by Diana Fraser
“Christ, Rebecca, are you sure?”
She swallowed, trying to rouse herself from the desire that pounded through her blood. She nodded. “Sure, I’m sure.” She brushed her lips against his but he didn’t respond. She pulled back, suddenly alarmed. “Are you?”
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again she could see the dark-filled lust which gave her her answer. He pulled her head to his and kissed her with an urgency which told her all she needed to know.
His mouth explored hers with a sensitivity that surprised her. The strength was there in his hands around her head, and he wasn’t using it to force her into anything, simply to hold her while his tongue explored her mouth and tongue with a restraint that she didn’t share. His every touch, every sweep of his tongue against hers ratcheted up the tension, making her more and more impatient. Her hands trembled with need as they moved over his body.
She moaned as his hands once again swept under her dress and around her back, skimming the elastic of her panties. She pulled away from him, panting. “Come on.” She clambered off him and tried to tug him to standing. But she realized she wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.
But he rose anyway and lifted her into his arms. Her legs curled around his hips as their mouths met again. This time she could feel his restraint beginning to crack as he moved more urgently against her, gripping her hips firmly to his. It was driving her crazy. She pulled away. “The bedroom,” she managed to whisper croakily, hardly recognizing her husky sex-filled voice.
He didn’t need telling twice and he carried her along the hallway. She kicked the door open with her foot and he walked through and they fell onto her feather-soft duvet. His hands moved quickly and by the time he stood up, her dress had ridden high and her panties were on the floor. She knelt on the edge of the bed and fumbled with his zip.
With the zip undone, she pushed down his boxers until he stood with only his shirt on, unbuttoned, framing his huge erection. She rolled back on her heels and swallowed, her whole body trembling. She’d only been to bed with a few men, mainly to see what the fuss was about, looking upon it as a scientific experiment more than anything else. Never before had she felt so filled with lust as now. And never before had she seen a man the size of Morgan.
But she wasn’t frightened, even given her small size she was totally turned on. She rocked forward and put both her hands around it, sweeping them up, exploring its length and texture. She looked up into his face. His eyes were half-closed, hooded, and he’d sucked his breath in sharply at her touch. Now he watched her as she rose, still kneeling on the bed. She flicked his cock lightly against where she was desperate for his touch.
“Christ!” he muttered under his breath.
She pressed him against her again and moved her clitoris against the tip of his hard cock. It was her turn to gasp. They kissed and his hands swept under her bottom and drew her legs around his hips. She was desperate now and angled herself so she was over him. His hands gripped her bottom tightly and held her there, not pushing himself on to her, letting her make all the moves. And she did.
She fell back in his arms as she slid onto the head of his cock. She was so wet there was no friction as he entered her, only a delicious sense of rightness.
She moved off him slightly and then back on him, little by little easing herself onto him. She didn’t know if he’d fit. He must have sensed her fears and kissed her long and hard and she slid slowly further and further on to him.
Then he pressed her down and in one swift movement filled her entirely. She clung onto him as he thrust repeatedly into her, only aware of the sensations that filled her. She’d never known anything like this before, nothing came close to the feeling of being totally filled by him, of surrendering her control to him. She trusted him implicitly and she gave herself to him fully.
She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she felt the coiling sensations come together and she cried out loud against his neck as he pumped deep inside her and she knew he was giving her everything—everything she wanted, everything she needed.
For a brief moment he relaxed on top of her and she had difficulty breathing but her gasp must have brought him around.
“Christ, I’m sorry.” He lifted himself off her and withdrew from inside her. Already, Rebecca wanted him back inside. She put her hand where he’d been, where his seed flowed out of her. She had no regrets.
She felt like a different woman. Not Rebecca the scientist, but a sensual woman who played with his seed sliding it along her skin, rubbing it into her belly, all the time watching him, watching her.
“Sorry? I’m not,” she said, not even recognizing the tone of her voice. “I’ve never felt like that before.” Her fingertip lightly touched her clitoris and she gasped. He looked down and moved her hand, touching her there, himself.
She flung herself back on the bed and closed her eyes as first his fingers played with her and then… after a brief moment the warmth of his tongue stimulated her instead, having her grasping at the duvet cover, as she panted and jerked, blatantly pressing her hips to his face, as he pushed inside her with his finger and she cried out again.
He continued to play with her, drawing his fingers in and out of her, kissing her sex, her clitoris, dragging his nails around her inner thigh. “Rebecca,” he murmured against her skin. “You are so beautiful.” He kissed her sex, her stomach and pushed himself up, taking first one nipple and then the other into his mouth and suckling her until her body was needy once more.
By the time he reached her mouth, she was on him, wrapping herself around him, angling her body to receive his once more. And he was hard and ready, bringing himself into her with one swift thrust. She didn’t need to go slowly this time. Somehow her body remembered him and accommodated him. He raised himself off her and watched her as he slowly moved out and then into her. There was no urgency now, only extreme, controlled pleasure. He brushed her hair back off her face with his hand without missing a beat of his slow, devastating rhythm.
