Bliss River

by Thea Devine

  She could ... do without—

  Maybe .. .

  She hated this obverse position. There was no control, and he could do almost anything he wanted with her even with his hands tied togther.

  Damn him. She felt nearly breathless as his fingers pumped her and she felt her body liquefy. She seized up. She rocked her bottom hard and tight against his twisting intruding fingers, and she came, the creamy sensation spi-raling up from his fingers and spreading outward, not tight, not hard, but just radiating heat in a long coil of pleasure deep between her legs.

  She dropped her hips hard, making it impossible for him to maintain his erotic hold on her at that angle. He sniffed the air. It was full of her erotic scent, and his own, commingling like the lovers they were going to be.

  "Not only can't you do without it," he said, his voice laced with certainty, "you want it, you want everything, khanum, and if you can't admit it, your body gives you away. You are too naked, too wet, too willing all the time. And you know you have met your match in me. I am the only one who can give you all the fucking you need. Do you doubt it? You know I can service you like no one else. So, you will untie me, and you will spread your legs, and I will demonstrate just how hard and relentless a man's penis can be."

  It was a thrilling promise. He had amazing endurance, and stamina beyond belief. And incomparable length and heft and rigidity.

  Like no man she had ever known in the Valley.

  And now that he had penetrated her ...

  As long as she had kept him from doing that, she could have gone on just as they were. She could have kept eating him until they reached London. She would have let him feast on her breasts.

  But the reality of penetration aroused her every sup­pressed need to have him deep inside her. She couldn't imagine anyone else between her legs. He was every bit as hard and thick as man could be, and he filled her to the hilt, bracing his whole upper body on his arms so that they could both watch as he nudged her nether lips and slowly, inch by inch, pushed his penis into her.

  And then they lay hip to hip, his body rocking against hers as he fit himself tightly and inexorably into her.

  It was as if no man had ever stretched her this deeply, this intensively. No man had ever been thick enough to fill her so completely. Or long and strong enough to plumb her so fully.

  No man but him.

  Orgasmic thoughts that rendered him breathless.

  He got himself under control with just a little spillage.

  Nothing that counted. Nothing compared to what would come.

  Her hands grasped his arms, almost as if she wanted to keep him high above her and only feel him between her legs.

  Fine with him. At that angle, he could mount her even harder, even higher. Make her scream.

  He undulated his hips, testing her, teasing her, pushing incrementally tighter and harder. Then he contracted his belly and forcibly thrust himself into her and began his rhythmic ride.

  She met him: every thrust, every drive, every move. Her body was slick with her own wet and the heat of the cabin and the smell of their sex. She danced her own dance of in­vitation, pushing him harder, further, higher, the way only she knew.

  Her whole body shimmied and writhed, sinuous and uncontainable; the sensations were so overpowering, so inescapable. He wouldn't let her go. He came at her and came at her with the same pounding rhythm over and over, unyielding, implacable in the way he possessed her.

  She had never had a man like this. He was relentless, but he had said he would be, relentless and hard, and he was all of that and she couldn't get away from him . . . couldn't get away from his driving relentless penis ... didn't want to ... wanted to keep him going ... more and more and more. A piston, banging away at her, taking her, plunging her suddenly, unexpectedly into a long slow molten slide to spiraling culmination.

  And silence. Except for the creak of the boat, the low growling chug of the engine. The sound of voices far away. The heat, the scent. His expressionless face. Her shimmer­ing body. All these impressions she gathered to her as she lay there with him tensely, tightly wedged between her legs.

  "Finish," she whispered.

  "I am not done yet. Did I not say I would give you all the fucking you need? You're not nearly finished. Not while I'm still mounted on you. Not while you're still naked. So I'd guess you'll never leave this bed, kbanum. You love your nakedness too much."

  He could say that now, and watch her eyes widen and her lips part and her whole body shiver with anticipation. But what about later?

  What about—not thinking about later?

  "You love my nakedness too, cadi. Else why would you still be embedded between my legs?"

  "I love this—" He drove himself into her. "Every man loves this, and the wanton body that welcomes him. A man loves that and nothing more, khanum. And a hard hot fuck is all I am willing to give you, and what you most desire. So, when you need it, when you want it..."

  "And my nipples? Are they mine?"

  His eyes darkened. "I own your nipples."

  "By that measure, cadi, your penis is mine."

  "Take it, khanum. Ride it hard."

  "Oh, I will. You won't know where you end. And you're not there yet, cadi. I want it deeper, harder, harder..."

  He took her then, primed, and pointed, an iron bar be­tween her legs, driving her hard and high, at her core, her center, making her body shudder and shiver with each po­tent thrust.

  She couldn't believe she wanted more, but she did. Just him, just there. Just like that.

  Nothing slow, this time. This time it was explosive and intense, centering wholly and completely there, shooting off like a firecracker hot into the air, and then mushroom­ing out in sparks and spangles between her legs. On and on. One after the other, booming little orgasms from that one long shooting star.

  She rode it down, wallowing in every nuance of it, every shiver, every drop of heat filleting through her body.

