by Lavinia Kent
His words warmed her. Nobody had ever appreciated her desire for knowledge before. Swanston had constantly warned her that she was going to use up her nine lives if she was not careful.
“Do you want to know what happens now? Keep holding your hands up, stretched.” He pulled lightly upon the pearls and then began catching them at her chest, just above the upper curve of her breast. He began to roll them back and forth across her body, each individual pearl leaving a trail of sensation, her body the surface upon which a hundred beads rolled, cool but rapidly warming to skin temperature. It was as subtle a torture as ever she could have imagined. She bit down on her lips as the pearls jumped one peaked breast and then the other, the beads catching and flying free, her tender nipples throbbing with the sensation. They were so tender, so swollen from the earlier binding, and she could feel each individual pearl as it tracked its journey across her skin.
And then his hands moved, the upper hand moving to her belly as the lower hand pulled the pearls tight across her, moving lower so that the pearls ran down right at the V of her thighs, right at her…He suddenly slid the strand down and back up in a single motion, the pearls running over her clit one after another. Her back arched and she almost rose from the bed.
He did it again. The third time he pulled them tighter and moved sideways as well. A deep moan left her mouth.
It was torture. She needed less. She needed more.
Her whole body shook with longing and need.
With the smallest of smiles, Stephan placed a finger on each side of her clit, the strand of pearls between, and ran his fingers up and down, pressing tight. Her whole body stretched and clenched. She began to pant and squirm, his every touch bringing her closer and closer to that magic point.
He eased back. “Not so quickly, love. I know how you love anticipation.” He settled back on his heels, between her legs, releasing the pearls.
The lack of contact should have lessened her need, but the movement of his eyes over her stroked her as surely as his fingers. She squirmed, trying to attract him back to her, and to ease the melting ache that grew and grew. “Please,” she murmured.
“Stay still, my love, and just let me look. I am not sure that I will ever get enough of you. I have had far too many years of dreaming of this, longing for it.” His eyes continued to roam over her.
If only he’d take off the robe, then at least she’d have something to look at as well. Not that he didn’t look almost perfect with the dark green highlighting his dark blond hair that glinted like fine strands of gold in the candlelight, and that flash of chest that lay revealed every time he moved. She could stare at that sliver of skin for hours, thinking about tasting it, about rubbing her cheek against it, about pushing the robe farther open, about pressing her lips just there, just above his heart and then slowly moving down, feeling each breath he took, feeling each movement of his body, knowing…
Stephan leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of his hips, and lowered his tongue to her breasts. The tips were still so sensitive that even his soft breath fanning over her skin had her poised on the brink again. His tongue flicked about, tasting here, lingering there. When his lips finally settled about her right nipple, her back arched up.
“Easy, stay still—and keep those hands over your head. Don’t move. Pretend you’re still bound, imagine the pearls holding you to the bed, keeping you captive for my pleasure.”
“And what about my pleasure?” she moaned.
“Is not my pleasure your pleasure?” He stilled, his eyes seeking hers, seeking the answer to his question. “And I think if you are patient, your pleasure will come. Don’t you, my love?” he whispered against her skin, his breath a cooling wind over her hot damp skin.
He’d called her “my love,” and for the second time. Despite all the wonders running through her body her mind stopped and caught his words. Did he mean anything by them? “You said that before,” she said.
“Said what?” His head lifted and she could tell he’d sensed her sudden distraction.
“You called me your love.”
“Yes.”
“Just yes?”
He leaned back, his eyes catching hers and holding them. “I am not sure what you want me to say.”
“Do you mean it?”
He continued to stare down at her.
“Do you mean that I am your love?” she asked when he did not answer.
He blinked. “Of course I mean it.” He lowered his head again, nuzzling at the side of her breast.
It was hard to breathe. He meant it. How could he possibly mean it? “What do you mean you mean it? You can’t love me.” The fear began to build again.
He raised his head again. “I don’t know why you seem surprised. Why do you think I wanted to marry you?”
“For the land. Oh, don’t roll your eyes. I know it wasn’t the land. I guess I’ve never quite understood why you wanted to marry me. Maybe I thought I was the easy choice.”
He muffled a laugh against her breast, the vibrations running through her, straight to her core.
“Fine. I am not easy. I never pretended to be. I just don’t see why else you would want to marry me.” Could he hear the nerves in her voice? And what did she want? She didn’t know which terrified her more, that he would love her—or that he didn’t.
Pushing up on his arms, Stephan rolled to the side and stared up at the canopy, his voice serious. “I married you because I love you. I suppose I’ve loved you as long as I can remember. I know I never considered marrying anyone else since you planted the idea in my mind when you were twelve. I am trying to decide if I am insulted that you did not realize it. Although you probably did and just pushed it back in your mind.” He rolled back and stared at her. “I do know how the idea of love terrifies you. And I can’t believe we are discussing this now. No, not easy, indeed.”
