She propped herself up on one elbow, so their eyes were level. “A cottage without a family isn’t a home.”
He heard the plaintive note in her voice. It made his next suggestion all the more vehement. “I’ll visit you often. You won’t have to be alone.”
“Often? Will your future wife and children let you visit with a gypsy?”
“I don’t intend to marry anytime soon,” he was swift to refute.
“But when you do, I’ll be alone. You’re not going to spend your time with me when you have a family to look after.”
He could hear her quickness of breath as she tried to fight back her despair, and he took her face, already wet with tears, between his hands. “Sabrina, I won’t abandon you.”
“Yes, you will.” Her voice was trembling. “I’ll lose you one day, just like I lost everyone else in my life.”
“No, you won’t!” His lips took hers in a passionate vow of assurance. He could taste the salty tears still lingering on those supple lips, and he drank in her sorrow, determined to quell all remnants of her grief. Grief he had helped to cause. And he knew of no other way to deal with her briny tears except to kiss them away.
But the longer his lips moved over hers, the harder her breathing grew and the more her tears fell, dripping onto the backs of his hands and drizzling down his wrists.
He pulled away from her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, still holding her moist cheeks between his palms. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to hurt you even more.”
“D-don’t.”
“I won’t touch you again,” he promised, furious with himself for letting his passion overtake his sense of reason yet again.
He let go of her tear-stained face and rocked back on his heels, prepared to move away from the bedside, when her hand reached out and circled his wrist.
“No,” she said in a small, hesitant voice. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He looked down at the feminine fingers gently pressing his skin, then up to the glossy wet eyes staring at him through the hazy darkness.
He couldn’t have heard her correctly, he thought. She couldn’t have said to him what he’d been dreaming about since the day he’d met her. She couldn’t want him to make love to her after everything they’d been through. Could she?
Not about to misinterpret her actions—again—and end up doing or saying something he’d later regret, Anthony took her hand in his and asked carefully, “Sabrina, do you want me to—”
He never finished what he was going to say. She leaned into him and kissed him softly—giving him all the answer he needed.
It was instant, the heat that spilled through his veins. Drinking in her salty tears, his lips moved over hers with all the passion that was ransacking his soul.
He sensed what she wanted from him. Solace. A way to forget about every dreadful thing that had happened to her. And giving in to their frustrated passions was certainly one way to forget. And he would make sure she did forget—for a time, at least. He was going to take away her pain and make her feel every exhilarating emotion he was experiencing.
Anthony peeled back the blanket and joined Sabrina on the bed. As much as he wanted her, as much as his muscles ached for her, he restrained what he was truly feeling. He wouldn’t take her in a bout of hard lust. He wouldn’t let the moment whisk by them in an unfulfilled burst of instinct. Sabrina wasn’t one of his licentious mistresses. She was an innocent. No other man had ever touched her. And he was going to take his time caressing her, lulling her senses, giving her that solace he knew she wanted.
But first he had to ease her jitters. She quivered beneath him, and he wanted her to quiver with desire—and only desire—the very same desire that was tearing him apart inside.
“Don’t be frightened, Sabrina.”
“I’m not,” was her stout reply, but when his fingers closed around her breast, she inhaled sharply, amending her earlier claim in a soft and shaky voice, “Perhaps I’m a little frightened.”
But he didn’t want her to be scared, even a little. He wanted her to trust him, to let go of her fears and doubts, to let him love her as she deserved to be loved—reverently.
“I won’t let you be afraid,” he whispered, lips moving over hers in slow and deft exploration.
To soothe her anxiety, he would tantalize a most sensitive part of her. A part he himself adored. A part that was cushioned beneath him, causing him to give a heavenly sigh.
Anthony could just imagine her sensitive breasts chafe from rubbing up against the coarse confines of her wool chemise, and with a sudden urge to free those beautiful mounds, he slipped a hand between their meshed bodies and slowly unfastened the laces of her undergarment.
Her breathing deepened. His fingers worked neatly to loosen the lace bindings of her chemise, and expose more fully the sweet globes of flesh he so longed to savor.
God, how he loved her breasts. They were full and proud, and he wanted to feel them against his hand, to taste them deep in his mouth.
The laces came free, the chemise parted enough to expose one of the generous mounds to the chilly night air.
His hand went to the breast.
She gasped against his lips.
He felt her nipple shrink and tighten in the brisk night air, and he rubbed the flesh back and forth, massaging her, warming her skin, evoking a low, whimpering moan from the depth of her throat.
“Oh, Sabrina, what you do to me…I am the one who should be frightened.”
“But I haven’t done anything.”
It was a husky retort. An innocent retort. The girl really believed she’d done nothing to arouse him. But her very touch, the very warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lush lips on his own, was more than he could bear. The temptation she provoked tore at his resolve. And he would need all his strength to maintain control of his lust.
The firm and bountiful breasts wiggling beneath his chest were like irons branding his skin. He had to taste them, and he kissed a path of sleek wetness down her neck to the protruding tip of one plump breast.
Anthony licked the taut nipple before he took the generous mound into his mouth and suckled.
