by Diana Palmer
"You aren't…going to stop…this time; are you?" she whimpered as his mouth grew even bolder.
"That depends on you," he said in a strange, thick tone. "I'd never force you."
"I know." Her mind tumbled while she tried to decide what to do. Part of her knew it was a mistake. But it had been so many years, and she'd done little else but dream of him, of lying in his arms and loving him.
His hand slid to the fastening of her jeans and he lifted himself so that he could see her eyes. "If I start this, I'll have to finish it," he said gently. "I'll go all the way. You have to decide."
Her fingers lingered on his. "I don't know," she moaned. "Blake, I'm afraid. It's going to hurt…"
"Only a little," he whispered solemnly. "I'll be as slow and tender as I can. I'll do anything you want me lo do to make it easier for you." He bent to her mouth, touching it lightly with his. "Meredith, don't you want to know all the secrets?" he asked huskily. "Don't you want to see how much pleasure we can give each other? My God, just kissing you makes my blood run like fire. Having you…" he groaned as he kissed her, "Having you… would be unbearably sweet."
"For me, too." Her arms tightened around his neck, and she buried her face in his hair-roughened chest, savoring the smell and feel of him in her arms.
His hands smoothed down her hips and his weight settled over her, gently, so that he wouldn't frighten her. His mouth trembled as it found hers, and he kissed her with exquisite warmth and tenderness.
"This is how much I want you," he whispered as he moved sensuously against her.
She felt his need and an answering hunger made her tremble. "Blake…what about… precautions?" she choked out. "I don't know how,"
His lips lifted just above hers. "I'm going to marry you," he told her roughly. "But if precautions are important to you, I can use something."
Heat shot through her. She felt her nails digging into his hack, heard her own wild cry as she lifted to him. His face hardened and she saw his eyes darken as his mouth came slowly back down to cover hers.
"We should…" she whimpered.
"Yes," he whispered. But his mouth grew demanding, and his last sane thought was that creating babies with Meredith was as natural as wading in country streams and walking in The park- He closed his eyes, shaking with the need to join his aching body to hers and give her the same sweet pleasure he felt when he touched her.
Eight
Meredith trembled, half blind with pleasure as Blake's mouth became more demanding. It was almost enough just to kiss him, to feel the exquisite weight of his body on hers as his hand worked at the fastenings of her clothes.
"The light," she whispered huskily.
He touched her mouth tenderly. "I know," he said deeply, reaching for it. "You might not believe it, little one, but I've got more hang-ups than you have."
The room was in darkness then, except for the faint moonlight seeping in through the white curtains. His hands smoothed down her breasts, savoring their warm fullness. She gasped and he searched for her mouth in the darkness.
"Meredith," he whispered huskily.
"What?" she breathed.
"One of us needs to do something if you don't want me to make you pregnant. You haven't really answered me,"
She felt the heat in her cheeks. He was right, it was something they had to consider. She swallowed. "I'm not on the pill," she confessed.
"Do you want me to take care of it?"
Her fingers touched his face, involuntarily running down the scar, while visions of his son in her arms made her tremble with hunger. "I… I don't mind, either way." she said unsteadily.
"God!" He buried his face in her throat and shuddered. It was so profound to hear her say that. It would be all of heaven to see her grow big with his child, to share the sweetness of raising it.
"Blake?" she whispered, uncertain.
"I don't mind, either," he said roughly. "Come here."
He pulled her closer still and she melted against him with blinding hope as he began to tease her breasts with his hands. He trailed his fingers around the outer edges, feeling the tension in her body, the heal of her skin as he drew his caresses out, making her wait, building the need, until she caught his wrists and tried to make him touch her.
And he did, finally, so that it was like a tiny fulfillment, and she shuddered and arched into his warm, lean hands. He liked her reactions, delighted in her responses. She had to care about him, he thought dizzily as his hands smoothed away her clothing, to let him do these things to her and to feel such pleasure when he did.
