She was convinced that he shared the sense of freedom she felt in his house in the woods, because he read her perfectly. There was no timidity in her now, barely even the last remnants of shyness. He sensed her growing comfort with herself as a woman of passion and felt that much more comfortable challenging her to greater heights, which he did in new and wonderfully tender ways.
Deanna knew that she was in paradise. When she found herself lying suddenly on her back again she gazed past Mark's head at the wispy canopy of green high above the skylight. The sun and wind played through the branches to cast exotic patterns on the panes.
As though part of nature himself, Mark moved with similar grace while his mouth did fantastic things to her body. She felt the fragments of flame he left behind with each touchâthe gentle sucking of her nipple; the roll of his tongue just below her navel; the nip of his teeth on the skin of her inner thigh. By the time she restlessly coaxed him to peel the red briefs from his hips he was as much on fire as was she. Her fingers teased him as his did her until she writhed in sweet agony beneath him, longing for his total possession.
It came with a glorious thrust that brought a throaty cry of ecstasy. “Ahhhh ⦠Mark ⦠you feel so good!”
“Kiss me, Deanna,” he moaned, and she did. She offered him every bit of the love she felt, let it explode through their many touchpoints as her lips opened to his, her hands kneaded the muscles of his lower back, her hips arched in timely counterpoint to his.
She put every bit of her soul into the act of pleasing him and she was a blinding success. Mark cried out her name and stiffened, then was unable to hold off any
longer. His body shuddered and reverberated with quiet aftershocks until he finally collapsed on top of her.
“I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry. IâI lost control,” he panted. “That hasn't happened in years.” His arms tightened around her back. “I'm sorry.”
But Deanna wasn't. She felt a distinct sense of victory. “Was it good?” she asked, smiling with pride and feminine satisfaction. The bodily anticipation that remained within her was secondary to the knowledge of what she'd done.
Mark's head was buried against her neck. “Oh, Deanna, you know it was.” As if in further proof she felt lingering tremors snake their way through his limbs. “See what you do to me?” He raised his head to offer the grinning accusation. At the moment when she felt his weight begin to crush her he levered himself up on his forearms. “It's damned embarrassing is what it is!”
She cocked her head skeptically. “What is?”
“To lose control like that. Every man wants to see himself as the perfect lover. You knowâendless stamina, ultimate self-control. I guess I blew the image.”
“Am I complaining?” she kidded him softly, suddenly all too aware of the brush of her breasts against his chest with each breath.
“You're too polite.” He returned her good-humored banter, seemingly ignorant of the titillating connection, perhaps simply sated.
But she grew serious. “That's not it at all, Mark. You have no idea how good I feel to know that I can arouse you to the extent that you'd lose that practiced control. It's a real ego trip, especially for someone like me who ⦔
She couldn't finish, but Mark understood. “Who never saw herself in the role of the tigress?”
She blushed. “I wouldn't have chosen quite that word, but ⦠that's the idea.”
“You
are
a tigress when you let go, Deanna.” He caressed her with his hushed tones. “I've never been as satisfied ⦠or as insatiable.”
His words brought her eyes up sharply and she felt him move again deep inside her. She hadn't expected this. “Mark?” she whispered, coming alive herself with a matching fire.
Mark lowered his head, then ran his tongue lightly and sensuously over the curve of her upper lip. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation, opened her lips to deepen it.
“Let go for me, honey. I need you,” he rasped. Then, with paired thrusts, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and moved his hips against hers until she had no choice but to yield to the joyful onslaught
This time Mark was the epitome of control, the masterful lover he had wanted to be. Time and again he brought her to the edge of insanity, only to pull her back and temper her passion until he was ready to lead her onward once more. He seemed determined to show her a new world of divine plateaus, each one higher and hotter than the last, each one mind-bending. Even her strained pleas for release couldn't dent his purpose. He brought her out of her shellâpermanentlyâdemolishing the last shreds of her cocoon, turning her not into an elusive butterfly but the very tigress he'd claimed her to be. She responded to him with wild abandon, engulfed in the rapture of love.
Finally she gasped and cried out, then clung to him while her body was seized by endless spasms. Only then did Mark allow for his own release, joining her in explosive ecstasy, exulting with her at that topmost plateau of gratification before slowly, reluctantly returning to earth.
Deanna lay suspended in a state of near shock. She'd never in her life experienced anything as powerful as the
quakes that surged more quietly now between her body and Mark's and back. The force had been the intimate declaration of two people united in every possible sense. It had been a magnificent moment, a moment far beyond fantasy, a moment that seemed the ultimate justification of her existence. In that moment's explosion she and Mark had produced something far more than the simple sum of their parts. Should she never experience it again, Deanna knew its remembered glory would always be with her.
“What is it, Deanna?” She heard Mark's worried murmur and opened her eyes with a jolt to find them flooded with tears.
Smiling, she buried her face against his chest when he rolled from her onto his side. “It was so beautiful,” she whispered breathlessly. “So very beautiful.”
Untrusting of his own voice, Mark kissed the wetness from her cheeks and held her tightly. He spoke only when she had quieted. “Well ⦠what do you think?” he asked, releasing her only far enough to view her face.
“About what?”
“Breakfast. You've been such a, uh, smashing success at this, are you up for taking a crack at eggs?”
“That's not the issue,” she countered pertly.
“No?”
“No. The issue is whether you're up for eating the eggs I crack!”
