Carolyne Cathey (15 page)

Lord Kyle wedged his knee between hers; he stroked,
persisted, encouraged, until she widened to let him push his thigh against her
privacy, then he pressed, and rubbed.  Sensuous heat simmered between her legs,
even hotter than the heat from his body.

Lord Kyle pushed back on straightened arms and gazed down
at her with ravenous desire.  "Ah, lass.  You tempt me beyond my control. 
You've reached into my heart and bewitched my soul.  There's no hope for us;
we're destined to be as one."  A shudder rippled along his glisteny
flesh.  "Open for me, love.  Open.  For me."

How could she refuse?  One leg she slid along the rumpled
linen, then the other; coolness teased between her moist thighs.  She felt
exposed, vulnerable, wicked.

His body shifted, and then he loomed above her, masterful,
dominant, all magnificent male.  He settled between her thighs.

What now?  She knew she stared at him, in wait for him to
explain, but he only quickened his breaths.

"I feel your nervousness, lass.  But what I will do is
best shown, not told, for the truth would not be believed."

Now that he said as much, her body did quiver from fear of
the unknown as well as from the splendid agony.  Why couldn't she remember? 
And what did he mean by the truth not believed?   She lay, splayed astride his
thighs, at his mercy.

"Ahh, Eleanor.  What have you done to me?"  He
rested on one elbow.  He stroked his hand down to her breast, her abdomen, to
her womanhood.  She held her breath.  He fondled something that caused
mysterious ecstasies through her startled body.

Eleanor gasped; her back arched in surrender.  Elation. 
Rapture.  Nothing else existed---only the fiery passion that burned, consumed,
until she became one with the flames.  Then his fingers delved inside her to
areas secret even to her.

"Blessed saints, love, but you're as slick as a
newborn lamb."

She knew not whether he thought the moistness offensive or
desirous.  Yet she had no control over her reaction to his touch.  Mindless,
that's how she felt, nothing but feelings that screamed for release.  She
closed her eyes and surrendered herself to him, in wonder of the miracles he
wrought with his touch.  He held magic in his fingers.  She drowned in a
pleasurable sensation akin to pain, but yet, not pain.  Her breaths rasped in
the silence, along with his.

"Look at me, Eleanor."  He sounded all gravelly and
strained.

To obey took too much effort.

"Eleanor.  Look at me."

Her lashes fluttered, opening to his gaze of steamy desire,
and something more.  Love?  Hope glimmered within a hidden recess of her
heart.  Might he return her love?  Aye, she loved him, she knew as much, for he
filled her every thought.  She barely knew him!  Can one love another so soon
after meeting?  And yet she felt drawn toward him like a woman parched, and he
the river.

The view of his taut face as he loomed above her sent
another wave of emotion to the heaviness low in her body.

 Perspiration beaded his skin.  His chest labored. 
"Ah, love.  Your eyes are round with wonder.  'Tis all I can do not to
proceed.  But, I promised I would not ravish you or take you against your will,
and I have not.  Yet I must tell you true.  You are still a virgin, at least
for now."

Eleanor widened her eyes.  "Still a . . ." Her
words clumped in her throat.  Her heart pounded against her ribs.

"You only had a fever, Eleanor.  I kept you warm,
'twas all.  I will go no further unless you ask me, although 'twill be a severe
test of my resolve, for I crave you more than life itself.  You have made me
but a beggared slave who desires naught but to pleasure you for
eternity."  A shudder flowed along his flesh as if he fought for
discipline.  "What say you, Eleanor?"

How could she lie?  "I want you, my lord."  She
whispered her plea, for her throat clutched at her confession.

A burst of emotions flooded his eyes, tenderness combined
with wanton expectation.  "Ahh, Eleanor.  You are the rarest of all
treasures.  And I . . . I . . ." Lord Kyle paused, then groaned.

His hand pressed harder into her moistness; then suddenly,
both his hands straddled her shoulders on the mattress, yet the pressure in her
womanhood remained.

