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She threw her hands around his neck and he clasped his arms around her, lifting her up and carrying her towards the bed as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing kisses against his neck and shoulders as they tumbled headlong on to the mattress.
Quickly, he shifted to one side, stretching out alongside her as their tongues touched again, twining together hungrily as his fingers caressed her breasts, teasing each nipple in turn until she bucked beneath him, straining for more.
‘Robert?’ she gasped against his mouth.
He gave a soft laugh and released her, shifting his weight downwards to brush his lips over her stomach and down between her legs.
‘Robert!’ she almost shouted his na
me this time, instinctively trying to jerk away, but his hands held her steady, his lips continuing their slow progression downwards to kiss her in a place she’d never imagined could be kissed.
She inhaled sharply, trying to understand what was happening. Not that her brain seemed to be working. Her body seemed to have taken charge of her senses, drowning out everything except the irresistible, undeniable impulse to start moving.
‘I want you, too.’ She panted the words. There was no point in denying it. Even if she kept silent, her treacherous body would only betray her. It was already writhing indecently as his fingers sought the space between her legs, drawing her apart and teasing her in her most private of areas. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she didn’t want him to stop. Whatever it was, she wanted more. She wanted him. Now.
She squirmed beneath him, letting her fingertips trail a path over his shoulders. He stopped moving at once and she felt a sudden rush of panic. Had she hurt him somehow? Was he in pain? Even worse, had he changed his mind? If he had, she thought the ground would open up and swallow her.
‘Ianthe?’ He moved back up the bed, positioning himself over her with a look that was part query, part need. ‘Are you ready?’
She smiled with relief, finding his mouth and letting her lips answer for her. He gave an answering moan, lowering his body gently and pushing himself slowly inside her. She felt a tearing sensation, a sudden searing pain as her body parted beneath him, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out as he plunged deep inside her. She could scarcely move from the pain. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this. How could she have wanted something so badly that now hurt so much? Surely kissing was infinitely preferable to this?
‘Am I hurting you?’ He looked down at her with concern and she shook her head, forcing herself to lie.
‘It’s all right.’
‘If you want me to stop...’
‘No.’ She reached a hand up to his face, gently smoothing his cheek. ‘I want this.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
He didn’t move so she shifted for him, wriggling her hips and feeling the pain start to diminish. More than that, she could feel a fluttering sensation in her stomach, a tantalising warmth that was starting to spread out through her body. This was better, definitely better.
‘Ianthe.’ His arms and legs pinioned hers, pressing her down into the mattress. ‘Tell me the truth.’
‘Don’t stop.’ She bucked beneath him, trying to demonstrate her point. It didn’t hurt, not any more. Now she wanted him to move. She reached her hands down to his waist to encourage him and saw the fleeting look of surprise on his face before he started to pull away.
‘No!’ She made a grab to stop him and he pushed downwards again, smiling wickedly as he thrust back inside her.
‘Better?’
‘I thought you were stopping.’ She pouted up at him.
‘Not yet.’ He gave another heart-stopping grin. ‘Trust me, Ianthe.’
‘I do.’ She smiled, not wanting to talk any longer, arching her body as he moved over her with strong, rhythmic movements. The fluttering sensation in her stomach felt different now, more vital and thrilling, as if it were building in intensity, filling the whole lower part of her abdomen. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him, tilting her hips up as she echoed each movement with her own.
‘Wait.’ His voice sounded strained now, but she kept going, unable and unwilling to stop herself. The tingling sensation seemed to be reaching a peak. Just a bit more and... She tipped her head back and let out a cry. All she needed was a few more seconds. Just a few more and...
She jerked suddenly, her body erupting spontaneously as her numbed mind watched from a distance. She was vaguely aware of Robert calling out, too, of his body shuddering with release as he fell down on top of her, but she couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but wait for the spinning, whirling, spiralling sensation to slow down and gradually fade away, leading her back to a deep and exhausted sleep.
* * *
It was cold when she woke up the second time. The fire in the grate was lower and she could feel the prickle of goosebumps over her arms. Robert was still lying face down beside her, one arm draped possessively across her body as if he couldn’t bear to let go, though he appeared to be sleeping deeply.
Carefully, she reached for the quilt, pulling it up to cover them. What had she done? Her body was aching in ways she hadn’t thought possible. The climb up and down the cliff side had been bad enough on her legs, but the space between them was sore, too. Her cheeks glowed at the memory. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for their lovemaking. Not a single poem or novel or piece of music had even come close. What she’d felt had been beyond words, as if her body had sprung back to life again, her old self returning with a vengeance, breaking out of its prison with the full force of all the pent-up emotion she’d held back for months.
But it shouldn’t have happened. She raised a hand to her eyes as a feeling of shame swept over her. Somehow, whilst she’d kept to the letter of their agreement, she’d been able to bury the fact of her deceit. Now she’d given up any pretence of respectability, that deceit seemed even worse. Last night Robert had seemed to care for her, but that was before he’d found out what kind of woman she really was. When he woke up and remembered the way she’d behaved—a way no decent woman ought to behave—he’d be disgusted.
