Lawless

by Diana Palmer

  Her mind was not working at all. She couldn’t think. “How did you...?”

  “I saw them on your bedside table, the last time I was here.” He lifted his head, and his black eyes pinioned her. “Were you taking them for Grier, just in case?” he demanded suddenly, angrily.

  “No!” she gasped. “I would never...!”

  “Then, why?” he persisted hotly.

  She was almost shaking from the intimate contact with him. He was aroused. He wanted her. She couldn’t think. Her young body was on fire with need, hunger, aching thirst. She was going to die if he stopped now. What had he asked? “My...periods were...erratic, and I got sick with them,” she said. “The doctor put me on the Pill just...just for a couple of months, until I got regulated.” She didn’t add that it had been six months ago, and she’d stopped taking them in the second month, without even finishing the prescription. She was a pack rat. She never threw out things until Maude made her. She’d put them on the dresser while she searched for a pen and hadn’t put them back. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded when he hesitated. “Please don’t stop, Judd!”

  He scowled as she took his hand back to her breast and caressed it tenderly, coaxing it back onto the soft skin.

  “Isn’t the Pill supposed to be dangerous?” he whispered.

  “He said not at my age, since I don’t smoke or have headaches regularly.” She arched up to his caressing fingers with a soft gasp. Her eyes fell back in her head. “Oh, that’s nice! I never realized it would feel like this when I watched those movies!”

  His eyes narrowed. He smiled slowly, his black eyes glittery as they went to the soft little mound he was caressing. “If it’s safe, I can have you the way I want to,” he said huskily, “without anything between us except skin.”

  “Yes. Any way you want to, Judd, right here, right now...” Her voice broke on a whimper of pleasure. She lifted up to his devouring mouth, clinging, aching for more than this. “Please, please, don’t stop!”

  “I’m not going to,” he bit off against her swollen lips. “I’m starving to death for you. I’ve got to have you, baby!” he added roughly. “I’ve got to!”

  She barely heard him. She was going under in a veritable flood of sudden passion. His experienced touch sent her mind reeling out of control of her body. She arched up to him, moved restlessly under the slow, sensuous crush of his lean hips, opened her mouth to the devouring kisses that made her young body ache even more.

  He caressed her out of her jeans and underwear, and his mouth, his warm, hard mouth, was on her breasts, on her belly. She was gasping, clutching, drowning in new sensations as he worked his way down her tormented body. He touched her in a way she’d never expected a man to touch her, but his mouth covered her small, embarrassed cry. His tongue eased into her mouth in slow, sensuous explorations that augmented the expert caress of his hands.

  Somewhere along the way, his undershirt went onto the rug, followed by his jeans, leaving him in the black boxer shorts he favored. They did nothing to camouflage the hungry thrust of his body.

  He paused to look down into her face, seeing the lack of comprehension, the lack of sanity that mirrored his own. Her arms were around his neck, her body arched up to his like a sacrifice. Her eyes were slitted. She was moaning softly, moving against him with helpless delight. She made him feel ten feet tall. She made him feel like the greatest lover who ever lived.

  The boldness of his eyes managed to get through to her. She noticed his rapt stare and began to feel self-conscious about her nudity.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said roughly. “You belong to me. We’re married, Christabel. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not, really,” she said huskily. “But all the lights are on,” she added helplessly and with a shy laugh. “And I’ve never done this before.”

  “Do you want the lights off, the first time?” he asked softly. She nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t add that it was going to be difficult for him, too, in the light. Like her, he had hang-ups that he didn’t like admitting.

  He got to his feet, lifting her gently into his arms. He searched her dazed eyes for a second before his mouth eased down to cover hers again, tenderly, as he walked past the tall, glittery Christmas tree and down the long hall to his bedroom.

  He didn’t turn on the light. He put her down long enough to close and lock the door before he carried her to bed. She felt his mouth on her body in the warm darkness of the room, the soft sounds of flesh against flesh barely reaching her ears above her own gasps. It was more intimate than she’d ever imagined it would be, especially when the boxer shorts came off and she felt him, really felt him, in total contact with her.

