Brocade Series 02 - Giselle

by Jackie Ivie

Giselle peppered his face with kisses, her hands pulling the dark cape from his head.

  “Very well.”

  He chuckled, and reached for the tie at his neck that she was attempting to undo. His motion shoved her fingers aside.

  “Non, Navarre, don’t leave me.” Her whisper was frantic.

  “Leave you? Oh, no. Not tonight.”

  He lunged onto the bed beside her, filling the mattress so that it looked normal-size. Giselle wiped hastily at the moisture on her cheeks.

  “I adore it when you look at me. Did you know that?”

  She would’ve answered, but he bent his head to her neck, and she could no longer think to speak. Giselle squealed at the touch of his lips against her skin, and she gripped his hair in hands that seemed to belong to someone else. Hot breath touched her throat and slithered over her shoulder. She caught her breath.

  “So sweet. So feminine,” he whispered. “Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe you exist beyond my dreams. Dieu! I cannot believe I am here, and I actually have you. Here. Right now. In my arms.”

  “Oh, Navarre. I love you. I need you. I love you. I do.”

  Giselle kissed his hair, forehead, and nose. She needed to feel his lips against hers. She was almost insane with the desire to feel his kiss.

  Mon Dieu!

  She couldn’t contain the sounds of ecstasy that flooded her when he gave her what she wanted, seizing her mouth with his. The roughness of it ignited her. Giselle hooked a leg around his waist, pushing up and into him. His clothing rubbed and teased her, tormenting the barely covered flesh of her thighs. Giselle heard her nightgown rip, and then Navarre’s chuckling echoed through her breast.

  “I love you, Giselle.”

  He lifted his head then, and she wasn’t going to allow that sort of distance between them. She lunged up to him again, and he rolled, pulling her to a straddling position atop him. Sweet Mary! This new position sent heat. And vibration. And she wanted more. Giselle worked at the lacing of his shirt, her hands shaking so violently, they didn’t cooperate.

  He wasn’t helping, either. Heat from his palms seared her waist. Giselle almost had a lace free when the touch of his hands moving up her sides altered everything. Large fingers fit about her breasts, molding and rubbing, while she arched her back to get even more sensation. More friction. More…amazement. The lawn fabric of her nightgown stretched beneath his fingers as he brought her nipples into sore darts that tormented. Shocked. Stunned. Almost frightened.

  “Navarre?”

  “Kiss me, Giselle.”

  He pulled her down, using her flesh to hold onto her, bringing her mouth to his, and giving her all sorts of sensation in all sorts of places. His thumbs toyed with her nipples, his tongue danced against hers, and his hips bucked into her most private area, each time sending thrills. Shivers. And nothing stopped her moans as they blended with the deep rumble of sound coming from his throat.

  “Giselle…my love. You must…let me shut…the window now.”

  His whisper was gulped through kisses, shoved between breaths. And she wasn’t letting him go. Not now.

  “But I’m not cold.”

  He chuckled and rolled, placing Giselle on her back again, beneath him. Her legs somehow wrapped about his thighs. His legs between hers. And his hips…oh! She was actually squirming with little lunges that connected. Teased. Tormented.

  And then he lowered his head placing the tip of his nose against hers. His hair was unbound, or perhaps it hadn’t been tied before. It hung from him, tickling her neck.

  “I don’t fret the chill, love. We’ll be making our own heat. But sound travels. And that…I do care about.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  There were only four candles lit in the candelabra, and Giselle watched them as he fussed with the draperies. There wasn’t much light, but it was too bright, of a sudden. What happens is so loud, he worried? She had the covers about herself before the light sputtered, moved by his presence.

  “Giselle? Turn around, darling.”

  She shook her head and clutched the covers tighter to her. Two large hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her toward his chest, placing her right against his heat. And he was no longer wearing leather. Hard thighs molded to each side of her. Arms wrapped around her, and she swore the chest she was leaning against trembled.

  “I love you, Giselle,” he whispered. “I love how small and feminine you are. I love your hair unbound like this, too.”

