Chapter Nine #5
She was desperate to get him inside her, to feel the same sensations that rocked her the previous night. He obliged her, slipping his huge manhood at her threshold and thrusting slowly and firmly until he slid his entire hard length into her.
Remington was incoherent with her need. She wrapped her small body around him, her face against his neck, rising to meet him as he thrust into her.
He was hard and firm, rhythmic, and driving her to the brink of madness.
The familiar fire in her loins from last night was raging once again and she begged him to put a sweet end to her torment as he had once before.
It had been the mightiest of experiences, one she wished to repeat again and again.
Yet, even as he moved within her, full and rock-solid, it was more than the act itself.
It was the simple action of being held by him, touching his flesh, being touched.
It was him, like no one else. He cared for her, was kind to her, respected her.
That, as well as the physical touching, was a most powerful aphrodisiac.
He growled, his hands under her hips, lifting her to meet him with tender savagery.
She could do naught but clutch him tightly, his body so huge and powerful that she felt overwhelmed by his sheer maleness.
She moved with him, meeting his rhythm, feeling the fire within her building to a roaring blaze.
Without his obvious manipulation as he had done last night, she felt the tremors of release begin and begged him to drive harder, harder.
He obeyed, bringing her to such a raging climax that she cried aloud with relief and pleasure, feeling the moment of time where all else seemed to stop for a brief second, where only her exquisite pleasure mattered, before beginning the inevitable downslide to complete contentment.
She wished she could stay there forever, feeling him moving within her like a great battering ram.
He felt her convulsions, milking him, demanding his own release, and he relented, joining in her pleasure.
He swore he had never climaxed so hard as he continued to move, slowing his actions, winding down.
Their sweaty bodies lowered to the bed, enveloped by the softness, and he held her tightly against him in a protective embrace.
Remington dozed lightly, utterly exhausted and satisfied. The feelings were entirely new to her, more wonderful than she had ever suspected. His huge hands caressed her back and stroked her hair as they cuddled contentedly, realizing their relationship was deepening by the moment.
“Can we stay here forever?” she whispered.
“Would that I could, angel,” he kissed her head, his mind turning briefly to Mari-Elle. Sex with her had never, ever come close to this. It had been a duty.
She kissed his chest softly, running her hands lightly over his skin. “You are so gentle for your massive size,” she said. “I would not have thought it possible.”
“Were I not gentle, I’d most likely flatten you like a pancake,” he teased.
She giggled. “’Twould be a most pleasurable form of death, my lord.”
He propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down on her lovely face. “You will listen to me now, Remi, or I will take a stick to you. I want you to stay in your rooms until I tell you otherwise. There will be no disobedience from you on this, madam, in any way. Am I making myself clear?”
She nipped playfully at his lower lip. “Aye, Gaston. I swear to you that I will not leave my rooms. I shall simply wait here in bed for you to return to me.”
He lifted an arched black eyebrow, the same way he had lifted it the first time she had ever gazed into his eyes. This time, however, she reached up and touched his brow. “If you choose to wait in bed, then that will suit me. But know I mean what I say, Remi. I do not jest with you.”
She was gazing at him dreamily, a faint smile on her face. “Tell me, Gaston, when you first saw me did you know that we would be lovers?”
He signed in annoyance. She wasn’t listening to him. “Nay, I did not. I do not take lovers.”
“But you took me,” she traced her finger along his lower lip.
“Believe me when I tell you it was simply by chance,” he said. “I never planned it, at least not at first.”
She perked up. “Not at first? When, then? When did you know?”
He looked at her a moment. “After your sister put charcoal on Nicolas’ cup and you were terrified that she had booby-trapped the entire table.
You practically tore the table apart looking for tricks with this wild look on your face,” his hand moved over her shoulder tenderly. “I knew then that I would have you.”
She smiled. “I thought you were going to crucify Rory. We were terrified of you; my sisters still are.”
“And you are not?” he asked with feigned outrage.
Her smile faded. “I fear Guy more than you. The man knows no mercy, no compassion, no gentleness. He strikes for no reason, without warning. He is an animal.”
Gaston’s face hardened. “And the animal fears me more than God. He shall never touch you nor see you again, Remi, I swear it. If I have to get down on my knees before Henry to plead for his unending imprisonment, I will. I shall kill him if he sets foot outside of the Tower.”
She believed him.