Knightley's Tale (4 page)

He ducked into the tent, shrugged out of his coat and sat gingerly on the seat next to her, near but still not touching.

“Here you are as I have always known you,” he said quietly. “Cheeks flushed and eyes shining, so beautiful and so innocent and I think there is nothing, no one, I desire more.” He looked at her hard. “So, I must be the wolf.”

Sighing, he rested his elbows on his knees and placed his head in hands.

She understood. He thought he was taking advantage of her. He didn’t know the depth of her feelings for him.

She knelt on the cushion next to him and pulled his hands away from his face, replacing them with her own. She gently turned his head toward her.

“I have a confession to make,” she said softly.

His only reaction was to raise one eyebrow.

“I planned this entire evening. From the beginning.”

Both eyebrows cocked.

“I stood in the entryway of our dear siblings’ house and opened and closed the door a half-dozen times before I gained your attention. I arranged to have the carriage waiting outside so I could slip out and race off. I knew you would follow.

“I coerced you into leading me into the gardens and I planned for you to make love to me here in a covered gondola.

“It was an elaborate, albeit idiotically romantic, ploy to show you the depth of my feelings for you.”

For a long moment he did nothing, just stared at her. Would he rail at her for being so reckless? Would he set her aside with a lecture? She held her breath, hoping against hope.

“You did all of this…to seduce me? You want me?” He asked finally.

She nodded. The emotion of this night and for him was too much; a tear slipped down her cheek.

Gently, he reached around her head and released the silk ties for the mask. It fell to the floor.

His finger traced along the wetness of her cheek, a soft smile edging his lips.

Gently, he began smoothing the wild waves of hair away from her neck. It was both comforting and sensual.

Without warning, his fingers jerked at the clasp at the base of her neck and released the fastening. He whipped the cloak away from her, flinging it onto the cushion behind her.

Red Riding Hood was gone.

Rough hands tugged her onto his lap and his hard lips claimed her in a long kiss. When they broke away, his lips trailed to her neck, igniting a fiery path of desire.

“Energetic enough?” he questioned in a low voice.

She shivered. Yes and no.
More,
her body responded.
More.
She wanted to feel his arms around her, to devour him with kisses, to explore his body.

“What I really wish for…” she asked.

“Anything, darling, I will give you anything.” He was nibbling on the sensitive part just below her ear. She could have purred.

“…is six more hands.”

His chuckled into her neck and hugged her closer.

“That was…” he started, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“…educational, but not nearly as enlightening as your library.” She caressed his cheek.

“About that…tell me what else piqued your interest.”

“The large book with prints from the Orient. The man and woman in different…um…positions.”

“Shunga.”

“Shunga?” She tested the word. “Yes, they were quite invigorating. As were the sculptures.”

He groaned into her neck, hiding his face. “You found the key to the cupboard?”

She didn’t answer. Nor was she about to tell him what she did with the sculptures. Enough confessions for one night.

“What I found most fascinating was the expression on their faces: a mixture of rapture, pain and something more.…It made me wonder.”

Her fingers played with the buttons on his crisp shirt.

“Wonder?” He was nibbling at her neck. Sharp little nips, each one sending jolts through her body. It was quite distracting.

“I wondered if…I—I alone—could make you feel the same.”

She wiggled out of his embrace and dropped to the floorboards. For mere seconds, she hesitated. Even though his face was strangely blank, he didn’t still her progress. With a light touch to each knee, she coaxed his legs to open for her. His answering sigh was a heady feeling. She skimmed her hands along his calves, knees, and thighs, noting every time she moved higher, he would breathe less. Power, indeed.

Her eyes immediately went to the bulge of his cock. It was throbbing now, and she could not stay away. Like a good pupil, she cupped her hand and squeezed. He groaned loudly. Leaning back, he closed his eyes

Encouraged—indeed power-hungry—she attacked the waistband of his pants and found the buttons. She had to see it now. What was this magnificent organ that gave him equal pleasure and pain?