  “Easy,” he whispered as she tensed involuntarily. “It’s not going to be what you think. We’ve got all the time in the world. Ease your legs in between mine, honey.”

  She was puzzled by the soft entreaty, but she did as he asked, and suddenly felt his powerfully muscled body in even closer contact, and a sharp flash of pleasure accompanied the intimate contact.

  He felt her sensuous movement and laughed huskily. “Didn’t you expect that? Even after all those explicit movies?”

  “They aren’t quite this explicit,” she whispered on a husky laugh, gasping when he moved again. “I didn’t realize...it would feel so good! Or be so intimate!”

  He laughed, too. His teeth caught her soft upper lip and his tongue played with it while his hands worked a sort of magic on overstimulated nerve endings lower down. She moved again, convulsively this time, arching up to tempt him closer.

  She felt his hands slide under her hips to cradle them as his mouth slowly fitted itself to hers and opened it to the slow probe of his tongue.

  At the same time, he thrust down, tenderly, and felt her body jerk. He did it again. She gasped softly and he felt her legs move inside his. The third time, she made a sound he’d never heard from her lips and her nails bit into his upper arms before they slid hungrily to the thick hair on his chest.

  He lifted his head, breathing roughly. His hips moved faintly from side to side and she sobbed, arching up. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t pain. Her hands were pulling at him, not pushing.

  His lips brushed her eyes, her cheeks, her open mouth as he moved very slowly, very sensuously, into total possession. She wasn’t reacting as if it hurt at all. His powerful legs curved closer around hers as he shifted her. She moaned unsteadily and a tiny shiver of pleasure echoed in his own body as she followed the quick, tender movement with one of her own.

  “Is it hurting?” he whispered at her mouth.

  “No,” she choked. “Oh, no, not at all! It’s...wonderful!”

  He nibbled her lower lip as he moved again. “Can you feel me inside you?” he whispered outrageously.

  “Of all the things to ask...!” she gasped.

  He bit her upper lip tenderly. “It isn’t a ritual of silence, honey,” he said huskily. “I like that husky little note in your voice when I move on you. Tell me what you’re feeling,” he coaxed. “Talk to me.”

  “Oh, I...can’t...talk!”

  “Why not?”

  Her hands slid around to the powerful muscles of his back and she arched sinuously, shivering. “I’m on fire,” she choked, her eyes closed as she sought some lofty, distant goal of pleasure. “I ache everywhere. Such a sweet ache...oh, yes! Do that! It’s...so...good, so good, so good...!” Her voice climbed wildly as she began to shiver rhythmically with every slow thrust. “I’ve never wanted anything as much...as I wanted you. For so long, Judd!” She gasped, lifting up eagerly. “Am I doing it right?”

  “Yes. You’re doing fine!” Her pleasure enhanced his own. He hadn’t expected her to enjoy it this much, especially her first time. He felt proud of his own skill as she moved with him, her tiny gasps of pleasure were like music...

&
nbsp; “Oh!” She stilled suddenly, biting her lower lip hard, as pleasure suddenly became stinging pain. She stiffened. “I’m sorry. That hurts, Judd!” she sobbed, disappointed.

  “Yes, and I can feel why,” he said gently, hesitating. His breath came in rough gasps. He couldn’t hold out for much longer, but he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he had to. With sudden inspiration, he bent to her shoulder and his teeth clasped on the soft flesh.

  “Judd, what are you doing...? Ouch!” she exclaimed, and gasped with pain. But only seconds later, she felt him deep in her body, completely in possession of her. While she’d concentrated on her shoulder, he’d broken the tiny barrier that separated them. She shivered once and then relaxed as he moved firmly and rhythmically against her, pleasure replacing pain with shocking immediacy. She began to move with him, frantically, as the little bites of pleasure increased by the second, lengthening and promising something close to heaven as the urgency grew.

