Bound by Bliss (25 page)

Grabbing the sides of her skirt, she pulled it high and bent forward over the bottom edge of the bed, burying her face in the coverlet so that Duldon would not see her heavy color.

He stiffened behind her. She could feel the air freeze and knew he stared at her. God, she was glad he could not see her face. This was unbearable. He was looking at her, seeing a piece of her that no one had ever seen, that no one but her husband should ever see. And even with a husband it should have been only in faint moonlight, not the glare of lamp and candle.

“You are very, very beautiful, every piece of you,” Duldon’s voice whispered from behind.

The words brought some reassurance. She could hear the husk of desire in them, hear his want. He did not lie just to appease her nerves. She turned her head slightly to the side, not enough to see, but enough to bring air to her lungs.

“I did not visualize you as pale as you are, nor as creamy. Your skin glows like the finest satin. No, like pearls kept safe in some sultan’s harem.” A single finger traced down her right buttock, sending a frisson of electricity through her. It felt good. She wanted more. The finger traced her other cheek. More bolts of feeling.

A full palm settled on each buttock, just sitting there, resting, allowing her to become used to his touch. His hands were warm and she could feel the calluses from riding at the base of each finger. His thumbs brushed out, caressing.

For a moment, that was the only movement in the entire room, other than the rising of chests with breath, two thumbs moving in slow circles over sensitive skin.

Her feet shifted, separating slightly. Had she truly locked them together with such force when she lifted her skirts? The gesture had been unconscious, but now she could feel Duldon’s soft circles softening tight muscles and allowing her to move.

“You’re thinking of me as Duldon. I told you last time that there are moments when I wish to be Stephan.”

How did he know that? This mind reading was becoming tiresome. A woman needed some secrets.

He chuckled and she wondered if he had read that thought.

Pushing up slightly, she turned her head farther until she could see him. Her breath caught. He was staring at her, as she had known, but the look upon his face, the naked need…His whole being seemed focused on that stare, on the small movements of hand on skin. Sensing her glance he looked up and met her eyes. Instantly his face became more settled, the deep emotions hidden in the mask of everyday.

And then his gaze dropped back to her ass, the fingers pressing more deeply.

A purr rose in her throat. How could anything feel so delicious! Her whole body wanted to melt into his palms. This was supposed to be punishment? Her eyes drifted closed.

Behind their lids she saw his face again, saw that look of wanton need. In that moment he’d been as exposed as she. She pondered the thought, considered how open they were to each other. His fingers dug deeper, and she felt as if the tension of years were melting away.

“Mmmm, that’s wonderful,” she sighed.

“I am glad, but we have hardly begun.”

“I could stay like this forever.”

“You won’t be saying that for long.” Duldon’s fingers moved lower, brushing along the lower edge of her cheeks and inching ever inward.

Her imagination could not picture anything more perfect than the sensations that were traveling through her. Her whole body felt as if it could melt into the coverlet.

Duldon’s fingers slipped forward and suddenly she wasn’t feeling so rested. Every wanting nerve seemed to come alive at the same moment his fingers brushed along the tender skin of her upper thighs. The day of anticipation had brought her to such a state that even these few slight touches had her burning hot, needing, needing more, needing him there.

She rose on her toes slightly, pushing her ass toward him, begging with her body.

“You are greedy.” His voice curled about her, heightening her stimulation.

And she was. Even if she had wanted to deny it she could not have, not when her legs were slowly widening of their own accord and she could feel the moisture seeping between them.

“And so very beautiful, although perhaps a little pale.”

And then, with no warning, his palm lifted and slapped down upon her, hard. Her body tensed, a protest rose to her lips, but before she could voice it another slap and then another. She started to push upward. This was not what she wanted, not what she expected.

“Be still.”

She froze, her body obeying him before her mind.

