Page 16 of A Second Chance for Carys
Please, put an end to the torture.
“It will be my pleasure,” he said darkly before lowering his head.
His tongue speared straight into her, and heat exploded inside Carys’ skull. He circled her opening slowly, once, twice, a third time with the tip of his tongue. No! This was too delicate, she was too far gone for such teasing. She sank her fingers into his hair to indicate she needed him to be more forceful.
He understood and complied only too readily.
After that she barely knew what he was doing. Pleasure blended into one huge mass of sensations, each more bewildering than the last. Her lower body was numbed, or too sensitive to touch, she wasn’t sure quite which. Perhaps both. Wicked fingers soon joined the dance of his tongue and lips, and at long last, she soared straight out of her body.
Her release was so strong she lost the ability to breathe.
James held her in position for a long moment, murmuring soothing words against her flesh, then lowered her back to the blanket.
“Thank you.”
She wasn’t sure why she was thanking him, and indeed it was a ridiculous thing to say after what had happened, but he tilted his head as if he didn’t see anything odd in it. “A chroeso.”
And then, very deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers, he licked his lips.
Carys closed her eyes.
While she tried to bring her breathing back to normal, James covered her, rearranging her shift and dress until she was decent again. Reality came back, one sense at a time. The sound of the waves, the cry of the seagulls, the heat of the sun started to register once more.
When she opened her eyes again, James was gazing at her with piercing black eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. Had she really thought him impassible once? That he did not express his every feeling did not mean he did not feel them as strongly as she did. The fire burning in him right now was all too obvious.
“Don’t look at me,” she whimpered.
“I will look at you if I wish. You’re the most—” She stopped him with an arched brow. He could not be saying she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That could not be, and after the intimacy they had just shared she would not bear to hear such an outrageous lie. A slow smile bloomed on his lips, the sensual lips which only moments ago had been devouring her as if he had never had a woman in his arms before. He had acted like a man acknowledging a challenge and raising to it with dizzying enthusiasm. “You’re the most exquisite woman I’ve ever tasted.”
“Oh!”
The impossible man, giving impossibly shocking compliments! But how could she take issue with what he’d said? She knew full well there were more attractive women around but she had no idea how she tasted, did she? He might be tellingthe truth, as he knew it. Which hardly helped her hold on to her composure. Who praised women on the taste of their…of their?—
“Come.” James handed his hand out to her, mercifully putting an end to the awkwardness. “I am parched and I’m sure you could do with a drink too. There’s a wineskin of ale in my horse’s saddlebag.”
This return to normality after such an earth-shattering moment could have offended her. In fact, it was what she needed not to dissolve in embarrassment. By behaving as if he’d not just used her body in the most forbidden fashion, he was allowing her not to dwell on it. And shewasparched, perhaps because of all the panting, and the moaning, and the screaming. Oh, the screaming. She was certain she had never been quite that vocal with Dewi. But then again, she had been a different woman back then, young and relatively untried. If growing older did one thing for you, it was give you more confidence and the ability to stop worrying about what people might think.
Besides, she was certain James had liked hearing her express her enjoyment.
Accepting his hand, she stood up. But after her powerful release, her legs were too shaky to support her, especially on such an unstable surface. She stumbled and fell into his arms.
“Careful, sweeting. Feeling your delectable body against mine might give me ideas.”
It was only then she realized he had not taken his pleasure. He had lapped at her in a frenzy of lust, brought her to ecstasy and sounded as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed it, but he had not reached his release, or even given himself as much as one stroke.
“You…Would you like me to…You didn’t?—”
“Hush.” The expression on his face changed. He looked almost annoyed, an unexpected reaction, Carys thought. “Worry not about me.”
She wasn’t worried, exactly, but she couldn’t help but wonder at it. What man would refuse her offer? A man who did not truly desire her, that was who.
“You do not want me then?” she said dejectedly. Perhaps he did not, or at least not enough to take her, and that was why he hadn’t liked her asking if she could bring him release.
Her heart sank.
You do not want me then?
James blinked. Had the woman really asked him that after he had pleasured her to within an inch of her life and his control? Couldn’t she see the desire burning in his eyes? Never had he been so consumed with the need to take and plunder a woman’s body. Which was precisely why he could not surrender. He was too far gone, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from spilling inside her if he took her now, and nothing else than this complete possession would satisfy him.