Eleanor inhaled a deep breath; her gaze flew up to his and
locked.  His blue eyes claimed possession.

The pressure between her legs deepened.  Of a sudden, both
panic and pleasure struggled for control.  She tightened her thighs against his
to close off her secret territory, but his body prevented her movement.

"Don't worry, love.  'Twill be most wondrous.  Nay. 
Be still.  Relax."  The pressure down low slid back.

Air hissed into her lungs through her clenched teeth.  She
closed her eyes.  The slight friction from his movement had sent waves of
pleasure through her loins. 

"I'll be gentle with you, Eleanor, but I can't promise
that you'll not feel some pain this first time.  Do . . . do you wish me to
cease?"

The question swelled her heart until she feared 'twould
burst.  He obviously struggled to control his own emotions, yet he cared enough
to give her a chance to say nay. 

Her pulse rampaged.  She took a deep breath, for courage,
and gripped his buttocks.

"Eleanor?  Do you . . ."

She rammed him toward her, and as the dagger of his manhood
lanced through her innocence, "Kyle!" surged from her lips like an
urgent prayer.  A quivery tremor in her body refused to cease.  Then a new kind
of sensation engulfed her body.  And the fullness...

Shocked amazement flooded Lord Kyle's face.  The thin film
of moisture on his chest and arms shimmered with each of his panted breaths. 
"Great glory, love.  Great . . . "  He closed his eyes and threw back
his head.  His body shuddered, and then again.  When he opened his eyes, his
shadowed sapphires glowed dark with tender passion.  "Eleanor . . . love .
. ." The pressure from his manhood deepened, the fullness increased.  He
seared her with the intensity of his gaze as he seared her inner path during
his possession.  "You are mine now."

Aye.  For eternity.  How rapturous.  The fullness inside
her pushed her over the waterfall to drown in incredulous pleasure. 

And then he moved.  He pulled back and she feared he had
finished.  She grasped his arms and wrapped her legs around his hips to draw
him toward her again.  "Nay!  Don't leave, me!  Not yet."

A shudder racked his frame.  A pleased grin curved his
clamped lips.  "Don't worry, love.  We only begin."  Lord Kyle
groaned, then plunged inside her and heaven and desire blended into ecstasy. 
He retreated, then thrust, then again.  And as he claimed her as forever his,
he caressed her with kisses and called her his love.  He seemed as desperate as
she, as obsessed. 

His pace quickened.  Tension boiled with each plunge and
spread upward to merge with the rapture in her chest.  Trapped in her body and
unable to escape, the tension swirled and writhed like her body writhed with
his.

Slick skin slid against slick skin, oiled torsos in
motion.  Liquid fire surged through her veins.  His thrusts pulsed with the
beat of her heart and melted into one rhythm.

She couldn't bear the ecstasy.  She tossed her head from
side to side, whimpered, called his name, pled for mercy.  She couldn't bear .
. . The tension rolled from his plunges and up her spine, then broke free and
flared into firesparks, erupting into his name.

Spasms convulsed around his maleness.  And each spasm sent
another wave of euphoria through her body.

Eleanor thought she heard her name sift through the
incredible sensations as another type of pulse released deep inside and filled
her womanhood.  She focused her blurred vision on her knight and wondered at
his beauty.  Even with his eyes closed, his face radiated pleasure, and the
thought made a different kind of warmth spread throughout her body.

He collapsed atop her; his chest pressing into hers with
each ragged breath. 

Aye.  She would remember when he took her virginity.  She
would remember through a million lifetimes.  She belonged to him now.  And he,
to her. 

She would be his Lady.

H
eaven's mercy.  How different Kyle's manhood appeared as he
slept on his back; 'twas all soft and limp on a mass of darkish curls.  Eleanor
longed to caress his softness.  How would his masculinity feel beneath her
fingers?  After all, since he had touched her privacy, she should have the
right to explore his.

