Tell Me You Love Me/C1 Tell Me You Love Me: Chapter One
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Tell Me You Love Me/C1 Tell Me You Love Me: Chapter One
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C1 Tell Me You Love Me: Chapter One

England, 1814

Thunder crashed overhead. Anything that wasn’t tied down swirled wildly around them. A huge branch had already hit her. Matt hurried his pace as he carried an unconscious Kiya inside the small cabin, surprised to find it empty. Apparently, the men who guarded her father’s sheep were tending their flock lest the storm frighten the animals into dashing off the nearby cliffs.

A fire burned in the large, black stove, warming the little cabin against outside elements gone suddenly insane. A table, two chairs and a small bed filled the tiny shelter, leaving almost no floor space.

Matt placed her upon the rumpled bed. She was soaking wet, her lips blue. He hadn’t a doubt if left as such, despite the warmth of the room, she’d soon take chill. There was nothing to be done for it, and with no further thought on the matter, he set out to quickly dispose of the lady’s clothes. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his gaze mostly averted—mostly but not entirely.

His heart pounded, and his hands shook. His lips thinned to a tight grimace resembling pain and a fine sheen of sweat added to his already wet frame as he managed at last to tug a blanket over her, leaving her in her frilly drawers and lacy chemise, both of which were nearly as transparent as gauze when wet.

Granted, he’d known his share of women, but this one confirmed his previous imaginings and then some. She was even lovelier than he had supposed. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her skin glowed with a delicate lustre as if cut from porcelain, while full pink lips almost exactly matched the soft colour of her cheeks.

Her hair when dry was a riot of yellow and silver curls. While riding she had lost most of her pins and curly confection swirled wildly behind her in the wind. Unrestrained, those wild locks reached to her waist.

Matt forced aside his reaction to the sight of her near nakedness. He hadn’t meant to look. Indeed, he had not looked as he might have liked.

Thankful for something that took his mind from the woman and her all too vulnerable state, he tore a piece of cotton from her petticoat, pumped water and applied the wet rag to the swelling on her forehead. The flying branch had not broken her skin but had left a small, red mark above a growing knot. She’d suffer some discolouration, perhaps even a black eye, but hopefully nothing more serious than that.

Matt hung her wet clothes over a chair near the stove. As he waited for the lady to awaken, he pumped more water into a kettle and set it upon the stove. Moments later, he washed out the tea pot and cups left on the table. Next he searched for towelling. Finding none, he took a pillow sheet, flipped it inside out and pressed the linen cloth to her wet hair, drying what he could. It was important that she not take a chill. Had he not been so absorbed in her and their earlier conversation, he would have noticed sooner the coming storm. He should have, and because he hadn’t, he felt some responsibility for her injury.

After a time, he coaxed, “Kiya, wake up,” and then repeated it again in a deep voice that allowed no option.

She moaned softly. “Go away.”

He grinned. “You need to wake up.”

“No, I don’t.”

She’d taken a blow to her head. She did need to wake up. “I’ve tea ready.”

For the first time, Kiya realised she was in bed, while talking to a man. She opened her eyes with a frown and was surprised to find herself in a strange cabin. “Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“We were caught in the storm, remember?”

“Oh,” she said as the memory came. Her head ached, and she reached a hand to the injury. “I got hit with—”

“A branch, I know. I saw it,” he interrupted as he looked at her eyes. “No real damage done, I think. You’ve a small lump over your eye. Does it hurt much?”

Kiya thought that question particularly ridiculous. She glared her annoyance and returned with, “Only when I breathe.”

Matt grinned. She was a sarcastic little brat but the most beautiful he’d ever come across. “Here. Hold this wet cloth to the swelling. I’ll get the tea.”

A moment later, he stripped off his soaked shirt and hung it near the stove beside clothes that looked just like hers.

Kiya’s heart began to beat far harder and faster than it should have, drastically hampering her ability to breathe. He’d taken off his shirt. Just what did he think he was doing?