He was slow. Deliberately slow. More patient than he'd ever dreamed of being. He loved the soft sounds that came whispering out of her throat, the way her hands were clinging to him. He loved the very texture of her skin, the sound of her quick breathing like a rustle in the darkness as he touched her more intimately.
He should be out of his mind with the need to have her, he thought in the back of his mind. But stronger than passion was the need for her to feel the same exquisite sensations that were rippling through his powerful body and making him tremble with each new touch, each soft kiss. He wanted much, much more than quick fulfillment. He wanted to touch all that was Meredith, to join his body to hers and feel the oneness that he'd read was possible between two people who cared for each other.
His lips smoothed over hers, barely touching, while his hands found her where she was untouched and gently, tenderly probed. She gasped under his mouth. Thank God for books, he thought while he could. He hadn't known anything about virgins until he'd done some reading the other night.
"It's all right," he whispered tenderly. "I'm going to be very gentle, Meredith. I just want to make sure that what we do won't be any more painful than it has to be."
"I don't mind," she told him softly, clinging. "Blake… I'd give you anything …I"
"Yes." His mouth whispered against hers. "I'd give you anything, too, Meredith. I'd do anything to please you, even forgo my own pleasure."
That didn't sound like lust. Neither did the exquisitely slow movements of his hands, the gentle crush of his body. He was hungry, she could feel his need, but he wouldn't take his pleasure at her expense. That consideration, incredible given the length of abstinence for him, made her want to cry. He had to care a little to be so…!
Her mind went crazy as his hand moved and she felt a stab of pleasure so sweet that it lifted her and she cried out.
She clung to him, telling him without words that it was pleasure, not pain, she was feeling. He warmed, remembering his own earlier withdrawal when she moaned or gasped, because he'd never known how a woman responded when giving herself to pleasure.
He opened his mouth on hers and let his tongue gently stab inside her lips, aching at the implied intimacy, delighting in the way her soft, slender body turned in his hands when he did that. She was loving this, he thought dizzily. Loving every second of it, reveling in his mouth, his touch. He could feel her pleasure even as his built and built until he couldn't contain it any longer.
She was trembling now, and tiny whispers of excitement were moaning past her lips as she lay waiting for him, her body twisting sensually with mindless abandon.
He was heady with pride at his own latent abilities. He hadn't dreamed that with his inexperience he could bring her to this frenzy.
He stripped with quick, deft movements and slid onto the coverlet beside her, his hands moving on her body, holding her while he kissed her with whispery tenderness.
"Pl… ease." She managed the one word, and her voice broke on it.
"I want you, too, little one," he breathed against her mouth. "I want you so much."
He balanced his weight on his forearms and slid over her, trembling at the soft warmth of her legs tangling with his. She moved, helping him, and he let his hips ease down.
She felt the first hesitant probing and shuddered, but she didn't tense. She forced her body to relax, not to fight him.
He could feel that, and his
mouth smoothed over her lips in silent reassurance.
His hands went to her face, holding it while he kissed her, and he felt her soft cry go into his mouth as he pushed gently against the veil of her womanhood.
And it was easy then. He felt the faint tension go out of her body, felt her sigh feather against his lips.
"I won't ever have to hurt you again," he murmured unsteadily. "I'm sorry it has to be this way for a virgin."
"But it wasn't bad," she whispered back. Her fingers slid into his cool, thick hair. "Oh, Blake…" she whimpered. She kissed him softly. "Blake, it's… incredible!"
"Yes." He touched her eyes, closing them; he touched her nose, cheeks and forehead with lips that were breathlessly tender. And all the while his body moved with equal tenderness, drowning her in the exquisite sensation of oneness. She pulled his mouth to hers as his movements began to lengthen and deepen with shuddering pleasure, her breath filling him, her tiny cries making him feverish with contained passion.
His hands slid under her, savoring the warm, soft skin of her back and hips, holding her to him.
