The motion of his thumbs and the feel of his mouth against her skin was hypnotic. Entranced, Cristina moaned low in her throat and pushed herself closer. He reciprocated by pressing his hips fully against her, allowing her to feel all of him. Cristina tightened her grip on him, surrounding herself with the feel and smell and taste of him as she deepened the kiss.
Her eagerness thrilled Blake, excited him, spurred him on as he used his tongue to blaze a trail of fire across her delicate collarbone, down the path between the firm young breasts to the smooth silk that hid the hard, tantalizing peaks of her firm young breasts.
She reveled in the delicious sensations, unaware that she was rubbing her body against his, shamelessly trying to ease her frustrations.
"Ah, sweetheart, you feel good," Blake murmured before he pulled away to turn out the lamps. He paused long enough to stuff two meringues in his pocket and down half a glass of sherry, then he swung Cristina up into his arms. He could hear his aunt in conversation with Perryman as he hurried past her room and past Cristina's room. He didn't pause until he reached the bedroom at the far end of the second floor hall--his bedroom. There he bent down and carefully placed Cristina in the center of the massive bed.
Blake fought to control his need. He struggled to go slowly. He didn't want to rush. He wanted to savor each sensation, to enjoy the moment, to make love to Cristina with style and grace and finesse, but his fingers worked feverishly at the fastenings of her dress and petticoats as he hurried to strip off her clothing that hid her from view. He kissed her as he worked at the laces and tapes and ties of the multitude of garments she wore and his hot, burning kisses seemed to blister her lips with its fire and to run unchecked throughout the length of her body. She answered his kisses as she pulled him down onto the bed beside her, begging him without words to quench the fire he ignited inside her.
"I've wanted this moment from the first time I saw you," he whispered against her lips as his kisses suddenly changed and became soft, gentle kisses that embedded themselves in her soul.
He touched her body with reverence and awe and a degree of tenderness that affected Cristina in a way nothing else could. She felt safe and secure and protected for the first time in years. She felt cherished, as if she were the most important person in all the world, and she wanted the feeling to last forever.
"What's happened to the ice maiden who's been living here for the past few weeks? Has she finally melted?" he teased, covering Cristina with those soul-stealing kisses. "Your hair and your temper give you away, my sweet. You make a rotten ice maiden. There is so much passion in you and I want to enjoy every bit of it. Now. Tonight."
She didn't care--so long as he continued to touch her. She sighed at the feel of his lips spreading a trail of moist heat along the column of her neck and down to the rosy peak of a breast. Logic escaped her and Cristina let herself be swept along on the crest of the intoxicating new emotions engulfing her. She was acutely aware of him--the rough feel of his evening clothes against to her uncovered flesh, the taste of sherry on his lips and the heat of his body, which penetrated his clothing and warmed her from without, while his kisses warmed her within. And suddenly she wanted to feel more. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. She wanted to caress his anus and neck and back and feel the heat of his flesh without the barrier of his clothes. She wanted him naked and pressed against her. She wanted him to fulfill the promises his mouth made to hers. She wanted him. And so Cristina let go of his hair, then twisted and turned, and bucked against him as she worked her hands between their bodies, clawed at his shirtfront, and pulled at the onyx studs on the front of his shirt.
"Cristina?" Blake ended the kiss. He looked down at her, studying the expression on her face, trying to gauge the depth of her passion. He caught her hands and held them gently within his grasp. "Sweetheart? What is it?"
"Want."
"What? What do you want?"
"You," she told him. "I want you."
Blake grinned. He let go of her hands, rolled off the bed, and began to undress. "Then you shall have me," he announced. "All of me."
Cristina stared up at him, her eyes widening in surprise as he bared himself to her. He stood tall and proud, broad-shouldered, and slim-hipped, like a Greek god come to life. No, Cristina thought dreamily, not Greek. He exhibited none of the effeminate qualities she remembered from paintings and Greek sculptures--he was completely masculine, all male. His flesh was hard-muscled from years of riding and mountain climbing and the sun had turned his skin a rich, golden brown. A thick mat of dark, curly hair covered his broad chest, snaking downward over his flat belly in an arrow that directed her attention to that mysterious member which stood firmly and undauntingly erect, proclaiming his desire for her. He was extremely attractive in clothes, but without them, Cristina found, he was devastating. He was a beautiful man and for the moment, he was all hers.
