Virginia Henley (30 page)

She knew he could see her breasts as if they were naked and the thrill made them quiver and begin to harden. Her nipples thrust out toward him like tiny wanton spikes, then he lifted his gaze to hers so they could share the
knowledge that even his slightest glance could bring her shuddering pleasure. He was all hard male dominance, she, soft willing woman.

This was the way it was, then, between a man and a woman. The male gained strength and power, the female grew weak with love. Domination and submission by touch alone. Every sense was beginning to heighten. The harder and stronger he grew, the softer and weaker she became. She was totally aware that it was his strength that held her upright. If he withdrew it, she would fall, tumbling to lie supine beneath him. Master and slave.

The kiss was a long time in coming. It was replete with its own foreplay. He began the kiss with his eyes, allowing his smoldering glance to fix upon her mouth, allowing her to see the desire, the intent, the hunger, and the raw need he felt to taste her, possess her devour her. To draw out the anticipation further, he traced her top lip with a fingertip, then caressed the ripe flesh of her full bottom lip, then going further to pinch it between thumb and forefinger like a succulent fruit. Only then did his head dip and he sucked the ripeness into his mouth and softly bit upon it. Then he licked and sucked and tasted the dew-drenched berry until it was love swollen.

Antonia’s black-fringed lashes swept to her cheeks and she moaned with her first sexual stirring. And then he kissed her. His lips were firm, slanting across her mouth, caressing, molding, coaxing, generously giving and selfishly taking all at the same time. They lured her lips to imitate his play. With a helpless little murmur of pleasure her arms slipped up his wide back, her hands playing over his rippling muscles as her lips opened softly to a lover’s demands.

With the tip of his tongue he teased and played, learning the texture and taste of the honey-drenched alcove. Her own tongue fluttered, then tentatively toyed with his in a titillating game that taught her the beginning of boldness. He allowed her the freedom to explore his mouth
before he asserted total male dominance and mastered her.

To Savage she was exquisitely tempting. It was palpably obvious she was both over-young and over-innocent, and yet she was totally unselfconscious with him, reacting to his lovemaking with a lovely, natural sensuality. He had a vague sensation of dèjà-vu, as if tonight was the culmination of a long wooing they had both anticipated for— what? months, years, a lifetime?

He crushed down an urge to ravish her. It was a wild need to mark her indelibly as
his.
He eased her backwards to the bed before he withdrew his arms. Then with deliberate fingers he undid the tiny buttons at her waist. “I think we should dispense with this voluminous skirt, delicious though it is. I’ll pour us some champagne.”

She stepped from the yards of golden tulle just as Adam turned with a glass in each hand.

A little spilled over the rims. “Sweet Jesu!” he growled.

Antonia’s face flamed. “Oh, I know these drawers are outrageous.”

He shook his head. “Nay, sweetheart, I’ve seen diaphanous underclothes before. It’s your legs!”

“My legs?” she whispered.

“Your legs are spectacular.” His gaze licked over her delicate ankles, long slim calves, and long silken thighs that seemed to go on forever. “I’ve never seen such deliciously long legs on a female in my life.” He swiftly closed the distance between them, set down the champagne glasses, and swept her into the air. “They were made for wrapping about a man,” he said huskily.

If that is what he desired, it was her supreme pleasure to grant his wish. She wrapped her long legs about his waist, crossed her ankles behind his back, and squeezed him. As he groaned with sheer pleasure, her arms went about his neck and she kissed him, as moments before he had kissed her. The thought of his hard mouth beneath hers, with its wicked scar, sent shivers of delight shooting
through her. She felt as if her very bones might melt and gripped him tightly with her long, silken thighs.

Jesu, why hadn’t he had the presence of mind to remove his clothes? Supporting her lovely round bottom cheeks with his palms, he walked slowly to the bed, swept off the covers, and lowered her onto the black satin sheets.

Her golden hair, gold crown bodice, and sheer golden pantelets against the black satin were an arousing contrast. “You look absolutely decadent,
chèrie”
he murmured.

She looked up at him, watching the color of his eyes darken with desire. “You make me feel absolutely decadent.”

