Page 55 of Frankly, My Dear

She returned his kiss with a reckless abandon that shocked, and tantalized, him.

“Selene…oh, ma chérie, I cannot help myself,” he moaned against the sweet curve of her neck.

“I know, James. I know,” she whimpered.

With fingers tunneled in her hair, framing her scalp, he turned her this way and that, unable to get enough. He nipped her lips. He plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, then growled low in his throat when she drew tentatively on him.

Mounting urgency caught him in its painfully sweet agony. “Tell me to stop, chérie. Quick.” Pulling her flush against his body, he let her feel his arousal.

She gasped and stared at him wide-eyed, as if he’d asked her to jump off a cliff. Instead of telling him to stop, she boldly parted her legs and gave him closer access. When he touched himself against her in that certain place, soft shudders shook her body, and her legs buckled. They both sank to the floor, on their knees, never breaking their frantic kiss.

“Sweet Lord! I…have…never…wanted…like…this…before,” he gritted out. Gasping for breath, he pulled away, staring down at her. With her bruised lips and passion-hazy eyes, not to mention her mussed hair, she looked wild, and wanton, and wonderful.

Lowering his head, he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth through the sheer cloth of her chemise and drew on it with feverish intensity. She began to keen…a low, erotic sound as old as Eve…and he suckled harder, matching the rhythm of his lower body, which was pressing spasmodically against hers.

His knees grew weak and he pressed her to the floor, settling between her parted thighs with a growl of immense satisfaction. Pleasure, hot and painfully intense, lodged between his legs, and grew, and grew, spiraling out to his fingertips and toes, even his scalp.

I should not do this. He looked down at the wet cloth that revealed in all its transparency her beautiful breast, and he proceeded to minister to its mate.

I should not do this. He wrapped her legs around his waist.

I should not do this. He ground himself against her damp womanhood.

I should not do this. He lifted her hips off the floor at the stiffening of her thighs, which portended the beginning of her pleasure.

“O-o-h,” she whispered, her eyelids fluttering.

He could see the first quivers of her orgasm in the startled widening of her eyes, the parting of her lips. Her legs jerked and she tried to pull away.

He wouldn’t let her go.

“Come for me, chérie,” he coaxed rawly. “Let it go. For me.”

“I don’t know how,” she confessed softly.

She didn’t know how? With sudden understanding, he told her tenderly, “Relax, darling. Just unstiffen and relax.”

When she finally did as he instructed, he watched her face closely and began to buck against her with light, controlled movements. Her eyes glazed over with passion, and she writhed from side to side. “No,” she protested. “No, it’s too much.”

Relentlessly, he held her body against the cradle of his hips and rocked and rocked against her until she arched and screamed as the first wave of her climax hit her. Her womanhood pressed reflexively against his hardness.

A violent shiver overtook him. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t wait.

Pounding against her, he sought his own release. Over and over, he hammered her, unable to think beyond her soft wails of pleasure, his own low moans and coaxing love words, the devastating, nerve-splintering explosion of his senses. He was caught in a spiral of ever-increasing arousal beyond anything he had ever experienced in all his life.

A hoarse, animal sound of surrender erupted from deep in his chest. His senses hurtled through space, disintegrating into a million sparks of progressively larger, more intense peaks of pleasure.

He floated slowly back to sanity. Sated, he lay against her heavily, stunned by the sheer perfection of ecstasy he had just experienced and the even more complete satisfaction he felt in just holding her in his arms. He pulled back slightly, needing to see if she was equally affected.

“I didn’t know,” she said, gazing up at him in utter astonishment.

“Neither did I, chérie,” he rasped out. “Neither did I.”

With a deep sigh, he nuzzled his lips against her neck.

He should feel regret over his foolish actions. He felt only elation.

He should return to the sugar fields and the many responsibilities that awaited him. He couldn’t move.