Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (23 page)

Her small fingers were working at the buttons of his shirt, tugging at the tails, drawing it from his breeches. He stirred a little, reaching for her shoulders, but she shrugged out of his reach and pushed his hands away. “Not yet,” she murmured.

A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “What is it…?“

“Shhh…” she breathed. She slid the shirt from his shoulders. It snagged on his arms halfway down, but she seemed in no hurry to remove it completely. Instead, she drew very close to him, so close he could feel her hot breath fan across his chest, down across his belly. It was an astonishingly arousing sensation. It combined with the wisp of a breeze skimming off the water beside them, to run cool fingers across his bared chest and shoulders.
 
A deep shudder ran through him—but it was a shudder of delight and an excitement he had not felt in…years.

Her lips touched his chest. Hot, soft and moist, they anointed each of his nipples in turn, creating hard nubs of highly sensitive flesh. Her tongue flickered out, lapped at each of them, and he took a deep breath.

“Elisa—”

“Speak not a word,” she murmured, not even looking up at him. Her tiny hands flattened themselves against his stomach and his muscles quivered in reaction. Her warm fingers slipped down across his flesh and slid beneath the band of his breeches. He groaned low in his throat, the sound ripping from him involuntarily, as his stomach clenched.

She did look up at him, then, with a smile that spoke of womanly delight. She clearly reveled in her power over him. “Look at you,” she murmured. “You are like a work of art…perfection.” Her fingers, just inside his breeches, were so close to touching his throbbing cock…just an inch or so lower. He squashed the impulse to ask her to do so. Let Elisa play out the role she had chosen today. Let her reveal the goal she had in mind.

The delicious tension of not quite knowing what would come was adding to the level of pleasure building in him.

She was fumbling at the fastenings of his breeches, the small fingers working at the buttons and ties.

“You intend to strip me bare?” he asked and was surprised at the raw note in his voice—he sounded like a man pressured beyond endurance.

“Perhaps,” she answered, her voice remote. Then a small frown puckered her brow. “If only I could conquer these dratted fastenings.”

The prosaic problem made him chuckle a little. “One would think you have never before done this service for a man.”

And, astonishingly, she blushed. “I have not,” she admitted, her eyes downcast.

“But…your husband?”

“He always came to me…undressed,” she said.

He let the information be absorbed into his mind. “Then you have never had the pleasure of a seduction, have you? You have never…” He shook his head, trying to clear the surprise, his bafflement. “You have never had a man make love to you, have you?”

“No.” Her voice was almost bodiless, so soft was her answer. Her hands were at her sides now and still.

“Just a dry marriage bed, with wifely duties,” he surmised.

“There was pleasure there,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

“Not the sort of pleasure I will give you,” he assured her and was delighted to see her blush re-bloom in each cheek. “Elisa, yesterday was the first time you have climaxed, yes?”

Her blush deepened. “You mean that...moment...when I...”

“When you climaxed,” he said firmly.
 
“Then it was your first.”

“I have never felt that before.”

“You most assuredly will feel it again,” he promised her.
 
“I will give you more pleasure than even yesterday.” Again, he was rewarded with her small smile.

He went to take her in his arms, but the forgotten shirt, still draped around his shoulders, locked his arms in place by his side.

Elisa stepped back a little, her smile broadening. “You are trapped,” she observed.

“Hardly.” He took a breath and flexed himself, feeling seams give and the costly fabric tear. In a moment he was free and he flung the useless garment aside. Elisa backed up a step more as he approached her. “Nothing you could do would stop me from reaching you,” he promised.

“If only I allow it,” she returned.

His smile broadened. “We shall see,” he promised her and lunged for her.

She skipped out of his way, the hem of her gown flicking across the soft chamomile growing by the banks of pool, leaving him empty-handed.

He studied her a moment where she stood close by the flat rock where he usually lay in the sun, spinning dreams. She would be cornered if she backed up a little further, he realized. He took another step toward her and she stepped back. Quickly he moved to trap her between the rock and the trees behind it, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her to him.

She reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. Her tiny fists flailed lightly at his shoulders and she tried to push and pummel her way out of his grasp. Her wriggling put pressure on his already taut groin and the friction set up an aching, needy throbbing. He tightened his grip on her with one arm and sought to capture her chin in his hand. Her struggles didn’t subside even when he brought his lips upon hers. His fierce kiss contained little passion, for it was intended to control and subdue. Yet at the taste of her lips, he could feel his excitement leap and coherent thought start to tear apart. The need to slake himself grew swiftly stronger, blotting his mind of all other concerns.

Even the resistance of her hands and the straining motions of her body against his carried their own excitement. God, but the woman was driving him beyond endurance! So swiftly was he reaching that point…what was her magic?

Elisa’s hand lodged against his shoulder and she gave a hard thrust, hard enough to dislodge his hand from her chin and for his hold around her waist to loosen. Quickly, she pulled herself from his arms.

She stepped away, her breasts rising and falling swiftly, her breath ragged. Her eyes were a little narrowed.

“You dare…!” she murmured, but there was a hint of challenge in her voice.

“Enough,” he declared. “Play time is over.” And he reached for her.

She took another step, but he had no intention of allowing her to continue the game. His body would not allow the torture. Swiftly, he snatched her up in his arms, holding her tight. Her hands beat their small tattoo on his shoulders again, which made tackling the fastenings of her clothes more difficult.

With a curse, he bent at the knee and lowered her to the chamomile lawn, then captured her wrists in his left hand, leaving his right hand, his lips and body free to pleasure her as he wished. To quell her struggles he threw his thigh across her hips which added a delicious pressure to his groin. Her hips pushed against his thigh.

