At last his probing fingers slid into her and she writhed in gratitude and pleasure. Thrills vibrated all through her and her toes curled. She could feel the creamy moisture pouring from her. Her stomach muscles jerked as he pinched and caressed the soft flesh between her legs. At last he removed his fingers from her hot mound and she groaned in protest.
He pushed back a little and she took him more firmly in her mouth. Her head was empty of all thoughts save the one crying out for release. She knew she would have done anything, promised anything if only he would drill her, nailing her to the bed.
“Not yet,” he said, reading her mind. “Just one more pleasure for us both.” He sank his face down between her thighs and she lifted her legs, locking her ankles behind his neck, holding him tight to her.
The tremors ran through her in time with his probing tongue, like an unending wave of tiny orgasms. Her hands fluttered onto his strong back, feeling the muscles, smoothing his warm skin. Her whole body floated in a delicious stupor in which she was conscious of every touch to her sensitive body, but her mind seemingly incapable of functioning.
Her mind and her body were totally under his control. She had been his teacher and his mentor ever since he came back from the world of ghosts. Because she knew what to do she had taken charge and found what he needed. But their lovemaking had always been his domain. He had called the shots every time, making her want him more as the days went by. But he had never dominated her or forced her. She had given willingly what he asked.
Somehow she found the willpower to release him from her mouth. He groaned and lifted his head. Suddenly she wanted him back where he had been, but more than that she wanted to feel the length of his body locked against hers as he took her completely. Yet again he seemed to know instinctively what she wanted. In a supple movement he twisted around until he lay alongside her.
“You’re trembling,” he said. He caressed her belly and her nerves jumped obediently. He pressed his flat palm to her abdomen.
“That’s where it aches,” she said. “Deep inside.”
“Only one remedy that I know of.”
He stretched out beside her and she rolled into his arms. She felt his throbbing erection against her thigh. Soon she would feel that hardened shaft inside her.
“Are you ready for me?”
“You know I am.”
He held himself over her as he had done before while she lay open and flowing with fragrant juices. She lifted her hips, touching her nakedness to his shaft. Another white-hot tremor snaked through her from the spot where their flesh joined.
He nodded as if in agreement with her unspoken plea and lowered himself to her. He found her opening, easing himself inside her. For a long moment he held himself over her, watching her, pinning her with his penis. Her muscles tightened around him and fire blazed inside her.
She gasped. “Now!”
In one quick movement he thrust deeper inside her and collapsed onto her. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the bliss of the moment. He was hard and hot and perfect in every way.
He pounded into her and she opened her throat to release the cries that spilled from her.
In seconds the orgasm seized her. The contractions squeezed his cock as they swept through her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight as he cried out and came hard.
When it was over and they had caught their breath, Pierce swept her hair from her face and looked into her eyes.
“My dearest treasure,” he said.
“My prize beyond price.”
Epilogue
Snow lay thick outside on the trees and the bushes, reflecting the Christmas lights, turning the scene into a fairyland. Jane looked out at the peaceful scene from the tower room of the mansion. The day had been crazy and it was good to savor peace and quiet.
So at the end of her wedding day, here she was in Pierce’s favorite room in the mansion, married, satisfied and stark naked but for an embroidered Chinese wrap in deep jade green. The mansion had been partially renovated but there was still work to do. It was a beautiful house and she loved it as much as Pierce did. She stretched a hand and stroked the silky finish of the windowsill. It was smooth and warm with hardness beneath like a man’s muscle.
It had taken a while before Selma convinced her the ghosts were all gone and there was no fear of any returning, but at last she had accepted it all like a strange and distant family story to be retold and refurbished with each generation.
This day her mother’s house had been in total turmoil from the moment the sun rose. Jane, in her white velvet gown, watched the activity swirl around her like eddies in a turbulent sea. Her mother ran by every few minutes, already dressed in her mother of the bride outfit and worried about caterers, flowers, programs and ten thousand other things.
“Mother,” Jane said firmly, “it’s far too late to worry about anything now. If it goes wrong it goes wrong.” She caught Elaine’s arm as she whisked by. “Slow down, Mom. Enjoy the moment.”
