by Autumn Dawn
"What is it?” He drew a finger tenderly down her cheek, and she started at the change from raw sexuality to gentleness. She looked away from his gaze and then he realized. She was embarrassed because she'd come so swiftly.
"I've never.... “she said. “Usually, it takes me a while to...."
"Sshhh,” whispered Nathan. He felt about seven feet tall. “It will be the same for me. You'll see when I'm inside you."
Her eyes fluttered shut and Nathan knew she was thinking of him inside her, and then all thoughts fled for both of them as he pushed open her thighs and sank down between them. He watched her bite her lip, that little nervous habit she had, and then he was blind to all else but feeling as his cock pushed slowly into her.
She tried to close her legs around his thighs but he refused her, holding her wide as he thrust into her, making her feel every inch of him. He'd felt out of control ever since he'd first set eyes on her, and if in bed was the only place he could take some of it back, so be it. She moaned and he paused. “Are you okay?"
She nodded her head but didn't open her eyes. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as he forced himself further into her liquid heat. She was aroused and wet from her orgasm before, yet she felt tight around him, tighter than he would have expected for a woman who'd borne a child.
In to the hilt, he stilled, trying to control the urge to thrust too fast, not wanting it to be over. Resisting the compulsion was sheer torture, and he knew she felt it, too. She opened her eyes at his stillness. They were huge and luminous as they stared into his, and he could feel the tiny clasping movements of her inner muscles stroking him, loving him.
The blood was pulsing in his cock, hard and strong, and finally he could resist his body and hers no longer. He drew back and hammered into her. Four thrusts, five thrusts. He heard her sobs of passion as if from afar and pulled her legs up to his shoulders, deepening his penetration further. He felt her come again, this time from inside. The little uncontrollable quiver, the moment of stillness and then the deep clenching. And as she tightened on him, he let himself go over the edge and down the slippery slide into bliss.
* * * *
Camille came alert slowly, coming up from the drugging effects of light sleep. She felt groggy and disorientated, and there was a dead weight lying partially on top of her. She moved her legs experimentally and gasped at the unaccustomed ache between her thighs.
She reached out a hand and it touched the smooth curve of male shoulder until Nathan groaned and shifted off her. Nathan. Oh God, what had she done? She sat bolt upright, hugging the sheet to her chest. Elizabeth! What the hell was the time? She couldn't read her watch in the gloom of the bedroom, but the bedside clock read six-ten. She relaxed and lay back. It wasn't as late as she'd thought it might be. But still, she needed to let Rowan know what was going on. Well, maybe not everything that was going on. And she still needed to talk to Nathan, which was going to be incredibly difficult after ... after....
Carefully, she sat up and put her legs over the side of the bed. Groping her way to the bedroom door, she discovered Nathan's shirt and put it on. It came halfway down her thighs, and she felt a little less exposed. She found her bag out in the hallway and pulled her cell phone out, dialing Rowan's number. Not wanting to disturb Nathan, she walked through the house to a large deck at the back.
"Rowan,” she said when phone was answered. “I'm sorry, really sorry but something came up. I—"
"Sure it did, honey.” Rowan's smile was clear down the line. “And you just make the most of it."
Camille flushed even though there was no one there to witness her embarrassment. “Elizabeth,” she stuttered. “Is she...."
"At the moment, Max is feeding her a mashed banana, and they're making an almighty mess."
"She likes banana,” was all Camille could think of to say.
"Yeah?” Camille heard the laugh in Rowan's voice. “If she likes it so much, I'm not sure why she isn't eating more and smearing less. Max! She's going to—” There was a clunk and Camille could hear, faintly, Rowan's voice admonishing her husband, although she couldn't make out the words. A moment later, Rowan was back on the line. “Sorry, just a situation that called for two pairs of hands."
Camille laughed. “It's still a mystery to me how someone so small can create havoc so big."
