AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then his hand slid further, under her hair, against her neck, and his fingers dug into the tight muscles of her nape.
She almost moaned in relief.
He massaged tiny circles along the cords of her neck, the line of her shoulders, his thumbs pressing, his fingers stroking, his touch firm. Seductive. Under her bodice, her nipples beaded. But he did not touch her breasts, only tugged her, turned her, so that her back was to him. Heat flowed into her, his heat, moving through his fingers, loosening her stiff muscles. It blanketed her brain, smothering thought. There was nothing overtly sexual about his touch, and yet inside she was melting, desire pooling in her belly as she yielded to his hands. Her head dropped forward in surrender. She could feel him behind her, his breath warm on her cheek, the solid slab of his chest and abdomen, the blunt ridge of his erection against her buttocks. Lovely little thrills ran like fire under her skin. Her knees sagged.
He gripped her hands and raised them, flattening her palms against the tall wooden bedpost, holding them there until she clung. Combing his fingers through her hair, he gathered it up, letting the strands fall over her shoulder. His hands skimmed down her arms.
He moved on her, his chest supporting her back, his knee between her thighs. And all the time his strong hands worked their magic, rubbing, kneading, leaving her aching and limp as string.
Gently, so gently, he closed his teeth on her neck. She shuddered in reaction. She felt the warm nip of his mouth, the cool kiss of air on the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. Fabric sagged. Her dress. He was unbuttoning her dress.
Emma gasped and would have turned to face him, but he only pressed closer against her back, holding her in place with the weight of his body. She felt his rod, the promise and the threat of it, hard against her bottom, but his hands wouldn’t leave her alone long enough to worry about what came next. They flowed over her, gliding, sliding, commanding her attention. Her response.
He reached through the open back of her dress, his hands skimming along her ribs, stroking over her shift to find and cup her breasts. His thumbs rubbed her nipples. His leg nudged, thrust, lifted, until she rode its muscled length like a pony. She squirmed, trying to find her balance or her breath, and his hands and voice soothed her.
“Easy now, lass. Be easy. I’ve got you.”
She sucked in her breath. The air was close and thick with the smell of the fire, the musk of his skin, the scent of her own desire.
She flushed, relieved she could not see his face. She did not remember this embarrassing wetness from before. Only blood.
His hands stroked down and glided up, dragging her shift and her petticoat with them until the material bunched against the bedpost and spilled over his arms. Emma closed her eyes, overwhelmed by her own recklessness. Abruptly, all sensation sharpened and intensified. Her focus narrowed to his hands as they moved over her, learning her shape, discovering her secret places.
“I know you.” And, oh, he did. Better, it seemed, than she knew herself. There was something reassuring—and terrifying—about his intimate knowledge of her body and its reactions.
His long fingers trailed along her thigh, traced between her legs, brushing just the ends of the curls there until she quivered. She squeezed her eyes tighter, squeezed her legs tighter, embarrassed at what he would find.
“So wet.” A growl of masculine satisfaction. “So sweet.”
Heat flooded her face, her breasts. He expected the dampness, then. Expected and approved. Another layer of doubt dissolved, burned away.
Griff eased the angle of his thigh, letting her down gently, freeing her, freeing himself to touch and explore. Emma moaned and moved instinctively, rolling her hips into his hand, feeling his touch everywhere, wanting his touch. Everywhere.
She gripped the bedpost as he pressed and probed, teased and stroked her wet, sensitive flesh. His arms were hard as ropes around her, his breath hot in her ear as he worked her with his fingers, around and around, in and out.
The fire crackled and popped. Behind her closed lids, red sparks rose and danced in the heat. Her ne
rves smoldered. Veins of heat shot through her. She was shivering, shaking, falling apart, and yet he held her, safe and close.
Sensation surged and crested in a dark flood inside her.
“Take it, lass,” he murmured. “Take what you need.”
Emma panted. Resting her forehead against the smooth, hard bedpost, she let his hands drive her, let her body take her where he wanted her to go, into the sizzle and the warm dark.
She burned in his arms like liquid gold, the scent of her rising to his head like wine or the mist on the rocks at night. Griff breathed her in, her response rolling over him like the ocean, primal, powerful.
Satisfying.
Her smooth cheeks were flushed, her soft lips slightly parted. She was warm and damp and delicate all over, her skin as pink and polished as the heart of a shell. He wanted her naked, wanted to suck her pretty breasts and nuzzle the richness of her sex, kiss every freckle, lap her like cream.
Later.
Right now he wanted inside.
Her body still quaked with the tiny aftershocks of her release. He wanted to push inside her and savor her trembling, wanted to stroke her with his cock until she cried out and came again.
Griff reached for his breech flap.
