She trembled.
Was she afraid?
Don’t run, my love. Not now.
He tightened his hand on her jaw and put all his coaxing skill into the kiss.
Her trembling increased yet she opened.
He swept inside. Her tongue met his. Caressed him. And her kiss was maple sweet. Bold. Experienced. Willing.
Each frantic, desperate beat of his heart pulsed in his erection. Engorging it. Making it throb and twitch. He leaked and leaked.
Now. He had to have her now.
He lifted his head. Shot a hand down, bending slightly, then travelled slowly up her satiny thigh.
He knew how to make love. Knew women very well. He should not go so quickly. But he couldn’t help himself. Rosalind wasn’t just any woman. She had tormented his idle waking thoughts and dreams.
Only Satan could have created such a sensual, earthy temptress.
This was sin. He knew it was. They weren’t pledged. Not even courting. But he couldn’t stop now. God help him.
Hot blood roared in his ears, closing out the ability to think. He took a laboured breath. Moved his hand higher. She parted wide for him, arching closer. Using his thumb, he caressed the crease at the apex where her inner thigh met the soft plumpness of her outer lips. She released her breath, a forceful hiss. With his fingertips, he reached honey thick liquid overflowing from her sex.
She tensed.
He delved into her folds and her breathing came quicker, hitching as he went deeper.
Wetness. He’d forgotten fucking could be so wet. From the lusciousness of her open, eager mouth to the way his fingers slid on her warm, silken folds. He groaned and slid his tongue languorously against hers, savouring the velvety moisture. She tasted of maple and rum and something far sweeter.
He tore his mouth from hers, dropped to one knee and stared at the plump lips of her cunt. She clamped her legs together. He traced a fingertip over the heart-shaped outline of crimson hair then trailed the seam of her tightly closed legs.
“Thomas…” Her voice quavered.
“You’re beautiful, love.” He leant forward and put his lips to her, inhaling the heady fragrance of her arousal. He blew softly, steadily.
She gasped and relaxed, allowing her legs to open. He let his tongue wander out and delve into her moistness. Her taste sparked over his senses like cinnamon and fire.
A jolt of raw lust slammed into his groin, making him stiffer and harder than he’d surely been in years. Painfully so. A harsh groan forced its way up his throat. She gave a soft cry. His gaze flew to hers. Her eyes were wide yet glowing with desire. She flicked her tongue over her lips.
He reached for the fastenings on his breeches and wrenched them undone. She edged away along the tree.
She was going to run. He knew it.
“Rose?” He spoke carefully, as if to a skittish kitten.
She bit her lip, looked down then backed all the way into the nearest tree, a large maple. A perfect picture of submission.
Sin be damned. He only wanted—no, he needed—two things. To feel all that young, ivory-hued flesh against his. And to plunge into her depths. With hands that had begun to tremble ever harder, he jerked the ties of his shirt undone and pulled it over his head, then he shed his boots, stockings and breeches.
She leaned against the tree, waiting demurely as he approached. His body touched hers, pressing into her softness. She laughed, a low, musical sound that carried above the slight breeze rustling the tree branches above their heads.
She didn’t raise her eyes.
So she was a little hesitant. But she remained there, seemingly pleased to surrender to his will. Perhaps she’d never fucked standing and didn’t know how to go about it. In his Oxford days, he’d backed more than one lusty wench to a wall. A tree trunk would suffice as well. He pulled her away from the tree and cupped her arse, her sweet, firm arse, then he bent his head into the curve of her neck. “I have wanted this—dear God, how I have wanted you.” He nipped at her neck, lightly. “You. Only you.”
She tensed.
He held his breath, not daring to say more.
“You have wanted me?” Her voice was soft, husky, a little choked.
“Yes… God, yes.”
Her curves relaxed against him. “Then have me.”
Her words landed like kindling on the fire in his blood. He hoisted her. “Put your legs about my waist.”
She wrapped her long limbs about him. Quickly. Eagerly. Tightly. Eliminating any lingering doubt about her willingness.
He positioned himself at her entrance and her fluids gushed forth, coating the crown of his cock. He groaned. God, it had been years since he’d known a woman to get wet like that.
Wet for him.
He breached her slightly. Her walls clenched around him. She tightened her legs and moaned, the sound resonating pure feminine hunger. He could not wait. He propelled into her on one quick thrust. She sucked in her breath, her body stiffened.