"Look, seriously, we're having a wonderful time with her, so don't worry. We'll give her a bath and put her to bed shortly. We found the clean diapers and clothes in her bag, so she'll be fine. And we have the crib when she gets sleepy. If you don't get up here till late, it's fine. In fact, why not pick her up tomorrow morning?” She paused. “Have you told him yet?"
"No.” Camille took a deep breath. “But I will.” She heard a noise behind her. “I have to go. Bye.” She flipped the phone closed as Nathan put one hand either side of her on the balcony railing, fencing her in.
"Who was that?” His voice was low and close to her ear. Camille sensed something underlying the desire. Jealousy?
"Rowan,” she murmured, feeling the heat and hardness of his naked body along her back. Blushing again, she ducked her head, letting her hair hide her face as she thought of how they'd spent the past hour. “She said she'd keep Elizabeth as long as I need.” Taking a deep breath, Camille focused on her original reason for wanting to see him today and tried to ignore the pressure of his erection against her back. “Nathan, I...."
"Before we go any further, you're losing this.” His voice was calm as he picked up her left hand, and slid the cheap ring from her finger. It had never fitted well, and came off easily. He hurled it into the bush at the end of the garden. “It's over and I want you to tell him that. And if he shows his face here, we'll both tell him."
"Nathan, I have to talk to you about something."
"All I want to hear is that your marriage is over.” She could feel the tension in that solid body crowding against her.
"Nathan—"
"Well, if words won't convince you, maybe this will,” he said, the words, low and indistinct.
Camille felt the cool, rain-washed evening air against her buttocks as Nathan lifted the shirt. His hair-roughened legs rasped her smooth thighs as he sheathed himself with a condom and bent to fit himself to her from behind. She gasped as she felt his shaft, large and demanding at her entrance. She quivered as he pushed into her, her body adjusting to the size of him and the rear-entry position. Her legs felt like over-cooked noodles and she wondered how long they would hold her weight. Her hands gripped the top of the railing until one of Nathan's hands unclenched her right fist and removed the phone, putting it on the table next to where they stood before returning his attention to her and what he was doing.
What he was doing was driving her slowly out of her mind. Each slow, rhythmic stroke pushed further into her by just a fraction, but each thrust was too shallow to really satisfy her. She reached around to press one palm against his buttock, trying to press him further into her, but he just laughed and returned her hand to the balcony railing. “All in good time,” he said softly.
Camille moaned at that slow, steady invasion of her body. He hadn't had much control in their earlier sessions, but with the edge taken off his need, he was showing her the delights of delayed satisfaction. And the tortures.
"Do it now, Nathan.” She shuddered again at that slow, driving pace. “Please, I.... “She lost the thread of what she had been about to say when he reached a hand around to brush his knuckles across her clit. She felt the sharp ache spring to life and knew she couldn't stand much more of this. At his next thrust, she tried to get some of her own back by tightening her inner muscles on him, but he simply laughed softly in her ear and gave her clit another stroke.
She silenced her gasp by biting the hard forearm that strained against the balcony, hearing his sharp curse.
"Little witch,” he growled. But he got the message, the lazy pace vanishing as he thrust hard and powerfully into her. As he sank all the way, Camille shuddered in relief an
d then anticipation. His weight and aggression were pushing her right into the balcony and she had to use her own strength to push herself back, forcing him deeper and deeper into her.
She felt his face against her neck, his rough jaw scraping the tender skin, his panting breath sending warm gusts of air into her nape. She thought of a stallion covering his mare, and quivered. Desire uncoiled, thick and urgent, deep in her belly. Her breath was coming faster as she struggled to draw in enough oxygen.
"Nathan, I can't.... “she started, but then the deep pounding of him from behind coupled with the barely-there touches of his hand at her pussy became overwhelming. She sank against him and he forced her back against the railing, hammering into her now. All she could feel was him, in her body, surrounding her, until the coil tightened, further and further, holding her and squeezing tight until everything was focused between her legs. And then the maelstrom threw her up and over the edge.
