Everywhere he touched, heat consumed her. If it wasn’t his mouth, it was his hands. Strong, capable hands that tugged, flexed, and drove her mad. Surely, any minute now, she’d burst into flame. But then, as though sensing she was overheating, he blew on her skin, a cool breeze spinning senses.
Far away, the festivities on the beach reached her ears. They seemed as distant as the stars dotting the dark sky above her. A storm of sensations bombarded her. As fast as she could acknowledge what he was doing—destroying her with his kisses and caresses—he moved again, his mouth on a quest which seemed to have only one goal—to taste her. All of her.
He moved to her neck, eased the braid she’d refashioned earlier aside, and opened his lips against her flesh. It was more, all so much more than she’d imagined when she’d acknowledged her attraction toward him. There was nothing in her experience which prepared her for this. For feeling his every breath against her skin, every slide of his rough palms over her flesh, every beat of his heart against hers.
There were no similarities to what it had been like with Roche. Cale’s loving didn’t resemble Roche’s crude manhandling and fumbling to jam himself within her. No, it was nothing like that, thank Jesus, and she wouldn’t think more on Roche. He had no place here. Not with Cale’s touch healing her soul.
This was what sharing one’s body was supposed to be. She felt beautiful, desired. Cherished. She’d never been drunk in her life yet she thought this must be what it felt like, to have the world blurry around the edges and her legs watery beneath her. To have the taste of something so fine on her tongue she couldn’t resist going back for more.
Gathering two handfuls of the soft cotton of his shirt, she pulled the garment from his trousers and slid her hands underneath. They weren’t anywhere near a fire and yet his skin radiated heat. His back was firm and strong. She left no part of it untouched. Curving around to his belly, she smiled against his mouth when she felt him tremble.
Happy to explore, she skimmed her palms upward. Her thumbs brushed his nipples and she stopped, amazed, when they hardened. She drew back, waited for his eyes to open and meet hers.
“Does it feel the same for you as it does for me?” she asked.
He grazed one of her exposed nipples, stealing her breath once again.
“What does it feel like?”
“Aching, exciting.”
His eyes darkened. “Then it feels the same.”
“I want to see.” She grabbed his shirt but he grasped it from her, yanked it over his head.
Moonlight bathed his chest in soft light and glinted off the pendant he wore around his neck.
“Do you always wear this?” she asked, reaching for the angel hanging from a thin strip of leather.
He grabbed her wrist. With one hand holding her he swung the leather over his shoulder so the pendant hung over his back instead. She raised her eyes to his. He’d been intent before but it paled in comparison to the purpose filling his eyes. ’Twas as though he was determined to block out everything but her.
She’d seen his chest once before but now it was hers to discover. His torso was sprinkled with dark hair and she explored it first, as she’d been curious to know what it felt like. It was much the same as his beard, coarse but not uncomfortable. She found the round discs of his nipples. They needed no more than a fleeting touch to once again pebble beneath her fingers.
Leaning forward, Grace circled her tongue over them. Beneath her mouth, she felt as much as heard his hum of appreciation. The sound encouraged her.
Grace skimmed her lips upward, pressed her mouth into his neck, and moved along his shoulder. Her hands flowed over the firm contours of his back and shoulders, lingering over the warmth of his flesh.
Her fingers bumped down the ridges of his spine until she stopped at the dip in his lower back, a breath above the band of his trousers. His body tensed and Grace bit her lip. Should she? Did women do such things? If she were too bold, would it taint her in his mind? If she weren’t, would he be disappointed? Would she?
The answer came quickly. She’d chosen tonight to make new memories and she would not leave with regrets. Somehow, she knew if she were to stop, she’d always wonder.
Rising to her full height she moved her hands to his shoulders. Cale released a breath and she felt his muscles ease. Smiling, Grace flitted her hands down his back but this time she didn’t stop. She didn’t stop until she’d spread her hands wide and filled them with the taut muscles of his backside.
*
Cale didn’t move. Not only didn’t he want her to stop—not until his last breath—he also wanted her to feel in control, to know he wasn’t forcing anything upon her. But his chivalry had a price. Lust gnawed at him, filled his head with visions of her, and visions of what he wanted to do to her, with her. His hands twitched to reach and touch, to taste her mouth, to lift those breasts and bury his face within their lush valley. To slide into her and feel her body acquiesce.
Sweat dampened the hair on his forehead. Cale hadn’t caught his breath since she’d told him she wanted him. He’d been hard and eager ever since, pulsing with a need that had him grinding his teeth to keep under control.
The need ignited when she circled around, pressed herself fully against his back, when he felt those luscious breasts on his skin. Her hands snuck around his waist, traveled over his skipping heart, up to his dry throat, then slid straight down. Down his chest, over his navel. And lower still.
“Yes.” He hissed.
She fumbled, touching him with one hand, then two, as though she couldn’t decide which way was best. Either was fine, so long as she kept her hands on him.
Her fingertips grazed him, teased until he couldn’t bear the torment. Placing his hand over hers, he increased the pressure, wrapped both their hands over his engorged cock and showed her how to stroke him. His trousers were a barrier, but they wouldn’t be for long. His body could only take so much torment.
