Chapter 18 #2
He took her mouth more fully, wanting her to feel the need she stirred in him, even as he reached behind her to finish unlacing her gown.
It slipped off her shoulders, and without breaking their kiss, he eased it down, hooking his thumbs under the straps of her chemise at the same time and pulling both garments down further, over her hips, until they slid off her completely.
She was as naked as he was, now. He watched her face, reveled in the sense of combined pleasure and shyness she seemed to feel in being freed of the constraints of her clothing.
By all that was holy, she had no idea how beautiful she was, he thought, his heart lurching.
Ah, but she was perfection to him, and his hand trembled with the desire to stroke his palm over her smooth skin, all pink and cream, warmed in the gentle gilding of the sunlight.
Yet he did not touch her yet. Nay, he withheld that pleasure from himself for the moment, instead leaning up on one elbow and cupping her face as he kissed her still.
He lavished his attention on her mouth, tasting her, wanting her to feel the fullness of his desire for her.
Breaking free of that sweet caress took almost all of his will, but at last he shifted to the side, nibbling more kisses along the edge of her jaw, toward the tender spot just beneath her ear, and reveling in her low moan of pleasure.
Forcing himself to pull back, to slow down and make this last, Damien reached for the bag of strawberries.
He took one out, and with a kind of teasing nonchalance, half sat up and murmured, “I’m hungry—aren’t you?
” Without waiting for her answer, he took a bite of the plump fruit he held, grinning at the look of shock that swept over her beautiful face with his abrupt abandonment of their love-play.
She batted at him in the next breath, laughing and pushing herself up to her elbows.
She reached for the bag as he eased back down beside her on the blanket, managing to quip at him as she did, “I think I would like to try a berry or two…though I fail to see why I needed to be divested of my clothing in order to do it.”
“Your lack of clothing has nothing to do with the strawberries,” he murmured, his gaze affixed to her, watching the sensuous display as she bit into the berry’s juicy flesh.
“Nay?” She kept her gaze locked to his as well, clearly enjoying their erotically charged banter as much as he was, as she finished the first fruit and began another.
He shook his head. “The berries are for nourishment alone, to sustain you through what comes next…which is the part that required you to be unclothed.”
As he finished speaking, he reached for the pot of cinnamon-infused liniment. “We will begin with this,” he said, unfastening the lid and dipping one finger into the smooth, sweet-smelling unguent, “as it must come before the mint leaves or the feathers.”
“And what is that?” she murmured playfully, nodding to the clay pot before tipping her head back and to the side with a breathy sigh as he lightly stroked his liniment-covered finger down her throat to the hollow between her breasts, following the trail with gentle kisses.
He dipped his finger again, this time lavishing his attention on her delightfully puckered, pink nipples before answering, “It is a balm I discovered when I traveled through the Holy Land, most often used for easing sore muscles and bringing a flow of blood to the surface of the skin to aid in healing. Until now, that is,” he finished, smiling.
“Mmmmmm…it feels wonderful. And warm. Warmer than the sun,” she said, lying back onto the blanket at his urging.
“That is from the cinnamon. It is a mild warmth, though, is it not?”
She nodded, clearly relaxing under his ministrations—which was just what he wanted…at this point, anyway.
“Close your eyes now, Alissende,” he commanded softly, and as she did, he trailed his finger down her belly…closer, closer…
Her delighted gasp when his finger slid gently between the delicate folds of her most intimate flesh almost brought him to completion then and there.
She was wet already, silken to the touch, and she writhed with sensuous abandon under his ministrations.
His erection throbbed mercilessly. He swallowed hard and reminded himself to breathe, calling upon all of his self-control not to end this tender torment without further delay in the way that would be most fulfilling to both of them.
But not yet, he thought. Nay, not yet…
Setting the pot aside, he grabbed a few of the mint leaves and took one of the feathers—the longest and softest of the bunch.
