by Heather Snow
He set down his wine and plate, stretched his legs out in front of him and extended a hand. “Come here, Emma.”
When she only cocked her head and stared warily at him, he flexed his fingers in a come-hither motion and patted the ground beside him with his other hand. Though it would be risky to his control to have her so near, what he had to say was important for Emma to hear and he wanted her close, where he could look her in the eyes. And he wanted to be able to throw his arms around her if she tried to get away when it became uncomfortable for her. “King Arthur wouldn’t have let Guinevere sit upon pointy rocks, and neither shall I—not when I have a softer seat to offer.”
She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered. But she rose, walked the few steps that separated them, and placed her hand in his.
Something charged flowed between them, something…trusting, something significant. He started to pull her down beside him when Emma shifted course and sat directly on his lap, and fiery arousal burned out everything else.
Damnation. He hadn’t intended to have her that close. But now that she was, he couldn’t just toss her off. Nor did he wish to. He could control himself…This moment was for her.
He settled her sideways across his legs and interlaced his fingers loosely around the outside of her hip. He couldn’t resist tightening his grip, though, resting his open palms against her supple curve.
Emma tensed.
“Look at me.”
She turned her head and squarely met his gaze with her amber one. Brave girl.
“Now, as I was saying. You are beautiful, Emma. Uh-uh—” He squeezed her in his arms when she opened her mouth to protest. She stayed silent, though she pressed her lips so tightly together he knew it must be difficult for her to.
“I hadn’t expected that when I saw you again. I remembered an awkward little hoyden with eyes too big for her face,” and no figure to speak of, even as a girl of fifteen, but he wouldn’t say that. The fact that Emma was nodding her agreement told him she still saw herself that way. “Poor darling,” he murmured. “You have no idea how desirable you are, do you?”
Her eyes squinted her disbelief, but never left his. By God, he wasn’t letting her off of his lap until she was convinced. “When I first saw you again, Emma, you…” He struggled for the right word. “You captured me. You’ve grown into the kind of woman men fantasize about.”
Emma snorted.
“Oh, don’t doubt it.” He unlaced his fingers, bringing one hand to her face. “Your lips are full, yet delicately bowed.” He gently rubbed his thumb across them and they parted on a breathy intake. “They beg to be kissed.”
He cupped her face more fully, his thumb continuing its foray. “Your cheekbones are high and strong, your nose pert and adorable and your eyes…Your eyes, Emma, swim with a thousand different thoughts, secrets, memories.” He lost himself in their amber depths for a long moment before murmuring, “When a man looks into them he wants to dive in and explore. Stay a while.” Stay forever.
Emma’s breathing had gone shallow. His had too. “A man, Derick?” she whispered. “Or you?”
Oh God, me! he wanted to shout. He wanted to claim, to possess. But he couldn’t. He grabbed his mental leash and yanked tight.
“As delectable as your physical charms are, however,” he continued, ignoring her question, “they aren’t what make you truly beautiful.”
“I know,” she said. “My mind does.”
Derick huffed, unable to contain a half-grin at her confidence, at least in that realm. If only she believed the rest of herself worthy. “It does,” he agreed. “Your brilliance is incredibly alluring. But I was talking about your soul. You’re full of passion, Emma. Of compassion. You care about people—villagers, your brother, complete and total strangers.”
His hand had moved into her hair. He brushed a stray tendril away from her brow and tucked it behind her ear. His body vibrated with need. Sexual need, for certain, but even stronger was the need to get across to her how spectacular she was, so that she believed it. Really believed it.
“That’s what truly captured me. I see it every time I’m with you,” he said, his voice low and fervent. “People admire you, Emma. Rely on you. Appreciate you. Love you. Can’t you see that?”
“I do,” Emma whispered. And she did. Her heart fluttered against the cage of her chest as if it wanted to burst from its confinement and fly free. She didn’t ask him whether he was referring to “people” or himself this time. She didn’t have to—she could see the answer in his eyes, feel it in the way he tenderly brushed her hair back from her face and in the hard insistence of his arousal pressing against her hip.