He reached up to the long row of buttons on her bodice, but his hands were thick with pounding blood, clumsy. With forced patience, he attacked each tiny button, unhooking it, knowing that the release of each one brought him a little closer to seeing the bounty he knew lay beneath. He pushed the bodice aside and grew still, looking down at her, his breath catching.

She was bare beneath the bodice. Her perfectly formed breasts, adorned by tightly crinkled nipples, were exposed to his gaze, to his hand. She was still, watching his expression, judging his reaction.

“And the skirt?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“The skirt only. One button is all that stands in your way. Nothing else.” Her own voice was just as husky.

The groan he uttered was pulled from the depths of his soul. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking it. She bucked hard against him, a small gasp sounding as she threw her head back. He took advantage of her movement and slid his hand beneath her waist to flick open the single button. The skirt loosened and with impatient tugs he removed it and flung it away. He removed her bodice, too, leaving her completely naked.

She was the picture of femininity. Her waist was tiny, her hips flared and curved down to long, shapely legs. He studied the thatch of blonde hair at the apex of her thighs. His shaft throbbed.

Moving quickly now, he turned from gazing at her pale, flawless figure to kiss her deeply. He tugged at his breeches. “Elisa, I cannot wait a moment longer. I must have you. Now.”

“Yes,” she breathed and the single confident whisper was another sensual stroke to his aroused emotions. He at last freed himself from the breeches and his cock jutted, swollen and proud. Feeling his heart beat thundering in his temples he slid between her thighs and probed for entry, almost clumsy in his haste.

Her sweet thighs parted and he was enfolded in her flesh. With a gasping groan he thrust into her. Her channel was tight, gripping his cock with a hard caress.

Elisa’s head fell back and her whole body lifted, her hips thrusting, as she gave a low cry of feminine satisfaction. The sound was a goad.

He was too close to the edge, he realized, with a tinge of amazement.

He clenched his teeth together, clawing for control, for finesse, as he thrust deep within her in hard, driving movements, his fingers curling over her hips. But Elisa was too powerful a goad.

With another deep thrust he climaxed, with a powerful surge of pleasure that ripped from his toes and tightened every sinew in his body. He threw his head back, as the waves of sensual delight pounded through him. His whole body was locked into stillness, wracked by the tremors.

When he could draw breath once more, he released a shuddering sigh and propped himself up on one arm.

Elisa was watching him still and he could see the signs of her own excitement in the redness of her flesh, her open mouth, the frantic pulse beating visibly at her throat, just by the sharp, delicate curve of her jaw.

He kissed the pulse, feeling heat and sampling her bouquet with a delighted in-drawn breath.

“You seemed…hurried,” she murmured.

“That I was,” he assured her. “You drove me to that haste, Elisa. You, with your perfection and sensuality. You are unique. But don’t worry—I will take care of you in a moment.”

“Take care…?
 
You mean, like yesterday?”

He smiled. “Did you think to halt here and leave me still wanting?”

“But that is my pleasure, not something that you would want.” She licked her lips, confused. The tip of her tongue touching her reddened lips was a tiny pleasure of its own.

Her coyness delighted him. She may have been married, but she was virtually untouched and completely uneducated to the joys of lovemaking. What a treasure!

“But…you have spent yourself,” she managed.

He thrust his hips a little, for he was still resting inside her. He let her feel him. He was already swelling, stirring, tingling with renewed vigor thanks to the heat and touch of her body.

“Spend myself and leave you wanting? Only a cad could consider it,” he assured her. He fitted his hands around her waist and rolled on to his back, bringing her with him, still joined.

She gasped a little as she settled against his hips. He was still buried deep inside her. He lifted her hips, showing her how she could ride him for herself and she quickly found a rhythm that made each stroke a breathless joy. He reached up to cup her breasts as they swung a little with her movements and she caught her breath.

The sight of her straddling his hips, her sweet body taking him in, her long flowing hair lifting a little in the breeze…already he could feel the inevitable moment racing closer as he watched her enjoyment mount.

He slid his hand to the juncture of her thighs, to the slip between the flesh to find the tender pearl there and stroked. She gasped, her head rolling back.
 
Her hair trailed down to brush his thighs. Little shivers of pleasure ran through him at the light touch, a counter-point to the deep waves of excitement building in him.

Her rhythm grew faster but her smooth motion faltered a little. Her growing excitement was destroying her concentration.

He realized he was already skirting the edges of control once more. Unwillingly to perform a short duty yet a second time, he flexed himself upright, sitting up with Elisa in his lap.

She looked at him, a little startled, her eyes wide and her breath ragged. “What is it?”

“You, my dear Elisa, are far too much woman to suit my equanimity. You are a sweet tease…far too sweet.”

“I do not understand,” she confessed.

“If we were to continue, I would spend myself a second time and leave you disappointed.”

“Oh…” and she smiled a little, his meaning suddenly clear to her. “Should we rest, then?”

“Not at all.” He lay her on the fragrant chamomile and kissed her swollen lips, his tongue exploring the warm taste of her mouth. Her hands were in his hair, caressing his back and he wondered if she was aware of their restlessness, of the pressure they were applying to bring him closer to her. Elisa had an untapped sensuality—and he was responding to it with rare potency.

He kissed his way down to her belly, laving the indentations beside each hip with his tongue and her hips lifted in response. Her legs moved restlessly as his lips moved onto the creamy flesh of her inner thighs.