She watched intently as his calloused hands removed his high black stock and then his shirt. She had seen him naked to the waist when they’d shared a chamber at Edenwood, but now she was free to allow her eyes to take in the full splendor of his musculature covered by the crisp mat of curly black hair. She felt a hunger to see more of him. Then her hunger turned to greed. Not only did she long to
see
more of him, she wanted to
touch
him, to
smell
him, to
taste
him, to
devour
him.

Her green gaze followed his fingers to his belt, then widened as he stripped off his pants. Adam Savage’s loins bore knife scars. The one on the right side of his belly looked as if he’d had his guts ripped out. But it was not the scars that made her wildly curious. It was his male center upon which she was riveted. Here at last was the mysterious male sex. His phallus jutted proud and thick from a black bramble-bush of hair, while beneath his shaft nestled two large oval spheres. His thighs looked as solid as young oak trees, yet his hips were amazingly narrow.

Adam’s heart leapt when she hardly glanced at his scars, but centered all her female curiosity upon his jutting masculinity. She gazed at it so long in fascination, turning her head on a different angle the better to view it, that amusement
filled his eyes. He spread his arms wide as if he were on display, then said, “Here I come, ready or not.”

“I’m ready, Adam,” she said quite seriously.

With a great whoop of laughter he dived upon the bed and scooped her beneath him. He straddled her with his knees and laughed down into her butterfly eyes.

“Your golden hair is lovely against the black satin, but I would wager a thousand guineas your natural black tresses are far more beautiful.”

Her lovely green eyes showed surprise. “How do you know I’m a brunette?”

He shook his head at her sheer artlessness. “Because you have black silk ringlets between your legs.”

“Oh!” she gasped, pink tinging her cheeks, then she threw back her head and let her laughter roll out over both of them. “How ridiculous I must seem to you.”

“You are an alluring, irresistible golden treasure.”

“Mmm, plunder me,” she begged.

“What a scandalous waste that would be. I shall savor you.”

She watched his deft fingers unfasten her bodice, then she watched his face as he freed her breasts. She watched him lick his lips as they suddenly went dry, and she longed for him to bring the tip of his tongue down to her own mouth again.

As if he discerned her secret thoughts and desires, he bent forward to take her mouth, but not before he cupped her delicious round breasts upon his roughened palms. She cried out from the thrill of his touch and he took her cry into the hot, dark cave of his mouth.

Antonia had never before realized how sensitive were her woman’s breasts. She had hidden them for so long that now she took pleasure in simply acknowledging their existence. Once she had thought them small, but in Adam’s palms they felt perfect. As he caressed them they felt as if they were growing, swelling, hardening. They became
so deliciously sensitive against his roughened skin, she wanted to scream from pleasure.

“Your body is becoming awakened fully for the first time in your life. I’m going to give you a rubdown with champagne. It will make you feel more incredibly alive than ever before.”

Antonia thought she must be dreaming. Was she really lying on a bed, imprisoned between Adam Savage’s marble thighs while he taught her about sensuality? If it was a dream, she never wanted to awaken.

He went up on his knees as he reached across her for a crystal goblet of champagne. She lifted her arms above her head, closed her eyes, and stretched luxuriously in anticipation of the pleasure of his powerful hands upon her body. When she opened her eyes he was slipping the sheer golden undergarment down her lovely long legs. Her body arched of its own volition and Adam couldn’t resist dropping a kiss upon her mons.

She was a delight to him. Already she was experiencing deep pleasure and he hadn’t yet begun to even play with her. He turned her facedown on the bed and splashed some bubbling wine upon her back. Initially it felt cool, but as his hands made contact with her soft skin, palms down, it became warm. His strong hands made long, firm sweeps across her shoulders and down her back until she began to tingle and then to glow.

His hands then moved to her ankles so he could massage her legs with long, upward strokes. She easily had the longest, prettiest legs he’d ever had the pleasure of touching. They seemed to go on forever, culminating in the most temptingly round derrière. He made circles around her bottom cheeks, first going one way and then the other.

Antonia alternately cried out and moaned. His knowledgeable hands relaxed and aroused her at the same time. The sensation was completely new and exciting. The excitement built as Adam brought his lips to her silken skin
and he began to lick and taste her. Just as the feel of his hands was rough, so, too, was the Leopard’s tongue.