Was she terrified of his love? Bliss let her eyes drift closed and considered the question. The answer had always been yes, but now, lying by Stephan’s side, the answer was not so easy. The fear was there and yet she felt warm inside, safe, protected—and free. Love was a trap and yet Stephan’s words freed something within her, or perhaps allowed her to free it. If he loved her then…The anxiety that had gripped her began to release its hold.
It was all too much to think about.
She opened her eyes and stared up at the underside of the canopy. “You love me.” She said it simply, as a fact.
“Yes.”
She pulled in a deep breath, letting her breasts rise up, watched as his eyes tracked the movement. “Then I suppose we should get on with this bedding thing. It would be rather embarrassing to still be virgin at sunrise.” Did he hear all she did not put into words?
He chuckled. “I do believe I can promise that will not be the case.” He rolled back toward her, his lips finding her nipple and beginning to suckle.
Desire shot through her. The man really was much too good at that.
A long shudder ran through her.
“I thought you were going to be still.” He raised his lips, denying her the pleasure of his touch.
“But…”
“No buts. If you move, I will stop. Let us see just how obedient you can be, my love.” There was no mistaking the extra emphasis he placed on the last before he lowered his lips to her again, nipping at her lightly.
Chapter Thirty-one
Don’t move. Don’t move. She needed to move. Don’t move.
She pressed her fingers tight, feeling the bite of the pearls against her skin.
Don’t move.
His lips continued to work one puckered peak as his hands moved to play with the other. He pinched at the tip, plucked it.
So good. So very good.
Her hips rose from the bed.
He pulled back instantly.
Her body throbbed with need and want.
Was he counting in his head? She wasn’t sure how she knew, but certainty took her. Closing her eyes, she waited.
When he reached some magic number, his lips returned, softly teasing. And then his fingers, but this time one hand trailed down her belly, stopping to circle her navel before proceeding lower. When he caught her curls between his fingers and pulled she had to curl her toes to keep from moving. When his fingers moved lower, separating her, she tensed her thighs—as hard as she could.
When he stroked her, his calloused finger moved right where she needed it. She lifted from the bed.
He stopped.
Again she felt the counting. She closed her eyes and waited. Deep breath. Deep breath.
His lips came back to her nipple softly, sweetly. She let herself relax. This she could handle.
His other hand cupped her breast, the palm abrading against her. Felt good. Felt so good. Yes. There was tension, but it was bearable.
She exhaled quietly.
A finger ran right across her clit, pressing hard against the moist skin.
Ahhh. She shifted.
Everything stopped. She wanted to swear, to scream a thousand curses.
“It will help if you keep your eyes open and focus on something,” he said, his voice calm.
She’d focus on something; she’d focus on all the things she was going to do to him when this was over.
“Those thoughts won’t help. I meant concentrate on something physical.”
Blasted brain reader. She was going to…
His fingers began their magic journey again and her anger faded.
This time his lips swept down the side of her breast and swept down her belly, a trail of damp kisses. Her skin shivered, but she held back movement, her whole being focused on staying still. Slow steady breaths.
His tongue swirled about her navel, deep shots of delight sped through her, but she pressed her teeth together and did not move.
His lips trailed lower, whispering across skin, teeth grasping at curling hairs, pulling tight.
She could do this. She had to do this.
His second hand joined his first between her legs, sweeping down the backs of her thighs and then circling her calves. He pressed against her knees. “You may bend them, open them wide.”
She complied and felt her legs pressed up, found herself spread about him.
“You are gorgeous,” he said, his eyes focused down.
She felt a deep flush rise upon her skin. No matter how often he looked at her there, between her legs, she doubted she would ever grow comfortable with it. He pushed her thighs wider, a thumb coming to settle on each side of her cleft.
She swallowed, the urge to move, to press her legs tight, growing within her again.
“So very pink and puffy. And sweet. So sweet.” He bent forward and pressed the lightest of kisses upon her. Her inner muscles clenched, but she managed to hold all else still.
The thumbs slipped down, pulling her folds open, revealing everything.
It was his turn to swallow, his Adam’s apple jumping and then falling. He let out a long breath, the air caressing the damp skin of her inner thighs. Her body shivered involuntarily. His gaze moved up to hers, but he did not comment.
He lowered his eyes again, his look hungry.
His thumbs met just above her opening. He pressed one down, not much, but just enough that she could feel the strangeness of the gesture. His other thumb joined in and he pressed them wide, spreading her.
Then his mouth was there, his tongue sliding in, pushing, pressing.
Her knees strained to shut, but he held her tight, allowing her no movement.
He must have done this before, but she could remember nothing like it. Her fingers fisted. She bit down on her lip. Her eyes squeezed closed. Her whole body became that aching pool of desire at the fork of her thighs. One of his fingers slipped up, the fingers stroking over her clit, pressing, squeezing. A long, low moan left her lips as she fought for stillness.
