“No.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this. “I think it goes through Maidenhead.”
He laughed and picked her up to swing her around and around until she was dizzy, then collapsed them both on the carpet to pleasure her.
It was like at Mirabelle’s and yet unlike, for this time Portia was willing. More than willing, she was eager.
She made no protest when he pulled off her shift, her last barrier to him. He ran his hand over her in gentle exploration. “Delicate bones, skin like finest silk that shows the veins beneath…I’m afraid of hurting you.” And indeed, his hand trembled. “You are so small. I know you’re not fragile, but you are small. Did I bruise you last time?”
“No, of course not.” But he insisted on inspecting every inch of her with laughter and kisses.
Portia discovered that to be naked with Bryght seemed natural, the most natural thing in the world. And that she wanted him naked too. With more teasing games they stripped him and she admired his splendor.
“Strong bones,” she said, sliding an exploratory hand up his thigh, over his hip. “Skin like velvet over steel. You could model for David.”
He shook his head. “Heaven forbid. But if I please you, I’m pleased. And I love your touch, Portia. Touch me where I please you….”
Blushing, Portia continued her exploration, running her hand over his chest, his shoulders, down over his muscular abdomen. She halted there, however, embarrassed to go further even though she wanted to, wanted to feel the heat and hardness of him again.
His hands wandered her at the same time—almost without conscious thought, it seemed, but summoning desire. “Your touch has such power over me, I am afraid. I want to be gentle, but I’m not sure I can be. Tell me if I hurt you.”
She kissed his chest. “I expect it to hurt.”
He tilted her chin and kissed her lips. “Perhaps we can exceed your expectations….”
Portia hesitated then, however. Talk of the breaching of her virginity forced her to face the fact that if she surrendered there would be no going back….
He seized her hair and kissed her, kissed her as if he sensed her doubts and wished to drive them out. Under the heat of his hands, his mouth, his body she couldn’t think. She could only desire. Portia nipped and stroked, kissed and nibbled at every piece of his mobile body that became available, always wanting more and more.
When his sinuous movements brought the ultimate temptation in her way, she took it and put her lips over the head of the River Thames. He went rigid and twisted his head to look at her.
Portia came to her senses a little then. What in heaven’s name had come over her? Something in his expression, however, filled her with a sense of gleeful power. Watching him carefully, she rubbed her tongue against him.
He shuddered and muttered, “Hades,” like a dying man.
Portia stroked him with her tongue and saw him flush. She sucked a little and he gasped. He collapsed down on the carpet. “Go on, then, oh precocious one. Have your wicked way with me.”
There was a sheen of sweat on his face and Portia didn’t think it was from the fire. She felt extremely hot herself. Her rash impulsiveness had landed her in another situation completely beyond her competence, but she sensed that this one held only delight.
She settled to licking and sucking the novel item, enjoying the new sensation and a sweet musky taste she found there. To be so hard, the River Thames would have to be solid ice, but this one was hot and almost fluid in the way it danced to her touch.
She slid one hand over his rigid torso, and curled the other around him, then flared it downward to explore the smooth pouches beneath. How strange, how wonderful, how very interesting a man was.
From this angle she couldn’t see his face, but she could see his hand on his thigh, his left hand with the large emerald signet. Suddenly it formed a fist, and she covered it with her own paler one, soothing it even as she tormented him. He grasped her hand almost to bruising point and she could hear each breath he took.
What now?
She was trapped in a spiral of heat and power. It was entrancing, but she felt as if something were about to explode….
Suddenly he moved. He freed the river from captivity, hauling her up to face him. “If you dice with the devil, Hippolyta, you must burn.”
He was not gentle. He drove her like a chariot into passion and entered her suddenly, violently, then froze, holding her there, knees looped high over his arms.
Portia stared into his dark eyes, drowning in intense sensation, shocked by their position, but immensely satisfied to be filled by him at last. He saw it and released her legs, swooping down to kiss her. Portia met the kiss fiercely, locking her legs around him as he drove her onward to destruction.
Portia tried to keep her eyes open, to see him in his passion, but the power became too strong. It denied all sensations except the one, the new one, the one she could hardly believe was part of the body she had inhabited for twenty-five years.
Chapter 20
Portia came back to reality lying in his arms, sweaty and sticky, nerves still humming and twitching from his onslaught. She ached in places, burned a little between her legs, and suddenly her whole body shuddered with an after-tremor of that passion.