“Do you?” he murmured. His eyes, which usually glittered so sharply green, had dulled to the shade of the deep moss surrounding them.
She moved her arms, sent them traveling up his chest so that her hands might caress his face as lovingly as he did hers. “I do,” she said again as she pulled his lips to hers.
“Emma,” he groaned, sounding almost as if he were in pain. She tensed. Had she misunderstood?
But then his arms crushed her to him and his lips opened over hers.
This was perfection. Her blood sang in her veins with the mathematical precision of a Bach concerto. Her body remembered vividly the peak that she was capable of, that Derick had shown her, and she raced for it.
Only she couldn’t breathe. It was as if every nerve was afire, sucking up more oxygen than she could take in to keep them burning. God, why were the sensations exponentially stronger than they were last time? Because she now knew what to expect? Or was it because her emotions were so raw from his tender words?
She didn’t know. She only knew that she wanted Derick to burn like she did.
She broke from the kiss. Derick’s chest heaved with harsh pants, and she smiled. He seemed to be having the same issue she was, and that knowledge filled her with a wicked satisfaction. Emma pulled herself up, using his shoulders to brace herself as she maneuvered her legs from across his lap to straddle him. She used one hand to yank at her skirts, pulling them high enough so that her legs weren’t trapped as she settled herself across him.
“Ah,” she groaned before she captured his lips with hers once again. Strangely, his hardness against her mons was as soothing as it was igniting—as if letting her body know that she would soon be getting everything she wanted allowed her to relax and slow down a little.
Derick’s hands grabbed her bottom, pressing her tightly against him with a groan of his own. She felt him shift, his body tensing. One arm left her body and then suddenly, they rolled.
Emma clung to him, gasping against Derick’s mouth. But she needn’t have worried. He cradled her back, settling her gently against the blanket before settling himself between her thighs, his muscled arms now planted on either side of her. She felt deliciously pinned and she reveled in it.
Then he planted his knees astride her hips and raised himself, pulling her to a semi-reclining position between his legs. “Must. Get. This. Off,” he muttered, tugging at her muslin dress.
Emma’s tummy fluttered. He’d claimed he found her beautiful, but would he still if he saw her completely unclothed? In the bright sunshine?
“Emma,” he growled, as if he sensed the reason for her hesitation. She swallowed and raised her arms, helping him pull the dress up over her head. His long fingers went straight for her stays, tugging at her laces until only her chemise stood between her complete nudity and his greedy gaze. Emma stared at him for a long heartbeat, then removed her chemise herself with shaking hands.
“My God, Emma,” he breathed, the catch in his voice sending a pleasurable thrill that cut through even her embarrassment. “You’re better than a fantasy.”
And for a brief moment, hearing the wonder in his voice, Emma believed him.
She relaxed back against the blanket. Derick didn’t move. Instead, it was as if he feasted on her with his eyes. Emma let her own eyes close so she
didn’t have to watch him watch her.
But he wouldn’t allow that. “Open your eyes, Emma,” he commanded.
She squeezed them tighter and shook her head.
Warm heat engulfed her nipple as Derick suckled her into his mouth. Emma gasped as his tongue swiped and pressed, circled and whorled. As he nibbled and sucked. She was panting with the pleasure of it when it abruptly ceased.
“Open your eyes or there will be no more of that,” came his arrogant voice.
She blinked, then narrowed her gaze on his sexily smirking face. “Wretched man,” she grumbled, bringing a quick, flashing grin that melted her.
But then the grin slid away, and a look of pure sensuality took its place. “I want you to see yourself as I see you, Emma. I want you to see what you do to me.”
She stared for a long moment into his jewel-like eyes, and then she nodded.
His gaze left her face, but she kept hers on his. She knew he was looking at her chest, and a tingling tightness grabbed her lungs. What was he was thinking?
“Your breasts are amazing,” he murmured. “High, firm.”
She let out a breath. “Disproportionate for my body type,” she muttered.
