The Buccaneer(75)

She smiled and brushed her lips across his as he had done so many times to her. "Your generous size offers me protection and safety."

“And pleasure," he teased, kissing her soundly.

Catherine whimpered when he tore his mouth from hers.

"Hold tight to me, angel," he said, settling her around him. "And if you feel the slightest discomfort —"

She gasped as he entered her, his smooth entrance startling.

He halted his progress, though it pained him to do so. "Are you all right?"

Her honesty spoke. "I thought you but teased me about this position."

He laughed and allowed more of himself to slide into her welcoming nest. "Angel, this position is just one among many you'll learn is possible."

She closed her eyes and kept her forehead rested on his as he filled her slowly and smoothly. He paused when she had accepted all of him thick and wide inside her. Then he moved. Lord, did he move. And he forced her to move with him, harder and harder and harder.

"Paradise or madness, angel," he whispered, "which one do you want to feel?"

Catherine as usual lost her speech. He stole her senses and drove her wild. She could form no sensible thoughts or phrases. She could barely think and a response was completely impossible.

He pounded into her, her body's impact causing the door to creak. "I think," he said between heavy breaths, "I prefer madness."

His tempo increased. Catherine clasped her arms more firmly around his neck and buried her head against his shoulder.

"Lost," he murmured. "I could lose myself forever inside you."

His words were enough to explode her into a thousand sparkling lights, their tingling warmth cascading like rain over her sensitive flesh until fading away and leaving her utterly replete.

Lucian felt her shatter and his own body responded. He burst hot and wet, spilling himself within her again and again, shuddering when his final burst faded to a sweet numbness.

He continued to hold her. He needed to hold her, needed to feel her damp, satisfied flesh against his. Hear her uneven breathing, know without a doubt that he had brought her to complete satisfaction.

Why? His thought urged. Why was his need to possess her so overwhelming? Why couldn't he get enough of her? Why did he always need to touch her, feel her silky flesh, wrap himself around her and within her? Why?

She satisfies you like no other.

The thought jolted him and he eased her off him. Her legs trembled when she attempted to stand and his arm circled her waist to steady her. She rested against him, seeking his strength, trusting him.

He lifted her into his arms, receiving no protest from her; he carried her to the bed and settled her upon the clean white sheets.

Her arms dropped from around his neck to her side and her eyes drifted closed.

His glance strayed over her naked body. Her lips were puffy from his hungry kisses, her nipples red from his playful bites, her woman's bud swollen with pleasure.

He had marked her well and she belonged to him, no other — not even her stepfather, Randolph Abelard. She was his and his alone.

He ran his fingers through his long hair and silently cursed his strange emotions. This need to possess her, to love —

He stood, glaring down at her sleeping comfortably. Love had nothing to do with his feelings. Passion and lust were the emotions that drove him to behave so insanely.

Pure lust was the culprit. And once he filled himself, once he drank too often of her taste he would —

Love.

The word echoed in his mind, threatening his sanity.

"No," he said quietly, and shook his head while he settled himself over her, thirsty once again.





Chapter Twenty



Catherine stood on the balcony outside of Lucian's bedroom, contentedly glancing out over the island. She had been here two weeks and those weeks had been blissful. From the moment he had lifted her out of the longboat and placed her on the shore, she had realized why Heaven felt like home to so many interesting and diverse people.

The island reached out and welcomed you regardless of age, manner, or station in life. The white sand felt warm and comfortable beneath her feet, the trees so strange in shape and size swayed in a balmy greeting, and the inhabitants themselves smiled and reached out with open arms.

Catherine smiled and hugged herself, the blue silk robe cool against her naked flesh, the extreme opposite of Lucian's hands, hot and demanding only thirty minutes before.

Life had been good these last two weeks, too good. She had met many of the residents of Heaven, each having a horror story of their own and each thanking the Lord above for Lucian's generosity.

One man, short, brawny, and fixed with a permanent smile, couldn't say enough about Lucian's kindness. On a visit to the local market square, where the islanders bartered their produce and wares, he had captured Catherine's ear. He had held her attention and caught her sympathy when he explained that he had lost three fingers as his punishment for pick pocketing back in England. He had been near to death when he had landed on the island and if it hadn't been for Lucian's orders that he be taken care of, he would have died.