Chapter 21 #3
Her molten hair spread in a wild tangle over the pillows. Damp strands clung to the sides of her face and her glorious eyes were so dark and sensual that he was reminded of stormy Mediterranean seas.
He’d had women from one end of England to the other, from France to the Holy Land, and none had ever seemed so beautiful or roused his lust so completely as this one.
Richard shuddered with the force of the passion he felt for her. How many times had he pictured her like this in his dreams?
He licked her full underlip. She raised her head to meet him, seeking his mouth urgently, protesting when he lifted himself away.
“Nay, love. I want to look at you. I want to know you’re mine.”
“Aye, yours,” Gwen whispered without thought. She ran her palms down his chest, over the taut peaks and hollows of his muscles. Her gaze trailed from his face to where their bodies joined together, and she marveled each time he disappeared inside her.
Impulsively, she reached between them to touch him. He groaned. “God, Gwen, you make me feel—”
His hand found hers and turned it until she was touching herself. Gwen gasped. His fingers guided her until she was panting with the need he strummed into her.
He pulled her hand away and lowered himself. His tongue plunged into her mouth, matched the heated rhythm of his body.
She ground her hips against him and he angled to catch her most sensitive spot.
Her whole body tensed, then exploded. She clutched him tight with arms and legs as the spasms racked her.
He drank her cries into his mouth, then returned them when he could no longer hold back the driving need of his own body.
He bathed her face in soft kisses, then rolled so she was on top. Gwen laid her head on his chest, caressing his side lazily.
He stroked the curve of her back, the rounded form of her buttocks. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Richard broke the silence. “Making love is much better than fighting, is it not?”
Gwen raised her head to look at him. Tendrils of her hair clung to his chest and throat. She smiled. “Mayhap fighting is not so bad if it always ends up like this.”
Richard laughed. “Aye, mayhap not.” Sobering, he smoothed the tangled mass from her face. “I’ve been with no other woman since I first saw you again in Shrewsbury.”
Gwen lowered her lashes, unable to meet his brilliant stare. He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Why should I?” she whispered. She’d seen enough of men and their tangled notions of love. If the king could not be faithful to his wife, and Rhys could not be faithful to her, how then could this man, who felt no love, be faithful? But God how she wanted to believe him!
In the silence that followed, the fire snapped as it burned through a pocket of sap in one of the logs.
“Yes, why should you?” Richard said. In truth, he could give her a hundred reasons, but he was not about to do so. He wanted her to believe him because she trusted him.
That surprised him. If her trust was what he wanted, then he’d set himself a hell of a task. What right did he have to even ask her for it?
Her face fell a little and she laid her head on his chest again. He thought she mumbled something about men.
“Do you love Rhys ap Gawain?” he asked suddenly. He wanted to know, needed to know. He was aware of a tightness inside his chest, a flame that burned hot, a flame that was ready to consume him.
She looked at him sullenly. “That can hardly matter now, can it? I am married to you.”
“Tell me anyway,” he commanded.
Gwen pushed herself up until she was sitting astride him. His eyes swept over her and she felt him begin to harden inside her. She smoothed her hands over his chest and abdomen, encouraging him. Some instinct made her grind her hips against him. His shaft pulsed in answer.
“Mmm, my lord, you are wicked.”
“Tell me,” he growled, gripping her wrists, his eyes flashing fire.
Gwen tossed her hair over her shoulder, but it spilled back anyway, enveloping her breasts in a silky cloud. “Are you jealous, my lord?” she teased in a husky whisper. His shaft bucked.
His voice was strained when he answered. “Mayhap I am. Mayhap I just don’t like the idea of making love to a woman who has given her heart to another.”
A thrill coursed through Gwen. Richard was jealous. Jealous over her. The knowledge made her feel powerful, wicked, wanton. With a boldness she’d never dreamed she possessed, she lowered her head and traced his nipple with her tongue.
“Christ almighty,” he breathed, his erection filling her to bursting.
Gwen gasped as a delicious tremor shook her. “Mmm, do not worry yourself, my lord, because my heart is my own. I will give it to no man.”
Richard released her wrists, the tightening in his chest dulling somewhat. He gripped her hips and drove into her, showing her the rhythm before he eased back and let her take over. She threw her head back as she rode him, abandoning herself to the pleasure.
Watching her was exciting beyond belief.
She suffered no inhibitions over her body or her state of arousal.
She used him for her pleasure, unaware or uncaring that he watched.
He enjoyed indulging her. He was definitely not one of those men who thought women were supposed to be meek and submissive in bed.
He held back his release until he thought he would explode. When her movements quickened and her muscles started to contract, he let himself go.
As the last of the tremors shook him, she collapsed on him, locking his head between her hands and fusing her mouth to his. Her hot tongue plunged between his lips, demanding his cooperation. He was only too happy to give it.
“Shameless wench,” he said when she lifted her head.
She smiled. “Did I do it right?”
Richard gazed up at her. He’d been haunted by those cat’s eyes for years. “Aye, you did everything right, more so than you know,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her kiss-swollen underlip.
Slowly, she lowered her head, her expression softening. She traced his lips with her tongue, then kissed him, hot, wet, open-mouthed. Richard pulled away when he felt the familiar tightening in his groin. Christ, he hadn’t been hard this much since he was a green lad!
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, frowning.
Richard laughed. “Jesú, no! But I cannot keep doing this, Gwen.”
“Why not?”
Richard thought he had died and gone to heaven. Would she always be like this? God’s bones, ’twas every man’s dream come true—a beautiful woman who was also insatiable.
“Because I just returned yesterday and my body still aches from being in the saddle for so long.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh! I am sorry, I did not mean to keep you up. You need your rest. I understand.”
Richard tried not to smile. Yes, she was keeping him up, and in more ways than one. She started to move away but he clamped his arm over her and held her in place. “Stay with me.” He yawned and pulled the coverlet over them. “I’ll wake you in the morning. Unless you wake me first…”