She tried to stop herself from moaning quite so loudly, even fixing her mouth onto his muscled bicep, sucking it, trying to muffle the moans and whimpers that continued to emerge. But she couldn’t hold it in when she came. And it was his name which emerged from her shattered, insatiable body.
Rebecca awoke in his arms and didn’t move for a few minutes as she let what had happened sink into her. She was cradled in his strong arms, her head resting on his biceps, their legs tangled. The apex of her legs was damp and sticky and inside she throbbed and ached. But it was the fear that overtook her more, that eclipsed all else. Because the woman she’d become when she’d made love had disappeared and she was Rebecca the scientist once more. And she’d just had sex with a man who was almost a stranger. What kind of woman was she?
And unprotected sex at that. And she’d wanted it that way. She’d remembered Morgan’s remonstrances but she’d insisted. Had wanted to feel him against her, had wanted to feel him shoot his seed inside her, the same seed she’d wiped up over her clitoris and onto her skin. He’d watched her while she did it, his eyes narrowing until he’d come upon her, thrusting into her with all the urgency of the first time.
She was sex mad. What had her adoptive father always said? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She wriggled out from under Morgan’s sleeping arms. He merely rolled onto his back and fell back into a deep sleep once more. She pulled up her knees to her chin and looked down at him. She wanted to cry.
She’d entered into her brief previous sexual relationships with the control of an experiment and had convinced herself that she was nothing like her birth father. Yes, it’d felt satisfactory, but she’d always had control. But this? This was sexual madness!
Hot tears pressed behind her lids and she rose and pulled on her dressing gown, quietly walking to the bathroom to shower. She didn’t know how long she stood there, under the stream of hot water. She didn’t soap herself, d
idn’t move. Just cried. Cried for the scientist she’d thought she was, who had proved illusory, cried for the woman who’d been revealed. Not like her adoptive parents, not like her birth mother, but a woman with the uncontrollable sexuality of her birth father—a man who’d raped and planted his seed in her birth mother.
She rested her forehead against the steamy shower, rocking it as she shook her head in denial. Just because she enjoyed sex it didn’t make her bad—not bad like her birth father—did it? No, it didn’t. She knew it didn’t. But why did the tears continue to flow? Why did she feel as though Morgan had unleashed a monster, a monster that scared the hell out of her?
CHAPTER FOUR
Morgan turned his back on the people milling around Glencoe, whistled for Annie and cantered off toward the high country. Snow was forecast and the stragglers needed to be brought in. As Callum had given him manager’s responsibility while he tried to recruit someone, Morgan could have delegated the responsibility. But not today. Today he needed the open air, to work with the sheep and time to think.
It’d had been two weeks since that night with Rebecca. Two weeks, fourteen days or who knew how many hours? Rebecca would, of course. She had the mind of a computer and had been terrified when it had lapsed and the needs of her body had taken over and she’d found herself in bed with him.
He’d been over and over it. He’d not forced himself on her. She’d made it plain she’d wanted him. What else could he have done? Refused her? That would be contrary to the instincts of any red-blooded man. No, he’d just been himself and that obviously wasn’t what she’d wanted. Maybe at the time. But not after. Not when she’d had time to think it through.
Seems she’d come to realize what he already knew—he didn’t deserve someone like her. He was her inferior in every way. Pity she hadn’t realized that before they’d had sex.
Before then he’d been able to enjoy seeing her, appreciate her beauty and her appealing character—so different from the other women who’d come his way. But now it had gone further than that and he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He was obsessed with her, he craved her like a drug. He relived every moment he’d spent with her over and over again. No matter how he tried to contain it, his need for her only increased.
Even now, as he briefly closed his eyes, the image of her head thrust back as she orgasmed on top of him, filled his mind. But the worst image, the one that taunted him and haunted him was of her telling him to leave. No explanation. No politeness, no… anything. Just a clear instruction as if he’d done what he’d come to do and now it was time for him to clear out. She’d got what she wanted and he could be sent packing, like the hired hand he was.
And he’d left, just as she wanted. Quietly. And he wouldn’t bother her again. That’s why he was heading for the hills while Callum and Gemma’s family and friends—including Rebecca—arrived at Glencoe after christening baby Violet at church. He could hear them arriving now, the stream of cars winding up the road to Glencoe from Lake Tekapo.
Callum had invited him to attend but Morgan knew his place and had declined. Despite his parents, Callum was a good man—one Morgan liked and respected. But there was no way he’d attend Callum’s kid’s christening. It wasn’t his world. And he didn’t want to risk running into Rebecca only to be rebuffed once more. So he’d made his excuses and he’d been off at sunrise and wouldn’t be back until the last of them had left.
He glanced back at Glencoe, people issuing forth from the cars, milling around the grand old house in the cold sunshine. Inside he knew the fires would be roaring and the champagne flowing. But not for him.
He urged his horse forward. He’d done what he’d come to do, seen the place his mother had talked about incessantly as he’d grown up. Now it was time to leave. He’d give it another six months and then, by the beginning of summer, he’d be out of here. Back to wandering, back to staying only a season at a time in a place before moving on. No roots: that’s the way he liked it. He should never have come here in the first place.
