Page 74 of The Smuggler’s Escape

For a moment, he did nothing. She raised herself on her elbows to see what he was about, and he looked up and smiled. “Woman and wine,” he said, spreading her with his thumbs. He dipped forward and licked her. “Do you ever taste yourself?”

Embarrassment washed over her, and she scowled to cover it. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

He slipped a finger inside her and pulled it back out, running it across her sensitive nub. She mewed with surprise—how undignified, like a helpless kitten. Surprise, yes, and pleasure. He crawled up beside her and placed his fingers on her lips.

He licked his own finger and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

Noelle mewed again. Richard put his finger into her mouth and kissed her around it, making her lick it if she wanted to kiss him back. “Like it?”

Surely he could tell that she did. Now he was kissing his way up the other thigh, and lapping the wine from her belly, and pushing the nightdress over her breasts. His teeth grazed a nipple, making her squeak. He rolled to his side. “This thing’s in the way.” He pulled the nightdress over her head.

He gazed at her through half-closed eyes. “Oh, my beautiful love.”

She swallowed. Stop it stop it stop it.

He pushed her back onto the sheets and took his time exploring one nipple and then the other, with his tongue, with his fingers and thumb. Her whole body melted into languor. He cupped one breast and suckled it gently. Desire shot straight from her breast to her nether regions, and her hips writhed in response.

“Feel it down there, do you?” Richard murmured. Yes, but everything was wrong, because she couldn’t love him, and because she had to leave.

He set that breast free and moved to the other, but this time his hand wandered between her legs to stroke gently.

His lips left her breast. “Stop thinking,” he said, and kissed her, teasing her open with teeth and tongue, while his hand dipped lazily inside her, spread her juices, and stroked and stroked and stroked.

It was going to destroy her, bit by bit, but she couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t lie. She couldn’t say no.

“Richard,” she moaned. “Ce n’est—ce n’est pas. . .” But her hips belied her words, and she writhed under his fingers and opened with abandon to his lips and tongue.

“Do you like it?”

“Oui,” she gasped, “mais . . .”

“No buts,” Richard said.

“This isn’t—this isn’t—” She couldn’t think. She couldn’t get the words out. His fingers were driving her insane. She wriggled desperately away. “Ce n’est pas—”

Richard loomed over her, his breathing harsh. “Do you want me inside you?” His eyes were insistent, dark and demanding. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s what you want,” Noelle gasped, her chest heaving, her heart slamming so hard against her ribs that it hurt. She wanted him inside her because he wanted it. Because he had paid for it. She pulled him down and kissed him hard.

No, that only made it worse. She broke the kiss and held herself taut. She must not feel love. Only lust. That would make it bearable.

“Yes.” Richard’s eyes bored into her. “That’s what I want.” He ran his fingers across her nub and she moaned in despair.

He gripped her thighs. His manhood nudged at her opening. She still loved him, even after what he’d done to her. She couldn’t help it. Pleasure drained away into ashes.

She held herself still and quiescent even as the tears pricked and burned.

~ ~ ~

“I give up,” Richard said.

He rolled off her. Amazing how quickly a rampant erection could shrivel into nothing. He’d thought, fool that he was, that he could make her want him. That he could force her to love him. That he could pleasure her into complete acquiescence.

He thought he had succeeded, damn it.

Those tears. God, those tears.

He was close to tears himself.

He let out one long, shuddering sigh and got a hold of himself. He tried to infuse indifference into his voice, but the hurt was too great. It came out, he realized dimly, as exhaustion.

He was so tired of this. Two years and more of yearning, hoping, praying, and now nothing.

“I give up,” he said again. “God knows, Noelle, I don’t want to force you. I don’t understand what went wrong, but I can’t try anymore. You’re not with me.”

Noelle sat up. She drew her legs up to cover herself, and crossed her arms over the world’s most glorious breasts, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. So quietly he could hardly hear, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Richard said. “More than you can imagine. But—”

“It’s better this way,” Noelle whispered, “because—”