He rose to his feet, but as he did so, he pressed against her, allowing their bodies to touch. They both flinched at the warm and visceral contact.
Pressing his cock into her belly, he rubbed its engorged length against the soft rise, letting the wool of his trousers abrade her supple flesh until her gasp of surprise turned to an erotic moan.
Cupping her breast, he lowered his mouth to her nipple and lazily sucked as she watched his tongue move over her.
She whimpered and writhed against him, her head arched back, her full, red lips parted. He thought about how much he wanted her mouth on him, sucking him.
“I want your fingers inside me,” she demanded.
He obliged her. Embedding his fingers deep, he stroked her until she was clawing at his shoulders begging him to join her. Only then, when she was wild with passion, did he step out of his trousers and position himself so he could take her in an act of primal possession. But she stopped him, and instead reached for his cock.
“I want to feel you, Kieran,” she purred, her eyes glazed with passion. “I want you in my hand, all hot, hard man.”
Groaning, he shoved himself into her hand. She ran her fingertips up and down his length and it felt so good to at last feel her hand pumping him. He touched her in tandem and she matched his rhythm, knowing just by his breathing how he wanted her to touch him. He was so bloody close to spending in her palm, but he could not stop until he felt her shudder against him. Concentrating instead on the wetness engulfing his hand, he stroked her quim. She cried out on a gasping breath as he lightly passed his finger over her clitoris. With his thumb he found the speed, the angle that made her cry out, and he worked her harder, and when she began to tremble and shake and arch her back, he gave her more, until she shattered in his arms and cried out his name and begged him, the word please a keening plea from deep in her chest.
He thrust his cock deep inside. She was tight, so bloody tight, despite the fact she had taken him not more than half an hour before. He penetrated her in one long stab and she groaned, a beautiful wanton sound, so beautiful that he had to hear it again, so he pulled out and entered her swiftly, feeling the rush of wetness engulf him as he lodged himself farther inside her.
Without giving her more time, he reached for her hand, bringing it above her head and against the wall as he drove inside her. Harder and harder, he thrust. Higher and higher she moved up against the wall as his cock stabbed her deeper.
“Yes,” she cried, clutching his hand as he thrust his hips upward, taking her in a primal rhythm that would have her knowing she now belonged solely to him.
Outside the frosted window, David looked through the glass, into the warm sitting room and the couple beside the hearth. They were naked, writhing together against the wall. Sinead’s red hair spilling around her shoulders as her feet rubbed against Kieran Thompson’s buttocks. He could not hear their sounds of pleasure through the glass, but he knew there would be sounds and husky pants and erotic words whispered between them.
Sinead’s mouth opened with every hard thrust, her eyes closed in bliss, her pale body glowing in the firelight. Thompson’s mouth was buried between Sinead’s breasts, his hands entwined with hers as he took her against the wall.
Together they rocked, fucking as if this were the last time they would ever see each other. It was primal, possessive and arousing. He had never seen Sinead this undone, this passionate. He wanted a taste of her like this.
Reaching for the latch, his hand went through the cold metal. With a frustrated groan, he returned his gaze to the couple. It was not yet time for him, but when it was, he would go to her. Would take her just like that. But would she look at him like that? Would she desire from him what she so clearly desired from Thompson?
When he saw Thompson reach for her waist and lift her, sliding her farther up the wall so that her breasts were level with his mouth, he knew he had done the right thing in sending him to her. Thompson would love her with a fierce possession. He would care for her, protect her. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to do, yet his time had run out. The past could not be changed. The future was set, and clearly, Sinead’s future lay with Kieran, the man she was baring her soul and body to.
He had this one night, and one night only. He would not spend it feeling jealous of Thompson. He would spend it sharing in their passion and partaking of their pleasure, for one last time.
Kieran had pulled back, pistoning his hips, watching as he took Sinead. Sinead was scratching his back and covering Thompson’s shoulders in little bites. Thompson reached for her wrist and shackled it above her head, then slammed into her, making Sinead cry out. As she came, Kieran held her, his body wrapping tightly around her trembling form.
Unable to watch anymore, David looked up at the heavens. The moon had slowly moved in the sky. Soon it would be midnight. December twenty-first. The solstice.
And then he would go to her, and he would share in their pleasure, and it would sustain him until the time she would return to him.
6
SINEAD SANK INTO THE WARM WATER, LETTING her head rest against the lip of the wooden tub. The water was warm, just the perfect temperature for a long, leisurely soak.
“What are you doing?” she called out to Kieran.
“I was stoking the fire in the bedroom,” he announced from the doorway behind her. Startled, she turned to find him watching her. He was wearing his woolen trousers and naught else. In the shadowed candlelight, his chest glistened golden warm. It was a most spectacular sight, his smooth, sculpted, masculine chest. She took in his shoulders, which still wore red marks from her fingertips; his thick arms that had held her up against the wall; his beautiful, strong fingers that had given her such blinding pleasure. He was a woman’s fantasy come to life. And he was looking at her like she was the only woman in the world to him.