She was aware vaguely of him behind her as he drove toward his own satisfaction, but it was as though she were floating, floating free. Then there was nothing but his heavy arm holding her, his sweat mingling with hers and the power of him as he pumped into her.
"Christ,” he said at last. Camille turned her head and saw those strong arms shaking as they held both of them against the support of the balcony. “That was ... I don't know what the hell it was.” He eased back slightly and turned Camille's jaw with one hand, placing a long, devastatingly carnal kiss on her mouth. She turned in his arms, looping her arms around his neck and intensifying the kiss.
Eventually he wrenched himself away, half swearing and half laughing as his cock hardened for another round. “God help me, I'm not up to this,” he muttered. “Come on.” He led her inside to the kitchen. It was tidy and masculine, the sort of place where not a lot of cooking went on, but plenty of fast food was ordered. “I'll be back in a second then I'll need a beer."
Camille took a seat, wondering how to broach the subject.
When he returned wearing a pair of tight, white boxers, he leaned into a large fridge and drew out two long-necked bottles. Camille shook her head, butterflies replacing the remnants of desire in her belly. It was now or never. She had to tell him, and for that she needed a clear head. “Coffee,” she said.
He switched on the kettle and she watched his economy of movement as he made a pot of coffee. “Let's go outside,” he said.
"No, it's better if we talk here.” Camille sat down on one of the functional kitchen chairs. She didn't want to talk on the deck or in the bedroom. She needed to tackle this somewhere they hadn't made love.
"Okay.” Nathan sat opposite her, watching her cautiously, his expression unreadable, as though he were half hoping for a miracle and half expecting a mortal blow. She sat, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to find the right way to tell him.
"I won't let him touch you,” he said at last into the silence. “You don't need to—"
"Nathan.” She took a deep breath. “I'm not married."
Chapter Eleven
The clock on the wall ticked softly. One minute ... two. Camille grasped her coffee mug so tightly she thought it might shatter. He hadn't said anything, and when she looked up, he was just staring at her, his blue eyes dark.
"Go on,” he said.
"The man I'm running from isn't a husband. He's my brother-in-law."
"He put those bruises on you?"
Camille nodded. “He wanted Elizabeth and I ... I refused to let him take her."
"Why would he want your daughter?"
"Because she's not.... “Her voice broke and she had to collect herself and start again. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze head on. “Elizabeth is his daughter. I wore that ring because I thought that if he had people looking for me, they'd be looking for an unmarried woman and a baby. I thought the ring might put them off the scent."
"You kidnapped his child.” His voice was flat, expressionless.
"Yes, but ... I was scared for...."
"And you're telling me this, why?” He shoved back sharply from the table. “I'm a cop. You know what that means.” His voice was cold, and Camille looked at him, unsure of what to do or say. She hadn't necessarily expected he'd immediately have a plan for dealing with it all, but she'd hoped at least for some reassurance that the police would be able to help her.
"I know this puts you in a bad position,” she said hurriedly. She could tell him that Rowan had convinced her it was the right course of action, but ultimately it had been her decision.
He was silent so long, she started to explain herself, her actions, but he interrupted. “Kidnapping is a serious crime,” he said brusquely. “I'll need to take you in so you can make a statement."
Camille felt her hands begin to shake and slowly put her coffee mug on the table. “No. I can't make this official. He'll ... my brother-in-law...."
"I'm a police officer. I have to do my job."
"I thought you'd understand,” she said. “I thought you'd understand why I had to—"
"Oh, I understand everything,” he said and there was a bitter quality to his words that Camille didn't understand. She stood up and went to him, reached out a hand, but he stepped back. “Don't,” he said tightly.
