Page 60 of The Phantom Duke
“Lift your legs and kick. Up and down,” Damien said.
His hand was against her stomach, pushing her up. She felt the warm air of the crypt against her bare rump and let out anothersharp cry. Heat rushed to her face, and it had little to do with the temperature of the cave. Maria was entirely, shamefully exposed, but she could muster no maidenly modesty for her unclothed state.
“Kick or you will sink,” Damien commanded.
She began to move her legs up and down. His hand moved from her stomach to her breasts, cupping and stroking even as he continued to support her weight. Maria knew that her face must be scarlet, for the heat spread across her face was so intense.
She bit her lip, whimpering at the pleasure that coursed through her at his expert manipulation of her body. All the aches and wants of her body, which had faded largely when he brought her into the water, awakened anew. She thought wildly that she might well go mad from his ministrations.
“Now, keep kicking.”
Damien released her, taking both of her hands. Maria felt herself sink and cried out, but she kept kicking, clumsily and desperately. Miraculously, she rose in the water, her head never sinking below the surface. Damien moved away from her until only his fingertips held hers. She felt herself moving through the water towards him and laughed, both from the excitement of swimming and from the absurdity of the moment.
“I am swimming!” she exclaimed.
He led her in a circle, then removed his hands entirely. Maria kicked and kicked, remaining afloat. She heard his laughter and turned her head to follow the sound. Then, he was surging towards her, a wave preceding him with the force of his approach. He enveloped her in his arms and held her close to him.
Maria wrapped her arms and legs around him, conscious of his hard, sculpted body against her own. He was a pillar of stability and strength in the water, which left her weightless and light. She felt that her breath must be as loud as a forge bellows. Her heart thundered in her ears.
They spun a lazy circle in the water, their bodies joined in many ways except the one way that was expected from a husband and wife. But shefelthim, pressed hard against her stomach. He wanted her, too. Would he do it now? Anticipation curled inside her, tracing the path of her spine.
His hands explored her nakedness, slipping over her soft, wet skin. She clung to him, relishing his hardness, savoring the stony feel of his physique. Maria thought of their encounter in the stairwell and in the bedroom, of his hands exploring her body.
He had seemed massive, predatory and intimidating, and with the blindfold still about her eyes, a newfound awareness of her own vulnerability swept over her. She was so slight and delicate when compared to him.
“You say you are a hunter,” she gasped.
“I am,” Damien said.
“Suppose I do not wish to be hunted.”
For a beat, there was nothing except the quiet murmur of the water and their heavy breathing.. “Then what do you wish for?”
“To be respected and treated with dignity and…”
Damien laughed; a sharp, sudden sound that startled her. Through the blindfold, she perceived the flash of movement when he threw back his head. For a moment, Maria couldn’t tell whether it came from frustration, amusement, or something more unhinged.
“Why are you laughing at me?” Maria demanded, splashing him.
“Your answer is so trite. So…mundane. Are you so ordinary?”
She scowled, which she did not imagine he could see, but the man must have sensed or suspectedsomethingabout her expression changing, for his laughter increased, echoing on the cave walls so that it seemed to come from every direction..
“I am…” she began.
“You are not,” Damien corrected, becoming quiet. “You are far from ordinary. Do not wish to be or pretend to be.”
Maria frowned, touched but a little confused by the statement. “Is that a compliment? From you?”
“Yes. From me. I can be… ordinary when I wish to be. Or approximate it anyway.”
Now Maria laughed. She began to lie back in the water, knowing that it exposed her breasts to him. Maria hoped that his eyes were fixed firmly on her, that she was driving him as close to madness as he was her.
I cannot see where he is looking, but I can feel it.
Gooseflesh raised along her arms, and her inner walls clenched with need. He was looking; he must be. And she had every reason to believe that he had the same desires that she did. Would he act upon them, though? Maria could only hope.
“A very poor approximation,” Maria said. “You are the least ordinary man I have ever met? Are you looking at me?”