Â
They'd set the tone for the morning, indeed, for the entire day. Fortunately, the eggs he ordered were scrambled, and with Mark calling the shots over her shoulder she managed to turn them out moist onto waiting plates. He'd taken care of the restâjuice and country ham, cornbread and coffeeâbut she felt pleased nonetheless and eager to tackle more another time.
They spent the better part of the day working together
around the house, Mark at the helm, Deanna his ready assistant. He conscientiously gave her her share of work, patiently demonstrating each particular chore, allowing for her mistakes, beaming his pride when she succeeded.
“I don't know how you've done without my help all these years,” she mocked herself, able to do so now that she felt a growing self-confidence. They'd just finished clearing the front path of the scattering of loose stones washed down by the rain. And before that they'd painted a sealer on the fresh pine of the raised rear deck. “To think that my skills have been wasted for so long!” she exclaimed.
The day had grown progressively warmer. In the mid-afternoon heat Deanna mopped perspiration from beneath the heavy fall of hair on her neck. Instead of the sweater she'd arrived in she wore another of Mark's shirts, a lightweight short-sleeved job which she had rakishly knotted just above her waist.
As for Mark, he'd long since shucked his shirt completely. His torso gleamed beneath its damp sheen of sweat. Unable to resist what was to her true masculinity, she reached out and stroked the hard-corded curve of his shoulder.
“What was
that
for?” he growled, drawing her flush against him. His fingers deftly infiltrated her waistband and pressed insistently at the small of her back until she felt the steel of his thighs against her own.
“Just feeling my oats,” she teased.
“
Your
oats? Or
my
shoulder?”
“Same difference. I would never have dared to just reach out and touch a man like that before.”
“You never touched Larry that way?”
She stiffened and tried to move, but he held her firmly. “That's unfair, Mark.”
“It's not unfair. Simply a question. You've got to learn not to feel uncomfortable referring to Larry. What you
had with him through nine years of marriage was something pretty special. What we've got is pretty special, too, but as different from that as night from day. That our relationship is a more passionate one is no reflection on the quality of your marriage to Larry. There are so many things he gave you that I can't begin to give. But I like to feel that I give you something he never did.”
“You do,” she whispered, eyes glued to the strong features above her. “You must know that by now.”
His slanted grin touched her heart. “I guess I need that reassurance once in a while.”
To further reassure him she leaned forward to kiss his chest, drawing moist patterns with her tongue around one tiny raised nub. Her hands sampled the damp smoothness at his sides, running up and down their naked length until he begged for mercy.
“I was wrong, Deanna.
You're
the insatiable one around here!” he declared in a wicked drawl. With trembling arms he set her back, then grabbed her hand and led her forward. “Come on. Let's take a walk! There's a super brook not far from here.”
He led her carefully through the forest, holding branches out of her way, weaving their way between trees, passing over and around low-growing ferns and grasses on a path she couldn't for the life of her see. Her curiosity grew as they walked on, saying nothing to each other because the beauty of the idyllic scene said it all on its own. As had been the case the night before, he knew his way perfectly. And as had been the case the night before, the destination was well worth the trek.
Deanna found herself at the most beautiful, most secluded spot she'd ever seen. Even more than the clearing back at the house, this setting moved her. It was pure and untouched.
Her eyes widened to take in the rich greenery all about, the dance of sun and the whisper of wind through
branches that reached ever upward, verdant ladders to the sky. She smelled the ripe aroma of the fall and listened to the rustle of nature's creatures in the undergrowth. But the brook had to be the central jewel in the cluster. Smooth and sparkling, its narrow span opened to a wider, deeper swirl before narrowing again and disappearing around a bend.
“It's wonderful!” Deanna breathed, only then turning her glittering gaze to Mark.
He stood close by her side, hands on his hips, enjoying her appreciation. A brilliant smile, the likes of which he gave on only very special occasions, burst out “I thought you'd like it. This has to be my favorite spot. I come here at least once per trip to sit, to think, to swim ⦔ His hands moved to the snap of his jeans.
“What are you doing?” she said in a hoarse stage whisper, and he replied in mocking kind.
“Going swimming.”
“Mark â¦?”
“Yeeees â¦?”
“We haven't got suits.”
“We don't need them. There's no one here but us and Him”âhis eyes shot heavenwardâ“and He's seen it all before.” He'd waded into the brook and submerged himself at its deepest point before Deanna realized the absurdity of her modesty, not to mention the conspiratorial whisper she'd maintained quite subconsciously. It was small solace to say she'd been driven by habit Mark was right. A bathing suit was unnecessary here.
Much as she tried, however, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious when she took off her own clothes and gingerly tested the water. Mark watched her every step, ensuring her safety as he enjoyed the view.
“Atta girl,” he crooned, extending a hand to her as she sought the footing with which he was so naturally familiar. She caught his fingers and let him tow her to the
deepest spot. Then, with the water buoying her, she wrapped her arms about his neck.
“Now this is luxury!” she cried softly, referring to the invigorating chill of the brook, but sharply aware that the interpretation she gave the term was a new one for her.
“Ummm. I'll say.” He murmured his agreement suggestively, circling her back and bringing her body into intimate contact with his.
Deanna lowered her voice playfully. “Why do I sense we're talking about different things?”
He nipped at the soft lobe of her ear. “Are we?” His hands fell lower and she began to understand. Luxury was relative. There was the world of material luxury in which she'd been born and bred, into which she'd married, in which she still lived. And there was the natural luxury of the mountains, the virgin goodness of the land that harbored them.