Chapter 21 #2
Gwen jumped from the windowseat. Her hair tumbled to her waist in a glorious blaze of color, her eyes flashing with an unholy green light. The golden cloth of her gown shimmered and danced in the fireshine like an illusion born of faery magic.
Richard blinked. Winter howled in the mountains and valleys of the March, but he had captured autumn within the walls of his castle. She stood before him now, gazing at him with all the splendor and fury that was hers alone. His body hardened to the point of pain. He took a step toward her.
She held up her hand and he saw that it shook. “Don’t you come near me,” she said, her voice low and menacing.
Richard grinned. Good God, she was challenging him! It wasn’t what he had expected, but he was not in the mood to show any mercy. “You should realize I will always do whatever I wish,” he growled.
He moved slowly, deliberately, the hawk closing in on his prey. She backed away like a hunted animal.
She collided with the wall, then planted her feet defiantly. “Do not touch me.”
Their eyes locked and he reached for her. “Let me go!” she hissed, jerking her arm away.
Richard grabbed her again, his hand tightening around her like a vise as he pulled her to him.
He cupped her breast with his free hand and smoothed his thumb across her nipple.
The pouty flesh thrust upward at his touch and he smiled.
“I want to feel you beneath me again, cath wyllt. And you want it too, don’t you? ”
“No! Never again!” she cried, twisting in his grasp, clawing and fighting like the wildcat he named her. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you dare touch me you filthy swine!”
He pinned her against the wall, one knee thrust between her legs, his engorged member pressing into her abdomen. His hands gathered silken fistfuls of hair. “You want me, Gwen. Admit it.”
“No!”
Gwen gasped as he lowered himself and rubbed his manhood against her sensitive flesh. She’d not counted on him assaulting her senses this way.
“Your body betrays you,” he said thickly.
“I hate you, Gwalchddu, truly hate you.”
His grip tightened almost painfully. Gwen knew an instant of fear before his mouth descended to crush hers beneath it.
She smacked her open palms against his chest. It was as useless as slapping solid rock. But his bruised shoulder, however…
She doubled her fist, hesitating an instant before slamming it into him. He didn’t stop, or cry out, or reel in pain, because the blow landed harmlessly on his chest. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt him.
“No!” she cried when his lips moved down her neck. “I’ll not have you after you’ve been with another woman!”
Richard stopped. Her eyes flashed green fire and he thought he had never seen a more desirable woman in his life. He could not help but tell her the truth. “I swear to you I’ve not been with anyone else.”
“You lie!” she screamed, pushing against him. “You’re a lying Englishman!”
“Is that what this is all about? Christ, I want no one but you!”
“I saw you stare at her! You were with her!”
“No! I’ve been with no one!”
“Liar!”
“By God, I’ll prove it to you then!”
He crushed his mouth to hers again. Despite everything Gwen promised herself, she felt her body responding. Why had she chosen to dwell on his attention to another woman, rather than his plan to kill her father?
It made no sense, but she couldn’t think of that right now. All she could think of was him. He tasted of ale and fury and desperation, and he touched her with an urgency that fired her soul.
I want no one but you.
It was a lie, but God what a sweet lie. All rational thought fled her. Her squeals of protest changed to moans of pleasure. Hands that beat against him now clutched his surcoat, lips that pressed together tightly now opened, muscles that stiffened now relaxed and melded to him.
“Yes, Gwen, give yourself to me,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ll lay the Heavens at your feet, I swear it. With my body I thee worship. I vowed it when I wed you. ’Tis a vow I intend to keep.”
He was a demon. Only a demon could say such things and make her want them so much she’d give her soul to have them. It was madness. He was madness.
“Richard…” she whispered as his mouth claimed hers. His hands slid down her body, gripped her buttocks and pulled her against the hard proof of his desire. Gwen quivered from the inside out.
Her fingers found the clasp of his mantle. The garment fell to the floor with a soft sigh.
Later… she would hate herself later.
She unbuckled his sword belt and let it fall. His hands came up to undo the fastenings of her clothes. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, they shed their clothes until their naked bodies pressed together, hard to soft.
Richard dropped to his knees. Gwen’s fingers entwined in his hair as his lips traveled over the sensitive flesh of her breasts and belly.
