Page 27 of A Second Chance for Carys
A hand closed over her breast and squeezed. The feel of his warm, slightly callused palm on her skin was incredible. Herskin…Another gasp escaped her lips when she realized she shouldn’t be able to feel him thus. Where had her shift gone? Why was she naked? She never slept naked. An arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close to a furry chest before she could find an explanation for this unusual occurrence.
“You shouldn’t?—”
“Hush, let me do this, sweet. I’m dying with the need to taste you again and I know it’s what you want too.”
Oh, yes, she did want this. She wanted this, and more, but something was odd, and she could not place her finger on it. Then she understood. They were talking in Welsh together. When had James learned to speak her language so well? And why was she worrying about something like this when he was spreading her legs to give him access to her most secret opening?
A tongue licked the cream that had pooled between her thighs and she stopped thinking. Let him speak in the language of his Egyptian ancestors if he wanted, as long as he gave her the release she was already desperate for.
“So good,” he growled, swirling his tongue around the soft folds waiting for him. “Let me lick you like I did at the beach. And then I’ll give you what you really want. What I haven’t given anyone in years. You won’t even have to beg this time.”
“Yes!” He had vanquished his fears, and decided he could be with her. He was finally going to take her. Heat blazed through her at the thought.
“James!”
Carys woke up with her heart pounding, her breathing ragged and her hand between her legs. A finger was poised at her entrance, ready to plunge in. She was alone.
A dream.
That was all it had been. James was not really in her bed, had not really been speaking to her in Welsh, had not really been licking at her intimate flesh.
She stayed very still, her blood drumming a fierce rhythm in her ears. It was not the first time she had dreamed about what they had done on the beach, admittedly, but it was the first time it had sent her into such a frenzy, as well as the first time she had touched herself while she dreamed. Thank God she was not sleeping with Eirwen anymore, or she would have died of mortification. Her daughter, who had become friends with Avice’s niece, had asked to sleep in her chamber a few weeks ago.Carys had been only too happy to allow her to. Now, more than ever, she was glad she’d done so.
Because it meant she could finish what the dream had started.
Almost of its own accord, her finger glided over the seam of her sex. She was swollen, throbbing and wet, thanks to what the wicked, naked man had been doing in her dream. She was so ready she knew she would explode in no time. Since Dewi’s death, in the absence of a real lover with whom to indulge her senses, she’d had no choice but to give herself pleasure and had become quite adept at it.
But usually, it was her late husband’s face she imagined when she dipped her finger into her folds. Today it was James Mortimer’s dark eyes she pictured, his sensual mouth. The mouth that had lapped at her so scandalously. The right hand joined the left, her middle finger stroking, teasing, rubbing at the place at the apex of her thighs with growing urgency.
Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading to her toes and she kicked her blanket off in irritation, wishing she were naked after all, wishing she had another set of hands to tease at her nipples, wishing…
Wishing James was the one giving her pleasure.
She heard his voice, commanding her to let go.
The pulsing started deep within, in the place where her finger was buried, unfurling through her veins in glorious bursts of joy until it felt as if her whole body were spasming. It was magnificent, and went on and on, until finally it ebbed away like a sigh.
Out of breath, Carys stared at the ceiling without seeing anything. This, without a doubt, had been the best release she had ever brought on by herself. For a moment she toyed with the idea of resuming her caresses before realizing that she would be unable to. There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in her body.
Exhausted, she let her arms flop onto the mattress—and fell asleep again.
The first person Carys saw in the hall the following morning was Eirwen. As soon as she spotted her, her daughter came up to her, a frown on her face.
“Are you all right, Mam?”
“Yes, of course I am, lovely,” Carys said, giving her cheek a stroke. “Why do you ask?”
“You look different.”
Eirwen had always been very sensitive to other people’s moods. It wasn’t surprising therefore that she’d noticed something. But Carys could not discuss the reason for her unusual appearance with her daughter. She gave a little cough to hide her embarrassment.
“I slept so well I found it hard to wake up this morning. That may be why I look half asleep.”
“You don’t look half asleep, exactly.”
No, she imagined she didn’t. Flushed, rather. The pleasure she had not resisted in wringing from her grateful body before getting up would be responsible for it. Once again, imagining James’ dark eyes and sinful mouth, she had brought herself to an explosive release. And apparently, it showed.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, reaching out to one of the bread loaves waiting on the table. Would the distraction work? It was worth a try.
