The Campbell Trilogy (98 page)

He made a pained sound deep in his chest and circled his arm around her waist, nestling her more firmly against him. Her skin seemed to sizzle at the contact. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the taut bead of her nipples straining even closer. She could feel the pounding of his heart. It was a heady sensation, knowing that she could affect him so.

His hand caressed her jaw, gently urging her mouth open. A thrill shuddered through her when his tongue slipped between her lips and into her mouth, filling her with heat and spice.

His hand threaded through her damp hair, cradling the back of her head as he brought her mouth more fully against his with a deep, guttural groan.

God it was incredible. His taste. The closeness. The erotic feel of his tongue sliding against hers.

He demanded a response—and she gave it. Meeting his thrusts with her own, twining and circling, desire coiling hot inside her with every stroke. Her entire body felt alive, sensitive and flush with excitement. A strange tickle of awareness gathered between her legs.

This was where she was meant to be. In his arms, snuggling against his warm, protective chest, kissing him … touching him.

She felt as if she’d been caught in a powerful current, carrying her into a sea of unknown delights. She couldn’t think about anything other than how amazing he made her feel. Her body throbbed with heat, every nerve ending on edge, anticipating, poised for something she
didn’t understand, but knew with every fiber of her being that she wanted.

He’d only meant to kiss her. Just one kiss to seal their bond. But Duncan hadn’t expected the fierce kick of desire and passion that flared between them like a raging inferno.

The eagerness of her response nearly unmanned him. She had no idea what those little sounds of pleasure and the insistent wriggles of her body did to him. He struggled to find the reins of control as he found himself quickly descending in a dark tunnel of desire more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced.

Never had a kiss aroused him to such a state. Hell, never had making love aroused him to such a state.

He couldn’t get enough of her. The honey sweetness of her mouth, the delicate floral scent that lingered on her hair and skin, the lush softness of her body pressed against his. He wanted to eat her up. To taste every exquisite inch of her.

Sinking his fingers through her damp, silky hair, he brought her mouth more fully against his, devouring. His tongue thrust against hers, mimicking the primal rhythm of what he wanted to do to her. Of what was quickly becoming the only possible outcome.

They were moving quickly to the point of no return. If he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to.

Playing with fire …

He would have wrenched away, but her hands slid over his shoulders, bringing him closer to her, exploring the muscles of his arms and back. Instinctively he flexed under her fingertips and her murmur of appreciation set off a flare of masculine pride he didn’t know he had. The knowledge that she was just as aroused by him as he was her roused primitive instinct in his body. The urge to
possess—to make her his—surged hot and hard inside him.

Continuing her innocent exploration, her fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, between his ribs, over the ridge of muscles at his stomach, stopping perilously close to the sensitive head of his manhood. He hissed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away before she could go any farther.

He was hard as a damned rock, his cock throbbing painfully—insistently—against his stomach. One sweet pump of her hand and he would go off like a keg of gunpowder.

He kissed her harder—deeper—just thinking about her tiny soft fingers wrapped around him. Lust pounded through him; his pulse racing out of control.

Needing her under him, he carefully leaned her back, cradling her in his arms to prevent her from lying on the cold rock. His mouth slid over her jaw, below her ear, down the long smooth column of her throat. The wild pounding of her heart urged him on like the frantic beat of a drum.

Touch her. Take her. Make her yours.
The voice of temptation drowned out everything else.

He cupped her breast with his hands, groaning as the round lush flesh poured through his fingers. With only a wet nightraile between them, there was little to impede his exploration. Her breasts were every bit as incredible as he’d anticipated. High and firm yet soft and round. And generous—mouthwateringly generous—the nipples as tight and hard as two pink pearls. She moaned, arching her back instinctively into his palm.

Her responsiveness, her unfettered passion, just might be the death of him. What she lacked in experience was more than compensated by instinct and enthusiasm, her movements pure and unconscious. With Jeannie in his bed, he would never need—never want—another.

My wife.
God, he couldn’t believe his good fortune.

His mouth found the hollow at her throat as his fingers closed around her breast. Scooping the soft flesh in his hand, he weighed its ripe fullness, squeezing gently and sliding the pad of his thumb over her very tight, very small—and, he suspected, very pink—nipple.

She gasped, her body stilled, waiting … nay, begging for his touch.

If he wasn’t just as eager as she was, he might be amused. But with Jeannie he felt none of the detached confidence that had characterized his previous sexual encounters. He was just as caught up in the sensory frenzy as she was.

But he was still in control.

He smoothed his thumb over her again and the shudder of surrender that wracked her body nearly undid him. He swelled even harder and had to grit his teeth against the urge to bring her hips to his, position himself between the sweet cleft of her legs, and sink into the warm, wet heat of oblivion.

He rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching it lightly as his mouth and tongue devoured the baby soft skin of her neck. She was so damned sweet, practically melting in his mouth. Her scent, her taste, enveloped him. It was Jeannie. Only Jeannie. She was all that mattered. All that he could think about.

The tie at the neck of her nightraile had come loose, and he kissed a path to the deep cleft between her breasts, burying his face and inhaling her warm feminine scent.

Her breath hitched in innocent anticipation. He slid his tongue beneath the fabric along the round curve of her breast, slowly licking up to the very tip.

She stilled, the soft rasp of her breath the only sound to break the silence of the night. He almost wished she would stop him. The thread of his control was quickly
dissolving into nothing. But she’d given over to him completely, any maidenly shock overpowered by curiosity and an innate sensuality. He would stop, but first he would give her pleasure.

He flicked his tongue over the puckered skin of one delectable nipple before drawing it between his teeth with one tender suck.

The force of her moan hit him deep in his groin.

He sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the rigid peak until she arched, pressing herself deeper into his eager mouth.