  “That doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, and suddenly laughed as the pleasure grew unexpectedly. Her lips found his neck and kissed it hungrily. Her body was leaping like a wild thing as he moved roughly against her. “Yes! It’s so sweet!” she choked, lifting to his possession. “Oh, don’t...stop!” she wept. “Don’t stop, don’t...!”

  “As if I could!” he bit off at her ear.

  The pleasure had him in its mad grip, now, and he was suddenly driving for satisfaction with total disregard for her virginity and his own concern for it. But she didn’t seem to mind. She was making little rhythmic whimpering noises that coincided with his sharp, deep, measured thrusts, and her body was begging for his with every downward motion. She whispered to him, explicit, exciting things that would shame her later, in cold daylight. She went with him all the way, lifting, moving, surging, as the pleasure built into waves of urgency that sought a shadowy, distant goal that she couldn’t...quite...reach.

  Then, when she was mindless and frantic, she was suddenly there, right there, caught up in the grip of madness that brought a sobbing little scream from her tight throat. She wished she could see him. She wished he could see her. She heard the springs going like pistons as he drove for fulfillment. She heard his harsh, desperate gasps, felt the rigor of his body, just before blinding lights exploded behind her closed eyes and she arched convulsively and sobbed out the ecstasy of complete satisfaction at his ear.

  It went on and on and on. She couldn’t stop moving under him, even as he went rigid and shuddered over her. His skin was damp with sweat. He was breathing harshly, groaning. Her body pulsed with silvery delight, with utter physical joy. She was part of him. She felt him swell, burst, inside her. She cradled him, heavy in her arms, shivering in the sweet, throbbing aftermath of the most explosive pleasure she’d ever known in her young life.

  She slid her legs around his, her arms close at his back. She kissed his chest, his throat, his chin with lips that were soft and numb with helpless delight, with love.

  He drew in a long, shuddering breath and the pressure of him increased suddenly the length of her body, but only for a few seconds. He rolled away with a rough expulsion of breath and lay there, boneless, suddenly keenly aware of what he’d just done.

  It didn’t help that he was sated to the very marrow of his bones, or that he knew she’d experienced the same fulfillment that he had. It didn’t help that she’d been a virgin, and he’d made her climax the first time he had her. He’d taken advantage of her, and he had no right to, not even under the circumstances.

  “Damn!” he ground out.

  “And now it’s the hair shirt and the flail,” she said on an audible sigh. “You’re just going to lie there and feel guilty, after you’ve given me an orgasm my very first time.”

  He blinked. Surely she hadn’t said that? “How do you know what an orgasm is?” he asked bluntly.

  “How can I not know, with the subject coming up on every talk show and in every magazine on the newsstand?” She rolled over and pillowed her head on his damp shoulder, curling into his powerful body as naturally as if she’d done it all her life. “Virgins are supposed to have a hard time and bleed a lot, and then cry afterward. I know because two girls in my computer class are living with men, and they said so. They thought I was nuts because I hadn’t had sex, at my age.”

  He smoothed her hair absently, trying not to feel proud of himself. “I don’t read magazines.”

  Her fingers tangled in the thick curling hair that covered the powerful muscles of his chest. He arched involuntarily at the pleasure of the caress. “You do feel guilty, don’t you?” she persisted.

  He sighed. “Yes. I feel guilty. I had too much to drink and all the walls came down.”

  “It had to happen sometime,” she said softly. “And you said yourself, we’re married. I couldn’t very well do it with anybody else.”

  Especially not with damned Grier, he was thinking, and felt a primitive burst of pleasure that her first time wasn’t going to be with the other man.

  “I’m glad I waited, Judd,” she whispered huskily. “I never dreamed it would be that good my first time. It was incredible! Just incredible!”

  He was glad, too, but he didn’t know how to admit it.

  Her hand curled closer. “I’m so sleepy, and my body throbs every time I breathe, with these fantastic little jolts of pleasure,” she whispered. “Is it normal?”

