Read Online Besieged Heart (No Ordinary Lovers Collection) by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Blake
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ecstasy of delicious friction, they were as sybaritic as any denizen of the ancient Roman Empire. Time drifted past them, unnoticed. Rayne was tireless in his invention, leaving no part of her untouched. There was no modesty; they held nothing back. If they retreated, it was for the pleasure of being pursued. If they faltered, it was because flesh and bone could stand only so much.
And then it could stand no more. Rayne, holding her close, opened her thighs and let her feel the firm, hot probe of his maleness. She moved against it, accepting, needing the penetration, feeling desolate and empty without it. Prepared by care and kisses and warm oil, she took him into her tightness, stretching to receive him—took too, the soul-jolting wonder of the joining.
Completion.
It was perfect, inescapable. It was hers and nothing could ever take it away. She closed her hands over the rigid muscles of his shoulders and pressed her forehead to his chest with her eyes squeezed shut. She wanted the moment to last forever.
Then he moved in slow, experimental searching for greater depth. She caught her breath with the abrupt escalation of rapture. Greatly daring, she eased upon him. He made a soft sound of half-strangled awe. Probing farther, removing carefully, he caught and established a rhythm with the rich and steady tempo of beating hearts.
Soaring, caught in a state of grace, they rode the magic. The warm water surged and splashed, washing around them while its heated perfume rose to invade their senses. Rising, falling, sloshing, plunging, they clung together while euphoria shook their minds and expanded the inner walls of their hearts.
Holding her tight to his upper body, Rayne meshed his legs with hers and rolled her over so she was above him. She thought for an instant that he was sinking under the water while, astride him, she rode him down. But in a moment, the Roman bath was gone. The water became silver-blue fur, the deep, soft pelts of far-North fox. It shimmered with the orange-gold of firelight that was reflected from a roaring blaze on the hearth of the great Gothic fireplace that towered above them as they lay before it. Over the fireplace mantel was an enormous set of crossed deer antlers. Fiery mulled drinks sat steaming in tankards beside them. Outside, a blizzard assaulted the stone walls with snow and ice.
Resplendent in her nakedness, heated by internal fires, Mara was lit by the leaping flames as she hovered above Rayne. His eyes glowed with something that burned even brighter than the fire. Pressing his hard, strong fingers into her hips to support her, he began once more to move within her.
This was loving with a barbaric edge, a fragile balance between soul-shifting abandon and fierce desperation. Mara felt the rhythmic internal pulsing of its splendor. Her skin glowed with it. Her breath came in hard gasps, and her heart pounded in her ears. Still they contended.
He was elemental, a force unto himself. She had thought she had felt his strength before, but she had been mistaken. It was bountiful, unceasing, and yet dedicated to this one stupendous service. He was taking from her as he willed, yes, but he gave ten-fold in return. Prodigal of his power, he loved with his entire being, as if to stop would be a defeat, or a disaster.
Sweet, sweet disaster, erupting inside with the hot, liquid fury of a volcano. It roared through her, a piercing consummation so strong she cried out and was still, stunned into immobility.
He caught her, tumbling her to her back into the deep, soft pile of the furs. With her hair wrapped around him like a silken shawl, he pressed deep in a final, shuddering paroxysm. It flowed through them, vital and violent, the molten, red-hot rapture of human existence. Limitless, uncontainable, it had no beginning and no end.
It was magic of the highest order. But it was not without cost. They had used the sorcery, and now the price must be paid.
Their skins cooled. They could breathe
And then it could stand no more. Rayne, holding her close, opened her thighs and let her feel the firm, hot probe of his maleness. She moved against it, accepting, needing the penetration, feeling desolate and empty without it. Prepared by care and kisses and warm oil, she took him into her tightness, stretching to receive him—took too, the soul-jolting wonder of the joining.
Completion.
It was perfect, inescapable. It was hers and nothing could ever take it away. She closed her hands over the rigid muscles of his shoulders and pressed her forehead to his chest with her eyes squeezed shut. She wanted the moment to last forever.
Then he moved in slow, experimental searching for greater depth. She caught her breath with the abrupt escalation of rapture. Greatly daring, she eased upon him. He made a soft sound of half-strangled awe. Probing farther, removing carefully, he caught and established a rhythm with the rich and steady tempo of beating hearts.
Soaring, caught in a state of grace, they rode the magic. The warm water surged and splashed, washing around them while its heated perfume rose to invade their senses. Rising, falling, sloshing, plunging, they clung together while euphoria shook their minds and expanded the inner walls of their hearts.
Holding her tight to his upper body, Rayne meshed his legs with hers and rolled her over so she was above him. She thought for an instant that he was sinking under the water while, astride him, she rode him down. But in a moment, the Roman bath was gone. The water became silver-blue fur, the deep, soft pelts of far-North fox. It shimmered with the orange-gold of firelight that was reflected from a roaring blaze on the hearth of the great Gothic fireplace that towered above them as they lay before it. Over the fireplace mantel was an enormous set of crossed deer antlers. Fiery mulled drinks sat steaming in tankards beside them. Outside, a blizzard assaulted the stone walls with snow and ice.
Resplendent in her nakedness, heated by internal fires, Mara was lit by the leaping flames as she hovered above Rayne. His eyes glowed with something that burned even brighter than the fire. Pressing his hard, strong fingers into her hips to support her, he began once more to move within her.
This was loving with a barbaric edge, a fragile balance between soul-shifting abandon and fierce desperation. Mara felt the rhythmic internal pulsing of its splendor. Her skin glowed with it. Her breath came in hard gasps, and her heart pounded in her ears. Still they contended.
He was elemental, a force unto himself. She had thought she had felt his strength before, but she had been mistaken. It was bountiful, unceasing, and yet dedicated to this one stupendous service. He was taking from her as he willed, yes, but he gave ten-fold in return. Prodigal of his power, he loved with his entire being, as if to stop would be a defeat, or a disaster.
Sweet, sweet disaster, erupting inside with the hot, liquid fury of a volcano. It roared through her, a piercing consummation so strong she cried out and was still, stunned into immobility.
He caught her, tumbling her to her back into the deep, soft pile of the furs. With her hair wrapped around him like a silken shawl, he pressed deep in a final, shuddering paroxysm. It flowed through them, vital and violent, the molten, red-hot rapture of human existence. Limitless, uncontainable, it had no beginning and no end.
It was magic of the highest order. But it was not without cost. They had used the sorcery, and now the price must be paid.
Their skins cooled. They could breathe
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