She knelt on the mattress beside him as he lay sprawled, at
peace, unaware of her wanton perusal.  His entire naked form lay exposed for
her to examine at her sinful leisure.  His mane of hair, tousled from sleep and
from their rapturous mating, spread in lazy swirls on the snowy linen.  The
angles and planes of his rugged face were smoothed in repose.  A slight smile
curved his lips.  She loved his mouth, which could open with a laugh, or a
quip, or a most glorious kiss.  Long lashes trimmed lids that hid his expressive
eyes, eyes that could gleam with amusement, frustration, or burn with lust.

She longed to explore his massive chest, his lean torso,
his steel-like legs now spread in sleep.  What splendor.  Yet his pleasurable
weapon drew her interest the most.  With timid fingers, she reached toward his
lurid enticement.  Careful not to awaken him, she traced the curve of his
maleness from his curls to the tip, which felt as soft as a rose petal, by far
the softest of anything she had ever touched.  She stroked her fingertip to his
curls again, then remembered her knight's decadent suggestion during the chess
game that she would give him much pleasure if she took him into her mouth.  And
then she had bitten his finger.  But the thought didn't seem so horrid now.  And
he had given her much pleasure; fairness demanded she pleasure him in return. 

Eleanor leaned close to his manhood and caressed him with
her breath.  His male aroma quickened her pulse.  His warmth radiated onto her
face, her lips.  Dare she?

The limp thing stirred as if his manhood breathed life. 

She straightened and stared.

"Great glory, woman.  What a way to awaken a man. 
'Tis most wondrous."

Her gaze flew to Kyle's face.  Heat rushed to her cheeks. 

She saw happiness in his expression and the knowledge
spread the warmth of love through her chest.  His eyes, the color of a sky at
dawn, clear and deep, crinkled at the corners from his smile of satisfaction. 
But for him to find her in such an indelicate position with such a sinful
purpose on her mind, shocked her.  What must he think? 

"Forgive me, my lord.  I . . . I . . . "  No
excuse came to her flustered mind.

Kyle laughed.  He grasped her arm and drew her to lie
beside him.  "Nay.  Don't be sorry, lass.  Would that I could awaken every
time with you hovered over me in such a way.  'Tis a first for me, this
particular aroused awakening.  And I don't think you meant to bite me.  Or did
you?"

Embarrassed, Eleanor buried her face against his warm
chest.  She could only shake her head.  But the confession that she had pleased
him in a way as had no other, delighted her.

Kyle guided her hand in a downward slide along his torso. 
"Here, lass.  Hold me."

He wrapped her fingers around his maleness.  His breath
hitched, as did hers.  And 'twas no longer soft, this mysterious wizardry, but
rigid as a young tree trunk, yet warm with vitality.  She opened her eyes and
met his gaze.  Desire swam in his depths of blue.

"What think you, love?  Do you think my weapon an
abomination?"

"Nay, my lord.  'Tis most miraculous."

He laughed again and hugged her to his body as he rocked
her in his arms.  "Ah, Eleanor.  You’ve blessed me."

Eleanor ran her hand up his firm torso.  Kyle sucked in a
breath and shuddered, a shudder that rippled from his flesh through hers and reached
deep into her core.  "I'll treat you well . . . my lord."  Since she
would be his lady, she should accustom herself to his name and call him Kyle. 
But yet, they had not plighted their troth, so perhaps she should wait. 

Not
plighted their
troth.  Eleanor stiffened with the brutal truth.  She had given him her most
precious possession.  Her
only
possession.  Her virginity.  A twinge of
panic threatened her confidence.  Nay.  She would be his wife.  He had
promised.  A knight’s oath.  She trusted him.  Reassured, Eleanor relaxed as
she listened to the steady beat of his heart.  Steady, like her love.

"I swear a vow, my handsome knight.  I'll strive to
make you happy so that you'll not regret your decision."  His broad
expanse of chest begged her to run her fingers across his firm bulges, to trace
the line of his muscles.

