Page 139 of Frankly, My Dear

She exhaled loudly in surrender at his words and parted her legs further for his carnal explorations. When he found the nub of her pleasure and played it to a swollen bud with his callused fingertips, her knees trembled.

“Oh…oh, my God!”

“That ‘oh’ means you are amazed at my dexterity.”

She choked out a laugh while her fingers bit into his shoulders for support.

He undid his trouser buttons with one hand, then put both hands under her buttocks, raising her up and canting her hips outward for his entry.

“Tell me,” he coaxed hoarsely as he plunged deep into her woman’s center.

“I love you,” she responded, and her silken folds caressed his manhood as they adjusted to accommodate his burgeoning size.

He pulled out, almost completely, and repeated, “Tell me.”

“I love you. I love you. I love…”

Over and over, in and out, he glided into her body, each time demanding her avowal of love. He craved the emotion as much as the physical gratification, he realized. The two were one and the same in his mind.

She mewled helplessly against her body’s raging fire, and he grew larger with his desire for her. When he imbedded himself in her clasping sheath to the hilt, he inserted a finger between their bodies and flicked the sleek pearl back and forth.

Her heart lurched against his chest, and a tremor rippled down to her womb through her womanhood until he felt her climax around his shaft with violent shivers. Only then did he withdraw one last time and then thrust into her with a guttural shout, releasing his seed into her body, and his soul into her keeping.

They both slid weakly to the dirt floor. James pulled her into the curve of his shoulder, kissing her hair and cheek, realizing belatedly that she was weeping silently.

“Ah, chérie, what troubles you? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and pulled away from him. “Where’s my gown?”

He blinked at her in confusion. “Your gown? You’re crying about a ballgown? Now?”

“Yes, you bastard,” she said on a sob. “You seduced me before I could tell you why I was looking for you.”

“Seduced you? I thought we were making love…with each other.” He averted his face to hide his hurt.

She tried to slap him, but he gripped her wrist firmly.

Standing abruptly, he adjusted his clothing. “Tell me,” he said, a cold foreboding ringing in his voice.

“I decided that…I decided that I have to return to my home—”

“This is your home.”

She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not, James. I have to go back to my own time.”

“Why? Why now? You promised,” he accused harshly. “You promised to trust me.”

“I do trust you, James. But I admitted today what I’ve known for days. Giselle is sick…physically and mentally …and she needs you. There’s no way you could ever put her aside in this condition. And maybe, if I were out of the picture, you could grow to love her again.”

“Not in a million years,” he said in a steely voice. “Selene, listen to me. Victor grows desperate. He will act soon. I can feel him drawing closer to my trap.”

“And when he does? Then what?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that even if Victor is convicted of all his crimes…even if he were dead, that still doesn’t solve the problem of Giselle.”

“I’ll get an annulment.”