“You are perfect,” he murmured against her skin. “So soft, so sweet.” His fingers stroked her cleft, found her wet with need. “So full of desire.”
Gwen shuddered. Why had no one ever made her feel this way? Why did it take the one man she should hate most to show her how belonging could feel like?
Gwen’s fingers tightened in his hair. Oh God, what would this feel like if there was love between them? Her knees buckled with the intensity of her longing for something that could never be.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on it, then stood above her. There was something else reflected in his face, something she could not name.
Vaguely, she thought of her nudity and that she should be blushing under his hot stare. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She felt beautiful, totally uninhibited, when he looked at her like that.
Rising to her knees, she came to the edge of the bed and pressed her palms against his flat stomach. He shuddered. Inspired, she closed her eyes and tasted his bronze skin the way he’d done to her. She was rewarded with a groan.
He joined her on the bed, pushing her back, his huge form hovering over her. He stared at her, not touching her, his fists pressed into the bedding on either side of her head.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, her hands skimming up his belly, curling against his chest. He didn’t move. Her gaze trailed to his shoulder. How had she ever thought of hitting him there? With a little cry, she raised her head and touched her lips to the bruise, softly, gently.
“God, Gwen.”
She licked him and he shuddered. Her hands traveled up his sides, down his arms, while she tried to heal him with the gentle touch of her mouth. She lay back on the pillows.
“Love me, Richard,” she entreated.
“Jesú, I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.” It sounded like a confession before the onslaught of a storm that left one wondering whether they would still be alive at the end.
Gwen pulled his head down. “Show me.”
The dam within him broke and he suddenly came alive. She melted as his mouth sought hers with fierce, demanding kisses. She ran her hands through his hair, over the planes of his face, touching, feeling.
Her lips were bruised and swollen when he finally gave them up to drag kisses down her neck and over her breasts. Her breath caught as his tongue made lazy circles around her nipple.
She writhed beneath him, aching, wanting him to fill her and be done with this madness. But he didn’t. Instead, he teased her nipples until she was certain the next touch would make her scream.
And then he was moving down, his hot mouth blazing a trail of delight over her flesh. When he pressed a kiss into the curls between her legs, Gwen thought she would explode from the anticipation.
She half sat up, reaching for him. Dear Lord, he wouldn’t really kiss her there would he? He slipped from her grasp as he moved down her thigh. A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over her. If he’d done that, she didn’t think she would survive it.
He pushed her legs apart and ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh. Gwen gasped his name.
He raised his head. His eyes were glazed, drugged with passion. “I love it when you say my name like that. It sounds like a wicked invitation. I promise I’m going to make you say it again and again.”
He threaded his hand through her curls and stroked her bud with his thumb. Gwen closed her eyes, moaning as sensation spiraled through her like molten steel.
When she thought she could take no more, he replaced his thumb with his tongue.
“Oh my God! Richard, you cannot—”
She sank back on the pillows, powerless to stop him. He stroked and licked and sucked, and all the while she was convinced she was dying the most exquisite of deaths.
Wanton and shameless, she rocked her hips against him, begging him for fulfillment in a throaty voice she barely recognized. The instant before she reached her peak, he thrust his searing tongue inside her.
“Richard!” she cried, clenching handfuls of bedding in her fists. Her stomach muscles spasmed with the violence of her climax, raising her off the pillows.
He loomed over her, then surged into her while she still convulsed. The walls of her sheath contracted, gloving him tightly.
“Oh my God,” he said, closing his eyes and going completely still. He bent to kiss her and she tasted herself on his lips. It was shocking and intimate and wonderful.
Slowly, he started to move. Gwen welcomed the ache his possession caused. The feeling was deeply sensual, knowing that the man who made love to her now was the source of both the pleasure and the pain.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and sank her teeth into his good shoulder, nipping him with every stroke of his body within hers.
“That’s it, cath wyllt. Let yourself go,” Richard whispered.
He sucked her neck and earlobe, then raised himself on his palms to look down at her.
It was a strain on his shoulder, but he didn’t care.
He had a deep male need to see her response to his lovemaking, to watch as he possessed her body with his.