As she flicked each button open, his body tightened and muscles contracted. But he did not stop her. When the last button loosened, she pulled on the cloth and out sprang a thick, red-skinned club.

“Oh,” she gasped. She looked up to see him watching her and giggled nervously to explain her surprise. “I wasn’t expecting…” Well, she didn’t know what exactly she was expecting.

No novel, no etchings, no statue of entwined bodies—none could answer her next question: How was something this large and uncompromising supposed to join with her?

He tried to sit forward, reaching for her, but she held him at bay.

“You don’t appear sufficiently pained,” she murmured.

She stuck out a tentative hand and smoothed her palm over the tip. The member convulsed.

She giggled and tried again. It didn’t react so violently this time. She leaned forward to get a closer look. He was holding himself so stiffly now, she thought he’d expire.

“It resembles a palm tree, don’t you think?” she announced.

Knightley burst out laughing, but broke off when her hand closed around the shaft.

“You see, this is the trunk and this,” she said, moving her hand up and grasping the tip, “is the palm leaves.”

To her delight, he moaned deeply.

“And these,” she reached down the shaft to the base where two red sacks waited for their caress, “are the coconuts.”

Her hand had barely covered them when a growl reverberated in his chest. Two strong hands lifted her from the floor and set her down on the silk lining of her cloak.

“My turn.” He intoned deeply as he rolled next to her. She laughed breathlessly. Oh, yes, his turn. His mouth caught hers as his hand traveled down her legs. When his lips broke free, she felt his smile at her ear.

“Grandmother, what long legs you have,” he mimicked the fairy tale.

She tittered, “The better with which to wrap around you.”

Her leg lifted of its own volition and snuggled over his leg. His hand slipped under the skirt and skimmed over the naked skin of her calf. She wiggled closer to him. But his hand was roaming again, outside of the gown over the bodice of her dress. Single-minded in his pursuit, he undid the line of tiny buttons down her chest. Nudging open the gown, he ran a finger over the silk chemise covering her breast.

She breathed in sharply.

She now had an idea of what he felt.

It was only the beginning.

When his thumb rubbed over the nipple, she froze. She didn’t think her tips could get any harder. Cut glass, indeed.

The tingling had returned too, only now it came in great waves, coursing through her. His hand pushed aside the lace and the nipple tightened further in the cool air. When his fingertip tested the tip again, her body involuntarily arched into his hand.

“My,” his voice was sweet and low at her ear, “what very luscious breasts you have.”

She answered automatically. “The better to…” All thought left her as his mouth covered the orb.

“Oh.” Her cry turned into a moan as his tongue swirled around the nub. He ended the gentle assault with his lips closing around the tip and pulling gently. Lightning pleasure pulsed through her veins. Her restless body twisted toward him, screaming
more, more.

“Easy, my love. There will be more.”

Had she spoken her desires aloud? She was mindless of everything but his mouth and his hands. The latter were gathering great folds of fabric at her knees and pushing upward.
Yes,
she thought,
touch me there.

“Why, Emma, your stratagem was quite thorough.”

She stilled. She’d forgotten she was scandalously naked underneath. Would he berate her?

She tried to read his expression, but he seemed transfixed with her until a devilish smile spread across his lips. She knew what he intended the instant before she felt it.

Without ceremony his fingers went straight for the wet, private sanctuary of her womanhood.

She came undone.

Someone’s voice called out (was it hers?) and she found herself muffled against his hard chest, which was rumbling with controlled laughter.

“Ssshhh, darling. We don’t want all of London descending upon us.”

She remembered then they were not alone. She didn’t care—if anything it added more to her excitement. She tried to reach for Knightley, but he quieted her.

His hand returned to her thighs, making slow circling motions and closing in on the target. Slowly he cupped her and stroked back the folds to reveal the nub beneath.

“Oh, Emma, how very wet you are.”

