Iris Johansen - Everlasting

“I wish I had my camera now,” she said wistfully. “I could take pictures of Marna and her people here at the encampment. It would mean a good deal to her once she's left Tamrovia.”

“Yes, I imagine it would. I hadn't thought of that.” His arm slid around her waist. “And to you too. Did you spend much of your childhood here at the Gypsy camp?”

She shook her head. “I would have loved to have spent all of it here, but my parents and Stefan disapproved. Marna and I could escape for a full day only now and then. I loved every minute of those days. I can understand how Marna would be homesick for the life here. Do you think it would be possible for us to spend just one more day? Are they searching for us in this area?”

“I don't think so,” he said slowly. “It's a little puzzling. I've been in touch with my men in Belajo and they haven't seen even a hint of pursuit. It's as if the escape had never happened. For that matter, they can't seem to get any information at all out of their informants in the palace. There appears to be a complete communication blackout.”

“That's very strange, isn't it?”

He nodded. “I've told them to find out more and let me know as soon as possible.”

“But you think it's safe to spend one more day here?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to delay our departure until tomorrow evening instead of leaving at dawn.”

“Wonderful! That will make Marna much happier.”

“It will make me much happier too. I intend to be very occupied at dawn.” His hand moved up to cup her breast, and she felt a ripple of sensation that shredded the fabric of tranquility she had been feeling. “In fact, I expect to be very occupied all night.” His long, strong fingers probed delicately at the cotton of the blouse, circling the breast lazily. “You're not wearing anything underneath this, are you?”

“It didn't seem”-she lost words as well as breath as his thumb and forefinger plucked gently at her nipple-“appropriate.”

“Oh, it wouldn't have been.” His low chuckle was amused. “Nor would it have been at all efficient. You have wonderful instincts, Kira.” His hand left her breast and went to her bare shoulder, rubbing the soft, silky skin lightly with the tips of his fingers. “And the loveliest shoulders I've ever seen. I have a deep admiration for both.” He slid the blouse very slowly down her arm. The material tightened over her breasts and began to reveal, inch by inch, the deep cleavage. His other hand disentangled from her own and wandered to the other shoulder. He began sliding that side of the blouse down as well. She watched the material slip down with infinite slowness and knew her breasts were swelling, peaking, as if trying to burst free of the confining cloth. Excitement tautened the muscles of her stomach. Her chest was beginning to constrict and she had to breathe deeply to force oxygen into her lungs. Then her breasts broke free of the confinement of the blouse and she felt the sudden flare of sensation as her naked breasts were exposed to the heat of the fire. Her nipples were pointed and distended with arousal as her breasts jutted proudly out of the nest of cotton and lace supporting and cupping them.

Zack didn't move, but she could feel his gaze on her. She waited breathlessly. The muscles of his arm beneath her cheek were no longer relaxed, but coiled and tense. She could feel the erotic pounding of his heart against her naked back. Then his hand moved slowly up and hovered over her breast.

His fingers were long and tanned. Against the glow of the firelight they seemed to have a fiery transparency that was almost magical. Then all thought of magic vanished as his hand closed on her breast. She gasped as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. His hand was heavy and warm and very, very real as it squeezed and lifted. He played with her with a pagan, sensuous enjoyment. “Zack.”

“I know,” he murmured. His lips were brushing against her cheek. “I'm going crazy, too, but let's try to ease into it, love. I don't want to be as rough with you as I was this morning.”

He hadn't been rough. He had been wonderful. The very violence of his passion had made it all the more intense and beautiful. She had to tell him that. “It wasn't-” She broke off as he suddenly moved away from her.

He sat up, unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love the way you look tonight. I like your hair tousled and wild about your shoulders.” He pulled the shirt out of his trousers and slipped it off. His shoulders gleamed bronze in the firelight as he tossed the shirt away. “Sit up, Kira.” He didn't wait for her to comply but pulled her gently to a sitting position. He took the bottom of her blouse and pulled it over her head and threw it on top of his shirt. Then he was tugging at her right boot. “I'm getting very proprietary about these boots,” he said with a faint smile. He took the other boot off her and threw it toward the other clothing. Then he paused to gaze at her with eyes that were smoky with hunger. She could feel the tension zapping between them in jagged lines of power. “I'm beginning to feel very proprietary about you too.” He moved forward and his unsteady hands untied the lace waist of her belt. When he had finished loosening the laces he hesitated, looking down at them. Then he suddenly pulled the laces so tight that her waist was cinched to wasp slimness and her naked breasts jutted forward in saucy invitation.

She gasped and her gaze flew to his. “What are you doing?”

“Fulfilling a fantasy. Hell, I didn't even know it was a fantasy until I saw you in this outfit.” He kept the laces taut as he slowly lowered his head. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No.” His tongue was stroking her breast gently and she had trouble getting the word out. No pain, only the swollen tautness, the exquisite sensitivity of her nipples, his warm teasing tongue. The only pain was the aching desire for completion. “What fantasy?”

He released the laces, unfastened the belt, and slipped it from her waist. His eyes were darkly intent. “I don't know. It has something to do with what I felt when you walked forward into the firelight in that seventeenth-century garb.” He shrugged. “Déjà vu. Nostalgia. Something.” He unfastened his belt and pulled off his boots. “It's a night for magic and fantasy, Kira. Do you have any fantasies you want to have fulfilled?” His gaze was holding her own. “Tell me. I want to show you I can be something besides the barbarian I was this morning.”

She could scarcely think, much less remember any fantasy she might have had. “I think you're doing very well on your own.”

His smile was a warm flash in his dark face. “Good. Then we'll continue as we started. I'll be right back, love.”

He stood and stripped quickly, then knelt beside her again. His palms framed her face and he kissed her tenderly. “Come here, Kira.” His legs were spread wide and suddenly her skirt and petticoats were frothing over him. His hand was beneath them. Searching. Finding. She gasped as his fingers gently started a rhythm that caused her to clutch wildly at his shoulders. She felt the prickly abrasion of the dusting of hair on his thighs as he arranged her legs around his hips. Then his hands were on her bottom, bringing her slowly forward.

She bit her lip to stifle a little moan as he began to fill the aching emptiness at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“It's like a treasure hunt, with all these petticoats hiding you from me.” He laughed huskily. “But I think I've found the way. Dear heaven, but it's a slow way.”

She thought so too. “Hurry.” Her nails unconsciously dug into the flesh of his shoulders. “This is driving me… crazy.”

He flexed and felt a deep shudder go through her.