His mouth remained at her breast toying and teasing. His hand moved down her back to her backside. He cupped her firm cheeks and pushed her into him as he slid his leg from between hers and planted her firmly against his hardness.
"Feel the need I have for you, angel?" he asked almost contemptuously, rubbing rhythmically against her.
She nodded her breath lost, her senses soaring.
"Do you need me, angel?' His breath was a hoarse whisper, rough and sensual.
"I — I —" She paused, searching for words. "I need —"
"Me, angel, you need me," he finished, stealing a kiss from her.
Her lips ached, her body begged, and she surrendered to the new and strange emotions that controlled her completely.
He hoisted her up to fit her against him. She slipped her legs around him. "You're ready for me, aren't you, angel?" He bit teasingly at her bottom lip.
"Yes," her answer slipped out in a ragged breath.
His fingers found their way beneath her skirt, her skin soft and warm and welcoming to his touch. He probed intimately along the inside of her thigh, feeling her heat, knowing he rested mere inches from her womanhood. His fingers moved with skill, brushing over her sensitive bud, gently separating her moist lips, breaching her slowly, pleasurable, deeply. Sinking into her tight nest and slipping into complete and utter sensual madness.
She cried out his name and dropped her head on his shoulder.
"Have you ever felt such pleasure?" he asked softly against her ear. His finger inched out and when he invaded her intimately again it was two fingers that sent her breath to catch in her throat. "Tell me, angel, tell me now," he urged with words and movement, needing to hear, needing to know that no one brought her to this pitch of passion.
Speech escaped Catherine. Reason escaped Catherine. Consequences escaped Catherine. She was irrevocably lost to his touch.
"Tell me," he urged, his voice sharp.
She shook her head, her face buried in the collar of his shirt.
"No? Let me hear you say there is no one but me who could make you ache with want, make you hot, make you wet with pleasure."
No one Catherine thought. There was no one. She was a virgin. The thought stunned her. What in the name of holy heaven was she doing? Had she completely —
She moaned involuntarily when his fingers buried so snugly inside her began an infuriatingly slow and tender rhythm.
Lost. If she didn't put an end to this madness immediately she'd be lost and lose more than her virginity. She would lose her father's life.
Why? Why did life play such dirty tricks? Why couldn't Lucian have remained in England and become the Earl of Brynwood? Why couldn't she have met him at a party? Why couldn't he have fallen in love with her? Why couldn't he have seduced her, and then married her? Why was this situation completely impossible?
Brushing her confused thoughts and wishes aside she resumed the role that would win her what was necessary, her father's freedom and her escape.
She turned her lips to his ear and whispered. "Captain, don't torture me so. It has been so long since a man has filled me."
Lucian stilled all movement. Then abruptly and with haste he released her, casting her aside, turning away from her. He walked to the door and without facing her said, "Stay put, madam, or this time you will be sorry you disobeyed me."
The cold contempt in his voice warned. Catherine didn't need to see the icy sharpness in his eyes to confirm his fury.
He slammed the door behind him and Catherine collapsed on the bed, her legs too weak to sustain her.
Lord, Catherine, whatever is the matter with you? She had no answer for the silent voice that questioned her. She didn't understand her own actions. Had the confines of their journey produced a dependency on him? Did she feel him necessary to her survival? Did she feel unsafe with him not near? Did she need him? Did she want him? Did she love him?
Her hand flew to cover her mouth as though afraid her silent thoughts would be voiced. She couldn't love him. He was a pirate, cruel and uncaring.
Not so. She closed her eyes against her private war. He possessed a soul, she was certain of it. Without a soul he could not feel such pain, such hurt, such suffering from memories from the past. He cared for his men, his ship, his revenge, and in a strange way, for her. If not, she would have long since been killed or cast off. Buried beneath his pirate veneer still lurked the Earl of Brynwood, Lucian Darcmoor. And Lucian was capable of love, strong, deep, and vibrant.
As vibrant as her need — she paused in her thought wondering if it was love instead of need for him. Her body still ached for his hands to touch her, for his lips to taste her, for his voice that urged and promised unspeakable pleasures.
If only. If only circumstances and fate had not been so cruel.