“Excuse me,” she said then asked, “What are you doing?”

He glanced behind him and frowned. Was the blow taken harder than he’d first imagined? “Getting the tea, remember?”

“And you can only do that while half dressed?”

Matt glanced at his bare chest and grinned. “Our clothes are wet.”

Kiya stared at him a long moment before she mouthed the word ‘our’ and then slowly came to a sitting position just as she lowered her gaze to her own chest. Changing positions allowed the blanket to fall to her waist. She gasped at the sight. She might as well have been naked! Good God in heaven! She jerked the blanket tightly to her neck. “Are you insane? What have you done?”

“You couldn’t stay in those wet clothes without taking a chill. They had to come off.”

“Oh my God,” she moaned softly, unable to raise her gaze to his. Kiya had no doubt the man had had himself a good look while going about the business of disrobing her. She couldn’t meet his gaze. If the beast dared smile her way, she was apt to kill him on the spot. “And you took them off?” she asked her voice barely above a whisper, clearly aghast at the thought.

He didn’t bother to respond. Both of them knew what had happened. No one else was here.

She moaned softly her embarrassment.

“There’s no need to distress yourself. I covered you as quickly as I could.”

“Indeed?” she snapped and asked in disbelief, “And how quickly was that?”

Matt chuckled softly at her nasty comment, his eyes sparkling dark with something Kiya couldn’t name, something mysterious and frightening, something that caused a chill to race up her spine. “Shall I tell you I didn’t look?”

Kiya’s cheeks burned.

“I promise you I didn’t.” And the words were almost true. A glance couldn’t count as a look, could it?

His statement did little to ease her suffering. That combined with a god-awful headache left her in something less than a good mood. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been half so mortified. Very softly and with hardly a tremor at all, she said, “My father has pistols in his library. When we get back, I’m going to shoot you.”

“Are you?” he smiled, knowing a stab of almost overwhelming tenderness at her obvious suffering. “I have pistols as well, you know?”

“I don’t care.” Her eyes suddenly and unexplainably filled with tears. Her head was killing her, and this beast was making it hurt all the more.

“Don’t cry, Kiya.” He crouched before her, taking her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I couldn’t leave you wet.” His thumb wiped away a lone tear as it travelled down her cheek. “Your lips were blue, your skin as cold as ice. Suppose you took a chill and died? It would have been my fault.”

Matt never imagined his actions would have caused this lady such distress. Of course, he hadn’t undressed many true ladies, so he couldn’t have known how one might react at finding herself, all but for a meagre wisp of lace, naked before a man who was not her husband.

Kiya pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her face against them. She had a raging headache. No doubt that was the main cause of her unusual lack of self-control. No doubt, she was making far too much of this unseemly situation. It was his fault. Even though the man had done what he’d deemed to be right at the time, it was more than his actions. It was the man himself. It was the way he looked at a woman—in this case herself-as if he could see things no one else could, as if he knew her innermost secrets. His gaze most always left her jittery and oddly nervous. She’d never suffered these effects at another’s glance. Why so his? Kiya couldn’t imagine. She only knew she’d feel ever so much better if he would simply attach himself to another and leave her in peace.

She fought for control and, after a few minutes, raised her face from her knees and looked him in the eye. “First of all, I never cry,” she said, belying the tears that were only now drying. “Second, don’t call me Kiya. Third, thank you for your help.” She choked a bit on that one but managed the words just the same. “And fourth I’d like some tea, if you please.”

Matt came to his feet and grinned as he turned away from her to pour the tea. Having had a bit more experience than the young miss in his care, he was fully aware of the sexual tension that had sprung to life from the first moment they’d met. She might not understand her unusual emotions, but he knew the reason behind her soft blushes and inability to look him in the eye. She was afraid. She wasn’t sure why, but she most definitely was. Matt hadn’t a doubt she felt much the same things as he did, only because those feelings were new, they confused and frightened her.