“Gemma,” called Rebecca. “I’d like you to meet Martin.”
Gemma tore herself away from Callum, Dallas Mackenzie—the eldest brother— and his wife, Cassandra, who was holding their younger daughter, Daniella, and extended her hand to Martin. “Martin! Good to meet you at last.” She cast a quick cheeky look at Rebecca. “Rebecca has told me so much about you.”
Martin turned away from looking at Callum and raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Rebecca shot Gemma a narrowed glance. “I was telling Gemma about the GAMA survey we’re working on.”
“And you were interested?” he asked Gemma.
Gemma looked uncomfortable and shrugged noncommittally.
Martin grinned. “Thought not. But you might find my other project more interesting. I’m working with a historian on the history of the observatory. One of the astronomers has to be involved and my first degree was in history.”
“Have you talked to Callum? He’d be interested. The land the observatory’s on was originally Glencoe land, I believe.”
“I’d love to talk to him.” He looked across at Callum and his gaze lingered there. “He’s very tall, isn’t he?”
Gemma and Rebecca exchanged puzzled glances.
“Oh well, sure. I’ll introduce you.” Gemma shrugged at Rebecca behind Martin’s back and followed him over to Callum.
Rebecca wandered over to the French windows outside which children played in the winter sunshine and looked out to the snow-capped mountains. She’d thought she might have seen Morgan here. It had only been when Callum had mentioned that Morgan wasn’t coming, that he was going out to fetch some stray merino, that Rebecca had decided to bring her friend, Martin. She had to get herself back on track. After all, Martin fit all her criteria. She couldn’t risk being with Morgan again. Her evening with him had been a disastrous mistake. It’d had shown her what her true nature was like and it had scared the hell out of her.
She glanced at Martin who was now talking animatedly to Callum who appeared to be totally ignoring him. He only had eyes for Violet, his baby girl who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. Martin was handsome. She knew that intellectually. Then why didn’t the same strange sensations overtake her body as they did when she was with Morgan?
She folded her arms defensively and took a quick sip of orange juice. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol since that night with Morgan. Not that she could blame a few glasses of wine on what happened. If only she could.
No, it was just as well Martin didn’t produce the same sensations in her. She didn’t want to lose control again. It made her believe that genetically she was more like her depraved birth father than she’d ever allowed herself to consider. And the thought sickened her. She’d rather have a celibate marriage than descend to the level of an animal where she was driven purely by instinct. Who knew where that would take her? But she did know. That complete abandon when he… she closed her eyes and turned her back to the party as the memory of how Morgan had held her in his arms overtook her, sending shivers of melting heat through her body. Her thumb absently rose from her crossed forearm and flicked over her blouse and her already hardened nipple.
A hot blush rose within her and she pulled her sensible cardigan tighter around her and cast a furtive glance around. No one had seen. Of course they hadn’t. What was there to see? It was all in her head.
Martin was now standing on his own, but he wasn’t looking across at her. He was looking at Callum’s younger brother James, who’d just entered the room. James caught her eye and came over.
“Rebecca!” He kissed her suavely on both cheeks. “You’re looking flushed. Surely not hot on this freezing day?”
“Well,” said Rebecca, blushing furiously. Trust James to notice. “It is quite warm in here.”
He shrugged. “Whatever, you look beautiful as always.”
“James!” Liz, the Café owner where Gemma used to work, came over and greeted him. “I want you to meet Pete. He’s
the owner of Whisper Creek Winery I was telling you about earlier.”
“It’s for sale?”
“Yeah, I’m selling up and moving down here.” said Pete. “It’s a boutique winery. Small-scale but good wines. You interested in investing?”
“Not at the moment. Got a lot on in the States.”
“Sure.” Pete plucked a DVD case from his jacket. “Maybe you’d like to take this and check it out in case you change your mind? It’s our promotional video we made last year. It’ll give you the rundown on the property.”
“Thanks.” James took it from Pete but Rebecca could see he wasn’t interested.
“Here’s my card. Get in touch if you changed you mind.”
James tucked the card in his pocket. “Sure and”—he tapped the DVD against the palm of his hand—“thanks for this.”
James and Rebecca were left alone. “You’re into wine making then?” she asked politely.
“Yes, I own a winery in Napa Valley as well as other holdings in Australia.” He dropped the DVD onto a bookcase.
“You’re not going to watch that are you?”
He glanced at it. “Not this visit anyway. I’ll be back in the summer. Might check it out then.” He grinned and she felt the full force of his charm once more. “It’s always good to keep your eyes open.” He inclined his head to hers. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
She pulled away with a narrowed glance. “I doubt you miss much.” Funny, James had most of the qualities she wanted—though he obviously wasn’t ready to make any commitments—but there wasn’t a real spark of attraction there, either.
“True.” He glanced over at Martin. “Including your friend over there. You do know he’s—”
“James!” Cassandra, Dallas’s wife and James’s brother-in-law, greeted James. “How are you?”
Cassandra always made Rebecca feel a little uncomfortable. She was so beautiful, so talented and so sophisticated that Rebecca murmured her excuses and slipped away.