"Meredith—" His voice broke on her name. His eyes closed. He felt the tension growing in his powerful body with each torturously slow movement, felt the control he had beginning to slip. But her control was going, too. She was trembling, clinging, her mouth ardent and hungry. He lifted her up and overwhelmed her with desperate tenderness, and when the spasms came, they were white hot, blinding, but with a gentleness that he couldn't have imagined.
She bit him in her passion, but he was riding waves of completion and he hardly felt her teeth. His hands contracted. He cried her name against her damp throat and the tide washed over him in pulsating shudders.
He heard her crying an eternity later and he managed to lift his head and search her face. "Meredith?" he whispered huskily. "Oh, God, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No!" She buried her face against his chest, kissing him there, kissing his throat, his face, everywhere she could reach, with lips that worshipped him. "Blake!" she moaned, her arms contracting around his neck. "Blake…!" She shuddered again and again, and when he realized why, he put his mouth gently against hers and began to move.
The second time was every bit as sweet, but slower, more achingly drawn out. He hadn't dreamed a man could hold out as long as he was managing to. But he adored her with his mouth, his hands, and finally, when she was crying with the tension he'd aroused, he adored her with the slow, worshipping motion of his body in one long, sweet pinnacle of fulfillment.
She couldn't seem to stop crying. She lay in his arms with her wet face pillowed on his chest where the thick hair was damp with sweat. She couldn't let go of him, either, and he seemed to understand that, because he held her even closer and gently brushed her hair away from her face while he kissed her tenderly and soothed her.
"I thought…passion was uncontrollable and…and quick… and men couldn't… men were rough," she told him.
"How could I be rough with you?" His mouth touched hers, brushing softly over her trembling lips. "Or make something that beautiful into raw sex?"
Her breath sighed out, making little chills against his damp skin. "I'm so glad I waited for you," she said simply, shaken by the experience. "I'm so glad I didn't give in to some man I didn't even like out of curiosity or because everybody else was doing it." She nuzzled her face against him. "You are so wonderful."
He drew her mouth up to his and kissed her possessively "So are you," he whispered. "I didn't know what lovemaking was until tonight. I didn't know that there could be such pleasure in it," he murmured against her mouth.
"I thought men felt the pleasure with anyone," she replied.
"Apparently it's an individual thing," he said quietly "Because I never felt anything approaching this before." He heard the words without realizing their importance, until it suddenly came to him that he'd hardly felt anything with Nina. But Meredith's soft young body had sent him spinning into oblivion and he'd done things with her and to her that had come naturally. Perhaps it was instinct. But what if it was something stronger?
He'd called it lovemaking, and it had been. Not sex, or the satisfaction of a need. And he couldn't imagine doing that with anyone except Meredith. Not that way. Not with such staggering tenderness. He hadn't even known he was capable of it.
"I wasn't sure I could wait for you," he confessed, nuzzling her face. "Was it enough?"
Her body burned with the memory, and she kissed his throat with breathless tenderness. "Yes. And… was it for you?" she asked, worried.
"Yes." Only the one word, but there was a wealth of unspoken pleasure in it.
She was beginning to feel self-conscious, and he seemed distant all of a sudden, as if he were withdrawing. Had he satisfied his hunger for her and now he was looking for a way out of what could become an embarrassing situation? Did he regret what they'd done? He had old-fashioned ideas about sex, after all. In fact, so did she, but they hadn't helped once he'd started kissing her. Her love for him had betrayed her into his bed.
"Blake, you don't… I mean, you don't think I'm easy… ?" she asked suddenly.
"My God!" he exclaimed. He reached over and turned on the light, blinding her with stark illumination and embarrassment.
She fumbled for the cover, scarlet faced, but he stayed her hand.
"No," he said quietly, his eyes as solemn as his face. "Look at me, Meredith. Let me look at you."
Her eyes darted over him and she looked away quickly as the heat grew in her face, but he turned her eyes back gently.
"I'm not a monster," he said softly. "I'm just a man. Flesh and blood, like you. There's nothing to be frightened of."