Crushing the mint between the fingers and thumb of his other hand, he retraced the path he had taken with the unguent; Alissende’s gasp of pleasure, as the cooling mint offset the liniment’s warmth, sent renewed surges of desire shooting from his tingling fingertips to settle in the raging, heavy ache of his groin.
But still he waited, knowing there was more, wanting to love her in all the ways he’d envisioned for so long…
Her body rose into his touch shamelessly by the time he applied the silky edges of the feather, her nipples like sweet, ripe raspberries, tightening to points that begged to be kissed as he stroked the tip of the plume over them.
But he held off a little longer, sweeping it slowly around the lush curve of each breast and down to the juncture of her thighs, until Alissende’s breath came in a shallow rasp, and she arched her back, lifting herself toward him.
“Please, Damien,” she moaned. “Do not make me wait longer. Touch me…make love to me, please…”
Her throaty plea broke the last threads of his control, and with a low growl of surrender he bent toward her, cupping his palms around the soft fullness of each breast in turn and taking her mouth in a soul-searing kiss.
She threaded her fingers into his hair with another gasping moan, pulling him close to her as he trailed his lips down her throat to lavish his attention on her nipples, suckling at the delicate buds before shifting lower.
His palms splayed over her smooth, sun-warmed skin as he traveled a path down the gentle curve of her belly, knowing that he never wanted to stop.
That he could not stop. Nay, not if his life depended on it.
“You are so beautiful, Alissende,” he murmured between kisses, breathing in her sweet scent, tasting the heat of her skin, along with the traces of mint and cinnamon.
But as he reached the apex of her thighs, she stiffened slightly, murmuring his name as her hands tightened in his hair.
He paused long enough to tip his face up to murmur, “Nay, lady, do not ask that I cease, for I long to pleasure you in this way as we did long ago. Will you let me?”
She had lifted her head from the blanket to look at him, and she was so stunning in her passion, in the need he had incited in her, that his breath caught as he waited for her answer.
And so when she nodded hesitantly as she gazed into his eyes, he whispered his thanks through a throat tight with emotion.
Then with a tender, firm touch, he slid his palms down to her thighs, easing them apart.
The beautiful sight made his erection throb anew, and he was forced to shift his lower body in order to maintain some level of comfort.
The sheen of her arousal teased him from within the swollen, pink folds, and he tormented himself with the delicacy of her spread before his gaze, until he could resist no longer.
Stroking his fingers up that sensitive flesh, he paused to caress the plump bud at its apex, and Alissende gasped, writhing against his hand.
Her body rose to his touch and melted into him as he tasted her at last, lavishing tender kisses interspersed with gentle strokes of his tongue along her silken woman’s flesh.
It was like a taste of heaven. Aching with the pleasure of it, Damien continued his tender ministrations until he felt her tensing, heard her breathing cease on a gasp, and then experienced the almost unbearable satisfaction of watching her crest and splinter into an orgasm so powerful he feared that she might have gone senseless from the force of it sweeping through her.
He paused for a moment in the aftermath, but she did not move. His heart pounded and his groin was demanding and heavy, as he finally lifted himself up, cradling her against him and stroking her face to murmur, “Alissende…lady, open your eyes, so that I know you are well.”
A breath later she looked at him, her lashes half-closed and her mouth curved into a smile. “Oh, I am well, Damien. Splendid, in fact.”
He smiled back at her. “I am glad.”
“However, you cannot be feeling quite so wonderful, I’d warrant.
” As she spoke those words softly, Alissende rolled toward him, pressing her thigh with gentle persistence into his hard swelling and eliciting another groan that he could not keep back in time.
She rubbed against him again, and he closed his eyes, this time rising to her touch as she whispered, “And I think we should remedy that as soon as possible.”
She pressed her palm to his cheek and kissed him, then, the sweetness and absolute love in that gesture undoing him in a way he knew he’d never recover from. “Be one with me, Damien,” she whispered, “as we were meant to be, before all else intervened.”