The possessive thought surprised Cristina, excited her, and pleased her enormously. She wanted him and she wanted this--this sensation that threatened to drown her. She wanted Blake beside her in his huge bed, holding her, loving her.
She didn't need to worry about a repeat of that other frightening episode. There would be no reason to bloody his nose. He had awakened her desire and only he could slake it.
"Satisfied?" His husky chuckle startled her, making Cristina keenly aware of the fact that she had spent the last few seconds admiring him.
She felt the red-hot rush of color flood her face and turned away from his intent gaze.
"Don't hide from me, my sweet. It's perfectly natural for you to be curious about a man's body, even though it isn't half as mysterious as yours." He leaned forward and traced the contours of her face, his fingers carrying tiny electric charges that sent shivers through her. "Look at me, Cristina. Don't be afraid. There is nothing for you to be afraid or ashamed of. I'll be very gentle and I'll do my best to make it good for you. To make it right and beautiful. That's the way love should be for the first time. It should be beautiful and wondrous and it should mean something to the man and woman involved. I want you to enjoy this, Cristina, the way I'll enjoy it." Once again Blake surprised himself by speaking of love. What did he know of love? What did he remember of love? It had been so long since he had experienced it. Yet every time he opened his mouth he was talking of love and beauty and gentleness. What was it about Cristina Fairfax that made him think of love? And what made him yearn for the wistful, nostalgic, half-forgotten feelings she aroused?
Blake touched the rosy point of a breast and a shiver shot through them both. "Feel, Cris, feel what we do to each other."
Feel? She couldn't do anything except feel the lovely sensations sweeping through her as he touched her highly sensitive breast. All she could feel was his warm breath on the back of her neck as he placed tender kisses along her neck and shoulders. Her pulse raced through her body and her breath came in quick, little gasps. Feel? She wanted nothing more.
Blake gently pressed her back onto the warm mattress. His lips touched her skin and his mouth seemed to be everywhere at once--branding her with his own delicious kind of fire while his hands roamed over her body at will, lighting little brushfires along the way, completely melting any resistance she might have offered. She writhed under his experienced hands and moaned in mindless pleasure.
"Put your arms around me. Let me feel you next to me," Blake demanded huskily.
Cristina obliged, wrapping her arms around his waist, luxuriating in the feel of the dark, curly hair on his chest as it tickled and teased the excited tips of her breasts. She delighted in the feel of his warm body nestled so close to hers, the smooth feel of his back and the strong muscles rippling beneath her questing fingertips.
Cristina sighed and snuggled closer to the hard, male body and her wriggling closeness was almost Blake's undoing.
"Easy, sweetheart, I'm more than ready and we've got plenty of time. Let's enjoy it." Blake began
to pay homage to her body in earnest, using all the skills of lovemaking he'd acquired over the years. And they had never been put to better use.
Cristina responded wholeheartedly, giving pleasure as well as receiving it. She learned quickly and she eagerly practiced her newfound skills on her willing tutor. She forgot everything except the exquisite joy of making love with Blake Lawrence.
He was in heaven. He had never dreamed she would respond to his touch in such a way. She was liquid passion flowing through his veins, teasing, coaxing, encouraging him to new heights of desire. He ran his hands over her rib cage, softly counting each rib until he reached the underside of her breasts. He caressed them, feeling the weight of each globe before journeying to the rosy tips and caressing them with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned over and kissed her lips once again, tasting the sweetness that was Cristina, fencing with the velvet roughness of her tongue as it followed his. She moaned and Blake surprised himself when he recognized his own deep baritone echoing her wonderment and pleasure. He tore his lips away from hers and blazed a trail down the hollow between her breasts, following the path to her beckoning navel. His hot tongue lavished attention on the small indentation in her stomach, exploring the shape, feeling the texture, before traveling still farther. His warm breath tickled the cluster of curls at the juncture of her thighs and Cristina's whole body jolted at the contact.
