“I never imagined,” she murmured, almost to herself, “that the male form could be so beautiful.” Her voice trembled with awe rather than boldness. “I wish I could paint you, so I’d never forget.”
The raw reverencein her voice struck Sebastian more deeply than any flirtation ever could. He reached for her, not with hunger, but with a profound tenderness, his calloused fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw.
“It is most odd, while I worked today, I could not escape the feeling that I deeply missed your company,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with emotion. He removed his boots andtrousers, and Maryann gasped at the full sight of his nakedness, her cheeks blushing.
“You are so beautiful, Sebastian.”
He brought his other hand to the laces of her dress, his movements slow and deliberate. Sebastian undressed her there, amidst the summer flowers and the hum of bees, with the patience of a man unwrapping a sacred relic. Each inch of skin revealed was met with his touch—a knuckle brushing her collarbone, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the slope of her shoulder as her dress pooled at her waist. When she was bare before him, the sun warming her skin, he leaned back on his elbows, allowing her gaze to drink him in, his own arousal evident and straining against his abdomen.
“See what you do to me, Maryann,” he said, his voice a rough caress. “This is all for you.”
She knelt before him. Her exploration began not with her eyes, but with her hands. She mapped the hard planes of his chest, her fingertips learning the texture of his skin, the dusting of hair, the powerful beat of his heart beneath her palm. She leaned in, and her mouth followed the path her hands had blazed. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, then traced the rigid line of his collarbone with her tongue.
Sebastian groaned, his head falling back, his fingers tangling in her unbound hair. “Your mouth is a wicked thing,” he breathed.
She continued her descent, her kisses growing bolder, more languid. She lavished attention on his nipples until they were tight buds under her tongue. Her hands slid down the corded muscles of his abdomen, and when her fingers finally, tentatively, closed around the hard, silken length of him, his whole body jerked.
“Maryann,” he gasped, a warning and a plea.
He could take no more. In a fluid, powerful motion, he rolled them over, covering her body with his, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was all-consuming. This was not the tender exploration of before; this was a storm of need. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mimicking the ancient rhythm their bodies craved, and she met him thrust for thrust, her nails scoring lightly down his back.
He kissed her until they were both breathless, until her hips were arching off the blanket. He moved down her body, his mouth a brand of fire on her breasts, her stomach, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He parted her with his thumbs and buried his face between her legs, his tongue finding her pussy with unerring accuracy.
Maryann cried out, her fingers clutching at the grass as he laved and suckled, building a coil of tension so tight she thought she would break. Just as she was about to shatter, he pulled away, leaving her trembling on the precipice. He wanted her to climax on his cock.
“I need to be inside you,” he rasped. “But I want to see you. I want to watch you take your pleasure from me.” He guided her, his hands on her hips, his voice a husky command. “Ride me, Maryann.”
With trembling limbs, she moved to straddle him, her knees sinking into the soft grass on either side of his hips. He held himself steady for her, his gaze locked with hers. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, she lowered herself onto his cock, moaning as her body stretched to accommodate his girth, another low, broken moan escaping her lips as he filled her completely.
Sebastian groaned. She was so damn wet yet so tight. He felt as if he could spill his seed already. For a moment, she sat there, impaled, her inner muscles fluttering around him as she adjusted to the invasion. Then, she began to move.
It started as a slow, undulating roll of her hips, a gentle rocking that made him groan her name to the sky. Her hands rested on his chest for balance, her head thrown back, her hair a cascade down her back. As her confidence grew, so did her rhythm. She rose and fell upon him, each descent a little harder, a little faster, taking him deeper with every stroke.
Sebastian’s hands gripped her hips, not to control, but to anchor them both. His thumbs stroked the sensitive skin of her belly, feeling the muscles clench with her effort. “That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Just like that. You feel… God, you feel like heaven.”
The world narrowed to this sun-dappled grove, to the sound of their ragged breathing and the slick, rhythmic sound of their union. The scent of crushed clover and their own arousal filled the air. Maryann’s movements became more frantic, her quest for release written in the tense lines of her body. She found a new angle, and a sharp cry was torn from her throat.
“Sebastian! I— oh, yes!”
He felt her inner walls begin to convulse around him, the first violent tremors of her climax. It was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he thrust up into her one last, deep time, his own release surging into her as her name became a prayer on his lips. Her body seized, a long, shuddering cry echoing through the trees as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Spent, she collapsed forward onto his chest, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together. Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as their heartbeats slowly settled into a synchronized rhythm. He pressed a kiss to her damp temple, wondering why it felt as if he would never be able to let go of this woman.
CHAPTER 15
The days that followed unfurled like a dream Sebastian could not quite believe he was living. Each morning bled into night with laughter, warmth, and the kind of intimacy he had once scoffed at. Maryann and Sarah filled the manor with life, sunlight and music where once there had been only silence. He and Maryann rode together, swam in the lake until the sun burned their shoulders, shared wine in the evenings, and tangled themselves in passion that left him breathless and yearning for more. It was dangerous, how easily she fit into his world… how utterly he wanted her to stay.
Now, in the golden haze of afternoon, they were racing their horses down the lane, laughter carried on the summer wind. Her hair, once pinned neatly, now tumbled wildly down her back. She wore boy’s trousers and a loose white shirt that billowed as she rode, and Sebastian thought she had never looked more beautiful—free, flushed, alive.
She slowed her mount as they reached the crest of the hill, breathless and grinning.
“Admit it,” she called, “you let me win!”
He laughed, pulling his horse alongside hers. “I value my pride too much for that. You bested me fair and square.”
They walked their horses along the path, the sound of hooves soft against the earth. For a long moment, he only watched the wind teasing strands of her hair, the sunlight gilding her face.
Then his expression sobered. “There is something I must speak with you about,” he said quietly.