Kiya glanced in his direction and wondered why she was so conscious of the man. She knew a measure of annoyance and wondered how he managed to upset her. Well, perhaps upset was too strong a word. Still, there was something about this man that left her oddly unsettled. Why? Certainly, he never said or did anything to deserve her wrath. Still, she was convinced he was somehow too forward and in need of a good setting down.

Moments later, they sipped at their cups in companionable silence. He sat at the table; she reclined against the wall, while holding the blanket in place, her headache nearly gone.

“Were you always a guard?” she asked after some uncomfortable silence.

“Pretty much,” he returned, offering her nothing more.

“Who have you guarded before?”

“Rich men and their families, mostly in London.”

“Any of the Royals?”

“One or two.”

She raised one brow and shot him a disparaging look. “My my, a fountain of information, I see. Which one?”

He grinned at her sarcasm. “The King’s nephew. There were rumours of a possible kidnapping.”

Kiya dismissed the possibility that his smile might have any effect on her. Her stomach had certainly not trembled. She was simply hungry. Still, impressed, she commented, “I read about it in the papers. Are you the one who prevented it?”

Matt nodded, while allowing a slight shrug, “Myself and others.”

“It sounds exciting.”

“It sounds like it,” he agreed.

“Meaning it’s not?”

“Meaning, if there is any excitement, it’s over in an instant. Quite a bit more time is spent waiting and watching.”

“I’d like to do something exciting.”

“Would you? What exactly?”

“Among other things, travel I think. I’d like to see for myself the things I’ve read.”

“Travelling is often uncomfortable,” he warned. “Beds are usually far from soft and none too clean. Water for bathing is hard to come by. Water for drinking is often bad. Mayhap you’ve romanticised what you’ve read.”

Kiya dismissed his warning with a laugh. “Perhaps. I’ll let you know when I get back.”

“When are you going?”

“I have to wait a bit, but I’ll be of age soon.”

Matt knew without a doubt that she would. “But not alone.”

“I’ll take a servant with me, I’m sure.”

“And you expect a servant will protect you? Have you no prospects?” Having already looked into the matter, he knew she did not. “No future husband who might travel with you?”

“I won’t be marrying, so there’ll be no husband. Perhaps, I’ll hire a guard.”

His eyes widened with shock. She wouldn’t be marrying? “Why? Why won’t you marry? Is something wrong?”

“With me, you mean?” she asked on a laugh. “I’d simply rather not is all.”

Matt couldn’t fathom her response. “You’d rather not? Don’t all young ladies want to marry?”

Kiya shrugged. “All but me, I suppose.” And then answered his puzzled frown with, “It’s simple. When a lady marries she is no longer herself but merely her husband’s property. She owns nothing, becomes nothing, is nothing.” And then she added in all sarcasm, “I simply prefer to forgo such an outstanding temptation.”

Matt was temporarily at a loss for words. It was a long moment before he went on. “And your father agrees with this decision?”

“He knows my feelings on the matter. Once I’m of age, he’ll have no choice.”

Matt grinned at last. So her father was not in agreement with his daughter’s outrageous notions. He thought that might be the case. “So you’d hire a guard rather than marry? You should know men are not to be trusted.”

“Now you sound like my father,” she interrupted.

Matt shrugged. “Men know how men think.”

“Indeed? Perhaps because men are wicked at heart?”

“Many are.”

“You’re not. Perhaps, I’ll hire you.”

Matt thought this woman would surely be alarmed should she know the way of his thoughts, for at this moment, he’d like nothing better than to show her firsthand just how wicked a man could be. Still, lest she bolt from the cabin and into the rain, he remained quiet and offered no comment to her last remark.

“Besides travelling, I should one day like to captain a ship.”

“Indeed? Have you experience in sailing?”

Kiya dismissed the experience she did have, knowing he spoke of ships, not boats large or small. “No, but I could learn.”

