Chapter 16 #2
Strong arms went around her from behind. Rigid muscles were pressed hard against her, and she was drawn upwards to break the surface. His hardness pressed against her, seemingly massive against the small of her back. She gulped for air.
“That was foolish!” Damien snapped.
“I knew you would save me,” Maria coughed, letting her head fall back on his shoulder.
Her body was limp against him, letting him bear her weight. His lips fastened on her neck, and Maria let out a long, low moan at the pleasure that radiated outward from that point. She felt his teeth and warm breath against her skin.
She could not see, but that only enhanced the pleasure, leaving her in a world of touch. This man was not hurrying with her, but he wanted her. Maria arched her back, her toes curling as his manhood brushed against her spine.
“Now you are marked as mine,” he said after a moment.
She clapped her hand to her neck and laughed, low and husky with desire. The thought of being marked by him should have, perhaps, been an insult. She was not an animal to branded. But instead, the thought of being marked by him sent a sharp thrill racing through her.
“And will I be allowed to mark you?” she asked.
“I will wear it with pride.”
She turned in his strong embrace, trusting him utterly to keep them both afloat. She kissed him, hungry for his taste. Her lips lingered on his neck, and her blood roared in her ears at the intimacy of being so near him. .
Then she lowered her head to his chest and bit hard. He yelped but did not pull away. Maria’s heart hammered, for she had not quite anticipated such a strong reaction. She could not understand how it didn’t echo from the ancient stone.
“Now, you will learn to swim,” Damien said.
And suddenly, he was pushing away from her. Maria yelled, clinging to his arm. Her legs kicked wildly at the water, as she struggled to keep herself afloat.
“Lift your legs and kick. Up and down,” Damien said.
His hand was against her stomach, pushing her up.
She felt the warm air of the crypt against her bare rump and let out another sharp cry.
Heat rushed to her face, and it had little to do with the temperature of the cave.
Maria was entirely, shamefully exposed, but she could muster no maidenly modesty for her unclothed state.
“Kick or you will sink,” Damien commanded.
She began to move her legs up and down. His hand moved from her stomach to her breasts, cupping and stroking even as he continued to support her weight. Maria knew that her face must be scarlet, for the heat spread across her face was so intense.
She bit her lip, whimpering at the pleasure that coursed through her at his expert manipulation of her body. All the aches and wants of her body, which had faded largely when he brought her into the water, awakened anew. She thought wildly that she might well go mad from his ministrations.
“Now, keep kicking.”
Damien released her, taking both of her hands.
Maria felt herself sink and cried out, but she kept kicking, clumsily and desperately.
Miraculously, she rose in the water, her head never sinking below the surface.
Damien moved away from her until only his fingertips held hers.
She felt herself moving through the water towards him and laughed, both from the excitement of swimming and from the absurdity of the moment.
“I am swimming!” she exclaimed.
He led her in a circle, then removed his hands entirely.
Maria kicked and kicked, remaining afloat.
She heard his laughter and turned her head to follow the sound.
Then, he was surging towards her, a wave preceding him with the force of his approach.
He enveloped her in his arms and held her close to him.
Maria wrapped her arms and legs around him, conscious of his hard, sculpted body against her own. He was a pillar of stability and strength in the water, which left her weightless and light. She felt that her breath must be as loud as a forge bellows. Her heart thundered in her ears.
They spun a lazy circle in the water, their bodies joined in many ways except the one way that was expected from a husband and wife. But she felt him, pressed hard against her stomach. He wanted her, too. Would he do it now? Anticipation curled inside her, tracing the path of her spine.
His hands explored her nakedness, slipping over her soft, wet skin. She clung to him, relishing his hardness, savoring the stony feel of his physique. Maria thought of their encounter in the stairwell and in the bedroom, of his hands exploring her body.
He had seemed massive, predatory and intimidating, and with the blindfold still about her eyes, a newfound awareness of her own vulnerability swept over her. She was so slight and delicate when compared to him.
“You say you are a hunter,” she gasped.
“I am,” Damien said.
“Suppose I do not wish to be hunted.”
For a beat, there was nothing except the quiet murmur of the water and their heavy breathing.. “Then what do you wish for?”
“To be respected and treated with dignity and…”
Damien laughed; a sharp, sudden sound that startled her. Through the blindfold, she perceived the flash of movement when he threw back his head. For a moment, Maria couldn’t tell whether it came from frustration, amusement, or something more unhinged.
“Why are you laughing at me?” Maria demanded, splashing him.
“Your answer is so trite. So…mundane. Are you so ordinary?”
She scowled, which she did not imagine he could see, but the man must have sensed or suspected something about her expression changing, for his laughter increased, echoing on the cave walls so that it seemed to come from every direction..
“I am…” she began.
“You are not,” Damien corrected, becoming quiet. “You are far from ordinary. Do not wish to be or pretend to be.”
Maria frowned, touched but a little confused by the statement. “Is that a compliment? From you?”
“Yes. From me. I can be… ordinary when I wish to be. Or approximate it anyway.”
Now Maria laughed. She began to lie back in the water, knowing that it exposed her breasts to him. Maria hoped that his eyes were fixed firmly on her, that she was driving him as close to madness as he was her.
I cannot see where he is looking, but I can feel it.
Gooseflesh raised along her arms, and her inner walls clenched with need. He was looking; he must be. And she had every reason to believe that he had the same desires that she did. Would he act upon them, though? Maria could only hope.
“A very poor approximation,” Maria said. “You are the least ordinary man I have ever met? Are you looking at me?”
“I cannot look anywhere else.”
In response, she closed the gap between them once more and took his face in her hands. She kissed his left cheek, the cheek which bore what he described as his curse. He tensed and gripped her arms as though to cast her away from himself.
