Grace Goodwin - The Virgins - Complete Boxed Set

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t turn around, but I could hear her clearly.

Oh, but that was a lie. I knew in the way her shoulders tensed and the back of her neck turned a slight shade of pink. I hurried off the roof, chasing after her like a fool as she marched toward the side of the house. “I never answered your question, Cassie. Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

That stopped her, and she turned on the heels of her odd black boots that were lined with small round buttons. Our women looked very much the same, but Earth clothing was very different from that on Everis. Our women wore long, flowing pants that whirled and swayed as they walked, their tops fitted to show off their curved waistlines and heavy breasts. In the cold seasons, their bare shoulders would be covered with the softest furs, their sandaled feet covered in smooth, self-fitting boots. Most wore long chains of gold that varied in length, some dangling from neck to breast, some to their waists, or down their long spines to the small of their backs where the swaying jewelry would draw attention to their curves. Women braided gold into their hair and wore circles of gold around their necks, ankles and wrists. The adornment was beauty personified, temptation and sensuality, and also a way for their mates to secure them during sex.

If a woman on Everis offered her gold to a man, she offered him everything.

I very much wanted to see gold adorning Cassie’s body as I fucked her.

My woman stared at me now, and I asked my question once more, my voice softer this time in an effort to tempt her. “Do you want to know why I’m here, Cassie?”

“No. I’ve changed my mind.” Five words and she whirled away, changed direction and walked past the coop and toward the open field. Her blue dress, the same soft color as her eyes, flared around her ankles as she fled, ignoring the fire of our marks and the pull between mates.

In two strides I had her, my hands at her waist as I pushed her back flat to the side of the chicken house, pressed my body close. We were sheltered here, hidden from the view of the house, nothing but the vast prairie behind us. Everywhere our bodies touched, chest, hips, thighs, ached with the need to get closer to her, to rip the dress from her body and mold her naked flesh to my own, to slide my cock deep into the hot, wet glove of her pussy and claim her.

Chest heaving, she pushed at my shoulders for a moment. When I did nothing more, simply held her without moving, she settled and tilted her head back to look at me. Her expressive blue eyes lifted, her gaze full of both confusion and desire.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” A little V formed in her smooth brow. She tried to look past me, but I blocked her view. I blocked everything so she had to focus solely on me. Completely on us .

She would ignore our marks, our connection no longer.

“I made you a promise, Cassie, a sacred vow, and I always keep my word.” I found her hands with mine and lifted them up over her head as her breasts heaved with her every frantic breath.

She licked her lips and my cock jumped in anticipation of feeling the eager exploration of her mouth. “What promise? I don’t even know you.”

I lowered my head until my lips hovered above hers, the heat between us like a bolt of lightning. With one hand I secured her wrists, held them pressed to the rough wood above her head; she could not escape. “I told you I would find you. I kissed these lips.” I brushed mine over hers, just once, the barest hint of pressure. “I touched your wet pussy and made you cry out in pleasure.” Shifting my hips, I pressed forward until her breath caught in her throat and I knew she could feel the impatient press of my cock. “I fucked your wet heat until you came, swallowed your cries of pleasure. I promised to find you, to claim you, to make you mine.”

Her head moved back and forth in denial. “No. This can’t be real.” She twisted her arms, trying to break free, her strength redoubled with her rising panic. “It was just a dream!”

“It was more than a dream. More than one night. I’m yours, Cassie. I’m here, and I won’t leave without you by my side.” I kissed her then, because I had to. Because I wanted her to know she was mine. But mostly because I wanted her to remember my taste, my touch, the heat of my body covering her, filling her. Completing her.

Cassie

He was kissing me. Unlike the other times, this wasn’t a dream. I felt his lips on mine, the firm press of them, the insistence. Heat spread through me in a wave as I felt every long, hard inch of him. It was familiar. All of it. His voice. His mouth, his taste, his scent, the feel of him. Vividly did I recall the sensation of being tied to that bed, my arms above me, even as he held them now. I was his, at his mercy and I could barely focus beyond the press of his cock against my belly.

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped when his tongue plundered. Oh my. This was decadent and daring. This was what had been missing with Charles. He’d never touched me outside of our bedroom, never pinned me in place, and never outside. Anyone could come up on us. Mr. Anderson could holler for me at any time. I didn’t care about any of that. All of my fears, concerns or worries were whisked away by the swipe of his tongue, the firm caress of his palms.

My hands wrapped around his, holding him to me of their own volition, and I felt the heat of him against my knuckles. My birthmark was on fire, streaks of warmth shooting up my arm. I sank into the kiss, my body relaxing and relenting. It was his turn to growl, the sound reverberating from his chest at my capitulation. I couldn’t do anything else, for I wanted to drown in sensation. I wanted him. I needed him. I needed his cock in me. I didn’t want it to be a dream, but reality.

I didn’t realize that he held both my wrists with just one hand until I felt the hem of my dress sliding up my leg. The soft brush of fingers coasted over my stockings, over my knee until they found the ribboned edge. There, the callused tips slid back and forth, igniting a fiery path.

“Yes,” I whispered before I could stop myself and he tensed at that one word.

“Cassie,” he murmured, planting little kisses along my jaw and up to my ear. “I remember this. Do you?” he murmured, his breath fanning my ear. I could only angle my head as his tongue licked along the shell of my ear, then nipped at the tender lobe.

The gasp that escaped was unbidden. “Yes.” I cried again, this time in answer. I could deny it no longer. I could deny him or even myself no longer. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t have to. I just… knew .

“Your skin is so smooth, so soft.” His fingers continued to tantalize my thigh. “Do you remember my fingers here… and here… and here?”

He migrated higher and higher up my leg. The cool air brushed over my exposed skin until he came in contact with my drawers.

“I do not remember these,” he grumbled. He was like a boy denied a candy stick at the mercantile.

With my head pressed against the aged wood of the coop, I nodded slightly. My breath came in little pants, my only thoughts of his fingers and how close he was to where he’d touched me in my dreams.

With deft fingers, he tugged on the string of my drawers. Seconds later they slid in a soft glide down my legs to fall onto the ground. He didn’t tease, didn’t tempt, only moved with gentle haste to touch me at my woman’s core. His fingers slid inside me, gently. Slowly. He filled me and the sensation made my knees weak.