"What are you doing?" There was a note of alarm in her question and Blake forced himself to slow down. Go gently, he cautioned himself, one thing at a time. We don't have to do everything in one night. There will be other nights. He raised his head and caught the look of concern and puzzlement that crossed Cristina's face. "I'm not going to do anything that you're not ready to do, sweetheart," Blake promised, softly. And to prove his good intentions, he reversed his path and began to place hot kisses up her belly, back to her navel. His hands, however, continued their downward trail.
Cristina heard herself gasp with pleasure as Blake lightly ran the palm of his hand over one naked thigh. He teased the baby-soft flesh before allowing his fingers to journey upward over that wonderful skin to the tight, reddish-gold curls guarding her moist, throbbing center. He explored her with his fingers until her cries reached a fevered pitch.
Overwhelming pleasure washed over her and Cristina clutched at Blake's hair, lifting his head from her belly, pulling him to her mouth where she kissed him with a passion that took them both by surprise.
"Do you like this? Or this, sweetheart?" he asked anxiously, his fingers feverishly massaging the pulsating mound of feminine warmth. "Talk to me. Tell me what you like."
"I... don't..." The electric quiver took her breath away. "Oh, Blake, I..." Cristina felt another shudder well up deep inside, enveloping her until it was out of control. Her body shook violently again and again. Her heart hammered in her breast and her lungs seemed too small for her body. She breathed in short, panting gasps until all at once, her body relaxed. Her tense muscles turned to jelly and a warmth spread over her from head to toe. She cried out her tremendous satisfaction and her astonishment. She had never known anything could feel so wonderful.
"Relax and enjoy it, my sweet." Blake's deep voice sounded in her ear and Cristina opened her eyes to find him smiling tenderly down at her. He kissed the tip of her nose. "But don't go to sleep on me. It isn't over. The best is yet to come." Again his voice sounded in her ear, but this time Cristina recognized the excitement and barely controlled desire in his tender words.
She was much too relaxed and bemused by all that had happened to protest when Blake eased her thighs apart and positioned himself between them. "It's time, Cristina, I can't wait any longer." He brought himself against her, the hard male part of him probing the opening in her moist curls.
"Wrap your legs around me." Blake instructed softly as he nuzzled the valley between her breasts with infinite care. "I'll try not to hurt you, sweetheart, but if I do, I promise you it will only hurt this first time."
Cristina followed his instructions and slid her long legs over his outer thighs and buttocks and locked them tightly around his waist. She kissed the side of his neck to show that she was willing to accept a little pain along with the pleasure.
"Ready, sweetheart?" he groaned urgently.
She nodded her head and whispered, "Yes."
Blake moved closer. His placed his hands on her hips as he slowly entered her. The sensation was indescribable and Blake paused a moment to savor the exquisite feel of her.
Cristina braced herself but Blake had prepared her so well and entered her so gently that the pain she expected was a mere discomfort that disappeared almost as soon as he moved within her, inching his way inside her, filling her more deeply with each stroke. Probing ... enticing ... loving ... until Cristina moved with him.
She held on, pulling his lean hips to hers, instinctively meeting him thrust for thrust until the darkness surrounding them exploded in a dazzling display of brilliant lights. They fell through time together, gasping out each other's names as Blake poured himself into her.
"Cristina, my lovely, lovely Cristina...." His breathy whisper caressed her ears.
Cristina gently touched her lips to his, tasting the salt of lovemaking. "Always," she whispered.
Blake sighed contentedly then tightened his arms around her, pulled her close against him, and kissed the damp curls framing her face before he closed his eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one.
--MARIA LOVELL 1803-1877
*Chapter Thirteen*
Cristina awoke to the feel of Blake's gentle kisses. She stretched lazily, then slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him as he lowered himself onto the side of the bed.
"Good morning," she said shyly, fixing her gaze on his mouth, remembering the magic his mouth wrought.
