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She collapsed against him, and he lifted her up out of the water, carrying her back to shore. All the way back to the tent.
The bonfire yet raged, and there was food there for them still. But there was also a blanket spread out in the sand, and he laid her down upon it. Water dripped from her breasts, sliding down slowly, the cool sensations making her long for the touch of his hands. Then again, anything would make her long for the touch of his hands.
She was bare, open to the sky, and just the thought of it made her internal muscles pulse. And then there he was, above her, every inch the hardened warrior. He knelt down beside her, kissed her mouth, her neck, down to her breast again, down her stomach, until he found himself between her legs. He seemed to enjoy doing that. Seemed to enjoy the taste of her, and she loved the way that he licked her deep.
She rocked her hips restlessly in time with the wicked pass of his tongue, his teeth, the deep, rough penetration of his fingers. Two, and then three, which made her gasped. She rolled her hips along with him, begging, pleading his name toward the sky as if it were a prayer.
When her orgasm hit, it hit hard. Her internal muscles clenching around his finger as she cried out.
He removed them, and then slid them into his own mouth, licking them clean, a little ripple of need making her whimper as he did so, his dark eyes never breaking contact with hers. He lay down on the blanket beside her, then gripped her hips, and settled her over him, guiding her slowly onto the blunt head of his erection. And she took him in, inch by inch. “You are free. Ride me.”
She let her head fall back as she began to let her hips rock, as she moved up and down, setting a torturous rhythm that both pleased and tormented them both.
Out there in the open air, she cupped her own breast, toying with her nipple as she moved over him, allowing him to watch her as she tightened her own pleasure.
“Put your other hand between your legs,” he said roughly. She did so, rubbing at the source of her desire there before stroking her fingers along either side of where he penetrated her. Making them both cry out.
She didn’t have experience. But she wanted him. And she had no shame in that desire. And it was the lack of shame that made everything feel brilliant. That made it all feel wonderful. That made everything she did seem right and make sense.
Suddenly, he growled, reversing their positions so that he was over her. And she gloried in that. And the dominance of it. She had enjoyed where she sat, so she could take him in and give him a show as well. But she loved his weight over her, the strong heat of that steel within her. The way his eyes blazed down into hers. And then he began to move, each thrust within her hard and fast taking her breath away.
Oh, how she needed this. Needed him.
And suddenly, pleasure began to ripple within her. And she climaxed before she even knew that it was building, her shocked scream of pleasure echoing around them. And he followed closely behind, lowering his head and growling like the most ferocious beast of the desert. She felt him pulse within her, felt him spill his seed deep.
And she rocked her hips in time with the pulsing of his release, wringing out every last bit of pleasure between the two of them.
And then they lay there. Naked and unashamed beneath the night sky.
“I told you you would like the desert at night,” he said, his voice rough. “It only took me sixteen years to show you why.”
“And I have wondered about that old unfulfilled promise so many nights since,” she whispered.
She dragged her fingers over his chest, luxuriating in the muscle, the heat, the crisp hair.
All the textures of who he was.
“Come, my bride,” he said. “You must be hungry.”
They sat naked in front of the fire and ate their wedding meal. Different than the one they had had the other night. This one was much more rustic, but no less delicious. And she was ravenous.
Then he doused the fire and took her inside, made love to her over and over again in the big bed, until the sounds of morning began to be heard through the canvas walls.
And then she clung to him and slept. And she knew, as she drifted off to sleep, that she had made her choice.
She was no longer a prisoner. She chose him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HETHOUGHTHEwas dreaming. But there was a sound. Persistent and rhythmic, and it did not stop. In fact, it only seemed to be getting closer. And closer. And then the walls of the tent began to move. A mighty wind flexing them inward. He sat up. Ariel was pressed to his side, naked, her bare bottom scooted as hard up against his morning erection as possible.
And even in spite of the fact that there was something happening, what he found he wanted to do was roll her over onto her back and claim her. But he could not. Because...
Suddenly, the last vestiges of sleep and sexual drugging faded.
It was a helicopter.
It was his brother.
