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She just had a glimpse of pubic hair and dark flesh—a good deal larger than she’d expected—and then he stepped between her legs. He kissed her. Gently. Lightly. But her focus was on what was going on down there. He nudged her, and she inhaled at his heat, at the broadness of—
She broke the kiss and said breathlessly, “I don’t—”
“Shh,” he murmured. He nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “It’s simple biology, really. I am made for inserting myself in you. You are made for receiving me. Thusly.”
“But—”
He thrust, the crown of his penis parting her folds, opening and stretching her. Her eyes flew wide open.
He was watching her with a demonic gleam in his eye. He smiled slightly and thrust again. She felt him invading her, entering her.
“You see?” he purred. “So simple.”
He ground his hips one more time, and the base of his penis met her mound. He was completely seated within her. She’d never felt a fullness like this. He swallowed and she knew suddenly that he was not nearly as sanguine as he pretended. His cheeks had flushed, his eye narrowed, and his mouth curved almost in a sneer.
“An interesting fact you may not know,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, “is that once the male has ventured so far, it is almost impossible… ah!” His head tilted back, his eye closing as she clenched internally. He opened his eye, his mouth now curved down in savage determination. “Impossible for him to stop.”
He withdrew fractionally and surged into her again. “He is compelled to complete the act as if”—he thrust again, this time harder, firmer—“his very life depended on it.”
She smiled and wrapped her legs about him. He braced one hand on the table beside her hip, the other on her bottom and set a demanding rhythm. The table shook and thumped and something glass toppled over the edge and shattered on the floor.
And she didn’t care. The laughter bubbled up in her throat again, and this time she let it free. She threw back her head and laughed as Sir Alistair made love to her with his strong, quick, determined body. She grinned at the ceiling in pure joy and felt his heavy cock sliding and rubbing against her, filling her full, and she’d never felt so light.
So free.
And then another wave hit, catching her by complete surprise and tossing her high, sailing on a crest of pure, exquisite pleasure. And at its peak she looked down and saw him, thrusting still faster into her, his broad shoulders bunched and tensed, his hairline gleaming with exertion. He arched back his head and shouted. And then he went still, trembling and jerking within her, his face gone curiously smooth.
She didn’t recognize the expression on his face at first, and then she realized: it was peace.
AH, GOD, IT’D been a good long while since he’d last coupled with a woman—not since before Spinner’s Falls, in fact. He’d forgotten how heady the feeling was. Actually, Alistair thought as he panted against Helen’s neck, he didn’t remember it ever having been this sweet. This glorious. He smiled, holding warm woman flesh against himself. Perhaps some things did improve with age.
She wriggled a little under him, as if the table was too hard for her soft arse. He straightened and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes slumberous, and the surge of ridiculous masculine pride that went through him was probably only natural. What man wouldn’t feel pride at having pleasured such a woman?
“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, that was… um…”
A grin tugged at his mouth. She sounded dazed.
“Wondrous?” he suggested, kissing the corner of her mouth.
She sighed. “Um…”
“Blissful?” He palmed a plump, heavy breast, sliding his fingers over the delicate rose nipple. Breasts were rather marvelous, all things considered, and Helen’s were particularly fascinating. Made one wonder why they couldn’t be uncovered and free all the time, civilized ideas of modesty be damned. Of course, then other men might ogle them, and that wouldn’t do at all. He palmed her other breast as well. No, best to keep them covered. That made the private unveiling all the more exciting.
His eye narrowed at the thought, and he looked at her speculatively. She’d let him couple with her again, wouldn’t she? If he was lucky. In fact, if she let him wait just a few minutes more, he was certain he could perform at least once more this afternoon.
As if she’d heard his thought, she suddenly straightened. “Oh, goodness! They’ll be back from their walk soon.”
“Who?” he demanded, loath to give up his handfuls of breast.
“Your sister and the children,” she said impatiently.
She wriggled again and his limp cock slipped rather ignominiously from her sheath. He sighed. Not right now, then. He bent and gave each breast a farewell kiss and then straightened and rapidly buttoned his breeches. When he finished, Helen was still trying to dress without much success.
“Let me,” he said, and gently nudged aside her fingers from her stays. He laced her, hiding those magnificent breasts, and then helped her don the rest of her clothes, all the while considering how to phrase the demand.
He smoothed the fichu at her bosom and inhaled. “Helen—”
“Where are my shoes?” She suddenly bent, searching under his table. “Do you see them?”
