Rebuked, she refused to meet his eye but continued to stroke his hair. He watched her angelic face, remembering how tremendously drawn he was to her as she acted the serving wench. She was far too beautiful and sweet for a common servant; even Mari-Elle had known it.
“‘We love to eat, to piss, to scold?’” he suddenly repeated, and she burst into giggles.
“Rory wrote the song,” she insisted.
“‘A ceremonial fart?’” he recounted with disapproval, though he was smiling. “Really, Remi, how vulgar.”
“I never said she was a poet,” she snickered. “But it was effective, was it not?”
He shook his head. “Effective in making everyone hysterical and provoking Mari-Elle,” he agreed. “I should not be surprised with anything you four do.”
Her expression suddenly went sly as she ran her hand down the sides of his face. “Nay, you should not. With any luck, we shall have your wife gone by morning.”
His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean? ? What else have you done?”
“Me? Nothing, my lord,” she said innocently. “And how is Trenton faring? He’s truly a beautiful boy, just like his father.”
“My son is well,” he said shortly. “Remi, what else have you done? Why is Mari-Elle likely to leave of her own free will by morn?”
She looked annoyed. “I told you, I have done nothing,” she insisted. “May I get dressed now, my lord?”
His hands moved up the backs of her legs, almost to her rounded bottom. “Nay, you may not.”
“And why not?” she asked, smiling, feeling the wicked warmth of lust already flowing through her veins.
He responded by sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, drawing the most pleasurable of moans. He answered with a low groan of his own accord and the peasant blouse came off.
He flipped her onto her back on the mattress, covering her body with his massive frame. She clung to him, already parting her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. His mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mercilessly, licking the honeyed orifice. Passion that was merely building one moment was instantly full-blown and fierce.
He left her a brief moment to strip off his shirt and peel off his breeches and then he was on her again, urged on by her soft pleading. His mouth fastened to a rosy nipple, sucking it into a hard pebble and slipping his hands underneath her back, pulling her up to his lips, trapping her.
She was desperate to get him inside her, to feel the same sensations that rocked her the previous night. He obliged her, slipping his huge manhood at her threshold and thrusting slowly and firmly until he slid his entire hard length into her.
Remington was incoherent with her need. She wrapped her small body around him, her face against his neck, rising to meethim as he thrust into her. He was hard and firm, rhythmic, and driving her to the brink of madness. The familiar fire in her loins from last night was raging once again and she begged him to put a sweet end to her torment as he had once before. It had been the mightiest of experiences, one she wished to repeat again and again.
Yet, even as he moved within her, full and rock-solid, it was more than the act itself. It was the simple action of being held by him, touching his flesh, being touched. It washim, like no one else. He cared for her, was kind to her, respected her. That, as well as the physical touching, was a most powerful aphrodisiac.
He growled, his hands under her hips, lifting her to meet him with tender savagery. She could do naught but clutch him tightly, his body so huge and powerful that she felt overwhelmed by his sheer maleness. She moved with him, meeting his rhythm, feeling the fire within her building to a roaring blaze.
Without his obvious manipulation as he had done last night, she felt the tremors of release begin and begged him to drive harder, harder. He obeyed, bringing her to such a raging climax that she cried aloud with relief and pleasure, feeling the moment of time where all else seemed to stop for a brief second, where only her exquisite pleasure mattered, before beginning the inevitable downslide to complete contentment. She wished she could stay there forever, feeling him moving within her like a great battering ram.
He felt her convulsions, milking him, demanding his own release, and he relented, joining in her pleasure. He swore he had never climaxed so hard as he continued to move, slowing his actions, winding down. Their sweaty bodies lowered to the bed, enveloped by the softness, and he held her tightly against him in a protective embrace.
Remington dozed lightly, utterly exhausted and satisfied. The feelings were entirely new to her, more wonderful thanshe had ever suspected. His huge hands caressed her back and stroked her hair as they cuddled contentedly, realizing their relationship was deepening by the moment.
“Can we stay here forever?” she whispered.
“Would that I could, angel,” he kissed her head, his mind turning briefly to Mari-Elle. Sex with her had never, ever come close to this. It had been a duty.
She kissed his chest softly, running her hands lightly over his skin. “You are so gentle for your massive size,” she said. “I would not have thought it possible.”
“Were I not gentle, I’d most likely flatten you like a pancake,” he teased.
She giggled. “’Twould be a most pleasurable form of death, my lord.”
He propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down on her lovely face. “You will listen to me now, Remi, or I will take a stick to you. I want you to stay in your rooms until I tell you otherwise. There will be no disobedience from you on this, madam, in any way. Am I making myself clear?”
She nipped playfully at his lower lip. “Aye, Gaston. I swear to you that I will not leave my rooms. I shall simply wait here in bed for you to return to me.”