And at his look of disbelief, she reminded, lest he believe her ridiculous, “There have been lady pirates. The idea is not impossible.”

Matt nodded. “There have and you’re right, it’s not impossible.”

“So it shouldn’t come as a shock that a woman might want to travel, to captain her own ship.”

“I’m not shocked,” Matt returned, and in truth, he almost wasn’t. “I have a ship. Perhaps, you’d like to captain her.”

Kiya grinned. “Do you? And you guard people in your spare time, for your amusement then?”

“I don’t captain it,” he said, ignoring her taunt. “I hire people to do that.”

“Do you? Is it a pirate’s ship?” she asked in clear disbelief.

“It was. My brothers and I captured it and …”

Kiya laughed delighted in his teasing. “You captured it? From pirates? And now what? You use it to travel?”

“To trade mostly. I haven’t travelled too much lately.” Aware of her disbelief, he thought it would only increase that scepticism should he tell her more. Wisely, he kept the rest to himself.

“What’s her name?”

“The Sea Witch, of course.”

“Of course,” she laughed softly, delighting in his imagination. Obviously, the man could be amusing when he set his mind to it. “You’ll have to show her to me.”

“Or what, you’ll not believe me?”

“Certainly not. Of course, I believe you,” she lied. “I only meant I’d very much like to see her.”

“That was very good,” he said of her quick recovery. “But it’s a sin to lie.”

Kiya laughed again, never realising she was growing more comfortable and at ease in his company. “You have a family then?”

Matt nodded. “I have three brothers. I’m the oldest. And then there’s my mother, of course.”

“Four boys,” Kiya mused. “That must have been trying for your mother.”

“I’ve no doubt. We were a rowdy bunch at best.”

Kiya smiled and shook her head. “You have that look in your eye. I believe you were a terror.” And still might be, she imagined then thought it best to keep that notion to herself.

Matt didn’t bother to dissuade her of her thoughts. She was closer to the truth than she knew. “Why have you an exotic name and your sisters not?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, we all have unusual names,” she returned. “My mother was an avid student of ancient Egypt. Merry’s name is Merytaten—she was a Queen in the Eighteenth Dynasty. Amy’s is Amon, god of fertility, I think.

“Our clothes should be dry,” Kiya said, nodding towards the hot stove.

“It’s still raining. We’ll only get wet again unless we wait a bit longer.” As if to profess the truth of his words, the wind howled all the harder around the small cabin, rattling its door and shaking its one window, while rain slashed in fury against the tiny shelter.

“Indeed, but in the meantime, I could get dressed.”

“If I step outside while you dress, I’ll get wet again. Why don’t I turn my back or close my eyes?” he offered.

Kiya shot him a no-nonsense look. And without a word spoken, he was apprised of her thoughts on the matter. She wasn’t about to get dressed while he stayed in the cabin.

He sighed. “Wonderful,” he muttered none too happily. “I’ll be right back. You’d best get to it.”

“Count slowly to a hundred,” she said as he reached the door.

Matt muttered something unintelligible, telling clearly his displeasure. Still, objecting or not to her wants, he did as she asked.

“Count fast to a hundred,” he countered. The door slammed behind him.

Kiya moved as quickly as she could. In seconds, she had her clothes in place and was just closing the last buttons of her riding costume when the door crashed open.

“I hope you’re happy,” he said, drenched again as he staggered, clearly breathless inside. “I’ll probably come down with fever and die just because you couldn’t wait a bit to get dressed.” He gave a violent unexpected shiver and reached for the small linen to rub dry.

Kiya bit her lip. She’d thought at first he was teasing, but his shiver gave her cause to believe he was truly cold. She moved to him, took the linen from his hands and dried his back. He shivered again. Besieged with guilt she said, “Oh Lord, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I should have waited. I never thought you’d get so cold.”

