Bertrice Small - Captivated

Shit

… what was she doing?!!

She'd wriggled her way down onto him so that her body was stretched flat and her feminine vee was almost within tonguing distance of his mouth.

And she was playing with him.

She'd unsheathed the satin hood from the tip of his member and she was twirling her finger lightly around the ridge at the tip.

Never again, he thought, gritting his teeth and girding his hips against the swirling sensations. I'lltie her to the bed before she ever gets me in a position like this again. If I have to stay awake for the rest of my life, I'll teach this bitch who is her master and just what she's good for

But she knew that already; she had his body knotted up with lust, surging toward culmination.

"Let me give you what you want, Drue."

"No," she said dreamily, "that's too easy."

"Anything you want, any way you want it."

"Oh, promises…" she murmured, caressing him at the very tip with her very hot wet tongue. "You say one thing today, and tomorrowit's gone… This is nice, though…" She folded that tip between her lips and pressed on it gently, meaningfully.

He rocketed off the bed. She could have him nowshe knew it and he knew it; he was tight as a drum and ready to explode.

"You win, damn it. What are your terms?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Oh?" she cooed. "Oh. The terms. The conditions. Those." She compressed her lips again and he shuddered. It was too much, and she knew it, and that he did not want to blow. He was about ten seconds away from it, and using every ounce of control to keep himself contained while he waited to hear her everlasting conditions.

"Ummm… Oh, let me see, my rutting stag. Conditions. You will never, ever hide your naked body from me… ever… " she cautioned throatily. "Andyou will never deny me anything I demandin our bedroom."

She swirled her tongue around him again. "You are a body to service me, my stag. Do you think you're up to it?"

"Untie me, and you'll find out."

"Delicious idea," she sighed and covered him with her mouth again.

"Now, Drue."

"Ohthere was one thing about those conditions…"

"Why…"his body jolted as she sucked him"why"his voice dropped precipitously as he got hotter and harder"did I know that…?"

"Listen, my lusty stagthose terms hold for all the days of our lives together. And if you don't agree to those conditions" she pulled on him again, knowing exactly what power she wielded with her mouth and tongue"you will never, ever have me again."

Did he have to say it? "Untie me."

"Not enough, Court."

"Damn you, how much more do you need?"

"But there were days and days that you weren't available to me." She squeezed him mercilessly. "Days and days. How do I know it won't happen again?"

"If you stay put, it won't happen. Again."

"If I…? If I… I see" She levered herself off of him. "Your terms, Court." She swung her legs over the bed. "I don't think so."

She reached over and flicked the golden loops on his nipples and he shuddered. "Not if you want my body, my nipples. Not if you want to couple with me."

"All right, damn it, all right"

"All right, what?"

"I agree to your conditions. For all the days we are together."

She smiled, that faint, knowing smile of feminine power.

But not for long…

"Untie me, Drue. Let me rut in you."

"Oh, I like that idea…" she murmured as she sashayed around the bedpost. A minute later, his one arm was free. And then the other.

And then he grabbed her, ignoring the tingling, ignoring the ache, he grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed, onto his lap, and he pushed her on her belly, and he held her with a grip of iron and he paddled her bottom once, twice, three times with the impatience of a man who has been too long out of control and too long in heat. And then he released her abruptly and she tumbled to the floor.

"Don't you ever do that to me again."

"No promises, you bastard. Since you don't know how to keep them."

"Test me, my fawn. The slate is blank as of today. See if I don't keep my promises…"

She curled up onto her feet and stood looking down at him. Maybemaybe not… but what she knew was, in spite of his discipline, and despite his fury, she wanted what was between his legs.

She turned slowly and walked to the harness. "This is what I want."

"Then make yourself ready for me." He stood up, still enshrouded in the satin as she pulled the stair-step under the harness and climbed up and mounted it.

And she knew, as soon as she positioned her legs, that he could see how wet she was for him, because he had started toward her before she was even settled and was nudging against her almost immediately.

"This has nothing to do with love," he whispered as they both watched him press against her cleft and his tip penetrate her welcoming fold.

He held himself there for a long erotic moment, really aware for the first time of the nature of this erotic joining between them. That part of him needed her, wanted her. Every emotion in him surrendered to her power. He wanted nothing more than to claim her. Nothing less than to love her.

He reached out to her breasts, the golden loops dangling from his fingers.

"I hereby claim you," he said huskily, slipping the loops over her nipples once again as the mark of his possession.

And I will love you, he thought. For all the days we are together, I will. It was a promise, it was a dream.

And then, with all the mastery at his command, and the need and desire for her growing deeper within him by the moment, he claimed her willing body, he claimed her trembling lips, and for the first time, he claimed her heart.

Rage.

It filled the storm, pounding and striking the night sky.

It filled the stranger, fueling and stoking a burning lust.

For a woman.

A woman who knew more of life than surviving one day at a time.

A woman with kindness and passion.

A woman who would share with him her soul as well as her body.

A woman who, perhaps, could give him back his own soul.

The man raised his face to the sky and cursed the icy rain. He cursed the wind that drove it into every pore of his body. He cursed the African Boer who had used his left leg for target practice, thus necessitating convalescence in the cold, drafty country that was England. He cursed the horse that had thrown him in such a godforsaken, isolated area. But most of all he cursed the need that had driven him from the warmth and comfort of his seaside cottage.

Need that a man like him, born on the streets of London, could not afford.

Need that, in a man like him, haunted by the nameless dead, could never be appeased.

A fork of jagged lightning split the sky; a warning shot of thunder echoed through the night.

The storm promised death, lost as he was with neither horse nor shelter.

The storm promised life, the dawning of a new day in the aftermath of pain and desire.

The stranger lowered his head. And saw the light.

"My desires were excited to the highest pitch. I depicted to her the pleasure she would experience when, after arriving at the chateau, I should deflower her of her virginity, and triumphantly carry off her maidenhead on the head of this, 'dear Laura,' I said, as I took one of her hands and "

Exploded.

A raging black wall of wind and rain turned candlelight into night, swallowing whole the illicit, newspaper-type print that was in that second the sum total of Abigail's existence.