Seneca Surrender (17 page)
“Shhh,” he murmured, putting his forefinger over her lips. “That is all behind us now. I understand.”
And then he kissed her.
At first it was a soft kiss, nothing more than his lips against hers. But then it became something far different. Slowly his lips beset hers, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips before he kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. His actions were prolonged and slow, as though he might memorize every contour of her countenance.
However, what was happening to her was far from slow. Sarah felt as though wave after wave of excitement had taken control over her senses. Even her stomach responded to him, creating a giddy sensation deep within her, making her feel as if she might have jumped off a precipice.
Sarah moaned, trying to fit her body in close enough to his to satisfy the fiery tide of passion that had taken possession of her. It seemed impossible. Indeed, she couldn’t get close enough. She wanted, she needed, to feel his imprint against her. She wanted all of him.
He moved, bringing her down into a lying position and onto her side, where he settled in next to her. But he didn’t end the kiss. Instead it became more intense.
Where his lips had adored her, his fingers now smoothed over her eyes, her cheeks, her ears. And Sarah lost track of time and place.
Indeed, his simple kiss might have been working magic over her, for it seemed to Sarah that the world around her disappeared. As his lips paid homage to her face, her neck, her shoulders, Sarah found herself squirming in against him, searching for … something.
When he lowered her so that she was lying down on her back, not a single thought of objection occurred to her. He came up over her, but he didn’t press his weight over her. Rather, he found new places to kiss and caress.
Gradually his kiss found her lips once more, but this time, he encouraged her to open to him, and as soon as she acquiesced, his tongue invaded the hot recess of her mouth, making love to her with nothing more than tongue and gentle persuasion. She answered him back in the age-old rhythm of love.
Their tongues danced as though with feverish delight while he explored the inner sanctum of her mouth. Was this heaven? she wondered. She wanted to embrace him, to love him, to give him the essence of all she was. If only he could be hers. For if he were, she would give all that she had, all that she was, to this one man, alone.
As his kiss took possession of her, the exterior world did, indeed, vanish. There was only him, her.
And it was a thing of beauty.
Eventually even he had to break away for air and when he did so, he groaned, he growled, and when he next kissed her, it was with the passion that only a man can give a woman.
Gone was the soft, gentle possession. In its place was a sexual appetite so real, it took her breath. As his tongue again claimed ownership of her mouth, his hand trailed down over her face and neck to her shoulders.
The erotic feeling was out of proportion to what he was doing, and she rocked back and forth as the hunger for all that this man could give her took over. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. Dear Lord, was it merely her opinion, or was this man a rare breed of human being?
“It is good between us,” he whispered against her lips.
His words were such an understatement that Sarah couldn’t help responding by saying, “’Tis a bit of heaven, I think.”
“I, too, believe this,” he said. “I, too.”
His hand unerringly found her breasts, and she sucked in her breath at the ultra-rich sensation. Again, she squirmed against him, setting back her shoulders, as though only in this way might she better experience the love being made between them.
“Dear sir,” she said, “what you are doing is exquisite. I fear I never knew I had the capability to feel so much pleasure.”
“Dear Miss Sarah,” he murmured against her, “I, too, am overwhelmed with feeling. It is not always this way between two people. What is happening with us is uncommon, I think.”
“Is it? ”
“I believe so.”
Then he shifted position again, bringing his head down to her chest, and with his lips, he made love to her breasts, even through the barrier of the linen of her corset and chemise. First he adored one breast, then the other.
For Sarah’s part, she had never felt more loved. She swayed back and forth, first putting herself into one position so that he had easy access to her, then another. She was still dressed in her underclothes, but it didn’t seem to curtail him in any manner. He kissed and caressed her as though she lay naked before him.
And when his hand trailed on down over her belly, massaging and caressing as he explored farther and farther down her form, her hips rose up to greet him. Her petticoats might have presented him a barrier, but thank goodness for the English style of dress. There was nothing under those petticoats but her.
His touch unerringly found that most feminine place on her body, and she again reacted as though she had taken a steep plunge off a cliff. Her stomach felt as though it was as light as a feather, and her hips rose up and down in a rhythm that was as old as time itself.
Of their own accord, her legs opened to him.
“You are wet,” he murmured as he rose up on an elbow. “Do you know what this means? ”
“I … do not, sir.”
Softly, he explained, “Your body tells me it is ready for me. My only question is, are you? ”
“Yes, sir. I believe that I am. Please.”
Her reply seemed to send a flurry of emotion over him, for he shut his eyes momentarily, as though only in that way might he control the passion within him. He said, “It has been very long for me since I made love to a woman. I will try to hold back my seed for as long as possible, so that I might give you much pleasure before I seek my own. Know that if that doesn’t happen this time, if I cannot hold myself back, I will next time.”
“Mr. Thunder,” she said, “you could do most anything at this moment, and I believe it would pleasure me.”
At her words, he groaned, and coming up onto his elbows, he settled himself over her. “You realize,” he said, “that it will hurt at first.”
“I know.”
“But it won’t always hurt.”
“Will it not? ”
For a moment, his countenance mirrored his confusion over her reply, but it was quickly gone as his gaze mirrored a spark of understanding.
“Mr. Thunder,” she said, “I do believe you are beautiful.”