It swirled over her, exciting them both until his teeth thrilled her with small erotic love bites. Her body tantalized him.

“I love the way your skin tastes of champagne.” Even his voice had a rough, husky undertone, and his warm breath feathering over her skin made it vibrate. His fingers and lips slid all the way down her spine until his mouth came into contact with her delicious bottom. His tongue teased and licked her until she thought she would go mad.

She arched her bum into the air, grabbing fistfuls of the black satin sheet. He stroked her with his tongue until she went up on her knees crying his name over and over.

With possessive hands he turned her onto her back. “I’ve saved the best until last,” he purred, trickling champagne between her breasts. She had thought them sensitive when his hands had cupped and weighed them, brushing his rough thumbs across her aureoles. But when he tongued, then bit, then sucked with his demanding lips and tongue, the sensations heightened a hundredfold. Her breasts ruched, crested, and peaked into impudent spikes, thrusting to fill his mouth with their unique taste and texture.

Her lovely young beauty aroused him, yet he knew it was the fact she was untouched by any other man that sent his sexual hunger soaring out of control. He was the first and he had to crush down a ridiculous longing to be the last. This was a romance for one night. She would vanish with the dawn, as would he, and all that would be left was a haunting, lingering memory. It was preordained.

It was a most erotic experience performing foreplay on this golden goddess, for instead of closing her eyes and drifting off to a place apart, she watched him intently, watched his eyes, his lips, his mouth, and his tongue in their deliberate provocation of her first experience with passion. Her reaction was intense and very vocal.

As his mouth left her breasts to trail a molten path across her belly, she clasped her long, silken legs about him to draw his flesh to hers. She wanted him. She wanted all of him.

When Antonia felt his rampant male shaft between her thighs she lost a measure of control and came up off the bed to bite the corded muscles across his wide chest. He looked down at the row of tiny, crescent teethmarks and grinned with delight. If he was a Leopard, then she indeed was a Leopardess! Her need built until she was ready to claw him. Christ, what would she do when he entered her with his tongue?

He unwound her legs from his waist and spread them wide, then very gently he combed his fingers through her black triangle of curls. She lay back on the satin sheets, arching her mons into his hand, her eyelids so heavy with sensuality they were half closed, yet he could see the green fire burning intensely in her eyes.

He slipped a finger into her cleft, but did not go deep inside her. Instead he sought the tiny rosebud high in her cleft and stroked and toyed with it until she became erectile. At first she was fever dry, but as he played, a drop of
moisture formed against his fingertip and then another, until she was wet for him.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mmm, you know … it feels … wondrous.”

The tension inside her swollen bud built to a crescendo, and then the bud bloomed, opening its petals in a burst of unfurling. It took her breath away. “Oh”—she gasped— “what a lovely thing to do to me!”

Adam smiled knowingly. Then, carefully, slowly, he slipped his finger deeper inside her. He had no intention of destroying her jewel. He would leave intact the blood-red ruby of her maidenhead as a gift her future husband. Tonight there would be no pain, no blood, only delirious, intoxicating pleasure.

Antonia’s sheath was so tight, his strong finger made her feel very full and engorged to bursting. He held absolutely still while she got used to the feeling of being impaled and he was rewarded by tiny fluttering spasms as her sheath grabbed him and pulsated. She drew up her knees, then let them fall open so he could watch everything he did to her, then she propped herself up on her elbows so she, too, could watch.

Slowly, he withdrew his finger all the way, then slid it back up inside her until it touched her hymen. He repeated the tantalizing gesture with slow, rhythmic strokes, creating a hot, pulsating friction that made her sheath cling to his finger possessively. It took a heart-stopping length of time before she built to her first full climax, but a scream built in her throat until it was released at the exact same moment she contracted convulsively, bathing his finger with her love milk. She was primed now and Adam knew not to let her miss a beat. He pulled her legs so she fell back across the black satin sheets, then lifted them onto his shoulders.

She crossed her legs behind his neck, drawing his head closer to her woman’s center. She saw his nostrils flare as he breathed her spicy woman’s scent, then the tip of his
tongue traced her lips, which were now love slick and swollen with need.