It was coming. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Everything within her tightened, and still his tongue played, delving, flicking, pressing.
Her head thrashed once upon the bed before she could stop it.
He stilled, but then resumed as she brought herself under control.
She concentrated on breathing, trying to focus on nothing but that. In. Out. Fill the lungs. In…
His fingers pinched her clit. Her hips jerked up.
Again he stilled, but then resumed.
Relax her thighs. Relax.
He tongue swept deeper.
She felt her whole body tense. It was here. Her whole body was crying for release and there was nothing she could do.
His fingers pinched again and…
“Do you want to come now or wait until I am in you?” His words made sound but meant nothing to her.
She shook her head trying to clear it, to bring understanding.
Now. The word was almost on her lips. Why should she wait? Her body screamed its need.
Or when he was in her?
The words sunk in. He was going to be in her.
“I’ll wait. Will you do it now?” Was that her voice, so gasping and thready?
She felt him draw in a breath, and then release it, the flow of air against her sensitized skin almost sending her over the edge despite her best intentions.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She almost growled. He knew the answer to that.
“I will take that as a yes.” He leaned back, rising up to his knees, and unknotted the robe, shrugged his shoulders, and let the robe fall behind him.
Her eyes widened. She’d certainly seen his cock before, but never with the knowledge that within moments it was going to be within her. It seemed impossible. His tongue had felt large. The end of a thumb filled her. How was that supposed to fit within her?
Stephan grinned. “You do flatter me, love. But I assure you that it will all work just fine.”
She gave him a doubtful look.
He smiled more, then leaned over her, his arms moving to either side of her shoulders. He held himself there for a moment and she could feel the head of his cock brush against her.
Her body jerked.
“Easy, love. Let’s see about distracting you a bit.” His lips came down on hers and she tasted herself—even as he twisted slightly to the side, one of his hands slipping down between their bodies to find her clit again. His fingers rubbed against the aching flesh, bringing ease and increasing need in the same stroke. Her neck arched back, but his lips held her, the kiss moving from gentle to devouring in less than a breath. His tongue swept in and pulled out, setting a rhythm she felt throughout her body.
His fingers began a similar pattern of thrust and withdrawal. Tight desire, endless wanting. Slight release. Want. Relax. Want. Want.
Her body was moving with his now, her hips rising and falling in balance with his fingers.
It took only seconds for her body to reach that point again, she felt the strain grow, knew the urge to press her thighs tight against his, to push his fingers tighter. Her tongue met his urging it on. Now, her body cried. Now.
And then she felt him, felt the push, felt the pressure.
It would never fit. It would never work.
And then it did.
There was a brief tear, a sudden spike of pain, and she felt him move forward, pushing into her, a thousand flickers of sensation.
He pushed farther. She felt herself stretch and give. It stung, but not with any great level of discomfort.
And farther. Her hips lifted and fell, her pelvis tilted back, striving to accommodate him, to accommodate Stephan, her husband.
He gave one more thrust and she felt him fill her completely, his balls slapping against her thigh, her muscles shuddering about him. He stilled, giving her time to adjust.
It was odd, not unpleasant, but odd. She tensed her inner muscles, saw his eyes start. That was interesting. She did it again. His whole body jerked. Very interesting.
“You are trying to kill me,” Stephan growled. “W
e’ll never get to enjoy our old age together if you keep doing that. I thought you wanted me alive.”
She smiled. Suddenly the world was a very wonderful place.
Sensing her ease, he withdrew, his length sliding easily over her flesh, sending those thousand flickers running throughout her body. He sank back in. Oh, that was good. That was very good.
He repeated the motion, slowly and with care. She began to understand why people wanted to do this. Very, very nice.
She let her head relax into the pillows.
He increased the pace. She felt the tension rise within her again, felt desire flood her.
He pushed harder, thrust stronger.
His hand came down between them again, fingered her.
Oh.
Oh, indeed.
The flickers became flames, the flames became fires, the fires an inferno.
She was all need.
All want.
All desire.
Higher and higher she swept with each thrust within her.
His hand pinched, holding her tight. A burn of pain. A fire of desire. The inferno raged.
Her eyes opened wide, met his, held his. She could see the strain upon his face, see his effort to hold back, to keep control.
She tightened those inner muscles again, clenched him tight, felt his body spasm.
His fingers pinched tighter between her legs. Pain. Pleasure. It was all one. All the same.
Tighter.
Higher.
Tighter.
It was coming. There was no escape.
She was panting, her heart pounding. She stared into his soul.
He thrust deep, filling her as she had never dreamed of being filled. He pinched tight, held her there. Her whole body strained—and it broke.
Feelings cascaded, her whole being lifted and came apart, a thousand pieces. Rainbows swirled. Stars burst.
And through it all she held his gaze, saw his pleasure, felt him break as she convulsed about him, and felt the last deep thrust, felt the spurt and spasm filling her. His back arched, his hips pushing deeper.