As if in reward, one of his hands slipped between her legs, stroking along the folds, opening her, moving closer to that forward spot that so desperately needed to be touched. After the pain of the moment before this was ecstasy, or at least it was on the road to ecstasy. His fingers moved slowly, so slowly. She wanted to ask him to hurry, to get to that spot, to rub her harder, to…It was hard not knowing exactly what it was she wanted, but God, she wanted it.

His other hand began to massage her buttocks again, the deep caress soothing the burn of the slap, the skin more sensitive than ever before. Every single hair he brushed over seemed to light another fire within her, to be connected to that spot he still had not touched.

She twitched her hips to the side, trying to direct his fingers where she needed.

Another blow landed, hard and swift. Her body jerked, her back bending upward.

And one more.

Her buttocks burned with steady fire now, hurting, but not unbearable. This she could endure.

“Why?” The word slipped from her lips.

“I asked you to be still. You must learn to obey.”

Learn to obey? Did he actually know her?

But then the hand between her legs moved, the tip of one finger slipping within her.

It was the strangest sensation she could remember—and one of the best. The finger did not intrude. It wandered her opening, exploring. It was not enough. Each stroke sent ripples through her, but it left her empty. Her womb ached with unsatisfied longing. She tried to push herself back against it, but Duldon’s other hand pressed upon her stinging ass, causing her to stay still.

“Good, you are very tight and I would guess you want to stay that way. A finger can ruin virginity as well as a cock. I believe you care about that.”

She thought about it as much as her scattered thoughts would allow. Yes, it made sense—and yes, she did care. She stopped moving. No matter how much she might long for more, long to feel filled, it was not what she wanted. “You are right,” she whispered.

“I know,” an edge of pain sounded in his voice.

Why would he hurt? Before she could think more about the question, his fingers began to move again. It was hard not to press back, but she held herself in control, instead focusing on each tiny sensation, paying attention to the stroke of moist skin against rough hands, feeling the difference between skin and nail. His other hand began to move, the slowest, gentlest circles, easing over her sensitive skin. Even the lightest touch made her skin burn, but with her growing desire the heat only brought further passion, the slight pain adding to the myriad of sensations that raced through her.

His fingers left her opening and moved up to her other cheek. A protest rose to her lips, but instead she sought control. Duldon would take care of her if she trusted him. He squeezed her buttocks tight and she had to bite her lip not to moan at the heady sensation. Pain? Pleasure? It was all one now.

When she felt his fingers spreading her, opening her to his gaze, she did not protest, although her face did turn back into the thick padding of the mattress. Even now, embarrassment swam through her as she felt the weight of his eyes on that most intimate of places. Despite the delicious sensations that still danced through her at every touch she had to fight the desire to close her legs and hide herself from him. Her thighs twitched with the effort not to move.

One of his hands stroked down her leg as if he understood her dilemma. “You are very beautiful, everywhere.” His voice soothed, but still the embarrassment lingered.

A soft kiss landed on her left cheek, his lips soft and warm. Another upon her right. And another and another. She could not be sure, but she fancied he laid a kiss in the exact spot of each stroke of his hand. She swallowed as the kisses moved more central—and lower. When he placed one on the entrance to her core, it was almost too much.

Great embarrassment flared as his tongue crept out and swept along the path his finger had previously blazed. When the tip entered her, playing along the walls, she knew she moaned, quiet and muffled, but still a moan.

His tongue paused, and then delved deeper. Her head turned to the side and she pulled in a great gasp of air.

And then the tip of one finger replaced his tongue and his mouth moved lower, centering over that place that had been longing for his touch since yesterday, if not longer. Some moments she fantasized that her whole life had been spent waiting for him—and only him—to touch that spot.

His mouth moved with surety, sucking, cupping, and pressing. His tongue flicked across her, sending bursts of delight throughout her. Nothing had prepared her for this. Even the orgasms of the other nights had not compared to this…There were no words. Then even thought was gone, as he pulled her deep into his mouth and his tongue moved in a steady, firm pattern against her. It was too much. It was not enough. She would die in this moment. Lights. Colors. And him, Duldon. No, Stephan.