She cried out, “Nooo … yesss … please, more … ah, more.” She arched wildly upon his thrusting tongue, knowing this was the closest to Paradise she would ever get. Suddenly the scent of violets filled the room. Inexplicably Adam knew the fragrance came from their bed play. She tasted and smelled of dew-drenched wild violets. Her cries of passion pierced his heart. Never had he seen a woman so beautiful in her passion.

Antonia spun away, thinking she would faint, but he had only momentarily drained her like a chalice. Then suddenly she became filled to the brim with energy and renewed life. Suddenly she had sexual energy to burn. She came up from the bed and flung herself upon him, forcing him back to the sheets while she hung above him, deciding how to enjoy him first.

Adam allowed her to take control, to revel in her newfound power.

“Lust is sometimes a virtue,” he teased huskily.

She went down against the full, splendid length of him, her legs stretched out on top of his, his manroot rigid along her cleft. Then she touched her lips to his in half a dozen quick little kisses.

“Your mouth is divine. It makes me feel beautiful.”

“Sweetheart, you are beautiful. Breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She laughed, drinking in his dark symmetry. “I’m wildly curious about your body.”

“Explore me. Satisfy your curiosity,” he invited.

She lifted herself from his body and sat cross-legged beside him. Then she felt bold enough to stroke the long slabs of muscle in his chest and tangle her fingers in the crisp black hair that covered him like an animal pelt. Damnation, no wonder women were drawn to him like bitches in heat. He was a magnificent male animal, making every other man pale by comparison.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with him. Antonia knew she was infatuated and had been for months, but she refused to admit she loved him, fearing that was the road to heartbreak. Her eyes dipped to his belly. It was hard and flat, yet marred by a crisscross of silver scars. She could not allow her hands to hesitate lest he think the scars repelled her. And in truth they did not. They were a part of him, a part of his past to be sure, but they had played a significant role in forming his present personality.

Gently her fingertips traced the jagged slashes. When her eyes sought his, she found them watching her intently. “Do they hurt?”

After a moment he shook his head. “Only the memory. Which is as it should be to keep me from making the same mistakes.”

The self-mockery was back. She put pressure upon the scars, smoothing the edges into his unscarred flesh, then feeling them spring back into ridges beneath her fingers. In a way they prevented him from being physically perfect and that was no bad thing. He was dangerously close to perfection.

At last her eyes sought the object of her wild curiosity. She looked at it a long time, not yet quite bold enough to touch it.

“Well?” he prompted, trying to conceal his amusement.

“It is not quite as I expected.”

“In what way?”

“Well, it’s much larger, of course. And its shape is curious. It’s slightly curved, like a scimitar, and this part”— her fingertip almost touched him.

“The head?” he prompted.

“The … head … is not the same above as below. It is smoothly curved above, then split into a heart shape beneath.”

“It is large because at the moment it is engorged with blood. That happened because your beauty and closeness
physically arouse me. The ridge beneath the head is fashioned to create friction inside a female’s body.”

Antonia felt hot metallic threads inside her sheath pull taut. He heard her swift intake of breath.

“It is slightly curved to follow the curve inside a woman’s body.”

Adam watched her lick her lips, knowing her mouth had gone dry.

“It is not always this exaggerated size, of course. In an unaroused state the shaft becomes flaccid, the head becomes hooded by the foreskin, and it shrinks to less than half this size.”

He took hold of her hand to encourage her and guided it to his phallus. Suddenly her fingers were eager to touch, to feel, to learn everything. “It is so hard and rigid, it’s almost impossible to imagine it becoming soft.”

“After ejaculation it becomes soft,” he assured her.

“Ejaculation?” she questioned, her eyes serious in their quest for knowledge.

“When I manipulated the bud of your sex, you built until you experienced a climax. It is the same with me.” His fingers closed about hers so that they clasped his thick shaft. Then he worked her hand up and down a few times. “The friction of coitus ends in climax when my seed is ejaculated.”

Her green eyes widened as if a great mystery had been solved for her. She knew what coitus was. The
Kama Sutra
had been titillatingly explicit. She knew they had not yet performed coitus.

