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He moved, releasing her abruptly, only to pull her down into his arms, his mouth moving urgently against hers, as he muttered thickly, ‘Make love to me, Lucy. Show me that you want me as much as I want you.’
In his thick, almost incoherent plea she recognised the insecure boy he had been that summer twelve years ago, fearing rejection and mockery, and her arms tightened convulsively around him, all her love for him welling up inside her as she touched her lips adoringly to the side of his throat and then more wantonly as she felt his uncontrolled response.
He possessed a sensuality she had never dreamed existed, never even known before, teaching her the pleasure that came from the movement of his tongue against her skin, and the pleasure she herself could take from caressing his in the same way, feeling the hard muscles contract beneath his flesh as she touched the warm skin of his chest.
‘Torment me, would you?’
His voice was thick with pleasure as he growled the words mock-threateningly, his hands sliding possessively over her back until they cupped the rounded fullness of her bottom, pulling her against and into the hardness of his thighs.
The sensation of his aroused body moving seductively against her skin while she herself was not allowed to move was tormentingly erotic, and although Saul pretended that the frantic wriggling of her upper half as she fought to break free was angering him, it wasn’t anger that gleamed out of his eyes as his head bent and his mouth captured the peak of one soft breast.
Feeling the drag of his teeth against her supersensitive skin, Lucy moaned, throwing her head back and arching her spine so that her body moved eagerly against his, her head thrashing wildly from side to side as she fought to subdue the aching need burning through her.
She felt Saul’s hand against her thigh and then shuddered convulsively as he stroked her moist, eager flesh with tenderness and skill. A fierce spasm of pleasure gripped her, and she cried out despairingly to Saul, gripping his shoulders in her frantic need to feel him deep inside her.
Her eyes tightly closed, her body rigid with the aching need she was fighting to control, Lucy felt him move, cool air shafting momentarily against her skin and she shuddered with relief, anticipating the heated weight of him between her thighs, his body joining hers, filling it.
Only it wasn’t the male weight of Saul’s body she felt moving against her, but the skilled and delicate stroke of his tongue as it adored her body in that most intimate of all lovers’ embraces.
She cried out against this intimacy—her mind shocked by it even while her body voluptuously enjoyed it. Her hands reached down to push him away, and then curled protestingly into the dark thickness of his hair. But it was too late to push him away, too late to do anything other than give in to her body’s shameless response to the pleasure he was giving her.
She was still trembling when he took her back in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and rocking her gently as he soothed her shaky limbs.
‘I wanted to feel you inside me,’ she protested tearfully, her voice thick with remembered delight.
She heard him laugh deep in his throat, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered,
‘And you most certainly will. That, my darling cousin, was merely our prelude!’ She felt him frown against her skin as he added softly, ‘For a woman of twenty-five you’re deliciously inexperienced.’
She tensed in his arms, and as though he knew what she was thinking he added, ‘I’m not fishing, Lucy. Whatever happened in the past is past, but it’s a tremendous boost to a man’s ego when he knows he’s given a woman a pleasure she’s never known before.’
She didn’t ask him how he had known, but shivered a little, wondering what he would say when he discovered… But, no, she wasn’t going to think about that now. It wasn’t important, hadn’t he just told her so?
If she had been inclined to believe that his comment that they would make love had merely been made in jest, she soon realised that she was wrong.
The exhaustion which had gripped her in the aftermath of pleasure turned to languor beneath his slowly seductive kisses, and languor to a fine-tuned desire that increased in urgency as his hands caressed her skin—surely now more sensitive even than before to the slow drift of his fingers.
She in turn caressed him, thrilled and almost a little frightened by the maleness of him and the desire she could feel pounding through his body.
This time she had no need to cry out how much she needed him. He seemed to sense exactly the right moment, moving tantalisingly over, then within her, almost teasingly at first, until he felt the fine tension gripping her body. Then he moved differently, making her gasp in surprised shock. The same shock was registered in his eyes as well she saw, as her own opened wide, but already that sharp, unexpected pain had faded, giving way to urgency and the clamour of her senses. Instinctively she kept him within her, wrapping herself round his body, feeling the faint shudder of desire that seized his muscles, and his shock, like hers, gave way to need, desire escalating between them until it reached an unbearable pinnacle to shatter like fragile glass against the pressure of an almost unreachable high note.