Her hips moved insistently against his erection. A throbbing ache crashed over him. Restraint making every inch of his body clench.

He knew what she wanted. His hand slid under the hem of her nightraile, lifting it high upon her thigh.

Her skin was like velvet under his rough fingertips as he slid his hand between her legs. He was going too fast, but he’d outpaced his experience. It wasn’t the physical act—he knew well enough what to do—but nothing had prepared him for this kind of urgency, the indescribable need to join not only bodies, but souls.

Like Jeannie, he was acting on instinct, and right now all he could think about was giving her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined.

His finger swept over her.

His cock jerked, the soft heat, the creamy dampness under his fingertip forced him over the edge. She was so wet.

He’d just reached the limits of his restraint.

She gasped at his intimate touch, her entire body arched, suspended in a moment of shock and anticipation.

He didn’t give her any time to think, but sucked her nipple deep into his mouth and slid his finger inside her. Heat and dampness surrounded him.

She cried out when he entered her, unable to hide her pleasure.

God, she was wet and tight and so damned responsive. Did she have any idea how beautiful and irresistible she was with her flushed cheeks, sweetly parted lips swollen from his kiss, and her luminous gaze soft with desire.

He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted before, enough so that for the first time in his life he didn’t trust himself to stop.

Jeannie knew she should be shocked. And she was, but just not enough to stop him. Not when it felt so incredible.

She had knowledge of what happened between a man and a woman—living in a castle with little privacy provided a basic lesson in the fundamentals—but never had she imagined that a man’s touch could rouse such intense sensation, such incomparable pleasure. The grunts and groans she’d heard so often in the middle of the night suddenly made perfect sense.

Nor could she have imagined the connection—the intimacy—forged by a kiss and a caress. She felt bound to him. A part of him. Possessed and possessing at the same time.

When he held her in his arms, kissed her, touched her, she felt as if nothing could ever come between them. She felt safe … secure … loved. He belonged to her and she to him.

She knew what was happening, knew where this was headed. But she didn’t care. The lessons of a lifetime of preserving her virtue suddenly felt silly. He would be her husband. Every instinct, every fiber of her being told her that this was right—that nothing that brought such pleasure could be wrong. Any qualms disappeared in the heated excitement of the moment.

His mouth on her breast, sucking her nipple had sent off wave after wave of white hot pleasure, but it was nothing to the sensations aroused by his hand between her legs.

The strange tickle of pleasure she’d felt before had concentrated to a strong, needy pulse.

The strangeness, the shock, quickly faded as heat pooled around his finger. She felt soft and wet and desperate for his touch. Her thighs parted, opening a little wider. Trusting him to give her pleasure.

Her body felt possessed by a higher power. It was as if he’d taken her to a magical place where all that mattered was letting go and giving way to the incredible feelings building in her body. Except that it wasn’t her body to control anymore, but his.

God, what was he doing to her? It was incredible. The heel of his hand rested on her mound as his finger circled inside her, caressing, plunging in and out until her hips started to lift to meet his wicked stroke.

Something warm and tingly was building inside her. She writhed, arching against his mouth, her thighs closing around his hand, craving the friction.

Her hands clutched his shoulders, his back, craving his weight and his heat. Her body possessed by a power that she could not control.

“Oh, God,” she cried out.

He lifted his mouth from her breast and met her half-lidded gaze. “Don’t fight it, love. Let it come.”

She shook her head. She knew this wasn’t all of it. She wanted him to share her pleasure. She needed him. All of him. The thick column of his erection burned against her thigh. “I want you,” she moaned. “Please.”

Jeannie felt the change, sensing the moment he lost control. Sensed when the passion took on a force of its own. He radiated sexual energy, his body hard and determined.

Duncan knew what she wanted.

Her soft plea was too much. Every muscle in his body stretched taut, pulled to the very limit of restraint. Blood surged through his veins. His head pounded, his erection throbbed. He felt like he was about to explode.

There was a time he could have stopped, but that time had passed.

Somehow his cock replaced his finger and he was pushing inside her. His jaw was drawn into a hard line, the vein in his neck pulsing with the effort to find a thread of restraint to hold on to.

She was too tight and he was too big, but she was achingly wet and eager for him. He scooped his hand under one leg, bringing it to his hip, opening her wider for him.

He held her gaze as he pushed inch by paralyzing inch inside her. It was the single most powerful moment of his life. He didn’t know himself capable of this kind of emotion. This wasn’t just about lust, but about the joining of two people into one. God, he loved her. So much that it almost scared him.

Her body gripped him like a hot fist. Sweat poured off his brow as he fought the urge to sink inside her in one powerful thrust. It would hurt, but he wanted to make it as pleasurable for her as possible.

Slow …

He should never have looked down. The sight of her soft pink flesh stretched around him made every muscle in his body clench. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as white hot lust surged through him. The last thread of control snapped.

His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. “God, I love you so much,” he bit off before plunging through her maidenhead in one deep stroke.

Jeannie thought her heart would explode. “I love
you—”
Too
, she started, but her words were lost when he thrust inside her and the sharp piercing pain made her cry out.

Her eyes met his—more in surprise than accusation. The sudden interjection of pain brought a swift curtailment of pleasure and with it a sudden flicker of panic. Dread washed over her.
What am I doing?

He was inside her; she was no longer a maid. That much was obvious. There was no mistaking the fullness of him inside her. He was a big man—a very big man—and she could feel every thick inch of him.

What they’d just done could not be undone.

His gaze burned into hers. His jaw was clenched tight and all the muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed. He was pulled as taut as a bowstring, holding himself completely still. He didn’t seem to be breathing. From the look of him, she wasn’t the only one in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “There is some pain the first time. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t …” his voice dropped off.