  He bent forward to reach her ear.

  “I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this…to see you, and hold you. Now that I am, it’s unbearably sweet.”

  He set his head atop hers. Giselle’s eyes were wide as he trailed his forefingers down her arms. Goose bumps rose at the touch.

  “You see? You feel it, too, don’t you?”

  He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and touched his tongue to her palm. Giselle squealed.

  “Navarre, I don’t—. You must….”

  “Oh. Never.”

  He lifted her other hand to his lips. His legs tightened about her squirming, locking her in place. Her cries turned into moans. She twisted. And his bare chest came into focus. She stopped moving and raised her eyes to his.

  “Navarre?”

  “Oui?”

  She snatched her hands and reached for him, running fingers over his chest, shoulders, neck. The slightly rough texture of his chin drew her, and then she touched his full lower lip. Giselle answered him in kind as his mouth curved into a smile.

  “Your eyes darken when you touch me. Did you know that?”

  She shook her head and licked her lips.

  “Merde! What you do to me.”

  He hissed the words in seeming-agony as he gripped her to him, lifting her for another kiss. Lips, raw with need, caught hers with bruising pressure. And Giselle returned it.

  He lifted his head, breathed harsh and quickly for several moments and then looked down at her. And then smiled again.

  “Tres belle, Giselle.”

  “You’re…very beautiful, too…Navarre.” Giselle stammered the words with shyness, but kept her gaze on him.

  “Men aren’t beautiful, Giselle.”

  He raised one eyebrow. She watched the candlelight glisten off his eyelashes as he blinked.

  “Non? Well, you are.”

  She reached to touch him again and watched his intake of breath. He had a smattering of brown hair between his chest muscles, and she rested her hand there, feeling his heart beat tap at her palm. Her eyes widened as his nipples tightened…right before her eyes! Oh, this was absolute magic, pure and simple.

  “I love…you.”

  Giselle choked on the last word because a hard lump surged against her hip, making her start. He grinned, raised his hands, and started pulling at her nightgown lacing. The thighs about her tightened at the same time.

  “Navarre?”

  “Oui?”

  He didn’t look up from where his fingers untied one ribbon after the other, pulling them apart with a rhythm that somehow matched how her breath caught, edged out, and caught again. Giselle watched his face. Then his fingers brushed against her belly, spreading open the nightgown, and that time she jumped with the contact.

  “So sweet. So feminine. So…beautiful. I find it difficult to believe you’re real…and that I’m here. Right now. With you.’”

  His words were as erratic as his breathing, and Giselle’s lip curved. He raised his eyes to hers, then, and the smile died on her mouth.

  “I’m real, Navarre.”

  “So you say.” He raised one eyebrow.

  “Do I look like a fantasy?”

  “Oh. Oui. How did you guess my thoughts?”

  “Because they’re the same as mine.” She blushed.

  “You fantasize about me? That is…uh. That’s…. Oh, Giselle! What you do to me! You have no idea, either, do you?”

  “No. Yes. No. All I know is that…you’re going to make me yours tonight.
”

  “Oh yes. Totally. Completely. Forever.”

  He slid the nightgown off her shoulders. It felt strange…and yet exciting. Wicked. Sensual. She held his gaze a moment longer before he looked down. Giselle saw him catch his breath.

  “Oh. Love. You truly are too beautiful for words. I cannot! I will not—! We have all night! I mustn’t rush it. I mustn’t—”

  “Navarre?”

  Her whisper stopped his words, and she watched him exhale. It looked erotic. How it felt was even more so.

  “Oui?”

  “I love you.”

  He reached for her, and cupped his hands about her. And then he lowered his head. And kissed a nipple. Giselle’s cry echoed about them as she gripped his hair, her fingers clenching about silky strands. Waves of fire-laced spikes flashed from where he suckled. Crashed to her most private area, and then spread outward, sending more heat in waves.

  “Navarre, help me! I beg it of you!”