When she didn’t—couldn’t—answer, he added, “The better for you to take me, all of me, in.”

He twirled his finger around and around, slathering the wetness, and slowly nudged it inside. Her walls involuntarily closed around the tip, beckoning his finger in.

She moaned deeply into his chest, and he answered in a low whisper.

“Darling, you are ready for me. If I go any further there will be some pain, then pleasure beyond your imagination. Shall I continue?”

“Hmmm,” she answered, still dazed and hugging his chest.

“Emma?”

“Yes, yes, do it. I want it all. Now.”

He chuckled at her demands and kissed her again, a long sensual mating. When he broke away he shifted over her, dropping his pants and covering her body. Long and hard, his cock was ready, but he guided it gently to bask in her warm, wet folds.

Emma could feel her body becoming restless. She needed more. She arched her hips and brought him fully into her. Both of her mouths gasped.

Unable to maintain the gentle composure, he drove into her, filling her completely. She flinched at the pain and cried out into his shoulder. He stilled then, waiting. His mouth found hers again, and he coaxed her into a long, breathtaking kiss.

He moved slightly to fit his fingertips on her hard nub and started the slow circling movements he knew she craved.

Quickly, the pain recessed and pleasure returned. Pleasure and a strange new pressure. A fire was building deep within her, threatening to overwhelm her.

He was moving over her, slowly pushing in and pulling out—an even staccato that was raising the heat and pressure. When the two collided, the climax burst through her body, shaking her to her core.

Her body sang with new music it had never felt before and with Knightley’s last thrust, she knew he had felt the same.

For a long time, they lay on the bench entwined in each other’s embrace. At some point, the gondolier had begun singing an Italian ballad of long-lost lovers reunited forever.

Knightley shifted and she moved with him. When his warm hand cupped her face, she opened her eyes to find him watching her earnestly.

“I have a confession to make, too,” he said. His eyes were the color of warm chocolate. “I’ve denied it again and again. It was too impractical. You were too young. I was a monster.

“But the truth is…there could be no one else for me. It has always been…and will always be…you.” He caressed her face as he tried to express the words in his heart. “Emma, dearest Emma, call me a fool if you will…I love you.”

The hope in his eyes reflected the sentiment deep within her soul. Her heart fluttered with pure joy.

“I can assure you, you are no fool. I have known all along.” Her hands smoothed away any lingering lines of worry.

“Knightley…George, I love you.”

They kissed, just lips meeting lips and hands touching faces until the rest of their bodies jealously demanded equal attention.

Devlin stroked a stray hair from his wife’s sweet, smiling face. During the storytelling, she had nestled up to him in a perfect spoon.

“I achieved the desired results?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, you have.” Her closed eyes crinkled at the edges, wetness leaking at their corners. His story had touched her soft heart.

Without warning, she rolled away, throwing back the quilts and bouncing barefoot to the cold floor. He leaned back, watching her curiously.

“I have quibbles,” she stated, unbuttoning the top of her red pajamas.

“But, of course,” he replied, quoting:

“I saved the last stanza for just this purpose. Let’s hear them.”

“You take an awful amount of dramatic license running roughshod right over irrefutable facts.”

Her pajamas unfastened, she wriggled out of the top, exposing her bare breasts.

“What is history if one cannot retell it to suit his own purposes?” His voice, however, sounded less cavalier than his words. He was staring drymouthed at Maeve’s hardened nipples.

“You broke the Charlie’s Angels rule.”

She dropped her pajama pants, revealing lacy black panties.

“I am but a man. I have no other defense.” His gaze moved to her covered triangle.

“And you mock my much-esteemed Jane Austen.”

Folding her arms under her breasts, she tried but didn’t quite succeed in giving him a hard look. Really, all she managed was to accentuate her pointed tips.

“I hold your precious Jane Austen in the highest esteem, simply because you adore her.”

He opened his arms and she crawled into them.