"Good morning," he answered awkwardly, staring at an imaginary spot on the pillows at a point above her left shoulder. Her bare left shoulder.
Cristina glanced at the bedside clock, then turned her attention back to Blake. He was, she noted, completely dressed while she lay naked beneath the sheets. "You're up early," she said. "It's not even light yet."
"I've a train to catch," Blake told her.
"Oh."
There was a wealth of disappointment in the single word. Blake stabbed his fingers through his hair, looked down at Cristina, and nervously cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to wake you," he admitted, "but I wanted to say good-bye before I left."
"I'm glad you did," she told him. "I should have hated to wake up alone without knowing... I mean, wondering if--"
"I hurt you," he blurted.
"What?"
"I was wondering if I hurt you," he said, his voice deep and laden with concern. "I didn't know if, perhaps, I was too rough?"
She shook her head. "You were perfect."
Blake's dark eyes crinkled at the corners and his face reddened slightly. "That shows how much you know." He gave into the impulse and kissed the tip of her nose. "Innocent," he teased.
"Not so innocent anymore," Cristina reminded him.
"Still much too innocent for the likes of me." The expression in his dark eyes only hinted at the deeper emotions he kept hidden from view.
Cristina reached up and grasped the lapel of his black morning coat. "Then teach me to please you."
"Teach you?" Blake chuckled at her absurd misconception. "Did you think you didn't please me?"
Cristina blushed and resolutely fastened her gaze on the center button of his waistcoat. "I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure."
Blake lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger, tilting her face so that he could see her expression. "My dear Cristina, if you had pleased me any more, you would have killed me!" He le
aned forward and gently, briefly covered her lips with his own. "And I'm a damned poor excuse for a lover if you couldn't tell just how much you pleased me." He stared down at her, a quizzical expression on his face. " 'Please' is a horribly inadequate way of describing what you do to me. Awe, enchant, enthrall, overwhelm, maybe, but please..." Blake couldn't keep himself from kissing her again--quickly--before he pulled away. A smile curled at the corner of his lips and a teasing light appeared in his eyes. "I don't think a mere 'please' will ever be sufficient."
"I do," Cristina disagreed.
"How's that?" he asked.
"Please," she whispered softly, entreatingly. "Please," she whispered, tilting her face up for his kiss.
"I stand corrected," Blake answered before he gave in to the overwhelming urge to kiss her once again.
"Stay," Cristina urged, fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat when Blake would have pulled away. "Stay with me."
"I have to go," he told her. "I'm due at Sandringham this evening, and if I don't hurry, I'll miss my morning train."
"Oh."
It was there again. The feeling of utter disappointment Cristina managed to convey in one single syllable. Blake caught his breath at the sound. He didn't have to catch the first train out of London. There would be another later in the day. So what if he arrived at Sandringham a few hours behind schedule? Who would miss him in the hubbub of the arrival of all the other weekend guests? Who would wonder at his delay? Whereas Cristina ...
"I'll miss you," she said simply, eloquently.
Would miss him. Blake slipped his hands under hers and began unbuttoning the gold buttons of his waistcoat. "I can catch a later train."
"Are you sure?" she asked, leaving the unfastened waistcoat to him while she worked on the buttons of his shirt. "I don't want to detain you. I'd hate to make you miss something important."
"Please," Blake begged before grinning unashamedly. "Make me late."
It was raining outside when Cristina awoke for the second time. She shivered in the cool morning air and automatically reached for Blake. She scooted over to his side of the bed, fitting her body into the curve of the mattress where he had lain, seeking his warmth. But he was gone. The indentation in the mattress and on his pillow and the fact that she lay in his bed were the only visible signs of the wonderful night and the exquisite morning they had shared. She let her gaze linger on the few stray black hairs that clung to the pillow slip, remembering the way she had run her fingers through his dark locks while she had eagerly returned his kisses. Cristina smiled at the memories and a blush crept over her face, staining it with color. She closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure as her mind replayed the events of the morning in glorious detail.
Whisper Always Page 14
