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"Ah," he finally exclaimed in satisfaction, discovering a small flint and tinder in a box upon the mantle. "Now, let us hope we're fortunate enough that years of mold and damp rains haven't fouled the wood, and that rust hasn't claimed the fire steel," Lord Beckham commented quietly as he kneeled before the fireplace. Lady Havenshire found herself drawn curiously to his back, as if in a trance; she couldn't stop looking at those chiseled lines of strength and masculinity drawn across his back, visible through his wet shirt. She swallowed hard, adoring the sight of him; still so unsure of what she'd found in him, but so wanting. She heard the repetitive click-click of a rigid chert struck against the small piece of steel; as she came around the couch she saw a small, flashing spark kicked towards the dried-out wood. He repeated the motion as she watched, the chill lifted from her back, her cheeks now burnished a bright tone as she watched his every movement. She took a ragged breath - the sound haggard not from the cold now, but from the adrenaline-rush of emotions in her warmed veins, so enticed by a man who so selflessly helped her from the cool touch of the rushing rains.
With a quiet roar a fire kicked up from the meet of sparks and log, and the flames spread quick, until a warming glow flowed outward and through the cabin, coating both of its inhabitants with an orange-tint glow. Her eyes flashed alight and she felt the warmth begin to cascade over her. Lord Beckham turned, faced her and smiled, shrugging.
"I suppose that... worked, did it not, m'lady?" he asked, a boyish sort of humble charm to his words. She remained silent; she found it hard, in fact, to speak, or to think; she had so utterly been taken by her interest in him that it reduced her to something of a simpering little girl.
"I..." she tried; he stepped closer, and she could smell his scent, feel his warmth; his broad chest before her, she felt the need to press her cheek to it, to hear his heart beating, to know he was flesh and blood and man like all the others, and not some manner of wild dream her imaginative mind had conjured up to fill her fantasies.
"The fire should help... you've not caught some manner of malady out in the cold, have you, m'lady?" he asked, worriedly. She bit her bottom lip, her shoulders shaking. "M'lady, I..." she silenced his concerned words by pressing her fingers suddenly to his shirt; he recoiled at first, and she could tell that a part of him still felt so averse to a woman's touch. Such a mystery was he; she had divined some terrible thing had befallen him in the past, to hurt his heart so much as it was; she felt all at once compelled to heal him, as best she could.
"L... Lord Beckham," she whispered, her words unsteady as she toyed with the buttons on his shirt.
"M'lady, I..." he said strenuously, glancing to the dingy window, watching the rain fall.
"W... what happened?... d... do you not... like the touch, of... of a woman..." she said. "Your shirt is... is soaked, you must be q... quite cold..."
"I'm n... I'm fine, I ju..." his voice trailed away; his expression grew both enthralled, and pained, as if some great hesitation stewed beneath his skin, forcing him to shudder, full of fear. "I... I deeply, deeply desire the touch of a w... a woman, of you, but I... I'm not worth, I'm not—I'm not as much of a man, a gentleman, as you think I am."
"Lord Beckham..." she whispered.
"Marshall," he insisted quietly, hesitantly opening his arms and gently, so gently, pulling her closer.
"Marshall, why... why do you think you're... undeserving?" she queried, her voice such a faint whisper; heedless she carefully parted the top button, the sight of his chest causing her to shiver a very, very different sort of shiver than those sent down her spine by the piercing cold.
"I... I loved a woman once, m'lady," he started.
"Nadia... please, Nadia," she insisted, smiling weakly as she undid the second button; with each new inch of him that came into her sight she felt her heart pump harder.
"Nadia, I once loved a woman... she left me alone, and I've... I've never known a love like the one she and I shared, and I fear I never will, but..."
