toes. Unparalleled jolts of pleasure overcame every pore, every nerve, every fiber of her being. Joining in her release, Aleksender buried himself deep inside her body and threw his head back in a wild roar. Pulse racing, he held her against his chest, lost to an exquisite feeling of oneness.

  After it was done, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, hearts and bodies still entwined.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Elizabeth woke to darkness. Smoke from a deceased flame swirled in a mystifying cloud, its long white ribbons pasty against the black expanse. Eerie and ominous shadows crawled up and down the bedchamber’s walls like living things. The melodic thumping of rain caressed the chateau with devious touches. Outside, trees blew fiercely in the wind, their branches clawing at the windows. On this night, they resembled the nails of demons fighting to come inside, burning to drag Elizabeth to hell.

  “Alek,” she called, “Aleksender?”

  Elizabeth sat up and squinted. Her chest ached. A terrible premonition gathered inside her gut. She turned to Aleksender’s side of the bed and fondled the cold sheets. On top of the end-table, a sliver of white caught her attention.

  It was a note.

  Elizabeth rose from the bed, snugly fastened her nightgown’s sash about her waist and collected the parchment. She positioned herself near to the double-doors, using the moon’s gentle glow as light.

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  Richard and I have been invited for brandies and cigars with fellow gentlemen. I am sorry to have left you. I had no intention to disturb your sleep. You looked so peaceful.

  Yours, Aleksender

  Elizabeth gazed at the moon in thoughtful silence. She was caught in a dilemma—forced to choose between the better of two evils. Should she sulk back into bed with feigned oblivion? Or should she unveil the truth she had known all along and had deliberately chosen not to see?

  A beam of light poured into the study as Elizabeth squeezed inside. It was a magnificent room, boasting rich mahogany furnishings, a Persian rug, low-hanging crystal chandelier and towering bookshelves.

  Arms hugging her torso, Elizabeth slipped deeper into the study, praying she would not be discovered by some nosy, wandering servant. Summoning her courage, she made haste and swiftly approached the elegant writing desk. She turned the knob of a kerosene lamp, shedding a ring of light upon the polished surface. Her fingers slid across the desk’s smooth wooden counter in appreciation.

  Muffled thunder growled in the distance. Returning to the task at hand, Elizabeth shivered and yanked one of the drawers open. She rummaged through the various odds and ends with only a slight tinge of guilt, searching for anything tha
t might prove—or hopefully disapprove—her unorthodox assumption. If any such proof did exist, surely it would be packed away in his study. Between his thirst for knowledge and love of writing, Aleksender had always valued this room above all others. It was bound to harbor his deepest, darkest secrets.

  Elizabeth searched through the other three drawers with no luck. Documents, spectacles, silver seal and wax … fountain pen—

  The Bible. How perfectly strange.

  Elizabeth hesitated before fetching the massive book, her fine brows propped into questioning arches. Aleksender was many things. Religious was certainly not one of them.

  She flipped the Bible open without further thought. Her eyes widened in awful realization. What she found was far from holy.

  This was no Bible. It was a trick, a hidden compartment box. Countless letters were packed inside, each one fastened together with a scarlet ribbon. Heart pounding, she collected the stack and flipped it over, studying the coarse and slightly faded parchment. Trembling fingertips tugged at the ribbon. She unfolded a letter dated May 9, 1870—marking it as the oldest of the bunch.

  Dearest Sofia,

  I hope you can forgive me for not writing sooner. Know that your letter was a much needed breath of fresh air. The days have been too long and nights far too short. There is no escaping.

  In my free moments, I find myself lost to deep thought. In spite of myself, I feel compelled to share them with you. You had found the courage to open your heart. You only deserve the same from me.

  I have convinced myself that my feelings for you start and end at infatuation—the smitten thoughts of a randy lad, no doubt of it. After all, you have grown to be very beautiful.

  Taking a bullet opens one’s eyes. I was destined for death, Sofia. Dying is a beautifully surreal experience … much like falling from oblivion, when you are caught between sleep and waking. At the risk of sounding terribly cliché, it was an introspective moment. I could no longer hide from myself nor my feelings. And, within those fleeting moments, I found myself in confession.