When she had the rhythm he released her, letting her caress him. His eyes closed. She wrapped her hand tighter. It wasn’t until his hips started to thrust that he grabbed her hand and turned to face her.
“Did I—”
He kissed her fingers. “It was perfect, but a man can only take so much. I don’t want to make love to your hand. I want to make love to you.”
Her gaze fell to his erection, which poked sturdily at his trousers. “It—you—” She swallowed. “I thought a man needed to be inside a woman.”
Lord, how had he managed, at this stage of his life, to find a woman so innocent? He caught her chin and raised her gaze to his. “There are many ways to seek pleasure, Grace. Many bold and wonderful ways.”
“Show me.”
He’d given her time to be sure and he’d give her more yet before he was inside her, but those two words were more powerful than an armada of ships with its guns aimed straight at him. Here, now, he was surrendering. To her, to him, to whoever had brought her into his life. He was through fighting.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go below? It would be more…comfortable.”
“I want it to be here, with the stars as our ceiling and the breeze as our music.”
“I forgot the Irish are a fanciful lot. Don’t you believe in faeries?”
Grace smiled. “Don’t you?”
“At this moment? I’ll believe almost anything.” Then, taking his discarded shirt, he spread it on the deck. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had nearby. He blew out the lantern, then, holding out his hand, he said, “Lie with me, Grace.”
Her touch was warm in his, warm and solid. As was the look in her eye when he laid her down onto his shirt. Her braid spread out to her side and he wished he’d have thought to untie it, to unwind the rope of her hair so it could spread like an onyx veil behind her. Next time, he thought, as his gaze spilled over the woman lying before him.
He helped her shed her gown until she lay before him in only her shift with the neckline of it still gathered beneath her
breasts. Aroused nipples jutted forward, all but begging to be suckled. She’d asked him to show her and show her he would.
Settling in beside her, Cale pulled her close, leaned in and kissed her. Her mouth met his, but Grace clearly wasn’t interested in gentle, easy kisses any longer. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, slick and wet, and all he could think was he wanted more than her mouth to be slick and wet.
Sliding his hand from her waist, he cupped a plump breast in his palm, kneaded it with his fingers. Dipping his head, he made a slow, long pass of his tongue over her nipple. Her back arched. Opening his lips, he sucked the pebbled tip into his mouth, rolled it over his tongue while his other hand moved between them to tease her other breast.
With one nipple glistening in the moonlight, he nudged the other with his nose. He flicked his tongue, wet swipes that drew fevered murmurs from her lips. Neither of their hands was still. His were on her exposed flesh, pressing, squeezing while hers scraped through his hair, across his shoulders. He delicately closed his teeth around a sensitized peak.
“Cale!”
He would have thought he’d hurt her if she hadn’t arched her back further, pressing her breast more firmly against his mouth. Heat raged through his blood, roaring as though fuel were added to a fire. It engulfed him, poured through his very soul.
He’d never been so happy to burn.
The small hooks on her shoes confounded him but his bulky fingers managed to loosen the first few before impatience overtook him and he pulled them off. His hand encountered bare leg.
“’Twas too hot for stockings.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” he answered as he set her foot on his thigh and slowly ran his hand underneath her shift, up her calf, over the soft skin behind her knee, and up the trembling length of her thigh. Anticipating her reaction, he dropped his free hand on her other knee and held it when her muscles tensed beneath his palm.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Give me the chance to show you how wonderful this can be.”
“Just—” She licked her lips. “Just be patient.”
Cale leaned forward, lingered over a kiss. “I’ll be as patient as you need.”
*
Grace’s gasp shivered through her lungs. Oh, she wasn’t cold. Cale’s touch, and the anticipation of more, kept her body simmering. But the not knowing scared her. She’d made herself a promise to be master of her own fate but his caresses and kisses left her feeling as though she were running full speed toward the Cliffs of Moher. It terrified her to think what would happen if she didn’t stop in time.
She trusted Cale. She’d meant it when she told him so, but it was as though something else were taking over her body. Never had her flesh felt so heated, had her heart pressed so hard against her chest she thought it would push through her skin. Her breasts had never been heavier, never craved a man’s touch before. Even now, after being plumped and suckled, they pouted for more.
She wanted the exquisite sensations to stop, yet she didn’t want it to end either. His hands were calloused but not unpleasant on her bare skin. His beard tickled more than it scratched, especially on the tender flesh of her thighs.
Grace gaped as she looked down upon herself. Her shift was gathered below her full and naked breasts. He’d raised the skirt. One more breath and her very core would be exposed. Exposed to the man who lay between her thighs. Her inner muscles clenched. The very last part of her that remained hidden throbbed.
The entire scene was sinful and sensual at the same time. She had no idea what she should do. To try and regain modesty now seemed silly, especially since a part of her wanted him to bare her.
“Lift your hips.”
Her heart about leapt from her chest at his words, but it didn’t take more than a moment before she complied. Together, they shed her shift until she lay before him naked.
“Grace.”