"...but...?" Nadia asked, fingers shaking uncontrollably. He needed no more impetus; as the rain roared above and around and the thunder cracked in the distance he pressed his lips to hers and a fire erupted,
hotter than the one behind them; hotter than anything she could have imagined. Their hearts thumped passionately together and she began furiously to undo the buttons, one after another after another, her hands hungry for his skin, massaging his muscles, his olive-toned skin; she gasped as their kiss ended, but it did so for only a second, his hands gripping her back and holding her close, his jacket falling down her back as they kissed and kissed, kissed the cold away; kissed away pained memories and all the fears that had divided them since that night where the sparks began to fly between them.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
She moaned, her voice quivering, quaking uncontrollably as he laid her against the plush cushions of the dusty couch; his jacket upon the floor, he worked impatiently to pull one button free, and then another; her gasps filled the air as he took her so completely. He silenced her sounds by kissing her again, pulling button from button so teasingly and painfully slow; she wanted it faster, faster, because every part of her body screamed out for him as he peeled her sleeves away. He grunted, frustrated to find a sleek white bustier clung to her body beneath the shirt; she pressed a coy finger to his lips and grinned devilishly, her wet body warmed by the touch of the fireplace and the hungry touch of the man before her as she reached behind her, arching her back away from the couch and grasping the zipper at her back, letting it slide slowly down until the garment felt loose against her petite frame and her pretty young curves. His hands shook and hesitated; he wanted to see her, her milky skin and her pretty face and her flowing hair and everything about her, but a fear struck him, as it did so often when it came to women, and she saw him freeze and think twice as he grasped at her loose undergarment. She reassured Marshall with a gentle touch to his wrists, guiding his hands along, pulling the bustier away and laying it on the floor beside them. Her heart thumped faster and harder as the warmth of the fire met her bare breasts, the pretty pink dollops of sugary nipple flesh stiff as she felt him grasp her chest and feel her, his eyes filled with a desire she had never seen in him; free and full, just as her own had been. She tugged at the shirt laying across his shoulders the buttons unfastened, and he quickly threw the silky white top away, bearing the full breadth of his chest, his arms; his taut abs and his rock-hard flesh quaking atop her body.
Ravenous and uncaged he buried his lips into her neck, devouring her with a flurry of starved kisses along her jawline, to her neck, down her chest; he paid attention to every inch of her sweet and sugar-white skin, swirling his tongue hotly across her, lapping up the dew of the rainstorm with each kiss, replacing the soaked droplets with furious kisses and deep, desirous moans against her. He pressed her wrists down beside her, and while she cherished her freedom, the only thing that made her feel even freer than her liberated ideals was the sensation of a strong man giving her everything she wanted, even without the need to speak; to surrender herself to the pleasure his lips and his tongue and his strong frame had to offer to her. He gripped her wrists tightly and grew ravenous, keeping her pinned as her back pressed so that her body could savor every kiss, her lungs shaking with lusty moans with each inch of her the lord claimed.
"Marshall, I've... I've never felt like this, nothing like this, before, with anyone," she admitted sheepishly, her cheeks a blistering pink-red as she spread her legs, hastily tugging at the zippers of her boots. He helped her to undo each foot and pulled them from her legs, removing her boots and stockings with a slow, slow pull. She could see him trembling hard, his hands jittering with all the pent-up emotion, the need, the desire. "I d... don't, don't know how to t... tell you, but..." she felt a lump in her throat; his hands rolled comforting along her arms until they came to her shoulders; he massaged them gently and laid close to her, their lips meeting in a twining passion for another long, intense kiss, their tongues dancing together, their eyes meeting, their hearts pounding; she felt his strong chest pressed against hers and she shivered, her nipple stiff against his puissant flesh.
"Anything, anything you want to say, anything you want - in all the world, Nadia," he whispered to her, his kisses moving along her cheek and meeting her earlobe, which he worshiped with an animalistic hunger, nipping at her sensitive skin as the words came tumbling from her wanting lips.
"I-I've never b-been, never been intimate with a man, before," she admitted, shaking hard beneath him, sinking into the couch, fearful her inexperience would foul the tense desire built between the two of them. She looked to him, concern crossing her eyes, and he dispelled all her worries with a kiss to her lips, one that melted away all that ice and blew away the smoky cloak of fear in her body.
