“Gaston,” she breathed. “What are you…?”
She was cut off when his hot mouth descended on her very private, very sensitive core. A moan spilled forth from her moist lips and she arched her back with the force of her passion, the top of her head nearly flush with the rug. Frozen in that position, she could do naught but feel every lap of his tongue, every suckle, as if nothing else in her world existed, only Gaston and his amazing touch.
His hands held her buttocks, trapping her against him as he continued his onslaught. Her sharp pants of passion excited him beyond belief, driving him nearly insane for want of her. As newas she was to the art of love, he knew her peak was seconds away, and he did not want to miss it. Releasing her buttocks, he arched over her and drove himself into her hot, slippery flesh in one great thrust.
Remington was already climaxing as he came into her, only enhanced by his massive organ filling her as she had never been filled. His thrusts were firm and complete, prolonging her pleasure until tears of pure joy ran down her temples. The harder he pushed, the more potent her contractions until she began the inevitable downslide toward relaxed bliss.
His arms were braced on either side of her head, his body aloft from hers as he rammed into her again and again. She was so damn tight and slick that he could imagine no greater pleasure, for any man, ever. There was indeed a heaven and her name was Remington.
When his release came shortly, it was with the most violent of blasts. Her name gushed forth from his lips as he spilled himself, still moving, feeling her juices and his combine and making her unbelievably wet. He continued to move, still wanting to feel her around him, still wanting to be within her until out of sheer fatigue, he slowed his pace and finally ceased.
With a great sigh, he lowered himself on the rug and pulled her with him as he went. She moved to unwind her legs but he would only allow her to remove one, so he would not lie upon it. The other leg he kept wrapped over his hip.
“Nay, madam, remain where you are,” he rasped. “I would still feel myself in you.”
Even semi-flaccid, he was absolutely enormous and she could feel his manhood throb and twitch as it diminished further. But it was the most wonderful, intimate feeling ever and she absorbed every move. Her lips, against his chest, moved over him softly.
They lay together, listening to the fire, for a countless amount of time. Nothing mattered at that very moment more than them, together.
“Shall we move to the bed?” she whispered.
He grunted; he had been dozing off. “I suppose. Are you cold?”
She snuggled up against him. “Never. How could I be? You are as hot as any fire.”
His hand was gently touching her hair, caressing it against her back. “But the bed would be more comfortable than the hard floor.”
He moved a little but she stopped him. “I am comfortable wherever you are, my love. Stay, stay.”
He did, tightening his arms about her. They were both dozing off when there was a soft rap at the door.
Gaston lifted his head, wary. “Who comes?”
“Me,” it was Arik.
He looked at Remington apologetically, mayhap a bit guiltily. Still embedded in her, he withdrew his member and put a huge hand over her mouth to stifle the soft groan. She grinned at him and sat up as he went in search of his breeches.
“My lord?” Arik called through the door.
“I am coming,” Gaston said, his words turning to a mumble as he secured his breeches.
Meanwhile, Remington had moved to the great bed and had hid herself behind the great silk curtains that hung from the canopy frame. In front of her on the bed was a lightweight cotton coverlet; she snatched it and wrapped it about her body as added protection.
Gaston gave her a final glance to make sure she was settled before opening the door.
Arik’s face was grim. “You are not going to be happy to hear this.”
Gaston’s mouth twitched with irritation. “What, then?”
“Your wife is demanding that you attend her,” he said. “Her physician tried to find his way up here to inform you personally, but was effectively halted by Nicolas. He insists your wife is greatly in need of your comfort.”
Gaston snorted. “Hmpf. A pity. Was that all?”
“Nay,” Arik raised an eyebrow in silent request for his lord to brace himself. “The soldiers you sent to return young Botmore home have returned. All but one of them is dead, and he was spared simply to relay a message to you from Lord Botmore.”
Gaston’s face went tense. He moved back into the room and pulled on his shirt. Arik followed him and Remington found herself pressing further into the folds of the curtains to keep out of sight.
“Apparently Lord Botmore is completely devastated over the death of his son and is vowing revenge on you,” Arik said, leaning against the canopy post as Gaston pulled his boots on. “He not only killed five of your soldiers, but he damn near hacked them to death.”