He turned to face her as she continued the chore. It never occurred to her that she should not be doing this, touching him. Reaching high she dried his neck, his shoulder and side quickly and without thought. Then his chest… She moved slightly slower then slower still, as if she’d just discovered what her hands were doing, the cloth went to his stomach at a snail’s pace. His skin was smooth but for a patch of dark hair centred upon his chest and a thin line of the same that ran over his stomach and disappeared into his trousers. Water dripped on her hands from his hair. She looked up to find him totally still, entranced, his dark eyes watching her without a flicker of their usual humour. Dark, hungry, they seemed to hold her in place, taking her will from her.

She might not have meant to show it, but her admiration was obvious as the cloth again moved slowly over a dry chest and stomach.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as her gaze rose to meet his and felt a shiver of something like excitement race through her body.

Had he said he was cold? God, he was suddenly hotter than he’d ever been in his life. If she continued to touch him, he’d likely burst into flames.

Her hands stopped their movement. The cloth, forgotten, fell away. Her fingers lay motionless against his bare flesh. She never seemed to notice.

I should move , she thought. She was standing too close. He was dry now. So why didn’t she? Why didn’t her legs obey the dictates of her mind? She felt a wave of dizziness and took a deep steadying breath. She almost moaned aloud as his scent filled her lungs, her mind and her senses, causing the dizziness to grow tenfold. Lord, this man smelled good. She leaned just a bit closer, luxuriating in the delicious scent. In her innocence, she never thought she should not.

A pulse beat in her throat. Her lips parted as she suddenly struggled to breathe. She was lost in the darkness of his gaze, unexpectedly gasping for air as if she’d been running some distance or holding her breath. What was the matter with her? Why was she breathless? Why was her heart suddenly pounding? She couldn’t seem to hear anything but the roar of her blood as it rushed through her veins.

His mouth lowered just a bit, his face—his dangerously handsome face—coming closer, his dark eyes blocking out all else but his hunger—a hunger they suddenly both knew. His mouth brushed gently against hers, and all thoughts but one simply vanished. Her younger sister had once remarked that he was lovely to look at. Only Kiya knew he was even lovelier to taste.

Her body tingled from her lips clear to her toes at the simple brush of his mouth on hers. Oh my goodness. She’d never thought a man could smell or taste so good. That probably wasn’t a good thing because he looked and smelled better than cherry pie. And nothing was better than cherry pie.

“Pie,” she muttered thoughtlessly against his insistent mouth.

He didn’t seem to hear her, at least not at first.

“Mmm better,” she murmured as he deepened the kiss.

He smiled as his lips parted, and his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, lifting her some while bringing her tightly against him.

“Cherry pie,” she said against his delicious mouth.

Kiya knew a touch of amazement. She’d never thought one could talk while being kissed, but she was being kissed and delightfully so. Still, she couldn’t seem to resist telling him how much she liked it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked at her mention of food, while never taking his mouth from hers.

“You taste so good,” she returned, never noticing her words, never thinking to control or deny the sweetly ingenuous delight that filled her. “Better than cherry pie.”

He growled at her luscious response. “Open your mouth for me.”

She did as he asked and was shocked to feel his tongue dip gently between her lips. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

She meant to laugh at the nonsensical response, but the soft sound turned oddly into a groan. “That’s not a kiss.”

“Isn’t it? Don’t you like it?”

“I think I do,” she managed, strangely fascinated by this unusual occurrence. “But do you think you should do that?”

“Oh, I think I should.”

“All right then,” she agreed. “You’re probably right.” Anything that felt this good had to be right.

He gave a low deliciously sexy chuckle at her eager acquiescence even as he took her bottom lip and sucked it gently into his mouth. He heard her soft moan of pleasure.

“Mmm, that feels lovely, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed

“But I’m almost positive, this isn’t kissing.” It never occurred to her that she shouldn’t be allowing this. Kiya was too taken by the moment, too instantly absorbed into the pleasure that she never thought at all.

His tongue moved over her lip, and the tingling sensations increased.