“Does it hurt?” Her long fingers tightened about his upthrust sex until she could feel it pulsing with his heartbeat.

“Yes, it does ache and become painful if I am kept in a state of arousal without ejaculating.”

As they looked into each other’s eyes, each saw a flame leap high at the erotic state of their arousal. The words came and hung in the air; she could not call them back. “I
want the curve of your scimiter to follow the curve inside my body.”

His arms reached out to enfold her and draw her down to him. “Sweet Ann, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but it would be a totally selfish act on my part. Only I would receive pleasure.”

“But you gave me pleasure with your fingers and your mouth, and I suspect the pleasure of a rampant male weapon would be ten times as pleasurable.”

“A hundred times, love, but before that pleasure comes pain while your sheath is stretched to almost breaking point. We simply don’t have time for you to become accustomed to the pain and move beyond it. The hymenal rite is a mystical thing. I intend to leave you intact so that you can experience it in your future.”

“But I can never marry,” she protested.

Adam smiled. “Never is a long, long time. And even if you never have a husband, you will assuredly have a lover.”

“How can you be sure?” she cried.

“After tonight your body will crave a lover’s touch. It won’t be long before you seek and find someone to love.”

“But I sought and found you.”

“We are playing at fantasy. In less than two hours dawn will bring reality.”

“Adam, I want you to ejaculate.”

“Not by coitus, love. What if my seed left you with child?”

“Ah, God, why is there always the devil to pay?”

He shrugged. “Risk makes the game sweeter, I suppose.”

“I’m ready to risk all!” she cried recklessly.

“I know that and it makes you utterly desirable, but you are extremely young and I have made myself responsible for you this night.”

“You promised to love me!”

“I promised only to unveil the mysteries of sex for you.”

She sighed. He was being honorable, damn him to hellfire, and yet how secure she felt, knowing he would protect her at all costs. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”

He reached out for her hands, placed one in the crisp dark fur over his heart, and filled the other with his up-thrust maleness. “Simply play with me.”

Antonia caressed him, stroked him, fondled him, and rolled him, watching in fascination as he became more swollen and engorged. He jumped and bucked in her hand and then Adam began to moan low in his throat at the pleasure she brought him. Suddenly it wasn’t enough for Antonia. She wanted to kiss him, to taste him, to take him inside her body. She wanted to give him more pleasure than he had ever known with another woman.

She cupped him with both hands and lifted him to her lips like a precious object she would worship. She dropped a kiss upon the velvet smooth head, then another and another. With the tip of her tongue she delicately traced beneath the ridge, all the way around, then dipped the pointed tip into the tiny opening in the center. Now it was his turn to be vocal and she reveled in her woman’s power over him. She slid her lips down to fasten over the ridge, imprisoning the whole head inside her hot mouth, then with her tongue she licked and sucked until he was pulsating wildly.

“Stop love, I’ll spend.” He gasped.

She gave him a bewitching look from beneath her dark lashes, telling him clearly she had no intention of stopping.

Adam controlled his climax for long minutes, enjoying to the full the intoxicating, addictive sensations as he built and built to explosion. He knew he could not bear much more of her exquisite loving, then finally as he felt himself start, he pulled his swollen shaft from her lips.

His seed arced, then cascaded across her breast and across the black satin sheets, the drops as beautiful as liquid pearls. Antonia touched one with her fingertip, then
rubbed his essence between her finger and thumb, marveling at its slippery, silken texture. She lifted her fingers to her nostrils to smell him, then finally her tongue came out to taste him. It was a potent male mixture of salt, sandalwood, and smoke.

“Are you always so impulsive?” he demanded in a raw growl.

“I have learned to seize the moment,” she murmured huskily.

With a great whoop he lifted her from the bed and set her upon his wide shoulders. Then he galloped around the room, playful as a boy. He came to a stop before the mirror so they could see how carefree and uninhibited they both looked. He caressed her long, silken legs, loving the feel of them draped over his shoulders, loving the feel of her scalding mons against the back of his neck.

Antonia knew she was already becoming aroused again. Then her eyes dilated as she watched his cock swell and grow until it stood rigid, almost to his navel.