They were lost in each other; nothing else in the world mattered at the moment. Remington’s fear was gone, her instinctive inbred response to being touched. She arched shamelessly into his mouth, his hand, her body aching for everything he had to offer, everything that had been denied her for all of these years. She had no idea that a touch could be so sweet, a kiss so tender. She did not even realize her tears were still falling; now they were for her newfound joy.
Gaston wanted her so badly he couldn’t think straight. The more she responded, the more forceful he became. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew he must be careful with her and go slowly, but that thought was blocked out by blind passion overloading his brain. Never in his life had he wanted a woman, much less wanted a woman as badly as his lungs needed air, or his stomach needed food. This was what he had wanted all of his life and had not even known it.
He pushed his knees between her legs, pulling her knees up with his free hands. His mouth never left her. Somehow, he managed to undo the stays on his breeches and free his massive organ, demanding to be sated. His fingers trailed to her inner thighs and he heard her moan softly, although his own mouth swallowed all of her sounds. Slowly, his hands moved up to the dark curls between her legs and delicately roved over the outer flesh.
Remington startled when she felt his fingers caressing her. He did not probe her, merely touch her, and it gave her a chance to fight down her natural fear. Guy had raped her so many times she had lost count, and he had never taken the time with her that Gaston was. A touch she had learned to hate was quickly turning into the most powerful experience of her life.
His fingers finally probed her, gently at first, for he felt her body stiffen beneath him. He kept on with his forceful kisses, trying to relax her again, for he was so massively hung that shewould have to be completely relaxed in order for him to enter her. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her. He inserted his finger into her carefully, hearing her gasp softly.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered raggedly.
She shook her head. “Nay, Gaston….’tis just that.…”
He kissed her fears, her explanations, away. Nothing mattered anymore except the two of them, right now.
He pushed two fingers into her, mimicking the thrusting rhythm that would soon be taking place. She was unbelievably tight, but slick as rain. Her muscles throbbed and pulled at him and he was near insane with his desire. Quickly, for he was in danger of spilling himself on her cloak, he removed his fingers and placed his manhood against her.
Remington’s eyes flew open, meeting his cloudy orbs. “Gaston, I am scared.”
He kissed her fiercely. “I swear to you that you will like this, angel. I know you consider this so much hell but I promise you that you will not after this night.”
She gazed into his eyes, trusting him implicitly. He had not lied to her yet. Slowly, her slim thighs wound around his thick legs and her hands caressed the back of his neck. “Show me, then.”
He made sure he was meeting her eye when he thrust slowly into her; he wanted to see her face, measure her reaction. She was so tight that it took three full thrusts to move into her, and even then he wasn’t seated to the hilt. Remington’s eyes widened, but she did not utter a word.
He couldn’t help himself; he was a hairsbreadth away from spilling into her and refused to do it before he had taken any pleasure with it. Withdrawing completely, he thrust hard into her and she gasped with shock. He thrust again and again, feeling himself peaking and absolutely astonished that he was climaxing so quickly. Beneath him, he could feel her pelvismoving against him. It was his undoing; he blasted his scalding seed into her with a growl of utter satisfaction.
Remington felt him throbbing within her and knew exactly what it meant; she only remembered Guy’s releases too well. She had actually been enjoying his movements and was disappointed to realize it was over so quickly. Yet even after he climaxed, he continued to move within her, still full and hard.
He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he had and moved his hands under her hips, holding her to him as he thrust into her. Remington felt her body responding, the heat in her loins like liquid fire, growing in intensity. Every time their bodies came together it was as if the sparks were flying at the point where they touched; she swore she could feel them.
He was measured and firm and she was completely lost. If this was what being a mistress meant, such pleasure and comfort, then she would gladly be his mistress for the rest of their lives. Marriage was a horrible, cold thing; being illicit lovers was something beyond wonderful.
He heard her swift panting and knew she was close to her release. He shifted himself slightly and put his hand where their bodies were joined, probing her taut little bud of pleasure. Pinching the nub between his fingers, he squeezed gently and Remington peeled off a loud scream. His mouth descended swiftly on hers to block out the remainder of the cry as he felt her honeyed walls throb and suck at him as she found her release. From the intensity of the scream, he knew she had never before experienced her pleasure and he was surprised and pleased; it was almost as if she were a virgin, in a sense.
Remington wasn’t sure what had happened. All that she knew was that she had felt such rapturous pleasure as she had never had before sampled and she was dazed. What black magic had he done to make her feel like a boneless, warm lump offlesh? The man had brought her loins to a roaring blaze and then doused the fire with the most amazing sorcery.
He cradled her tightly and she clung to him, trying to slow her breathing. Her body was relaxed, warm, and comforted; she had never felt so wonderful in her entire life. If there was any doubt, any reserve about loving this man, they were gone. She wanted to talk to him, demand to know what he did to her, but her eyes closed against his amazing warmth and before she realized it, she was dead asleep. And so was he.
*
She rode inthe wagon on the trip back to Mt. Holyoak. Dane rode with Antonius, clearing a space for her on the wagon between Skye and Rory. Gaston rode up ahead of them astride Taran, quite alone, as his knights and soldiers lingered behind.
It was a warm July morning. The sky was bluer than Remington had ever seen it and the birds somehow more musical. Her heart was light, her mood gay, and she couldn’t ever remember being happier. It was the most glorious morning ever. Even though Gaston had barely spoken to her since dawn, she did not care. He had kissed her awake and that had been enough.
“You are quiet,” Rory nudged her. “What’s on your mind?”
Remington shrugged. “Not a thing,” she said casually. “I am simply concerned about the material we used for tents last night; one of the bolts has a large grass stain on it.”
“We shall wash them out,” Rory said, her eyes falling on Patrick’s back.
Remington saw her sister’s look and couldn’t resist teasing her. “So you think him magnificent, do you? I must say, I agree.”
Rory made a face at her and clucked to the horses. “No one asked you.”
Remington and Skye giggled. “Do not be so defensive, Rory,” Skye said. “We like him, too.”
“Men are a bother,” Rory said lamely. “He’s…. he’s too old, anyhow.”