Stephan. Stephan. Stephan.

She didn’t know if she said the name or if it remained locked in her thoughts, playing upon her lips, her soul.

Her whole being was one of sensation, so many feelings, all colliding in one knot of need and desire, coiling ever tighter, needing to explode.

“Please. Stephan. Please.” That time she heard the creak and moan of her voice. “I need you so much. Please.”

For a moment he did nothing but continue, teasing her further and further along the path of need, his tongue moving steady and strong. Then she was moving, up, back, and over, until she lay flat on her back, her legs about his shoulders, his face between her legs. Her head lifted and she stared down at him, taken in by the suddenness of the move and by the increased intimacy of the position, her buttocks burning as they met the mattress, the mixture of sensations only growing. His face tilted and his eyes met hers. If fire burned in her body it burned in his glance also. She would gladly have been incinerated in that fire, danced to her own destruction, but it was destruction and rebirth. She saw his need, his desire for her, for all of her. This was not just about bodies. It was about souls.

And then his tongue flicked again, even as he stared and met her eyes. Her whole body clenched at the intensity of that feeling. And again. And again. She longed to lay back and give in to the sensations, but his eyes held her, the bond between them strong and true. Each movement of his mouth brought her higher, closer, and she could see that he knew that, knew exactly what he did, what he aimed for—knew when he held back, when he gave in to both their desires. His eyes held her and commanded her. When another “please” rose to her lips, those eyes silenced them before it was even voiced.

She was panting now, her muscles straining, longing for release. His eyes suddenly gestured upward in a single small motion. Her gaze followed and stopped. The mirror. How had she forgotten the mirror?

It covered the space above them, covered the world above them. She lay splayed upon the bed, still decently covered from the waist up, although the smudge of his marking was clear upon her breast above the lowered neckline of her dress. But below—below her legs lay splayed, open wide. Her thighs gleamed pale and she could see them glisten with strain and perspiration. Between her legs the dark blond curls of Stephan’s head blocked her view, but it was a view in and of itself, the white of his shirt over wide shoulders, the strength of his fingers as he held her open for his touch and gaze, and the move and sway of his head as he—as he devoured her. The breaking of their gaze had freed something within him and now he fed, his mouth moving over her frantic and forceful. The gentleness of his tongue gave way to steel. His teeth nipped and stroked. His hands held her tight and then one slipped down, gently pressing at her entrance, easing in and out in the most tantalizing of motions.

Her thighs clenched, her hips rose, and she watched it all.

She looked up at herself, at him, and wondered at the beauty.

And then thought was once again gone and there was only experience. His teeth scraped. She spasmed. His fingers pinched. Waves of passion filled her.

And then he nipped, hard and fast. It was too much. The wall broke, the dam flooded.

It came upon her, ripped through her. Her whole body rose from the bed, feet pressing tight into thick mattress. Her thighs clenched about him, even as he held her open. God. Gods. The world opened about her. Color. Light. Sensation. All was one. All was one giant explosion of feeling and being—just being.

And through it all she saw herself, saw him, saw them. Together. Always together.

“Stephan. Stephan.” The word echoed about the room.

Another spasm. Another whirl of endless color.

Another call of his name.

A deep breath.

A soft sigh.

Her body relaxed and fell back into the bed, fell back against the pillows.

Peace.

His tongue stroked one more time. She clenched again, more softly this time.

Peace and quiet. Her mind was still. All was contentment.

The world was good.

With half-closed eyes, she watched him pull back, watched him stretch to standing, watched the flow of muscles even through his shirt.

He was hers and she could only rejoice.

He took a few steps and reached for a water pitcher she had not noticed before, splashing his face and then his chest as he pulled off his shirt. And those muscles were real, and far more than she had ever imagined. The candlelight played across a rippled abdomen and as he turned outlined his hard shoulders. A light coating of golden hair coated his chest. He was beautiful. She’d never thought such a thing before, but that made it no less true.