“I? ” Even as he spoke, he was positioning himself over her. “It has long been my observation that a person sees in another those things that he or she is. Therefore, if you see beauty in me, it is most likely because you, yourself, are beautiful.”
She smiled.
“And so you are,” he observed. And then he brought their bodies together in the ancient dance of love.
The moment was charged. Sarah expected the pain of lovemaking and she braced herself for it.
This was it. She rocked under the pain … this part of the act she remembered. She also recalled that it got worse.
She had asked for this?
But, strangely, this time, it didn’t get worse. He hadn’t thrust any deeper into her. Instead he waited for her passion to rise up again as he leaned down to encourage that ardor by showering one kiss after another upon her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. And with his hand, he molded her breasts.
His patience worked. Gradually the pain subsided, as pure sensation took command over her. She moved her hips. It felt good.
When he thrust a little deeper into her, she waited for the pain to accompany the maneuver. But there was none. Indeed, instead of pain, a whole new realm of pleasure opened up to her.
He whispered against her ear, “Someone has mistreated you.” It was no question. He knew. Perhaps it was because their thoughts were as one.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to express what was a part of her very personal history.
He said, “The man who did this to you should be tortured slowly, first by fire and then by the knife, until he begs for his death.”
“I think not, sir,” she countered. “I would not have the miserable torment of anyone on my conscience.”
He nodded slowly against her, and then he kissed her, lingeringly and gently, as though she might break if he dare heap too much passion upon her. He said, “We will talk more of it later.”
“Perhaps. But, sir, if I might ask, I would beg you to continue your lovemaking as before. I will not break.”
For a moment, he came up to gaze down into her eyes. At first she recognized surprise there within the depths of his dark irises, but then, ever so slowly, it changed, and he grinned down at her.
“No,” he said, “I don’t believe you will.”
That was all it took to spur him into action. She raised her hips to his, and in response, he took possession of her, all of her.
She met him move for move, thrust for thrust, amazed at the incredible measure of emotion building within her. It was like being presented with little bit of heaven here on earth. Surely, this was pure grace happening between them, instead of …
She wouldn’t allow herself to recall the horror of her past. She would hold that part of her back. But then her body was pushing her, driving her for more. It was as though a fire had been lit within her, and something deep and divine was begging for release.
Suddenly, and without warning, it happened. Pleasure consumed her, cascading through her body.
It was exquisite. And she wanted more of him, deeper, faster.
As though he knew just how to please her, he presented her with exactly what she craved. Like the rush of a moving stream, it was a dance like none other.
The sensation built within her, until all at once, Sarah tipped over the edge with so much rapture, she cried out. Over and over the elation swept over her body, until at last the ache within her was satiated.
It was over for the moment, but not so for their love. Coming up onto his elbows over her, White Thunder smiled down into her countenance before he took her lips in his own.
“Sir,” she murmured against him, “I was unaware that the act of love could be so … I know of no words to adequately describe it.”
“I, too, have no words to recount it, except to say that it is good between us. Always,” he said, “should it be this way. But it is not over yet.”
“Is it not? ”
“I have not yet met my pleasure. Come, let us do it all over again.”
And perhaps he might have taken her back into the realm of ecstasy once more, but it wasn’t to be—at least not this time. All at once, he burst forth his seed within her. And Sarah, wrapping her arms around him securely, felt as though she had never welcomed anything more.
In the aftermath, they lay in each other’s arms, he still a welcome part of her.
This was a surprise, she thought. A wonderful and welcome surprise. Indeed, the only detail she could recall from her distant past had been the feeling of revulsion and embarrassment.
There was none of that here. There was only beauty. There was only her. There was only him.
And what was between them was a thing of magnificence.
Twelve
“I have much feeling for you,” he admitted after their breathing had returned to normal.
“As I have for you.”
“But come, I do not wish to crush you,” he whispered against her ear, and he promptly moved to her side. But he didn’t leave her. He held her tightly within his arms, as though afraid that if he let go, she might disappear.
“You were not crushing me, sir.”
“I am glad.” He paused, but only for the beat of a moment. His next question took her by surprise. “Who is this man who has done this to you? ”
Sarah bit her lip. There was no point in denying that she didn’t know exactly what he was asking. Although the assault upon her person had happened long ago, it had left its scar upon her, even if that scar were only emotional. For good or for bad, this man whose arms were around her was now privy to her most intimate secrets.
As she debated what to say and what not to say, she hesitated. In truth, so drawn out were her thoughts, time passed, and after a while, she wondered if he had perhaps focused his attention elsewhere. Turning her head ever so slightly, she was able to steal a glance at him as he lay by her side, and she was amazed to discover that his eyes were fixed intently on her, and that his look had not lost any of its fervor.
She said, “If I tell you who he is, does that mean that you will have to seek him out and kill him? ”
“I will.”
“But you already are hunting a man for that purpose, are you not? ”
He nodded.
“I fear I have little desire to add to your burden.”
“It is not a burden. It is a duty.”
Other books
Four Friends by Robyn Carr
The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) by Meara Platt
Never Said by Carol Lynch Williams
Boaz Brown by Stimpson, Michelle
Censoring an Iranian Love Story by Shahriar Mandanipour
Wyoming Tough by Diana Palmer
The Silent Army by James A. Moore
Yours for the Night by Jasmine Haynes