Part 24 (2/2)
It felt incredible.
He rose. Fisting her hair, he gave it a sensual tug, bending her backward over his arm, latching onto her breast hungrily. A cry escaped her throat. She grabbed hold of his strong shoulders and held on. Every sensual pull of his hot mouth, together with the sensation of him buried inside her-the pressure sublime-sent her senses reeling. Spiking her fever. She ground herself against him. ”Simon, now!”
He released her and lay back, his blue eyes mirroring the same feral hunger burning through her blood. ”All right...now.”
Gripping her hips, he guided her initial movements. She quickly learned the rhythm and angle, lost to the pleasure of his thick length stroking her s.e.x. Each rise and fall of her hips driving her into delirium.
Digging her fingers into his chest, she increased the tempo, moving faster, and surer, unable to stop. Completely engulfed in the stunning sensations. A shattering release fast approached. She could feel it coming on. Tiny contractions were already rippling through her core, around his c.o.c.k.
”Oh, Christ, that's perfect,” he growled just before he gave her c.l.i.t another perfect pinch.
Rapture burst inside her, hurling her into ecstasy. She screamed, her o.r.g.a.s.m rocking her body, untamable spasms contracting her s.e.x.
He flipped her onto her back. m.u.f.fling her with a hard kiss, he drove into her repeatedly, driving her into the mattress with his powerful plunges, sweeping her along with him until another climax slammed into her. She cried out and arched hard against him, riding out her second o.r.g.a.s.m while he continued to thrust into her with bedeviling skill. Suddenly, he reared, jerking his c.o.c.k out, then clutched her tightly and groaned his release against the curve of her shoulder until at last he was spent.
She held him, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Caressing his back, she felt sated and languorous, basking in a wonderful sense of peace in the quiet afterglow.
He lifted his head. His tender smile moved her to one as well. She was so deeply in love with him.
”Have I told you how much I like this proposal of yours? I only pray I haven't redeemed myself just yet,” he teased.
She laughed. ”Fortunately, I'm unforgiving.”
Softly, he chuckled. ”I'm pleased to hear it.”
Rolling off her, he reached for his s.h.i.+rt and wiped her stomach clean of his s.e.m.e.n, and then himself. ”Does this offend you?” he asked, tossing his s.h.i.+rt across the room.
She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to match his pose. ”No. I loved every moment. Everything.”
He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. ”I'm glad my lady is well pleased.”
Studying the cherished face before her, she answered, ”I would be even more pleased if you tell me we can do this again tonight.” She wasn't surprised by her boldness. He always had the ability to draw out a different side of her-a side that acknowledged her wants and needs rather than denied them.
He gave her a purely male grin. ”I was thinking more along the lines of doing this all night.”
Hiding her smile, she studied her nails on her left hand with mock interest. ”I think I could be persuaded to your way of thinking.”
He flipped her onto her back; she squeaked with surprise. Pinning her under him, he chuckled. ”It would take persuasion, would it?”
She giggled. ”Oh yes. Amorous persuasion and extensive homage to my person.”
He laughed. She adored the sound of it, rich and deep.
She held back the tender words that surged up her throat. Words she knew she wouldn't utter just yet. ”I don't suppose you realize you have been unfair,” she said.
”Unfair? How so?”
”I don't know you as well as you know me.”
”You know me as intimately as any woman can know a man.” Dipping his head, he murmured near her ear, ”I've been inside you, remember?” His warm breath tickled her neck, sending tingles rippling through her. ”What more do you wish to know?” His lips against her skin, his skillful mouth threatened to scatter her thoughts.
”I wish to know about Marguerite. The woman.”
He lifted his head. ”Pardon?”
She hadn't meant to ask quite so abruptly, but she was dying to know about his past. About him. If he hadn't been distracting her, she would have broached the subject with more finesse. Judging from the look in his eyes, she'd touched upon a sensitive subject.
”Someone in the village told me it was your mother's name-” She arrested her words when he rolled off her. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow again, suddenly pensive, creating a distance between them even though he was within reach.
She wished she could take back the words, but they were out there now, looming between them. Rolling onto her side, she too propped herself up on her elbow to face him.
”Simon, I didn't mean to upset you. You named the island after her. She must have been very special-”
”She was.” He surprised her by answering when he looked as though he would not. ”She was the most beautiful woman in our village. As beautiful as this island, with eyes as blue as the sky above it and as warm in spirit as the balmy weather found here.”
”When did she...die?” she asked ever so softly.
”When I was eight. In childbirth. My brother, born then, died one week later.”
”I'm sorry...”
”You would be the only one in your cla.s.s who would be. No n.o.ble would care in the least about the death of a young peasant woman, a fisherman's wife, or her baby.”
She understood the pain behind those words. It shamed her to learn over the years the indifference her cla.s.s felt toward those born to the common ma.s.ses. ”Your father was a fisherman, then. What was he like?”
His jaw tightened. ”Heartless and cold. In his miserable existence, he never showed affection or consideration to his wife or his only son. The happiest times were when my father was out at sea and it was just my mother and I.” A rueful smile formed on his mouth. ”She was a dreamer. A wonderful storyteller. She couldn't read a word, but she had the greatest imagination. She inspired me to reach for more out of life rather than to follow in my father's footsteps.”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. ”One day, a year later, after a terrible storm, he didn't return.”
She hated the pain he'd suffered as a boy, knowing he'd only given her a glimpse of it. Simon had been all of nine when he was orphaned. She understood, all too well, what it was like to find yourself young, alone, impoverished. ”What did you do then?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. ”I starved a little more each day until one day I found a man who gave a poor boy a new life.” Finally he looked at her and pulled her into his arms. She returned his embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder, holding him tightly.
”I have never lain in bed with a beautiful woman and discussed my past.”
She looked into his eyes. He brushed a soft kiss against her lips. ”There is nothing of interest in my family. Peasant begot peasant. No duke, count, marquis. Common. Ordinary.”
”Common?” She pushed at his chest and sat up. ”Is it common for the son of a fisherman to live in this fas.h.i.+on?” She gestured to his chamber. ”It is common to settle for your lot in life. It is not common to have the courage to try to change your destiny.”
He studied her quietly before he sat up too. ”Destiny can be capricious-not at all within one's control.”
”You've created your destiny, Simon, and along the way you have bettered the lives of those around you.” He made a sound as though he scoffed at the idea. It shocked her. ”These people here adore you. You should have been a fisherman, but instead you are a commander of the king's s.h.i.+ps. You have done great things with your life.”
”You don't know what I've done in my life. Nothing comes without a price.”
”What does that mean?”
<script>