AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Emma dreamed.
In her dreams, she walked the track that led to her father’s farm, while the sea pounded the cliffs below. If she did not watch her footing, she would fall. But her gaze kept drifting, drawn by the waves and the promise of something just beyond the horizon, a vision broader and brighter than the rutted track and her everyday existence of boots and butter and eggs.
The water shimmered like a sheet of beaten silver. A sleek black shape broke the shining surface. She caught her breath in wonder. A seal. She turned her head to watch its sinuous glide. Distracted, she tripped, tumbled, toppled down and down from the cliffs into the cold, hard sea.
The shock knocked the air from her lungs and jarred her to the bone. Panic seized her. She could not breathe. Water pulled at her skirts and sucked at her boots. Her petticoats clung, trapping her like a fish in a net.
The seal reared up beside her, regarding her with dark, clear eyes. “It was your petticoats that nearly drowned you,” it said.
She was drowning. The realization struck her like a knife. Emma struggled, weeping, fighting the constriction of her lungs, the tangle of fabric around her legs.
And the seal bore her up, supporting her with its thickset, powerful body, speaking to her with Griff’s voice, Griff’s words. “Easy now, lass. Be easy. I’ve got you.”
Gasping, she opened her eyes.
The room was dark. The fire had died to sullen red embers. The bedcovers tangled around her legs.
Griff lay beside her, behind her, his chest warm and solid against her back, his arm heavy about her waist. Her heart hammered.
“It was only a dream,” he rumbled. “Easy, lass. I’ve got you.”
Only a dream.
Tension escaped her on a sigh. She subsided against her pillow.
Not a pillow. Griff’s muscled arm supported her head. His rod, hard and ready, lodged against her backside. Emma sucked in another breath, a different kind of tension seizing her muscles. She shivered in longing and trepidation.
He stroked back her hair with his free hand, tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s all right. Sleep.”
She relaxed, but she could not sleep. Visions of her dream lingered like the mist over the ocean, fogging her thoughts, but her body, primed by his touch, was alert. Aware. Her senses hummed. Her nerves tingled. Griff cocooned her in warmth, surrounding her with his undemanding strength. Only the nudge of his erection against her bottom issued its own demand, a silent declaration of intent. She curled into him, settling more firmly against that intriguing ridge, and felt his breathing change. His arm flexed beneath her cheek, but he did not move, did not reach or grab. Emboldened, she shifted, brushing against his hot satin length, feeling him just…there.
“I will not do anything you don’t want me to.”
His assurance freed her to discover, to feel, without expectation of pain or shame. She wiggled experimentally. Her toes explored the top of his foot, stroked his hairy leg to the knee.
“Lass.” His voice shook with laughter and desperation. “You do not know what you are inviting.”
Her heart pounded. She knew enough to experience a moment’s panic. But he did not roll to crush her, covering her body with his own, his weight pressing her legs, her stomach, until she could not breathe. He lay still on his side, his body heavy with sleep and smelling of musk. His big frame curled protectively around her own—naked, warm, animal, relaxed.
Not so relaxed. His arm was dense with muscle. His member was hard and thick. She was seized with a terrible la
ssitude and an even more terrible longing. Curiosity and need rose and trickled within her. She felt suspended in time like an insect in amber, caught in the dark and honeyed now. There was no tomorrow. Only this man, this moment, this one opportunity to have and hold. Inside, she was loose and liquid, tight and aching. She pressed against him, shameless in the faceless dark, and the arm at her waist slid down, his fingers skimming over her quivering stomach, parting her thighs. With a moan, she turned her face into his hard biceps and opened for him, let him pet and stroke her as he had before, her body eager for more touches.
The blunt head of his penis nudged the curves of her buttocks, rubbing, seeking entrance from behind as his fingers soothed and readied her from the front, dipping into her moisture, spreading it through her slick folds. Emma stiffened. He should not…She must not…But her body moved blindly of its own volition, wriggling against him, wanting, seeking…He bent her forward over his arm, tilting her hips for his penetration, and slipped into her a little way, his smooth, thick head filling her, stretching her, making her gasp and want.
For, oh, she wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted more. Her need pulsed inside her. She tightened around him. With a grunt, he entered her in one smooth, hard thrust.
Yesss. Her inner muscles contracted.
No pain, she thought, dazed and relieved. Only this aching sense of completion. Of satisfaction. Of wonder that he could do this thing with such care and patience, and she could receive him with such pleasure.
He began to move, and she stopped thinking at all, completely taken up, taken over by the sweet friction, the slow, deep thrust and slide of him pumping in and out of her body, moving within her. She was filled with him, wrapped in him, as his rhythm quickened. Her breathing shortened. He nuzzled the curve of her neck, and she reached back, desperate to hold him, her nails digging into his smooth, taut flanks. He bit her softly—her ear, the side of her neck—gripping her hips, imprinting himself on her flesh, holding her hard and tight. She quaked and contracted around him. Her release spilled from her in an overwhelming flood, catching him up like a wave, dragging him with her.
He exhaled into her hair. She felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and the hot gush deep in her body.
Emma meant to rise and wash. She fell asleep instead, lulled by Griff’s weight warm behind her and his hand toying with her hair.
When dawn came, he was gone. Dimly, she recalled the sudden coolness beside her in the bed. He had murmured something—“my lord” and “duties”—before he kissed her and left her.