She managed not to look away this time, and after the first shock, she found him beautiful, in a very masculine sense. He was looking, too, his eyes reconciling sweet memories of her five years ago with the reality of today.
"You've blossomed," he said after a minute, and there was no masculine mockery or teasing in his tone. It was deep and soft as he searched over her swollen breasts, her flat stomach, the curve of her hips, the elegant sweep of her long legs. "You're much more pleasing to my eyes than the Venus, Meredith," he said huskily. "The sight of you knocks the breath right out of me."
Her breath caught at the emotion in his voice. "You make it sound so natural," she said with faint curiosity.
"Isn't it?" he asked. His green eyes searched her soft gray ones. "We made love. I know your body as well as I know my own. We touched in more than just the conventional way, and you're part of me now. Isn't it natural that I should want to see the lovely body I've known so intimately?"
She colored, but she smiled. "Yes."
"And to answer your other question, Meredith, no, I don't think you're easy." He smoothed back her dark hair and his eyes slid over her face. "We both knew it wasn't going to be a casual encounter. I knew you were a virgin." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the palm tenderly. "We're going to get married and spend the rest of our lives together. That's the only reason I didn't pull away from you. If sex had been all I wanted, I could have had it long before now, and I wouldn't have seduced you in cold blood for my own pleasure."
She searched his darkened eyes. "It isn't just because of Sarah that you want to marry me, is it? Or just because you wanted me—"
He stopped the words with his mouth. "You talk too much. And worry too much. I want to marry you." He lifted his head. "Don't you want to marry me?"
Her eyes softened. "Oh, yes."
"Then stop brooding." He got up, stretching lazily while she watched him with shy fascination. He dug in his chest of drawers and pulled out a set of navy silk pajamas. He tugged the bottoms up over his hard-muscled legs and snapped them before he carried the pajama top to the bed, lifted Meredith into a sitting position and eased her arms into the sleeves.
"It's economical to share these," he murmured dryly when her eyes asked him why. "I used to sleep raw, but I have to wear something now that Sarah's
here. Except that I never wear the tops." He looked down at the soft thrust of her breasts, swollen and dark tipped in the aftermath of passion. He bent slowly and brushed his lips over them, tautening as the tips went hard involuntarily. "I've never felt more like a man than I feel when I touch you," he said roughly, his eyes closing, his brows knitting in the most exquisite pleasure.
She held his dark head against her, loving the feel of his warm mouth. "Are we going to sleep together?" she asked.
"We have to," he murmured, sliding his lips slowly over her breast. "I can't let you go."
She slid her arms around his neck as he lifted his head. "But, Sarah…"
"Sarah will be the first to find out we're going to be married," he murmured. "I'll get the license. We can have a blood test on Monday morning and the service two days later. Will that give you enough time to close out your apartment in San Antonio and change your mailing address?"
"Yes." She was breathless with his impatience, but not irritated. She wanted to live with him, and the sooner the better, before he woke up to what he was doing and changed his mind. She couldn't bear it if he'd only proposed in the heat of the moment.
He read that fear in her eyes. "I'm not going to change my mind. I'm not going to back out at the last minute or decide that I've satisfied my hunger for you and I don't need you anymore. I want you, Meredith," he emphasized. "I want to live with you, and not in some modern way with no ties and no legal status. To me, living with someone involves a thing called honor. It's a lost word in this society, but it still means a hell of a lot to me. I care enough to give you my name."
"I'D try to be a good wife," she said solemnly. "You won't mind if I just sit and stare at you sometimes, will you?"
He searched her eyes quietly. "Do you love me?"
Her lips trembled and she averted her gaze, focusing on his bare chest.
"All right. I won't force it out of you." He brought her forehead to his lips, his chest swelling with the knowledge that she did love him, even if she wouldn't admit it. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body. Apparently love could survive the crudest blows, because God knows he'd hurt her enough to kill anything less. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his cheek against her soft dark hair. "I'll take care of you all my life," he promised. "Don't be afraid."