“You have a beautiful mouth.”

“Are you sure you’re kissing me?” she asked.

“Absolutely sure,” he returned.

“It feels like you’re eating me.”

“Not yet,” he promised. “But I will.”

Kiya frowned just a bit at his words. She didn’t understand. But most of all, she didn’t really care. What he was doing was too lovely to bother thinking on his confusing comment.

“I didn’t know a man could taste like you do.”

“Oh my God,” he moaned. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“No. What?”

Matt didn’t dare answer the question. To do so would snap her from this delicious moment. Instead, he coaxed her deeper into the magic. “Watch this. Tell me what you think.”

His hand came to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as his tongue pushed into her mouth. Breathing her scent, he took her taste as his tongue ran over her smooth teeth, the roof of her mouth then sucked her tongue into his mouth. He allowed no quarter but absorbed all he could of her essence.

She’d been kissed before but never anything like this. It was too much. Her knees buckled as her whole being seemed to flow into liquid heat.

His arm tightened around her as he brought her to the bed.

Kiya neither felt the bed beneath her, nor the buttons of her short jacket and blouse as one by one they came undone. All she knew was this man, his taste, the feel of his mouth on hers, the softness of his lips, the scratching of his beard, the harsh quick sounds of his breathing, sounds that matched her own.

And when his mouth freed hers at last, his face tucked into the sweetness of her neck. She gasped for breath and said weakly and more innocently than she knew, “I think you forgot to kiss me and tried to eat my mouth instead.”

He laughed as his lips moved to her shoulder. Amazingly her shoulders were bare and her blouse somehow lay open. She never wondered how that could have happened. All she knew was the lovely sweet thrill of his mouth, his tongue dragging over her skin and the way it caused her toes to curl. “I like that.”

“I thought you might. You’re going to like this even more,” he said as his mouth returned to her neck then lowered to the suddenly exposed flesh of her chest.

A moment later, her chemise was pulled down exposing her breast to his view. In the back of her mind, she knew she should object, only she couldn’t seem to find the words to tell him to stop. All she could manage was a weak mechanical, “You shouldn’t…” then a deep groan as his mouth, his burning hot mouth, covered the pink tip and sucked it into a pit of fire. The sounds she made were foreign to her ears. It couldn’t be her. Someone was in pain, only this was as far from pain as night was from day. She gasped for air as her head fell back, her chest rising, lifting her breast to both their pleasure.

He moaned his appreciation. God, but she was beautiful, no doubt the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. From the first moment, he’d seen her, he’d wanted this, longed for this, ached to know the scent of her, the silkiness of her skin. He’d waited months. Waiting, watching, longing to touch her, to hold her in his arms, to taste her, to breathe her, until he’d thought he’d lose his mind. Now, at last her taste… He forced himself to hold to his control for she was about to drive him over the edge of reason. He had to have more. He had to see more, feel more.

Kiya moaned. There were no words. The wet tip felt suddenly cool as his mouth moved to discover its twin. Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing ever would. Only she was wrong. His hand moved up her leg, unerringly under her thin, delicate drawers. He rested for a long moment on her thigh. She felt a flicker of surprise. No man had ever touched her there. Matt shouldn’t… And then she forgot her thoughts as his mouth returned to hers, dragging her again into the sweet drunken haze of desire and a furnace of blazing, aching heat.

Her hands moved to his neck, pulling him closer, unable to get enough, feel enough or taste enough. Her fingers threaded through clean, dark hair. How had she never imagined a man’s hair could feel so soft? Hard man and soft hair. She groaned at the delicious difference.

His hand moved. Higher, higher, it came, closer to the heat of her. His mouth pulled free of hers. His eyes were dark, hungry, watching for her response.

The air was thick. She couldn’t breathe. A soft hum filled her ears. What was happening? She felt slightly bewildered unable to understand what had happened or what was about to happen.