“Is the water still warm?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, sinking deeper into the depths. “It is. It was most thoughtful of you to draw me a bath.”
“Perhaps I had ulterior motives?”
She smiled. “Will you not join me? ’Tis a bit small, but I don’t mind.”
Kneeling before the tub, Kieran brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “I wish to bathe you, Sinead.”
Her eyes flew open in shock. No man, not even David, had ever done such a thing for her. He must have misinterpreted her surprise, for his already dark eyes blackened further and he looked down at his hands.
“Is it wrong to wish to take care of you?” His fingers flexed, before curling into fists. “I know my hands are big…rough…”
Sinead placed her wet hand over his. “You have beautiful hands and the way they touch my body is beyond words. I would have them no other way, Kieran. I was merely surprised, that is all. No one has ever done such a thing for me.”
When he looked up, there was heat in his gaze. “Then I am honored to be the first.”
He reached behind himself and handed her a square of red velvet and motioned for her to unfold the cloth.
“What is this?” She peeled the cloth away to reveal a cake of soap. Not just any soap, but the finely milled perfumed kind.
“Do you like it?”
Inhaling the spiciness that was mixed with an exotic floral scent, Sinead closed her eyes and indulged her senses. She had never been able to afford such luxury.
“This must have cost a fortune—”
“Shh,” he murmured, covering her lips with his finger. “No cost is too high for your pleasure.”
“You could not have found something like this at the apothecary.”
“I didn’t. I’ve had it for a long time now, since the Crimea. I was afraid it would no longer smell as good as it once had, but the Turk I bought it from swore to me that it was filled with oils that would stand the test of time.”
His fingertips lightly traced her collarbone, then fluttered over her shoulder. Their gazes met, and Sinead kissed his knuckles reverently.
“I was thinking about you one afternoon, as we were marching to the place of our next battle. We were in Turkey, and a vendor from a bazaar came up to us trying to sell us his wares. He had soaps and perfumes and trinkets of every kind. It made me wonder how you would smell fresh from a bath. How your skin would taste, aroused and perfumed. I smelled everything he had to offer, but it was this scent, with its myrrh and Moroccan rose, that made me think of you. Somehow I just knew it would suit you. Spice, with a delicate hint of floral. I had no money, of course, so I traded him my pocketknife for this cask of soap. I kept it in my bag all the time. Sometimes, when it was dark and the others were heavily asleep, I would pull the soap from my bag and smell it, imagining me bathing you. Kissing you. Drying you off and dipping my tongue between your thighs. I—” he swallowed “—I never dared hope that it might one day happen.”
Inside, she melted. In that moment of vulnerability, she knew that what she was feeling was beyond the desire for his body. It was love.
“I don’t know what to say, other than I am speechless at your kindness.”
“Say you will let me bathe you, touch you.”
“Only if you will do so in the tub, so I can touch you as well.”
Kieran stood, undid his trousers and stepped into the wooden tub. He was fully aroused, and Sinead could feel his erection pressing into her back as he lowered himself behind her. He brought her back against his chest, then reached for the soap in her hand and dipped it into the water. She found his wrist beneath the rippling waves and wrapped her fingers around it.
“Sparingly,” she whispered, “for I want to make such a beautiful gift last.”
Instead of using the cotton cloth to make a lather, he soaped his hands and brought his palms to her shoulders, kneading them, then he slid his hands down her arms, all the way to her fingers that rested on the edge of the tub. He kissed her between latherings, and Sinead lay back, enjoying the indulgence of him touching her with such reverence, with hands that were rough and callused, yet caressed with such gentleness.
“You are more beautiful and lovely than all my dreams combined.”
“You are making me feel like a princess, Kieran, when I am nothing more than the daughter of a blacksmith.”
“To me you are. You are so much more to me than you can ever imagine, Sinead. Even though you were married, I thought of you as mine. Even though I respected Pembrooke and was loyal to him, I could not bear to think of you as his. Every letter you wrote to him, I read, stealing them from his bag as he slept, reading them in the dark while the others around me slept. I imagined that you were writing those words to me. And then, I would close my eyes and write my own letters to you. I should probably feel shame in admitting that to you, to sink so low as to take your letters from him, but I cannot feel shame in something that made me want to live.”
“Even though I was happy with David, I would have liked to have known that you were thinking of me.”
“My thoughts were never far from you, Sinead. Always, you were with me. He knew, you know. David knew of my feelings for you.”
Stiffening, Sinead could not help but startle at such a confession. “Wh-what did he say?”
“As he lay dying in my arms, he told me that he would one day come back to you. He also told me that he released you to me. That is why I am here, Sinead. To make a life with you. To love and protect you. I know…” She heard him swallow, felt his heart beat hard beneath his chest. “I know I am not the man your husband was. But, I promise you, I can be that man. I will never be rich, but I will never stray. Never hurt you. I can provide for you, can make a home for you. I…” His body trembled against hers. “I can love you like no man has ever loved you before, Sinead.”