"I'll do anything I can to make you feel like the goddess you are, Nadia," he promised, kisses raining along her neck; she swooned with a quiet, melodic breath as she felt him kiss her again and again, along her breasts, down to her stomach; his kisses moved further, and further, until he began to tug gently at her leggings with his teeth and hands slipped into her waistline. Her hips lifted to help him, and for all the strength that Nadia possessed, all of her firebrand independence, when he began to rain kisses across her supple thighs, grasping at her hips and worshiping upon her altar with whispered words of desire, she melted utterly, forgetting about everything; about her father, about her future, about the estate; he made it all seem like a long-distant nightmare, one she'll never have to face again with him there.
"P... please, Marshall, do... don't stop, don't ever stop," she pleaded with quivering, breathy words. Her body nude before him, something she had never felt comfortable doing with any man, she couldn't control the quaking along her spine or the moans beginning to cascade from between her lips. His kisses drew closer and closer to the most sensitive part of her, her folds flush and warm and damp; his tongue worked skillfully to tease at her thighs, hotter and hotter and faster, until she felt him lavishing praise upon her feminine slit, tongue swirling up one side and down the other, devouring in worship her hot nectar and pleasing her flushed femme bead with skilled licks and laps as he watched her with those deep and entrancing eyes. She began to cry out hungrily, loudly; her hips pressed out, wanting more, and more, and when she felt his warm tongue slip inside of her and feast upon her sweet depths, her eyes opened wide and she couldn't stop herself from erupting into a shaky moan, like the shrill sound of a songbird whistling over the moors. Her shivering fingers wrapped between his hair and squeezed his scalp and she couldn't even feel anything except how good it was; she couldn't imagine anything except him, for the rest of her life, worshiping her, making her feel like nothing in the entire world ever had.
"M-Marshall!" she managed to put the syllables of his name together, before those sweet swooning moans began falling from her lips again, wordless melds of impassioned sounds; he drew his tongue warmly across her most sensitive depths, licking along her front wall, twirling at her pearly clit until she could scarcely take it anymore. She felt an erupting sensation sizzling into her stomach, filling her every limb with a heavenly, tingling warmth, warmer than any coat or fireplace or anything could ever make her. Waves of desire filled every inch of her and she tugged at his hair and moaned his name over and over again as he pleasured her deftly and quickly and skillfully.
As the waves of intense pleasure filled her, he crawled atop her body, covering her in sweet kisses from her stomach to her neck, and reality snapped back into place as she watched him closely; she wanted more, more, and she coaxed him with a frustrated little moan and a wiggle of her hips against his body. With that stormy, authoritative tone in his voice he silenced her protests, pressing his hips against hers.
"Nadia," he murmured, kissing between every word. "I want... you, I want you like... this feeling, so intense, I can't put it to words," he admitted, kissing along her lips and down the side of her neck. She grasped at his waistline, and he unlatched his belt, loosening his breeches and letting them fall to his knees. His thick, throbbing masculine length erupted from beneath his pants, and he took a deep breath, kissing her neck gently as he led his shaft softly against h
er sweet folds, massaging its tip against her clit; he shuddered against her, letting out growling, feral moans as he grasped the base and gently, so gently pressed it inside of her depths, inch by slow, throbbing inch; her eyes wide and her words lifted skyward Nadia gasped and shrieked in pleasure, her nails digging deep into his back and begging for him to take her.
"M-Marshall, it f... feels so, d-divine," she whispered, raking her nails along his back. He obliged those silent pleadings, pressing harder, deeper, until she felt him feel her completely, stretching her sensitive opening; her nerves screamed, thunderbolts louder than any ravaging the cabin in the storm outside, rocketed along her limbs; she shuddered beneath him, and she felt that same, climactic and explosive pleasure fill her from her stomach through her chest, her body tensing, her depths tightening around his length as she clasped tight around his whole body like a vise. And yet when he continued to push, his shaft pressing in, and out, and in and out, she quaked like she never had; god, it was even better than she imagined it could be, and nothing in the entire world mattered at all except for their endless, powerful lust.