But she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, hanging on tightly and keeping her lips pressed to his cheek. Her lips felt nothing different, only the faint scratchy sensation of his facial hair brushing wonderfully against her lips.
They whirled, a pirouette in the water. The feel of his warm skin against hers.
The feel of his cheek, which had not been touched except by anyone but her.
It was intoxicating. It made her want to throw her cares away.
Wanting to throw away her fears and embrace the sensations that were storming the ramparts of her willpower.
“Are you certain that you do not wish to be prey?” Damien murmured, his breath hot against her neck. “You might find that you enjoy the experience, given that you are so unconventional.”
Her breath hitched. “Might I? I am not entirely convinced of that.”
He kissed her jaw slowly and carefully. Then, he turned his head, and his hair brushed against her neck. “Perhaps, I could persuade you.”
Her heart beat madly. If he delayed any longer, Maria thought that she might come undone. She would burst apart with need for him.
Damien kissed her lips, stealing her breath.
He held her above the most primal part of himself.
Maria kissed him back with all the force that she could muster, refusing to submit to his domination without a fight.
If he wished to persuade her, she would see that it took no small amount of effort on his part!
She could feel its hardness, feel how close they were to consummation.
It made her breath catch, her pulse race.
While the water might be cold, Maria’s body was hot and alive with anticipation. Her chest ached for want of air by the time he deigned to break the kiss. She gasped, her lips tingling and swollen in the aftermath.
“Convinced?” he asked, infuriatingly smug.
She was in his hands in more ways than one. Damien was clearly the more experienced. He behaved as though pleasuring a woman was something he knew. Maria behaved purely by instinct, allowing herself to be led by him despite her best efforts.
She wanted to endure the anticipation. Wanted to be tantalized. “Not yet,” she said. “You shall have to try harder.”
His fingers dug into her buttocks with bruising force, and she squirmed against him, their bodies colliding roughly. Their hips struck, his hardness touched her thigh, her core brushed against his stomach. “Like this?” he asked. “Or do I need to resort to bolder strategies?”
“Bolder?”
What could he possibly do that was bolder?
He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and kneaded the flesh of her buttocks.
She groaned, her hips jerking reflexively forward.
His lips met hers without warning, his tongue slipping between her startled, parted lips.
A strangled sound tore from her throat. He kissed her with reckless abandon, as though he was a starving man and only she could sate his hunger.
Her lips writhed, and her tongue quested.
She felt that she was picking up on the techniques of lovemaking with surprising speed.
Inspired, Maria broke the kiss and lowered her head.
Damien gasped as she bit at his neck, as he had done to her.
Another mark of ownership, one more than she bore.
Her fingers raked his back, and he squeezed her rear hard. A ragged groan tore from her throat.
Damien steered them both through the pool to the nearest edge.
He lifted her up and deposited her on the stone lip.
She squealed at the touch of the frigid stone and reflexively pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt to recover some warmth.
The place between her thighs was warm and damp, and Maria knew instinctively that it was not water.
It did not feel like water, but something thicker.
Her feet traced invisible patterns across his chest as though exploring him by any means she could.
He seized her ankles and pulled her legs apart.
“Lie back,” he ordered.
She did, shivering. “The stone is cold,” she complained, as it leeched heat from her back.
“You will not suffer for long,” Damien said.
He grabbed her hips, pulling them towards the edge. He kissed the soles of her feet. Then her ankles, her calves, knees and then thighs. Every kiss was like a branding, and she squirmed beneath his ministrations.
“Please!” she gasped.
Please, hurry. Please, I cannot bear it much longer.
“Please?” he drawled, a hint of playful mocking in his voice.
There, he slowly licked a path from knee to loin, moving from one thigh to the next and leaving Maria quivering and gasping.
Her hips bucked, and a whine tore from her throat.
Finally, he reached a part of her that she covered with her hands, her fingers tangled in the thick curls.
Her thighs were shaking, her heels pressed hard against the sides of the pool.
“Why do you feel the need to hide?” Damien asked, placing his hand atop her own. “Are you under the impression that I know not what a woman’s body has there?”
She moaned, whispered, murmured and writhed.
Damien was an expert, and she felt that her body was being played.
She understood that his expertise must have come from other women.
It maddened her. Jealousy swept through her like fire.
But through it all was a fierce pride that he had chosen her. That he belonged to her.
Afterwards, she lay back, uncaring about the hard, cold stone beneath her.
She panted and then pulled at the blindfold.
Damien put a hand over her eyes, holding it in place.
She felt his body next to hers, and her muscles all drew taut in anticipation of what he might do next.
Would he take her the way that a husband ought?
“Why would you do that?” he asked sternly.
“I want to see you,” she said after a long, breathless moment.
“No. I can’t allow it.”
“Do you not see that your fears are groundless?” she said, feeling exasperated. “I will not detest you simply because I see your scars.”
“No.”
“I have given myself to you. You have been given what no other man has. You cannot take that and then slam the gates shut,” Maria tried to sit up, but Damien’s hand slid from her eyes, down her chest and between her breasts.
He held her down with gentle force, and she complied. His fingers spread over the slopes of her breasts, and her core ached with need. Her mind conjured several fantasies of what he might do with his hand there.
He could weigh her breasts in his hands or knead them, as he had her buttocks. Damien might circle her nipples, which she already felt had hardened into tiny peaks. He might pinch them or roll them between his thumbs.
“I can take it,” he said, his voice raw.
He withdrew his hand, and Maria could not contain a little whimper of protest at the sudden absence of his warmth. She listened to him gathering his clothes and walking away. She did not remove the blindfold until she heard the door to the bathhouse slamming shut.