"Nathan, please. I told you because I thought you might be able to help. I didn't know where else to turn. It was the only thing I could think of to do, but—"
"Yeah, and that would ring a whole lot truer if you'd told me before you fucked me.” There was a cold fury in his voice that was worse than any loud eruption of anger. “That's what all that was about, wasn't it. You thought you could sweeten the deal for me, just enough so I'd lose my objectivity and rush to help a damsel in distress."
"No! Nathan, you have to believe me."
"It was all very skillfully done, I have to say,” he murmured. “Pushing me away, all those terrified glances, the lone woman with her child being stalked, that hot look in the car. And then you just reeled me in.” He pushed his face into hers. “Sweetheart, I have to tell you, the fish just slipped off the hook."
Camille pressed her hand to her face in horror. He was going to arrest her. He was going to ... oh, God. Elizabeth. Half blind with tears, sobbing, she raced through the house. She found her jeans and shoes, tugging them on. She scooped up her bag and ran out the door before suddenly remembering she didn't have her car.
She had to think. Nathan's car was there. She wrenched open the door. Thank God! He'd been so engrossed in her that he'd left the keys of the Landcruiser in the ignition. She hoisted herself up into the driver's seat and fired the engine just as Nathan bolted barefoot out the door. His jeans gaped where he'd hurriedly pulled them on. She saw him shout something at her, but then all her attention was on reversing out of the driveway. The car skidded as she turned it roughly onto the road. She glanced at him as he came up the drive and knew he was telling her to stop, but she couldn't stop. Now she knew what she had to do, that was to run and run, and keep going, and never ever stop.
* * * *
Rowan opened the door of Ravenswood House wearing a long silky robe belted loosely around what had once been her waist. Her hair hung damply around her shoulders as though she'd just taken a shower. Camille pushed past her and stood in the cool marble hallway, unsure of which way to go.
"Camille? What's happened?” She felt Rowan place a calming hand on her shoulder and shrugged her off.
"I can't stop, Rowan. I have to get Elizabeth and go. Where is she?"
"All right. She's upstairs. We put her down just a few minutes ago.” Rowan waddled up after Camille, unable to take them two at a time as she was doing.
When Camille reached the top of the stairs, she followed the sound of the loud snores emanating from the nursery. She slung the baby's bag over her shoulder and hoisted Elizabeth into her arms. The baby murmured her irritation but didn't open her eyes.
Camille hurried back down the stairs with Rowan on her heels. “But what about Nathan?” Rowan was saying. “D
id he say what the police can do to help?"
"Oh, yeah. His solution is to handcuff me and throw me in jail for kidnapping.” True, she was exaggerating a little, but it amounted to much the same thing. “So much for serve and protect.” She hardened her voice against the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. Right now, Nathan could be calling in her case. It was essential she stayed calm until she could get herself and Elizabeth to safety.
Max came in the open door, the dogs at his heels. “Hey, Camille—"
"Sorry, I have to go.” Camille paused at the door. “I know you only tried to help. But.... “She shrugged.
"Camille, let me call Nathan,” Rowan was saying, but Camille deliberately shut the door to cut her off. She had to get away.
Her eyes scanned the gates and the road for any sign of Nathan's Landcruiser or other police vehicles. She knew rationally it would take about twenty minutes minimum for him either to walk to World's End where she'd left his car or get one of his staff to collect him, but she didn't want to take any chance of running into him.
She floored the accelerator through the gates of Ravenswood House, but had to slow down when she hit the hill. Her heart was in her mouth all the way down, but there was no sign of Nathan, or anyone. The cottage was in darkness as she drove up, the pebble undisturbed on the gate. She shut her mind to the possibilities as she raced inside with the baby, tucking her into her crib, where she slept on oblivious to her aunt's turmoil.
For a moment, Camille stood in the dimly lit hallway. She had to pack and quickly, but in the weeks she'd been at World's End, she'd lost the five-minute routine that she'd had down to a fine art while she'd been on the road. Come on! Elizabeth is relying on you to be calm and do the right thing.