  After that earthquake of passion, he thought amusedly, it had to be. He was sleepy himself.

  “It’s normal,” he replied.

  “Can I sleep with you?”

  His voice was drowsy and amused. “You just did.”

  She hit his chest gently. “All night,” she added.

  He drew in a long breath. He didn’t want to be alone tonight. He’d only lie awake and brood over the events of the day. Besides that, the deed was done. What difference did it make now if she slept in his arms. He was so relaxed, so fulfilled, that he could barely keep his eyes open. His body throbbed, too, with satiation. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had given him such wild delight.

  “You can stay,” he said.

  She smiled against his shoulder. She might have offered to put on a gown first, but she slid into sleep almost at once, oblivious to the hard, taut, brooding face of the man beside her.

  * * *

  The light fluttered against her heavy eyelids. Christabel moved restlessly and then groaned as unfamiliar twinges of discomfort made themselves felt. She opened her eyes and Judd was standing there in jeans and his black T-shirt, unmoving.

  “Hi,” she said with faint self-consciousness.

  “Hi,” he replied. He wasn’t smiling.

  “What are you doing?”

  His heavy brows were drawn together. “Watching you sleep,” he said abruptly. “I’ve got breakfast.”

  “Coffee, too?” she murmured sleepily.

  “Coffee, too. Come on in when you’re ready.”

  He turned, reluctantly it seemed, and went back out again. She moved the sheet aside and noticed that she was nude. There was a noticeable stain on the white sheets. Maude would see that. She grimaced. It was a secret. She didn’t want to share it with anyone just yet, not even Maude.

  She had a quick shower and then climbed into clean clothes, pausing to strip the bedclothes from the mattress and toss them into the washer before she went down the hall to the kitchen.

  The delicious smell of cooked bacon and bread filled the kitchen. She sniffed and smiled. “You’re getting better,” she remarked, noting the golden tan of the biscuits as she sat down beside him at the table.

  “You burn a batch of biscuits every single damned day for a month and you learn how to cook them eventually,” he said carelessly. He watched her pour coffee, his eyes intent on her face. He smiled involuntarily at the way she looked, freshly scrubbed, no make
up, with her hair long and clean and flyaway. She looked older this morning, more mature. More sexy. That made him feel guilty and he turned away.

  She glanced at him and caught the intent scrutiny. Her hand went to her hair. “I didn’t stop to put on makeup,” she said, misreading the stare.

  “I was thinking how fresh you look,” he murmured.

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t smile back. He looked more uncomfortable than ever. He drew in a long breath. The look in his black eyes wasn’t definable. “Well, there goes your annulment, Mrs. Dunn,” he mused, using her married name for the first time in five years.

  She looked down at her coffee cup and added sugar to it. “I don’t care,” she said huskily. “It was worth it.”

  There was a long pause. Her eyes went to his lean face abruptly as she wished, hoped, he might echo her sentiments. But he didn’t. However, he did seem confused. There was an odd, steady warmth in his black eyes that had never been there before. It wasn’t affection. It was...something more. Something she couldn’t read.

  “Is Maude coming back for lunch?” he asked.

  “Yes. But she’s going to take a plate back over there for her sister to have for supper.”

  He nodded slowly. His narrowed eyes were all over her face, slow and possessive. “You didn’t invite Grier over?” he asked sarcastically. There was a bite in his tone.

  She flushed. “No.”

  “Going to take him dinner?” he persisted.

  “Maude said she’d take him a plate by on her way back to her sister’s,” she replied, flustered by his level look.

  His black eyes went back to his plate. He didn’t say anything. But he smiled faintly.

  She stirred her coffee unnecessarily long. Was he still jealous of Grier even now? Could he want her to himself, and that was why he was asking so many pointed questions? She had to admit, she wanted very much to have him to herself. It promised to be a magical day, if she could get past that sudden cold reserve he was showing her this morning.