Chapter 6 #2
Pierre groaned into her, and releasing her nipple poured an ocean of kisses onto her mouth, light at first, and then deeper and deeper until Helena thought she would lose herself in him, and she was glad, because this joy and heat rising in her had to go somewhere.
Her hands, nervously at first, now explored his chest, his hand, and when she accidently scratched him in her own passion, Pierre cried out in barely controlled ecstasy.
“God, Helene, what are you doing to me?” He muttered darkly, smiling down at her as he took a moment from worshipping her lips.
“Pierre,” she moaned, the heat building in her. “I need you – I want you, I want – ”
He stopped her mouth with his own, but his hands left her and struggled with his britches, and in a short moment Helena gasped to see the nakedness of the man she now knew she loved, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Those quick fingers grabbed at her shirt, pushing them up as her breasts moved in the hurried movement. The sight of them seemed to transfix Pierre, and for a moment Helena glorified in her power. To think that her body should have such an effect on a man like Pierre.
He growled and lowered his head to nuzzle, kiss, and play with her breasts once more, and in the sheer pleasure that he was giving her, Helena arched her back and cried out his name.
The sound of his name made Pierre jerk up, but he did nothing but kiss her once more, raise her skirts, and plunge himself into her.
Helena did not know what was happening until it had happened, and then there was such sweet intimacy between them that she hardly knew what to do with herself. Squirming slightly at the odd sensation, she saw Pierre jerk at the feeling, and smiled as she gently moved her hips in a circle.
“Oh, Helene, mon dieu, what are you – ”
But Pierre hardly seemed able to speak, and Helena, losing her hesitancy in the giddiness of her power over him, moved her hands to tenderly caress, and then bitingly clutch at his buttocks as her hips moved in a rhythmic circle.
Leaning on his elbows, Pierre seemed barely able to control his own breathing, let alone speak, and Helena tipped her lips upwards to capture his own and tasted the heady heat on his tongue.
“I want more,” she moaned into his neck as he seemed unable to move. “Give me more, Pierre.”
That there was more, she was in no doubt; the rising heat, the tugging sensation of him inside her: it was all leading to something, though she knew not what. Her desperate words, however, seemed to spark him to life.
With a devilish grin, Pierre pulled back her hands from his body and pinned them above her head against the rough sail. She struggled against him for a moment, and she saw his eyes flutter at the sensation of her straining against him, and she arched her back to try and feel him deeper.
“More,” she cried, and catching his eye and tightening her legs around him, she moaned, “I am begging you, Pierre!”
That was it. With a shout of desperate longing, Pierre dipped his head to hers whilst keeping her arms pinned to the bottom of the boat, and began thrusting into her slowly, never quite leaving her, and never quite filling her.
“Yes, yes,” Helena cried, unable to stop herself. “Faster!”
“Slower,” came Pierre’s jerking voice, straining for control. “Trust me, Helena, trust me!”
It was impossible not to cry out with the pleasure of it, and he joined her groans with grunts of his own, interspersed with her name as he slowly increased the speed and depth at which he sunk that most private part of himself into the warm sticky heat of her body.
“Helena,” he cried, and as though unable to ignore her trembling breasts any longer, he attacked one with kisses and then the other.
Helena thought that she would collapse with the sensations that were pouring through her body, and as her back tried to arch again but couldn’t with the weight of his passionate rhythm, she felt the heat boil up in her to a peak that she thought she could not endure.
“Pierre!” She screamed out as the ecstasy overwhelmed her, and he was shudderingly pounding into her and crying out her own name.
“Helena – my only, my one, my sweetest Helena!” As he poured himself into her, he poured out sweet nothings into her ear as her body shook with the waves of joy that washed over her, and then he collapsed across her, and nuzzled her neck.
It was the sun now caressing his face, but Pierre felt so happy he was almost drunk. The sunlight warmed his naked body, and under his arm, another naked body rested peacefully beside him.
Helena. What a woman. As the seagulls cried out mournfully overhead, there was nothing but joy in his heart, and pleasant fatigue in his limbs.
“What amazes me,” he whispered, raising his hand to stroke her hair, “is that no one heard us.”
A gentle chuckle vibrated against his chest. “Yes,” she agreed jestingly, “and you were hardly quiet!”
Pierre gasped in mock outrage, and brought his fingers down to tickle the sun warmed body nestled close to him, and she giggled. He kissed the top of her head, and prayed that this moment would never end.
“You know,” Helena murmured finally, “there is no one living for a mile around. I have told you that. This is essentially our own private beach.”
Pierre’s heart swelled. This was, after all, his own portion of paradise. Though a hellish storm had brought him here, it was to a true heaven.
“Perhaps you are the rich one after all,” he murmured with a smile, and raised her head to kiss his beloved full on the mouth.