Fingers digging deep into his hair, Sabrina whimpered and arched her body forward, sending her breast even deeper into his mouth.
He groaned at the exquisite feel of her, and locked his arm under the small of her back to hold her in place, his other hand cupping her breast, keeping it to his mouth as he sucked and kissed the rosy tip, feeling as though he would never have enough of her.
He was already hard and ready for her, but she was only at the start of what promised to be a very divine experience, and he wasn’t going to rush her. He would bring his gypsy to the very summit of her desire before he’d join her on that peak.
But the feel of her satiny breast in his mouth had a riotous effect on him, making it a grueling challenge to hold in his passion. His lips took in more of the thrusting peak, teasing the coral tip with his swirling tongue, tearing a deep-rooted moan from her throat.
Those wanton sounds of need had his cock throbbing for her comfort. She was slowly unleashing her every pent-up emotion, and he was burning up inside as a result. She’d have him scorched to a heap of cinder in no time at all, he was sure of it.
Sabrina was moving beneath him, twisting, arching, silently demanding that he give her more. And he intended to. With a swift movement, he whisked both straps of her chemise off her shoulders and pulled the garment down to her waist, so their bodies touched, flesh to flesh.
She dragged him back down and his lips instantly sought out her other breast, clamping over her nipple in avid hunger, whirling his tongue over the coral tip in slow, sensual caresses.
Her passionate whimpers grew louder and longer. Her hands held his head tight, so tight, he sensed his hair curling around her fingers in taut tension.
He let her breast slip free between his teeth. She wasn’t appreciative of
that, if the protesting moan she gave was any indication. And he smiled to know her desire was as great as his.
“I want you so much,” he said in a ragged whisper, giving her a long and intense kiss. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”
“And I want you,” she breathed weakly, her breasts rising high to meet his chest with each labored breath she inhaled.
That brief, honest admission brought him a burst of satisfaction. “I’m going to love you tonight.” He kissed her tenderly. “Like I’ve dreamed of doing for so long.”
His mouth went back over hers, his tongue thrusting and flicking over her own in deft and eager strokes. He gingerly slipped his hand down her silken belly and rounded her hip, only his fingertips grazing the softness of her warm skin.
Gradually, he moved downward, reaching for the hem of her chemise, tangled around her knees. He grabbed a fistful of the fabric and began the steady ascent, gliding the thick material up along her thighs, pushing it higher and higher, exposing more and more of her body to him, until the dark patch of curls at her apex was bare to his touch.
She was trembling. He was going to make sure she quivered with desire and not fear. He shoved her chemise up to her hips and then braced his hand between her legs.
“Let me show you true pleasure, Sabrina.”
Sabrina shivered at his whispered words, at the husky timbre of his voice wound tight with desire.
It felt so good to be touched by Anthony again. Too good, perhaps. It was pure chaos in her heart to feel the power of his strength surging through his brawny arms, to inhale the familiar musk of his hair, stirring her senses into a whirling fit.
But she was glad for the distraction from all her woe. She was glad to give in to the desire that had haunted her for so long without worry of the consequences anymore.
There was a burning, twisting need inside her now, stoked by the slow, sensual movements of Anthony’s fingers between her legs. It was a feathery touch, but a determined one, stroking over and over again, teasing her sensitive skin, making her pulse sprint and her body throb and her breathing quicken.
She abandoned herself to the pleasure of the experience, wishing it could last a lifetime and beyond. But her thoughts were soon shot into blissful disarray as one powerful finger slipped inside her.
She cried out, her whole body shuddering. Her hips arched forward to meet his touch in an instinctual cry for more. And he gave it to her. A second finger joined the first, and plunged deep inside her sleek passage, slow at first, then he hastened the pace, and the faster he thrust, the more the heat swelled in her loins, and the more she cried out in want.
Her hips were moving up to meet each thrust of his fingers. He was making her feel so much and with such intensity, she thought she would lose her senses.
“Anthony,” she gasped.
His lips crushed hers, hot and possessive in their movements. It thrilled her to be caressed in such a way by him. It made her tremble to know that he wanted her, that he had longed for her since the day they’d first met. Her heart beat faster at the thought. Her arms folded tighter around his shoulders to keep him even closer to her.
She could feel his heart stomping against her breast. Rhythmic drumbeats sounded in her own ears. With his fingers still diving into her, she felt a sense of urgency building. A tight, thrumming ache swelled in her loins, and a desperate need for release consumed her.
But Anthony wasn’t prepared to give her any relief yet. His fingers plunged into her, slow and steady, and then swift and determined. He continued to alter his tempo.
She moaned against his lips in helpless want. His tongue clashed with hers in a rivaled battle of passions.
What the man could do to her with his body was frightening. But it was also heavenly. And soon he proved just how heavenly it could get. Fingers still driving into her, he let go of her lips, and dropped his head to her breast, where he embraced her nipple, his tongue licking the jutting bud.
She gasped at the feel of his hot lips suckling at her breast. Her lashes fluttered, her head arched back against the pillow, her nails dug harder into his back.