He frowned, just a quick flash before he palmed her in both hands. “Just right.” He plumped, squeezed, his fingers and thumbs working in tandem. “See how they fill my hands perfectly?” He worked his forefingers and thumbs over her nipples, rolling, testing. “See when I touch you like this, how your blood flows to your nipples, swelling them, turning them deep rose, pebbling them like luscious berries?”
She couldn’t stop herself from looking. Moisture pooled between her legs at the sight of his darker skin against the milky white of her breasts and the deep pink of her nipples as they were rolled between his fingers. Watching intensified the sensation a hundredfold.
“They make my mouth water to taste them,” came his scratchy voice just before his dark head dipped and he took her between his lips.
She couldn’t keep her eyes open, so strong was the sensation. But then a sharp pleasure/pain snapped her gaze to her chest. He’d nipped her! She met Derick’s glittering gaze, which he narrowed in warning even as his mouth soothed the sting. She was to keep watching, or else.
When she nodded her understanding, he dropped his eyes back to his sensual task.
Every suckle, every squeeze only made her breasts feel heavier, achier. Then, he sucked her in deep, his cheeks hollowing as his mouth worked. Pleasure burst in her center—not the peak she’d reached before, but something akin to a precursor. It must be, because she kept climbing higher.
After he’d treated her other breast to the same pleasure, his mouth left her. Emma couldn’t take her eyes away from her own chest, heaving, glistening with moisture from Derick’s tongue, nipples tight and swollen, a deep rose now.
But Derick had moved down her body. He straddled her knees now, his hands skimming her narrow waist before flaring over her too wide hips.
“Not a word,” he said, raising a brow as if he knew what she’d been thinking. “You have the hips of Venus,” he murmured, his palms running over the bones and skin almost reverently. “Perfect to grip as I—”
He clamped his mouth shut on whatever he’d been about to say, but Emma remembered his hands gripping her hips as he had before, grinding her down upon his hardness as she’d sat upon his lap and she knew what he’d been imagining. More pleasurable bursts shot through her.
She squeezed her legs together, seeking relief but only causing more tingles. She tried to open her thighs, but his knees blocked her. She raised her hips with a protesting moan.
His eyes flared. “God, Emma. Everything about you makes me burn to—” Derick moved up her body in a flash. He rubbed his clothed member in a long stroke against her as she got her legs fully opened. Molten heat shot through her body as the rough fabric of his trousers dragged against her over-sensitive skin. But as delightful as that was, she had no intention of being the only one without a stitch. She wanted him naked. Now.
She pulled at his shirt, tugging it from his waistband. “I want to see you. After all, turnabout is fair game,” she murmured.
Derick shuddered, his chest heaving. “Play, Emma. Turnabout is fair play. However…” He looked for a moment as if he would deny her. Emma’s stomach clenched. There was no way she would have that. She ran her palm over the hot skin of his stomach beneath his shirt, then boldly caressed his arousal through the fabric of his trousers, pressing her palm hard against him.
Derick’s eyes closed and he gasped, pressing himself against her as if caught in something he couldn’t control. Emma thrilled, knowing she did that to him. “Now, take your shirt off,” she ordered, heady with the sense of power she felt all of a sudden.
Together they got the shirt over his head. “Oh my,” Emma whispered as the expanse of his chest came into view.
Muscles rippled beneath his skin, not bunched or puffy but lean, sinewy. His skin was smooth, with only a smattering of black hair dusting the surface. A thin line of hair trailed down his stomach, a dark vee that disappeared beneath the fabric of his trousers, leading to…Emma felt a fresh warmth of moisture between her thighs. She needed to see more, see all.
She reached for the fall of his trousers, frantic now to get them off. Derick seemed equally frantic, their fingers fumbling over each other’s in their haste. Finally, the fabric was pushed down around his hips and Emma stilled as he sprang free, her eyes fixed on what she’d only been able to feel recently.
Derick kept moving, pushing the trousers down his thighs and pulling his legs and feet free, but Emma couldn’t drag her eyes from his thick manhood, which jutted proudly from between his thighs.