  He chuckled at her torment, lifted his head, and used it against her neck, pushing her onto her back. And settled between her thighs, partially covering her. From the waist down. He held up from her, delineating the muscles in his arms. His upper chest. His abdomen. And the candlelight was so bright! She saw…

  Oh my!

  She glimpsed a leg and something else so foreign it startled and almost frightened. Giselle’s eyes went wide. He was so large. So heated. So strong. Everywhere.

  “You definitely have passion, my love. Never doubt that. So much woman. Such beauty! Merde! I can’t believe I am here!”

  His lips met hers, branding her with more than words. And she helped him, running her hands up his sides and back down again over and over in a palsied fashion. While he pumped his hips in little motions, sending sparks with every minute touch of that strange part of him. On her inner thigh. Higher. Her lower belly.

  His groan deepened, and then his arms started shaking. He lifted his head, and huffed each breath toward the headboard.

  “Actually love…you are almost too much woman.”

  “What?”

  “I must be gentle. I must go slow. I’ve no experience in this, and—. Oh my God! What stupidity made me say that?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and then she was kissing his jaw. His cheek. His nose. She was his first? Oh, for the joy! She knew exactly what the emotion was. He was hers! No women like Desiree or Charmaine could ever take that away from her, either.

  “You must stop that, Giselle. You must—”

  His words ended in a garbled noise as she pressed her lips to his throat. And the shudder that ran his frame moved hers with it.

  “Giselle! So sweet. So fragile. Help me, love.”

  The words were deep. Guttural.

  “I don’t understand, Navarre.”

  “I know, sweet. I know.”

  He angled his head into the space above her shoulder, using the position to balance himself and free his arms. She was frightened, and her eyes filled with tears at it. She felt him tip his head sideways in order to look at her.

  “What is it, darling?”

  Giselle shook her head.

  “I won’t harm you, little one. It would be like crushing a flower. But…you’re so small, don’t you see?”

  She refused to open her eyes just then. The tear she tried to hide rolled out from under her eyelid.

  “Don’t cry, darling. Please? I can’t stand it.”

  “But I’m frightened, Navarre! And I don’t even know why.”

  He kissed her tear trail.

  “I love you. I’ll try and be gentle. It won’t be easy, though. I’ve wanted you so much, and waited so long. That’s not a good combination right now.”

  His hands wrapped about her hips and yanked her against him. She gasped as he lowered his lips to hers. The strange lump of him slid along her belly. Stabbed between her thighs. Back to her belly. Thighs. Back. Over and over in motions that matched his hips. She felt him lift her buttocks, parting her legs more, his muscles tight everywhere, and then there was nothing but complete and solid pain.

  Giselle screamed, but the sound was captured in the caverns of his mouth.

  He pulled up from her and pushed up again, lifting his weight. She hadn’t realized how crushing it was until it was gone, along with his warmth. She couldn’t think. All such ability seemed stolen from her. Her apex was afire. He was branding her! Every twinge he made only added to it.

  “You must help me, Giselle. You’re too small.” He shoved again, and she cried loudly, and arched her neck, giving the sound room. “Wrap your legs around me, darling! Push down. Now!”

  She tried to lunge away instead. He was too strong. Too big. And he was hurting her.

  “No, Navarre…no. Please, no. You must stop. Please?”

  A sigh touched her cheek. And then everything on him shook, including her. The mattress beneath them even shuddered with it. And then he lowered his weight back to her, pushing out her air.

  “I can’t do this, Giselle.”

  The pain left, along with his pressure. But instead of feeling relief, she felt bereft. Alone. Cold.

  “Navarre?”

  “I refuse to hurt you, ma petit.”

  He tried to roll away, but she tightened her legs.

  He sighed. “Let go, Giselle.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re too tight, and your fear makes it worse. You’re fighting. Not helping. Now, have pity and let me rise.”

  Despite how she clung, he shoved away, reaching the side of the bed. He stood, and then he was walking away. Leaving her.

  “No, Navarre! Wait! Please? I won’t fight. I’ll….help.”

  The last was whispered. It was as if she unleashed a beast by the sound he made, as he swiveled and snarled at her.