She groaned. It was a loud, demanding sound for appeasement. But his movements only hastened the more vocal she became. His fingers moved swifter, his mouth sucked harder, and she was ready to weep at the desire tearing her up inside.
“Anthony, please,” she begged breathlessly. She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but he, blessedly, realized she needed to be doused, and he was finally ready to comply.
His fingers slipped out of her. She whimpered instantly at the feel of him leaving her when she wasn’t ready for it yet. But he soothed her frustrations with a sound kiss and a reassuring, “It’s not over yet. I’ll give you what you want.”
Anthony shifted his weight. He settled between her throbbing thighs, and what a glorious feeling that was, to have his weight anchored so snuggly against her pulsing core.
He unfastened his trousers and lowered them slightly. It was too dark inside the room for her to see anything clearly, but she could definitely feel his turgid flesh pressing against her. And she was suddenly alarmed by its size.
Good heavens, was that supposed to fit inside her? She didn’t think it would, not without causing her enormous pain.
A sudden apprehension stalked her. She scrunched her eyes in expectation of the discomfort soon to come.
But then, with a warmth that tore at her heart, she heard him whisper, his voice hoarse and strained, “I won’t hurt you, Sabrina. I could never hurt you.”
She believed him. In that moment, she completely trusted him. Her eyes opened and adjusted to the faintly lit room. She looked up to find a pair of dark, smoldering eyes gazing down at her. So tender, so passionate, so needful—of her.
The thunderous thumps of her heart steadied. Her body thrummed on a chord identical to his own. In tune, in hunger, he joined with her.
The pain was minimal compared to the intensity with which she wanted him, and her first cry of shock was attentively stifled by his soothing lips. He didn’t move once he was inside her, giving her tense muscles time to ease, and her body time to grow adjusted to his length, his thickness.
Being one with Anthony was unlike anything she had ever imagined. Soon the heat filled her and he began to stir. It was slow at first. He withdrew from inside her, not fully, but part way. Her legs locked behind him, holding him in place. She wasn’t willing to let the moment end so quickly, not when she was just growing accustomed to it and feeling immense pleasure overtake her senses.
He chuckled softly by her ear. “Trust me,” he said roughly.
She eased her grip, giving him the room he needed to pull partly out of her before he thrust back inside. He did it again. Withdrew halfway and then plunged deep inside her. Then he did it again. And again. Slow and steady at first, he pulled out and thrust back in.
She closed her eyes and moaned softly. Tingling anticipation tickled through her limbs. The tension in her body grew stronger and stronger. She clung to him harder and harder, digging her fingers into his hair. His slow thrusts deepened, quickened. Soon he was moving in and out of her in steady plunges. He was breathing hard against her neck. His back was slick with sweat.
Their bodies moved together in waves, his full girth filling her. The tight, pleasurable knot that had formed within her tightened even more. His rocking thighs rubbed hard against hers, the chafing movement leaving her throbbing and burning inside.
“Anthony,” she gasped between panting breaths.
His movements quickened. Swift, piercing strokes that brought her unbearable pleasure. And then she felt it, her muscles contracting around him in quick succession. There was a pulsating wave of glorious gratification that coursed through her veins, and she cried out at the intensity of what she was feeling. Anthony let out a fierce groan of his own soon after, and thrust hard into her.
She was breathing loudly. They both were. Anthony was slumped against her, though he brac
ed his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her, and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body still joined with hers.
She loosened her tight hold on him, feeling dizzying blissful. In an idle gesture, she stroked his damp hair, smoothing back the tousled curls. She just wanted to be near him. To enjoy the feel of him without the urgency inside her commanding all her other senses. It was such a wonderful feeling to just hold him, to hear him breathing deeply by her ear, to sense his weight nestled on top of her. And she wistfully wished that she could feel this way for the very rest of her days.
Chapter 21
R aven-black locks rested over his midriff, blanketing him in a fleece of silken strands.
Anthony gazed down at the beautiful nymph in his arms. He was propped up against a pillow, his knees bent like two mountainous peaks, shielding a slumbering Sabrina between them. Her smooth cheek rested over his bare belly, and he could feel her soft, warm breath stir and tickle the fine hairs on his abdomen.
He had never seen her sleep so soundly. Nor had he ever been so at peace as when she was curled in his arms.
He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, thinking about the little cottage he was going to buy for her, and how he would come to visit her and continue to share her bed. It was nice to imagine she would remain an intimate part of his life for years to come. He didn’t like the thought of losing her. He was content to have her as his mistress.
Mistress. Would she consent to such an arrangement? He wasn’t sure. He had poor judgment when it came to this particular female’s thoughts. All he knew was that she felt an obligation toward her father to honor her arranged marriage. But according to Sabrina, she had neither a father nor a marriage anymore. Did she now consider her obligation void? Would she be willing to engage in an affair with him?
He’d have to broach the matter carefully with her. The timing had to be exact or he risked the proposition coming across as an insult. It might appear he was offering his help in exchange for her favors, and he didn’t want her to think him a callous brute. He was her protector. And he would take care of her regardless of her response to his offer.
A Forbidden Love Page 19