Her center ached, an empty sort of longing, even as trepidation set in. She wanted to look her fill, and yet she couldn’t wait to touch him without the barrier of cloth. She could look later.
She opened her hand on him and he stilled. Positioned above her as he was, it was easiest to run her palm along the underside of his arousal. She gave him a long stroke, pressing upward with her palm. “You’re like hot satin against my skin,” she marveled, squeezing him, testing him, amazed at the dichotomy of hard and soft that rested heavy against the inner skin of her wrist.
She looked up at Derick. His head was leaned back, a look that could be pain but could also be pleasure riding his face. His eyes were closed.
“Not fair play,” she said, squeezing his shaft in a quick, sharp grip much as he’d nipped her for the same crime.
His eyes flew open, and the hot look he gave her strangled the air in her chest. He’d liked that. She squeezed him again—
“Enough,” Derick growled, grabbing her wrist. He lifted her arm away, maneuvering it above her body while he laid her back against the blanket. Then he pinned her wrist above her head.
Emma had but a moment to feel any worry before his mouth crashed down upon hers. His tongue breached her lips boldly and she sucked him in with a keening moan. She automatically raised her other arm to rest next to its sister. The movement eased the heavy ache in her breasts a little, lifting them high.
Derick nudged her legs wide with his knees and the crisp hair of his thighs rubbed against her skin as he settled himself once again between her thighs, this time with nothing separating them.
Emma vaguely felt the pressure of his finger as it entered her, was barely aware when he added another. She was too awash in the feeling of having her naked body covered entirely by his—hot skin and coarse hair, hard muscles moving against her softer ones, her aching breasts smashed deliciously against his chest, his intimate heat insistent against her folds—
Derick flexed his hips and pressed into her. Not far, but enough to center every single one of her nerves on the spot. Her skin burned, stretched and yet somehow ached for more.
His other hand skimmed up her body, up her arm until his fingers entangled themselves in hers. He released her wrist with his opposite hand and did the same, still p
inning her but palm to palm now. Hands entwined intimately.
He broke their kiss, and pulled his face back from hers.
“Look at me now, Emma.”
She did. His eyes glittered with heat as he fought for breath, turned dark with satisfaction. He flexed his hips again.
But this time he didn’t stop. His jaw clenched tight as he filled her, stretched her. Emma couldn’t breathe at all, every bit of his intimate invasion overwhelming. An odd pressure stretched, then burst with a pinch and suddenly he slid all the way in, his pelvis bumping against her in a way that set off trembling little quakes of sensation.
She kept her eyes on his the entire time. Neither one of them seemed to be able to look away. Even when he began moving. He pulled himself from her, a tugging glide that both relieved and left her feeling empty. She moaned at the loss, pulling her knees up to try to keep him with her.
He surged forward again, hot, huge, filling her with force and purpose. He seemed to go even deeper than before now that her knees were raised higher. He stroked again. Again. Again. Steady, even thrusts that drove her mad. She sensed there was more, could be more. She craved more as the tightness within her grew. And still he kept his thrusts relentlessly controlled. Again. Again. Again.
All the while, she held his gaze. She longed to touch him, but she couldn’t with her hands pinned by his. So she squeezed him between her thighs as tightly as she could, spurring him forward with her heels to his buttocks.
A groan ripped from Derick’s throat and he slammed into her. He dropped his head, forehead to hers and bucked again.
“Yes!” she cried out as his rhythm devolved into irregular, jarring surges. And suddenly one of her hands was free as he sent his between them, bringing his thumb against her in circling rubs. She threw her arm around his neck, holding him tightly to her as he pounded into her—holding him to her heart, wishing they could be even closer. She closed her eyes, now able to focus only on the fire licking her body.
And then she flew, clenching and grabbing at him as if he were the only anchor that kept her lifeline tied to the earth. Her body hummed, her ears rang—she heard his harsh shouts of pleasure as if they were somewhere far below her, though in truth he was above her. She felt him shudder between her thighs, felt a hot gush of warmth within her even as she floated…floated…floated back down to where, in actuality, she lay beneath him. Surreal. Perfect.