He saw her confusion and knew her for the innocent she was. Had she been another, that look alone would have stopped him, but she wasn’t another. She was Kiya. No one had ever looked like her or felt like her. No woman had ever come alive as she had in his arms. None had ever, in her innocence, taken his strength and returned it a hundred times over leaving him more a man than he’d ever been before.

His finger slid into the fold of her body, contacting the hot, wet, delicious heat of her, centring on the tiny nub of her building passion.

Her body jerked. Until now, she hadn’t known the sensitivity. No one had ever touched her there. A soft gasp came just before her gaze began to clear. “What? What are you doing?”

“Touching you,” he said as he smiled at her obvious uncertainty.

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Yes,” he countered. “God, yes, I should.”

Kiya closed her eyes and sighed as his mouth snatched away the last of her resistance and her last rational thought with it. She was in sudden agreement that he most definitely should.

She moaned softly, her mouth opening greedily beneath his. This time, she sucked his tongue into her heat, and Matt groaned at her eager response and the agonising surge of lust that threatened his sanity. As his tongue filled her mouth, her hips rose against his hand, her legs parting further to the deliciousness of his ever-moving finger.

Kiya’s only thought was the pleasure. Like a crazed being, she only wanted more. In truth, she was helpless but to demand more. It only vaguely occurred to her that this shouldn’t happen, for the exquisite sensation derived was so overwhelming, so mind shattering, she’d only managed the most meagre resistance.

Her body grew hard, achingly hard, heavy and wet. She tore her mouth from his, her lungs starved for air , and she gasped . A heaviness settled over her stomach. It urged her hips to rise of their own accord, to rise to his wondrous fingers. She whimpered even as her gaze filled with burgeoning fear. She hadn’t a notion as to what was happening .

Her body felt weighty, thick, oddly disconnected from her as it throbbed with life, with need and longing, but for what?

“What?” she asked breathlessly, almost desperately. “Please,” she urged as her hips moved higher, her need beyond belief. She didn’t know what she needed but was frantic for him to bring an end to pleasure that had grown to sudden torment. “Please,” she begged again, her head falling back, her throat arching to his mouth, her blue eyes dazed, unseeing and her body stiff as it demanded release.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. It will come,” he breathed against her mouth.

“You have to…” she began then suddenly found it impossible to form words as guttural groans…something…someone…took possession of her body. It was no longer hers, but a wild creature’s, straining towards unseen, heretofore unknown pleasure.

She gasped at the pain? Was it pain? She didn’t know. She couldn’t think. She could only feel as something inside clamped hard over her stomach, pulled tight, tighter, oh God tighter then achingly almost agonizingly tight. At long last, at the very moment she thought she was about to die, something broke and a delirious, cramping wave of ecstasy came then another and another then more, oh God, more in mindless wave after endless wave of debilitating insane pleasure.

She never wanted it to end. She didn’t care if she died; she just wanted it to go on forever. She couldn’t stop the luscious aftershocks, the throbbing, the aching rolls of enchantment, the sweet release, the sweeter exhaustion. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so soft, so weak, so utterly spent or so perfectly replete.

“Did I die?” she moaned, unsure if she had or not.

She heard his low chuckle. “Sweetheart, you don’t know how good you are for a man’s ego.”

Kiya opened one eye a slit, her mouth barely wider. She’d been an innocent. She hadn’t known. And because she hadn’t, it was something of a struggle to take his obvious good humour in stride. Guilt hadn’t set in yet. At the moment, all she felt was outrage that this man should have dared do the things he had done. “And by all means, we want to make sure your ego inflates to its full size.”

“Aw, honey,” he groaned at her less than sweet tone. “Don’t be upset now.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. Don’t call me honey. And get off me.”

“It was beautiful. Watching you was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“So happy to oblige. I said, get off me!”

Matt was about to show her the error of her thinking with another delicious assault of her senses when he heard the sound. “Someone’s coming. Fix your dress.”

Libre Baskerville
Gentium Book Basic
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