Page 38 of The Pirate and the Pagan
“There’s something else I’ve never seen that’s much more important.”
He set her feet to the thick carpet but held her touching him all the way down. “What, darling?” he asked huskily.
“I’ve never seen a naked man … and I want to.” She removed the black ribbon from his clubbed cue and ran her fingers through his hair, tousling it until it fell wildly about his shoulders. “You undress first,” she suggested wickedly, thoroughly bemused he was more than happy to do anything she asked.
“Wed half an hour and already you’re being cruel to your husband,” he said, removing his shirt. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see your legs? I’ve never glimpsed more than your ankles.”
She laughed and lifted her skirts to display her lacy stockings. Ruark’s mouth went dry. Her legs were so long and slim he couldn’t believe it. She dropped her skirts and watched as his hands undid his belt, growing more and more excited as his strong body was slowly bared. She didn’t lower her lashes and blush, but looked at him intently, her eyes taking in every detail of his splendor.
His hands stopped just short of removing his breeches. He had opened them and lowered them to his hips, but he was so afraid of alarming her and destroying the playful mood that he suddenly sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. He held out his hand to her in invitation. “Come close, let me touch you,” he begged.
She came to him slowly, shaking her head in denial. “No, I want to touch you first.” She sat down beside him on the bed and reached out a finger to trace the strong line of his jaw. His shoulders were impossibly wide and well muscled and her hand caressed him, her fingers delighting in the heavy mat of crisp hair which narrowed into a dark line running down his belly and spreading out again just at the place his pants still covered his groin.
She reached out her hand to touch him, but hesitated as if the feel of him would be too much to bear in her great excitement. Gently, he covered her hand and slowly forced it forward to brush over his swollen phallus. The moment she touched him his manroot jumped wildly as it filled with more blood.
“Oh!” she said in surprise, and quickly withdrew her hand.
“Ah love, don’t stop touching me,” he begged.
She reached out to him again because she couldn’t help herself, but carefully avoided the still-unknown, mysterious male organ. “Ruark Helford, you are tempting as sin,” she breathed as her palm caressed the slabs of muscle in his chest.
His arms crushed her to him and with his mouth against hers he said, “You know nothing of sin … yet!”
“I’m not finished looking, I’ve only just begun.”
He laughed with pleasure deep in his throat. He rolled her beneath him and spread her arms wide. He hung above her, falling deeper in love with every heartbeat. “Is your curiosity not satisfied?” He laughed.
“No, it will never be satisfied,” she breathed.
He kissed the sweet corners of her mouth. “Am I as you expected so far?”
“No, no. You are much more exciting than I ever dreamed and … and you feel so big … here.” Her hand escaped his and went to the place between their bodies where his hardness pressed into her soft belly. Her hand found the opening in his pants and the tips of her fingers grazed the head of his shaft. It felt like she had burned him. “I didn’t expect you’d be covered by black hair down there, but I love it!”
“Don’t you have black curls between your pretty legs?” he teased.
“Yes, how did you know?” she asked ingenuously, and he was reminded with a jolt of just how inexperienced she was.
Ruark’s hands slipped beneath her back to deftly undo the tiny buttons at the back of her lovely white gown. It reminded him of the white nightgown she’d worn when he first glimpsed her, and his throat went dry with desire. When she felt him undressing her, she slipped her arms from her sleeves and allowed him to remove it entirely.
She lay beneath him in her lacy shift and stockings, and he devoured her with eyes which were stained almost black with suppressed passion.
“I’m going to stand up now to take off the rest of my clothes,” he warned her gently.
She sat up, her eyes like saucers as his hands moved to his hips to slide off his breeches. From the crisp dark hair his shaft rose up proud and blood-crimsoned.
“Ru!” she cried, half-afraid, half-mesmerized. His legs were like columns of marble, his thighs bulged with hard saddle muscles. He reached down to pull her up into his arms and he was relieved when her hesitation was only a slight one. His hands immediately went to the straps of her shift to remove the barrier of lace which stood between their naked bodies. “I wondered what my breasts would feel like against your fur pelt.” He groaned as her shift fell to her hips and she stood on tiptoe to fit her breasts closely against his chest.
“Now I’m not finished looking,” he said as he held her away from him at arm’s length.
Her skin gleamed like a tropical pearl, as if it were dusted with translucent powder. She aroused him to near madness. Though she’d never been with a man before, she was totally unself-conscious. His hands caressed the silken mass of her hair, wondering at its fine texture and shining blackness. The feel of it between his fingers excited him and he took up a curling tress to taste it. Summer reached out to feel the coarser texture of his hair as it fell upon his shoulders, and as he had done, she brought it to her mouth to taste. He shuddered.
Her eyes were slanted with desire, making her the most beautiful woman in the world. “Lord God, you are exotic as a tropical storm,” he said, and buried his lips against her throat.
His hands eased the lacy shift over her hips and it fell to the carpet with a whisper, then he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the bed. For the first time she became aware of her surroundings. Her eyes widened at the size of the massive four-poster with its brilliant teal-colored curtains. On one of the pillows lay her flame hibiscus as a symbol of her deflowering and she realized that like herself Ruark was a true pagan at heart.
As he knelt before her to remove her lace stockings, she watched every minute detail of his expression. She watched his eyes grow heavy-lidded with smoldering desire. Her gaze lingered long upon his mouth, longing for its tenderness and its fierceness. He opened her legs to gaze between and she gave him back his own question. “Am I as you expected?”
“Exactly! I’ve pictured you for weeks.” He lifted her foot to his lips and placed a kiss upon its sole. “I lie, you are a thousand times more lush than I dared dream.” Then, because he hoped he could say anything to her, no matter how intimate, without shocking her, he said, “Whenever I pictured you, I saw myself lying between your legs.”