  There had never been anything like this, ever. No one had ever told her there could be anything like this, anyone like him. And her worst nightmare was now a reality. She loved it too much already, and they were but a week away and a week closer to her destination and her destiny.

  Who had decided there would be fucking?

  Oh yes, he had. Making the decisions, taking her when she didn't want him to, making her need his fingers and now his penis, and now what was she going to do?

  There was nothing else to do but let him service her. Why not? He was better than anyone she'd ever had, maybe than anyone she would ever have, and it was the perfect way to pass the time.

  She'd think about what was to come later. That would he him. . , no, no wordplay. It was beneath her. No. She was beneath him. Oh damn , ..

  It wasn't even midday yet, and she was so suffused with the scent and need for sex, she couldn't think of anything else.

  And he hadn't taken his pleasure yet. He just rolled his hips against hers, watching her, waiting for her.

  She didn't think her body could stand another orgasm. She felt tender, well used, a little overwhelmed even. But there he was, still rock-hard and waiting for her.

  He waited. He rose above her like a god, on his haunches, still in possession of her. And waiting, his fath­omless eyes glittering with something unnamed.

  She comprehended what it was, suddenly. He knew too much about her. He knew everything, just from the way she fucked, from the way he made her convulse.

  She closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at him. After all this, all the taunting, teasing, and sex play, after all her experience and his knowledge of it, there was only one truth, and he was too aware of it now: that she knew the mechanics, the words, what to do and how to do it, but little more.

  She was unschooled in all things; she felt untethered, unfinished somehow, even immersed in this miasma of goading sex. It was all him, all his need, his want, his doing. She performed, nothing else. And she'd hardly been doing even that, judging by her e
xplosive response to him.

  Still he waited.

  How much he knew that she did not. For all her bravado, how unseasoned she was. Life in the Valley pro­vided no sustenance. Everything was tainted. Everything was wrong.

  He waited, pushing and nudging himself deeper, and deeper still. She never imagined this depth, this insatiable greed for any man's penis. Give and go, that was her as­signment in the Valley. Provide the willing body, the vessel, the relief, and the freedom from recriminations.

  He wanted all give and give and give. And no recrimina­tions.

  He still waited, pumping his hips.

  All the fucking you need... the most greedy lover of your nipples ...

  Her body contracted, the memory of his mouth pulling at her nipples coursing through every pore. She felt him keenly now, his heft, his heat, the hard invasiveness of him.

  Now there was another truth: her knowledge of what her body was capable of. And that he was the man to push her to the limit.

  She angled her legs against his buttocks and lifted her hips, drawing him into her still deeper.

  "I'm ready, cadi. Ride me hard."

  She wanted it now. She needed it in a way she had not the first two times. He saw it in her face, he felt it in her body, and he saw the knowledge of Eve lurking in her eyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He lay awake deep in the sultry night, with her cradled against his body, and let his mind roll with the move­ment of the ship.

  They were a week away from landfall. A week away from the culmination of this strange erotic journey. He didn't want to think about how it would end or what would happen to her afterward.

  In a sense, it was inevitable. He had brought her this far on the strength of his promise to take her to her father, and once that was done, that would be the end.

  It would be the end.

  They would take two or three days to get to London, and from there an hour to Aling. Then he would hand her over to the mysterious and aloof father who had had no compunction about abandoning his child to the mercies of the Valley.

  What kind of man could do that? What kind of man could he be? Full of vinegar and rectitude, no doubt. Not able to rein in his lascivious wife all those years ago, or to convince her to remain in England, for certain.

  So he let her go, and cut his losses. But his daughter?

  She had been so young. And he'd just left her there. To be given over to them, to be nurtured by them and their supreme arrogance.

  And here was the end result: this child of the Valley, schooled in sex, wicked as sin, innocent as a baby, trading her body for her desire to escape them.

  So how far had she come, after all? Thousands of miles on her back and willingly so. And he didn't see how that was going to change in her father's house. If her father would even welcome her there.

  Well, there were other things to consider before that was even a consideration. Like propriety and manners and dress.

  No. He wasn't going to dress her until the last minute. Keep her tight in this self-contained little world they had created until the end, until it no longer could exist. And then, and only then, because he must, corset and contain that voluptuous body.

  How would she feel about it, she who had been raised without constraints of any kind? Or did it come to a time when one yearned for boundaries and parameters?

  Anyone?

  Even him?

  He shoved the thought away. He wasn't without sin ei­ther. But a man could atone in a woman's bed and be lauded for it, whereas a wanton only brought a man down.

  But that was yet a week away, not to be thought about now. The end would be swift and sharp, like the swipe of a knife. Cut her loose and into the hands of the father who had denied her for so long. Let him take responsibility for teaching her the ways of properly raised women, and fit­ting her into his life.

  She fit too well against him right now, as she stirred restlessly against him, all soft, naked, hot. He came in­stantly to attention, and all thoughts of what might happen a week hence shot out of his mind as she sleepily rubbed her cleft against his thigh.

  That rough graze of her pubic hair against his taut thigh muscle. The innocent undulation of her hips. That low sensual sigh as she settled more comfortably beside him.