"Ah.  You'll strive to make me happy, will you?  Then
I vow to give you as much pleasure and happiness as you'll allow me to give.  A
sweet promise to keep, that one."  His voice deepened, grew soft.  "A
promise I intend to honor at this very moment."  He covered her hand with
his and squeezed.

"Nay.  'Tis my turn, my lord.  But you must show me
what I must do to---"

A growl vibrated from his chest into her ear.  "Do you
remember the lesson before you attacked me during the chess game?  When you
suckled my finger?"

Eleanor's flesh tingled with remembrance, then flushed with
heat from what he hinted she should do with her mouth.  Her heart stumbled into
a more rapid rhythm.  Determined to give him pleasure, she pushed to her knees
and drew her hands down the stone-like plane of his stomach, past his navel, to
his thighs.  What a beauty, this warrior of hers, this man who wielded a sword
in battle, yet touched her with tenderness.  His manly formation intrigued her
the way the wondrous thing changed shapes from hard, to soft, and now stood
straight and proud again.  Magic! 

As she leaned toward his maleness, her hair cascaded over
her face onto his stomach like a silken screen and hid her immodest action from
his view.  Her breasts felt heavy, swollen; her nipples ached.  She opened her
mouth, in awe at what she intended.  She took a breath and slid her mouth over
his hardened virility, then swirled her tongue around its velvet tip.

He inhaled a loud breath, then shuddered. 

She hadn't expected to enjoy the erotic action, but she
did, and the realization encouraged boldness.  A tremor rippled from her tongue
to her loins and spread hot desire through her womanhood.  His wiry curls
ruffled beneath her fingers as she stroked the swollen sacs below, another
exotic texture for her to explore.

Kyle groaned and brushed back the dark cloud of protection
from her face.  "I would watch you."  Even though he whispered the
gravelly words, her pulse rampaged in response.  Wrinkled folds of white linen
radiated from his tightened fist.  Then he groaned again and stiffened his
buttocks and legs.  "Satan's curse, love.  You learn well."  He
hissed with his intake of air.  "Blessed saints."  He gripped her
hair and pulled her head back until he slipped from her mouth.  "No more
or 'twill be over too soon.  Lie upon your back, love.  'Tis my turn."

A sigh of excitement escaped her chest as she obeyed,
anticipating the pure delight from when he would position himself over her and
join with her.  But he didn't.  Instead, he stretched out on the mattress
between her legs, then lowered his head to her privacy.

"Nay, my lord!  You shouldn't---" 

His tongue swept away her thoughts.  His mass of flaxen
hair brushed against her flesh, and tickled, and teased.  His mouth melted her
into complete submission.

"Kyle.  Oh, Kyle."  Her whispers flowed between
them and expressed her surrender, her trust, her love,

Then he loomed above her and his weight pressed her body
into the lush softness of the bed; his arms straightened until his muscles
bulged, his face both soft and hard and shimmery with perspiration.  His gaze
pierced through her eyes and burned his name on her heart, then seared lower to
where her pulse pounded between her legs. 

"I see passion reflected in your glazed emeralds,
love.  They're but mirrors of mine own."  He groaned, lowering his face to
hers.  His hot tongue plundered her mouth and she plundered his in return.  The
decadence of tasting her own arousal on his lips slammed her heart against her
ribs.  Sweet bliss.  She would swallow him if she could, so she tried.  Her
hands clutched at his back as she tried to merge her body into his, for
eternity.

"Open for me, lass.  Be the sheath for my
dagger."

Her bones melted like hot wax with his whispered plea.  How
could she but do as he requested?  Eleanor moved her limbs across the wrinkled
linen. 

Kyle settled his thighs between hers, sliding his fullness
into her throbbing womanhood.  "Ah, lass.  You're as slick as warm
oil."  His ragged breaths wafted against her forehead.