There was reverence in his voice, but it was nothing in comparison to the look on his face, and knowing it was her who put it there. Had she really thought him unfeeling when she’d met him? There was nothing unfeeling in him now. He touched her as though she were the most delicate orchid, kissed her as though she were his last drink of water and he was savoring every drop. He looked at her as though she were the rarest of gems and he couldn’t believe his luck in finding her.
Suddenly, she wasn’t running towards the Cliff of Moher afraid she’d fall over their edge. She was running toward them knowing she’d fly.
“I’ll be wanting to see you as well,” she said. She reached for his pants.
Cale took her hand. “I want to go slow, want to make sure you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.” She shook off his hand, undid the button at his waist, then the next and the one below that. She jumped a little when his erection sprang free.
His lips twitched. “You weren’t the only one who thought it too hot for underwear.”
She laughed but her humor sputtered in her throat and her eyes stretched open when he shoved his pants past his hips and tossed them aside. She wasn’t a virgin but her time with Roche had been in the dark. And her eyes had been tightly closed; she never opened them again until Roche had gone to sleep or back above decks. She fought the panic lurking along the edges of her heart. This was Cale, not Roche. It wouldn’t be anything like it had been before. It wouldn’t be. She refused to let it be. This time would be beautiful. Wouldn’t it?
*
Cale watched the fear chase away her pleasure and bit back a curse. Not because she was afraid, after what she’d been through she had every right to be scared, but because he should have anticipated it. Instead, he’d gotten lost in his own pleasure and because of his negligence apprehension had snuck in.
Luckily, he knew how to counter it.
He gently closed his mouth over hers. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed kissing, how nothing felt quite like a woman’s lips yielding to his. He kissed her softly, eased them both off the shore and into the current. When desire once again bubbled and pushed him onward, Cale increased the pressure, taking her along with a flick of his tongue. She sighed into his mouth, dug her hands into his waist.
With one arm braced to keep his weight from crushing her, he caressed her breast with his hand, rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger. Her sigh turned to a moan and he took the kiss deeper. He shifted closer, pressed his arousal against her thigh. He wanted her to get used to the certainty of what was coming.
He jumped, hissing through his teeth, when her fingers skipped across the head of his penis.
“Did I hurt you?”
Despite his thudding heart, he chuckled. “No. You surprised me.”
He shifted slightly, making more room and placed her hand back onto him. She moved onto her side and, facing him, skimmed, flexed and curved her hand around him until the first drops of desire slipped from him. Heavenly as it felt, he wasn’t going to burst into her hand. He wanted to be buried thick and deep within her when he found his release.
Easing her hand away, he pressed her gently onto her back. She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her when he settled his hand between her legs.
He kissed her again, giving her the time to get used to his hand on her. Slowly, he fluttered his fingers over her folds. She shuddered but his fingers were wet and he knew, despite her tense muscles, her body was responding. This time when he moved his fingers over her, he rubbed his thumb across her sensitive nub. Her hips jerked off the deck.
Cale didn’t give her time to think. She was wet and he was throbbing and he couldn’t think past the clawing hunger. Sliding down her curves, he licked his way down. Her skin was salty and he tasted her from her neck to the apex of her downy curls. Her hips arched again. He knew she didn’t really know what she was asking, but he planned on giving it to her. More than once.
Her fingers flittered from his hair, to his shoulders, to the deck. Sliding lower, he swiped his tongue over her. She gasped again, dug her heels in the deck and lifted herself to
him. Reaching beneath her he cupped her backside in his hands, held her against his mouth and ravished.
“Cale! What are you doing?”
They were her last coherent words before his tongue drove her mad. Her moans carried on the breeze. Sweat rolled down his temple as he made love to her. She gasped his name as she crested. He held her for a moment, both their bodies quaking, then set her hips back onto the deck.
Before she could catch her breath, he pressed into her.
He growled as she wrapped around him, as the hot slickness of her covered him.
“Bend your knees.”
She did and he drove all the way in. Then there was no stopping him. It felt too good. His hips rocked against hers; blood raged through his veins. He pumped hard, taking himself almost out before sliding back in.
Skin slapped against skin. Moan met moan. Sweat ran down his back. He reached a hand between them, tweaked her nipple. Her hips arched up met his. And the next time he drove in she rose up. His cock slid against her arousal and she gasped.
“Again,” she begged and matched his increasing thrusts with her own.
He slid a hand under her buttocks, lifted her as his strokes went faster, pushed deeper. She thrashed her head, dug her nails into his shoulders. Her breath was hot against his neck. Around his cock she was molten. He tried to hang on but the pleasure was exquisite and he couldn’t hold it back.
Cale threw back his head, every muscle shaking as his release burst through him. Grace followed immediately, her muscles squeezing him until he thought he’d die of the pleasure.
Chapter Eleven
The sweat hadn’t cooled from his back before Cale knew he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart continued to hammer against his ribs but that wasn’t what frightened him; it was the tremble shadowing the hammering. He’d kissed her. He hadn’t only bedded Grace; he’d made love to her. Like parched soil, he’d soaked in every touch, every scent, feeling more alive than he had since losing Catherine and Caden.
Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance Page 14