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He knew he was in trouble and didn’t care … he reached for and began fondling her breasts with a skill he hoped gave her as much pleasure as it gave him. He wet his palm and rubbed it against those rose tips, and when she moaned, he thought he would explode.
She was exquisite, and he found that the man he had been was no more. He had always been in control. He never lost control of himself for even the most beautiful women. He always gave even as he took, but he never lost himself to a lover.
Here he was doing just that. His will had been dissolved—no, it had been smashed to smithereens by his desire for this one woman.
“Serena … Serena, oh but I should stop. I have no right …” he tried for her sake.
“No, you shouldn’t. You mustn’t. I am tired of being staid and waiting, forever waiting … I want this,” she answered. “I want you.”
That was the end of any of his purer intentions. He was in a feral state of mind. His body had taken over. He had never allowed his desires for a beautiful woman to take command over his good sense, but he was on fire. All he knew was that he was in trouble.
More than that, he realized that he wanted to make her his own. He wanted to lie with her and get inside of her, and damn, bloody damn, that was what he was going to do.
He was diving into this with his eyes wide open.
He was a cannon ball heading for its target, and he had no control. She was the one he had to have, and he was riveted by the passion he felt.
* * *
In his arms, the proprieties were forgotten.
Rules and morals were set aside.
Life burst and pulled her in. Excitement blotted out any thoughts of stopping, because a well of stored-up passion burst inside her.
His kiss was an erotic sensation that took hold, and Serena wanted it and the promise of what was to follow. She had quite made up her mind. She would have this moment. She was in love with him, and she wanted this memory if she could have nothing else. She was certain that she would never love again, never like this. She had waited so long for her heart to be swept up and taken hold of by the right man. He was the right man for her; how could she forego this?
She wanted him now, this moment imprinted in her brain forever. If and when he left her, she would have this, and it would open a new, wondrous place in her soul, a place where she would know love, even if it was just for this stolen time.
His kisses sent all logic into oblivion. She was on fire for him, for everything his touch offered. Would she regret it in the morning? Perhaps, but right now it was what she wanted, he was what she wanted, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.
His riding cloak was off and on the ground, as was her buckskin jacket. Her shirt was open wide, and how she managed to slip out of her boots, she couldn’t tell, but they were off, as were her britches.
He still had on his white shirt, britches, and boots, but his britches were open, and he had released his large, hard manhood. She stared, for he was nearly as large as a stallion.
He hugged her against himself as his right hand took hold of her butt and manipulated it against his rod. Her cleft twitched and jerked with need, and she was a prisoner to the passion. He murmured, his lips against hers, “I want you, Serena, more than I have ever wanted a woman …”
She wished he had said ‘I love you’, but she meant to settle for ‘wanting’ right then. Perhaps he would say it afterwards. Surely he must feel ‘something’ of what she felt. How could he not and show such ardor?
She had been ready for lovemaking from the moment she had seen him. Her body had been sending her signals for months before, and she knew the time had come for this experience, with or without marriage. What if she never married, her mind had asked. Should she not know this? Should she not experience what it was to be wanted in this way?
He had her down on his cloak, which was stretched out like a blanket. She felt his lips travel over her neck, and then as he fondled and cupped her breasts, he bent his head.
As his tongue lapped at her nipples, a growing sensation made her arch to his ministrations. She didn’t know she could feel this way. She was flooded with a pleasure she had never experienced before. She heard herself gasp as she clenched and her body trembled with the erotic tremors stretching through her.
He suckled at her nipples and whispered, “Delicious … Serena, you are a beauty …” He murmured her name as his hand traveled down to her belly and then further to the soft tuft between her thighs.
She was aware that a wet, hot pool had collected between her thighs, but as he grabbed a hold and vibrated her with his skilled hand, she arched again, only this time she was on the precipice, right there, ready for relief, needing that relief.
He slid his finger inside her and worked her with a skill that drew his name to her lips. Her voice held an urgency as she called out his name, “Daniel … Daniel …”
“Yes, beauty … that’s right, my sweet lovely, that’s right,” he said on a hushed and husky note. “You are so moist … so warm and ready, my sweet Serena, just let go.” He had her hand in his and moved into position so that he could place her hand around his hard, throbbing shaft. “Touch me, love.”
She wanted to, and she immediately clasped onto him. He guided her hand over his cock, and she felt her breathing escape in short clips. His voice was at her ear, his teeth nibbling there as he whispered, “Your hands are perfect … so perfect,” as he re-entered her with one finger and manipula
ted her into a frenzy.
She pulled on his dripping shaft as he worked her honey box. She called out his name because she was on fire and needed something … she was building up to a point where she wanted to explode. She needed something—she needed release from the delicious pleasure she was a prisoner of. He had built her into a peak of passion, and she felt as though she needed to move into his fingers and make them touch … the right … spot.