Closing her eyes, she let his vow seep over her. David was gone. Her love for him was still there, but it had changed. There was a reverence in that part of her heart that David still held. But the burning passion, the love that was exploding now was not for David, but Kieran. She wanted a life, not an existence. She wanted Kieran, not cold, lonely nights spent in her bed wishing the dawn would arrive so she could see him once again.
David was gone. Each day that passed drew her closer to her own death. She no longer wanted to waste those days in mourning someone that could never return to her. She was not betraying David, or their marriage vows. She had been true and faithful in her love.
What did it matter that Kieran was younger than her? What did she care for the gossip that would be bandied about? There was a never-ending supply of gossip about her, regardless of whether she took up with a younger man or not.
Kieran was right, she was wasting away inside this cottage, clinging to a past because she was afraid of the future.
Tracing her fingers along the cords of Kieran’s forearm, she closed her eyes and let the words she had suppressed for so long filter through her mind. I could love you, as well, as no woman ever has.
He did not press her for her thoughts. Instead, he continued to brush his hands along her body, washing her. He palmed her breasts, stroking and circling her nipples with his fingertips until they hardened into little points.
“You spoke of desiring me while in the Crimea.”
“I did. I desire you more than any man has ever desired a woman.”
A rush of satisfaction flooded her blood and she wanted more. To learn his secrets, to hear of his desires. “In your dreams did you make love to me?”
“Yes. Many times, and in many different ways.”
“Did I…did I pleasure you as well, in your dreams?” She turned in the tub, kneeling before him. His hands caught her heavy breasts and he began kneading them.
“Yes.”
Her sex moistened, arousal hitting her once again as she looked at Kieran’s hard body. She wanted to explore that body, to take his pleasure in her hands, to wipe all memories and caresses of other women from his mind and body. “What did you think of me doing to you?”
“Things that would shock you.”
“Like what?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his belly and the ridges of muscles that quivered. Incredulously, she thought she saw a hint of pink tinge his cheeks.
“’Tis private, a man’s fantasies.”
“We are private,” she encouraged.
“Sinead—”
“I could love you so well, too, Kieran,” she finally admitted. “I want to love you, as you desire.”
“I desire only you, Sinead, in any way that you will allow.”
Rising from the tub, she reached for his hand. “I will allow anything, Kieran. Anything.”
Standing before the hearth, Sinead watched as Kieran gently dried her body with a towel he had left to warm by the fire. The fire he had built was roaring, crackling with heat. He had moved the worn settee to the end of the bed, opposite the hearth, and helped her to sit when she was dried.
She was naked, and he trailed his hand between her breasts, down her midriff and over the rise of her belly until he reached her sex, which he brushed with the heel of his palm.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. She did as he asked, and let her head rest against the back of the settee. There was a rustling of paper, which was followed by the warmth of his hand on her foot. Her eyes flew open and she watched as he pulled out the silk stockings she had admired so much that afternoon.
“Kieran!” she gasped, “you shouldn’t—”
“Yes, I should. You, of anyone, deserve them, Sinead.”
“They’re too expensive.”
“Do you like them?”
“I adore them!”
“Then the cost is no matter. Besides, I bought them because I wanted to put them on you. I wanted to see your legs in them while we made love. A fantasy, you see,” he said with a wicked grin as he looked up at her. The silk slid up her calf then thigh. Kieran brushed his mouth along her leg as he dressed her in the scandalously seductive French stockings.
>
“A fantasy?” she asked on a shaking breath.
“Aye, a vivid one. One of my favorites, in fact.”
When the stockings were on, he pulled her forward, so that her bottom was perched on the edge of the settee. His palms were running up her thigh, and his mouth was busy working up her leg, rising higher and higher to the inside of her thigh. With his tongue he traced the pink satin edging. The sight of his tongue on her skin made Sinead’s body ignite with heat. When he looked up at her, and placed her legs over his shoulders, she shuddered, growing languid with desire. She was completely exposed to his gaze. But she knew from the look in his eyes that he liked what he saw spread before him. And she liked how beautiful and feminine she felt wearing nothing but the stockings, and the body that Kieran seemed to appreciate so much.
“This is what I thought of, Sinead, all those lonely nights in the trench, in the dark,” he murmured as he lowered his head between her legs. “I dreamed of tasting your cunt, just like this.”
The first swipe of his tongue parted her folds. He held her open with his thumb and slowly swirled his tongue along her sex. It was too slow, but the pleasure was breath-stealing, the way he took his time tasting her, loving her. He was in no hurry to complete her, and Sinead did something she had never done before, she rested her head back against the settee and allowed herself just to feel, to care only for her pleasure. From her position, she could watch him loving her like this, and she did—the way his black hair, shining in the firelight, fell over his shoulder and onto her knee. The way his shoulders rolled and his muscles flinched as she stroked her fingertips over them.
She had never watched David make love to her body. It had been dark in their room. He had pleasured her, but not in this way, not this slow and unhurried, not as though he would never stop.
Restless, she writhed against him, but he would not be persuaded to increase his pace, despite the knot of tension that was coiling within her.
“Kieran,” she pleaded, but he reached for her fingers that were curled in his hair and brought them to her breasts.
Winter’s Desire Page 17