Eleanor moved in encouragement.  Without the fear and
hesitation of before, her passion churned into a torrent as if a storm raged
within her, wild and tempestuous.  Kyle thrust and plunged until she felt only
elation, the sensation both sinful and glorious.  Eleanor moaned with the
pleasure.

 Magnificent.  His swollen sacs brushed against her thighs
as he possessed her; the friction increased her passion.  She hoped he would
never cease.  He worked his fingers between their bodies until he found that
mysterious spot among her curls, then he fondled her into wild oblivion while
he stroked his hot length within her body. 

Ecstasy.  She clung to his shoulders so the rapture
wouldn't sweep her away, yet euphoria washed over her again and again until she
cried out with the splendor.

"Eleanor . . .  " Kyle groaned her name as if
with his last breath.  He collapsed atop her, drenched with perspiration.

Then she heard only the sounds of their labored breaths in
the silence.  She could not help but run her fingers up his neck and through
his damp locks.  Her other hand she slid in a slow caress across his flesh to
memorize the shape of his shoulders and back.  That power she held over him
felt heady, indeed.  Yet, he possessed an even greater power over her, and she
knew she would not wish any different.

"This has to be the most glorious day of my life,
lass.  You are heaven and hell wrapped in one body.  I fear I shall never be
sated with you."  Kyle rolled off her to his side and cool air swirled
over her flesh.  As he studied her face, he rubbed his thumb over her lips. 
"I've never felt this way before now.  You have bewitched me, love."

His confession surprised her.  "Never?  But you loved
your wife."

His hand strayed down her throat to her breasts and she
arched to meet his touch. 

"Aye.  I did.  But what I feel for you is different. 
She was of the air---ethereal and fragile, timid, and shy, and always a little
frightened of me."  His hand strayed lower, to her abdomen, to her damp
curls.  "You are of the earth: you are passion and lust, fire and life.  I
can't seem to get enough of you.  Even though I've just had you, I want
more."

Eleanor sighed with contentment.  She stroked his damp hair
as he nuzzled his face against her neck.  Past his head, the red and gold of
the bed-hangings glowed in the afternoon sunlight.  Although she had only
teased him about adding blue to the room, she now determined to carry through with
the color.  Blue to match his eyes.  Not the angry hue, but the blue of his
passion, the deep shade of evening that glimmered in his gaze right before he
called out her name.

Coolness chilled her neck as Kyle moved his head back and
shifted his position.  "Do you have regrets?"

"Nay, my lord."  She pulled his head down against
her breast and ruffled her fingers through his damp hair.  He settled down on
one side of her, his powerful leg draped over hers.  "Instead of loss, you
give me completeness.  But I still hunger for you, my lord.  I want to touch
you, see you, taste you, feel you inside me."  A soft laugh slipped from
her throat.  "Although, in truth, I do still feel you, my lord.  I still
throb from your wondrous invasion.  You're a wizard, for certain."

"Ah, lass.  You give me joy unbounded."  He
kissed the fullness of her breast, then her nipple.

She sucked in a breath.  "Do I please you, my
lord?"

His tongue swirled a hot path, then he retreated. 
"'Tis more than pleasure you give, Eleanor.  'Tis . . . 'tis a
satisfaction deep within me, in a hidden place never touched before now." 
He blazed kisses down her abdomen.

"Then, will you love me again, my lord?"

Kyle chuckled and rolled onto his back.  A smile graced his
face.  His eyes sparkled the blue of a summer pond as he tweaked her nose. 
"If I take you again this soon after your precious loss, my passionate
wench, you'll not be able to walk from the soreness.  I've already taken you
once more than intended.  I must give you time to adjust."

He scooted to the side of the bed and sat up, then turned
toward her with one leg bent in rest upon the mattress.  "But I'll accept
your offer later this night, after you've had a chance to recover from my . . .
invasion." 

He winked, and the gesture warmed her deep inside where he
had possessed her once-virgin territory.