  “I am a man, Giselle! Not a toy. You cannot beg me to stop, then tell me otherwise when I do. I cannot believe I managed to halt it now! I’m desperate, I tell you! Don’t you understand what you do?”

  “Please?” she asked.

  She heard his heavy sigh, and then he was approaching. Giselle moved into the center of the bed as he crawled onto the mattress, lifted his torso, put his hands on his hips, and then tipped his head, as if studying her. She didn’t know if he was angry. She’d never seen him angry…but she’d never seen anything like what he’d put on display, either. Far from frightening her, it was doing exciting things. Tantalizing things.

  “This is what a man looks like, Giselle. Yes, I’m big. And yes, you’re small. But it will fit. It has to be your maidenhood making it hurt. It won’t always be so. Do you understand?”

  He was still angry. The red tone in the center of his chest showed that, and Giselle’s lips parted. She nodded.

  “You won’t cry?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Then come here.”

  He opened his arms and she scooted into the space he’d created. He lifted her at the same time his mouth met hers, and nothing had tasted so sweet! His hands were rough this time as they rubbed her breasts, arms…thighs. Giselle lay back against the pillows again, bringing him to her, and this time she helped him. She did her best to welcome him. Despite everything, tears filled her eyes. He saw them, but she didn’t cry out — she didn’t dare.

  She tried to endure it without complaint. She held to him as he filled her, branding her with an agony she didn’t know existed. It burned. Tormented. She had to force herself not to beat at him. He was blurred. She opened her mouth to beg for mercy, but he forestalled her.

  “Look at me, Giselle,” he interrupted her. “Look and don’t look away.”

  Blue and violet eyes held hers, resembling storm-filled skies, just like the first time she saw them. Giselle had never seen them so soft and tender.

  “I love you.” He whispered it and pressed his head against the headboard. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Wrap your legs about me,” he answered. “Now. Tightly
. You do trust me, Oui?”

  She nodded, although it took an act of will to do it. Everything was raw and painful.

  “Navarre? I love— Dieu!”

  Her words were lost in a shriek as he grabbed her hips and rammed, fully possessing her. Filling her. He stopped the cry with a kiss, this one containing the flick of his tongue. Another. And then Giselle was matching him, losing reality in the enticement of his mouth. His lips. His tongue.

  He moved, sliding the swelled part from her. The pressure eased. Giselle had a moment to sigh her relief before he rammed again, bringing it right back. She would have tried to shove him from her then, but he was having none of it. He gripped her buttocks with hands that were probably going to leave bruises, as was the frantic motion of his mouth against hers.

  And then he did it again. Sliding from her only to thrust back into her. Out. Back in. Again. Over. And over. Little grunts began emanating from his throat, matching his movements. Sliding out. Ramming back in. Out. The mattress started rocking in accompaniment. The bed frame joined in next, creating a rhythm of creaks and groans and then it held her moans.

  And still his body pumped into hers.

  A stray spark flit through her lower belly. It came again. Stronger this time. And again. Adding to his motions as they started increasing in tempo. Harder. Faster. While the structure about them rocked with it. The inner spark came more often, each time gaining intensity. Duration. Strength.

  It altered as Giselle began shoving against him. Locking her ankles behind him for stability. The spark no longer ended. It just kept growing. The rhythm got even faster, swaying the mattress with it. And Navarre’s grunts weren’t little, nor were they spaced out. They were matching every thrust of his body into hers. The depth. The scope. The heat.

  It was still hot, but it was a different heat. Scorching. Fiery. And then the most amazing sensation flooded her, whooshing to inferno level, and even that wasn’t enough. Her legs strained to match his rhythm. Her fingernails caught on the ridges of his back and shoulders.

  “Oh Giselle. Oh, love. Oh…love. Giselle. Love.”

  He lifted from their kiss, mouthing a litany of words in accompaniment to their motions. Sweat slicked the air, coated their bodies, meshed their joining. The motions got faster. Harder. More erotic. Smell further excited her. He pushed up from her, gaining a position in order to pummel her body with his. And Giselle exploded.