“Oh, darling.” Elaine blinked back tears. “I thought this day would never come!”
Jane refrained from a sarcastic “thank you” but in truth she had wondered herself if she would ever find the man she dreamed of. She smiled.
“Where’s Jim?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s doing some last minute thing with the car people.”
“Good.” James had soon become Jim and had proved to be invaluable over the last months, providing a steadying arm for her mother. It had been good to see her mom blossom.
Maybe there would be another wedding soon. She kissed her mother on the cheek.
“Are you sure, dear?” Elaine asked.
“Absolutely sure.”
Immediately after the end of the Newland assignment she had admitted to herself that there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to be with Pierce for the rest of her life. It had just taken a little effort to make sure it could be so.
He never lost his addiction to horror movies and they’d seen every blood-spattered offering as it appeared on the screens of TV or theater. He took her for picnics and to good restaurants. In so doing he completely captivated Elaine and all the matrons of her acquaintance.
The vibrator had gone in the garbage before the end of July.
They had managed to wait a few weeks before venturing back into the Newland Mansion. There was absolutely no trace of Maria or Stan or of anything that could link Pierce to the murder that had happened so long ago.
In the turret room the reflection of the flames from the blazing fire shimmered and danced in the glass against the blackness of the night. Every surface in the room bore a lighted candle, shedding an amber glow over everything. The bed was made with fresh white linens and deep pillows.
She sighed in anticipation. She would always have a soft spot for their little apartment in town and the sturdy bed that had served them well but this would be different.
Pierce had refused to bring her to this bed until after the wedding and it would be new, sacred to their love.
She turned with a smile at a sound from the doorway.
Pierce appeared in a matching robe of crimson silk. He carried a tray with a bottle and two fluted glasses. Setting the tray on the dresser between two golden candles, he held out his hand.
“May I take you to our bed?”
She placed the tips of her fingers in his and allowed him to lead her. He stopped her beside the bed and untied the sash of her robe, then pushed the rippling silk from her shoulders. The robe slithered to the floor as it had done so many times before and would do again.
Her nipples puckered and she felt the sharp dart between her legs as if this were to be her very first time with him. She let him admire her and he ran the back of his hand from her breast down to her mound, smiling as she quivered.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He reached out to skim the underside of one breast and the heat sizzled right to the precious spot between her legs. “Do you care for me?” he whi
spered.
“You know I do. I care for you more than I ever dreamed possible. I married you.”
“I love you, plain Jane. I loved you the moment I saw you when you tackled my stepmother.”
He shed his own robe and her breath caught in her throat. The lights played over his muscles, deepening the shadows, highlighting the sensuous curves. His cock stood out strong and ready.
“Lie down for me.”
She sank back. The bed was high and wide, scented with sweet lavender.
“How would you like it? What’s your favorite?”
She sighed. “I love every position we’ve tried. Everything you’ve ever done to me. I love riding you and you riding me.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and drew him down toward her. His skin was like satin beneath her fingers. “But I think I like it best…”
“How?”
Without answering, she pulled him closer until he stretched out over her and she began to feel his weight.
She kissed him slowly, lingering, taking her time, for they had their whole lives in front of them. Running her tongue around the edge of his lips, she made him open them enough for her to nip his tongue between her teeth and draw it into her own mouth. She sucked on it gently and heard an answering moan from deep in his throat. At last she released him and looked at him, stroking her palms down his spine, cupping his buttocks in both hands and pulling him into her smooth wetness.
“I think I like it best when I can look into your eyes, watch your face and you can watch mine as you make love to me, so slowly, so long.”
She dug her fingers into him and arched into his thrusts. She felt his whole body tensing, building up for the final moment when he would go over the precipice and she would go with him.
“Love me, Jane,” he whispered.
“Always. Forever.”
The End
About the Author
Margrett Dawson has been a nomad most of her life, and has lived in six different countries. She is settled for a while with her own romance hero on Vancouver Island on Canada's Pacific Coast, where she loves to craft sexy stories about people who fall in love. She will move on again (this time to Africa for a few months) but will continue to spin tales, especially about people who find romance when they least expect it.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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