  Those amorous little movements aroused him deeply. But these intimacies meant nothing to her. For her, it was all part of the theater of sex, part of the scene that she played out with any man in her mind.

  He had a sudden vision of Georgiana at Aling, encircled by an army of virile young men, graciously agreeing to ser­vice them all. A feast of fornication for her carnal side­show.

  They had taught her well.

  Who would tell her these things just weren't done? Who would ever refuse her? Not even he, and he would have wagered he was the strongest-willed of any man she would ever know.

  He too had been felled by Eve, and the taste of the apple was so sweet.

  Well, reality would set in too soon in any event, and he could prevent none of it. Whatever her fate at Aling, it was not his concern. And he would have no second thoughts about taking everything she offered in the meantime.

  His body was so hot all the time. He was such a curious combination of hard and soft and need and heat. She was in a constant state of arousal just being near him. And in this wicked little world, she was never more than three feet away from him at any given time in those close quarters, and barely an inch away from him now,

  Her petal breast lay tight against his chest, the nipple tight and hard like the center of a flower, demanding to be fed upon. Beneath her, between her legs, the rock-hard ledge of his thigh, perfect to rest upon. Before her, in the dim light of dawn, the long thick shadow of his jutting penis, delicious to feast her eyes upon.

  Her arousal was instant and complete. She wanted nothing more than to embed him between her legs. But not too soon. Too soon, he reaped the rewards of her accom­modation. Too soon and it would be over almost before she could savor it.

  And she must savor it because everything else would be over too soon.

  His fingers brushed her enticing nipple and a thin thread of ecstasy rippled through her. It was like gold, hot, glow­ing, swirling, skirling pleasure, indefinable, delicious, dif­ferent every time.

  Amazing when she thought about it.

  She hated to think. She wanted to feel, and what he was doing to her nipple sent corkscrews of molten feeling skein­ing down between her legs.

  Nothing explosive. Just soft twisting sensations that made her want to climb all over him and sink onto him and keep him there, deep in the dark unfathomable part of her, forever.

  And of course, if she were on her knees and straddling him, he could pleasure both nipples, and she could enjoy his penis just nudging and rubbing her, begging for its place.

  She eased up on her elbow, and onto his thighs, taking his penis in her hand and positioning it against her midriff so that its thick length grazed the underside of her petal breast. And then she leaned forward and rubbed the back of his penis head against the nipple, back and forth tightly the way he liked it, so he could feel the hard point against the softness of her bulbous areola. So he could pour his creamy essence all over the flower of her breast.

  Watching as she rubbed it and stroked it into her skin.

  She would wear him forever. Every drop she squeezed from him, she caressed into her skin, her breasts, her body.

  And then she held him, massaging him lightly with both hands, pulling at him gently higher, harder, inciting him to lust for her still more.

  When his body was a frenzy of nerve endings waiting to explode, she lifted herself onto her knees and bent forward to offer him her breasts.

  He wanted so much more. He was bursting with it, ach­ing with it. He didn't want her nipples. He wanted full in­stant penetration, as deep and hot as he could go.

  She canted her lower torso away from him, so that his penis head could only push between her legs. Not t
hat fast. Not too soon. She wasn't denying him, exactly. She was prolonging him. Giving him her much desired nipples to suck and play with. Easing his penis to the heated slit of her cleft to just push its way in.

  But only just so far. An inch, perhaps, so she could en­velop him in her heat and wet. That was enough until he sucked her nipples. She had a craving to have him suck long and hard just on those hot hard tips before she let him penetrate her fully.

  He kept pushing, and she kept retreating, keeping an inch inside her and tempting him with her breasts.

  "Khartum . .."

  "Utnmm?" It was very hard to balance her body to keep his penis at bay. And his hands. He stroked her everywhere he could reach, everywhere she wanted to feel him touch her. He knew somehow; he knew well. But she needed him to suck her nipples.

  "Let me in."

  "Soon." She undulated her hips away from the persis­tent pressure of his penis.

  "What do I have to do to fuck you?"

  "Suck my nipples, cadi, and I will let you in a little far­ther." Immediately she felt the hot lick of his tongue against one nipple, and a thick hot lick of desire curlicue downward. "Yes ..." She let him push farther into her heat. "Yes ..." as he sucked avidly at her breast.

  Not too fast. Not too soon.

  She held him like that, two inches enfolded in her labia, her hips shimmying, her body a glaze of pleasure, as he nuzzled and tugged at her nipple.

  "Now,.."

  "The other nipple ..."

  "Torture, khanum..."

  "Only for me," she whispered as his mouth closed over the other breast and her body jolted from the pure naked feel of it. She pushed farther forward, to give all of her breast, and still to hold that two bold hot inches of his penis inside her.

  She could feel him throbbing, feel him fighting to main­tain some control. He filled her and yet she was empty. He was thick and hard there, just between her legs, com­manding, as he tried again and again to penetrate her far­ther.

  She knew his tricks. His greedy sucking sent streams of heat and pleasure slithering through her body that soon would spill all over his brazen penis head and drown him. She wanted to engulf him, immerse him in her sex. She wanted to tease him and taunt him and push him to the edge of his endurance.