M. Donice Byrd - The Warner Saga (7 page)

A breathless gasp escaped her lips as he sought out her breast through the thin cotton of her bodice. She was drowning, dying the most beautiful death imaginable.

Theirs was a deep welcoming kiss, their tongues exploring in a ballet of passion until Blake pulled away.

“Open your eyes and look at me, Meredith.” Her smoky eyes fluttered to a hooded, love-intoxicated position. “If we make love, don’t read any unspoken promises into it. I’m not going to ask you to run away
with me. And after I take care of my business tomorrow, I’m going home and we’ll never see each other again.”

With a feeling of chagrin, he watched as his words penetrated her mind. The desire was slowly replaced by an unreadable emotion before she lowered her eyes.

“Women like me live very staid, predictable lives. Sometimes a fond memory helps us get through the bad times. I can think of a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t go into the bedroom with you.”

“Perhaps you should send me out to the barn after all,” he interrupted.

She brought her hand up to his chest and rested her head upon his shoulder. “Please stay with me. I know this is just for one night—I never thought otherwise—but I know what my future holds and I know I’ll never get another opportunity to be with someone like you again.”

“Someone like me?”

Her head lifted and she smiled at him. “Someone who shaves regularly and bathes regularly and doesn’t spend his days ankle-deep in mud and manure.” She inhaled deeply. “Did I mention that you smell like Christmas and springtime rain all mixed up together?”

Meredith tried to justify why she wanted him to stay. Was it the whiskey? She felt the strange dizziness that came from it but didn’t believe her judgment was skewed. With no prospects of marriage in her future, she did not want to lose the only opportunity she might ever have to be with a man.
To be with this man.

He cupped her face with his large hands and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “Close the door while I take care of the lanterns.”

Meredith felt a moment’s reluctance before letting him go. As she watched him cross the room, she felt weak and slightly disoriented as if he took a part of her with him when he broke contact.

He blew down the chimney of the first lantern, then looked up and saw her staring at him. Humor lit his eyes. “Meredith…”

“Hmmm?”

“The door, my treasure.”

A brief second pass before she comprehended his words. Slight color came to her cheeks as she jarred herself into action. She kicked the wooden block propping the door out of the way and pulled the door closed. By rote, her hand automatically went to the bolt and slid it into place. Before turning around, Meredith tried to steel herself from unwanted emotions. What she needed to do, she told herself, was keep an objective perspective. No more getting carried away.

No sooner had she made that resolution than she
turned around, saw him and forgot it.

The handsome stranger stood next to her bedroom door, the sole lit lantern in hand, its wick turned low. For a moment she couldn’t move. He held out his hand to her. She stepped closer, her eyes unable to meet his. Her heart pounded as she entered her bedroom ahead of him and she jumped when he closed the bedroom door. The room never felt so small.

“Nervous?” he asked standing behind her now as he placed the light on her bureau. She stared at the bed and didn’t move after her eyes fell upon it.

She nodded. “A little,” she said knowing that she should admit she let him believe she was married when she was not. Criminy, if he thought she had a husband then he didn’t know she had never been with a man before.  But she didn’t want him to know. If he did, he might have qualms about taking what she offered.  

His caressing hand followed the curve of her shoulder. He squeezed lightly. “I’m sure we can make you forget your nervousness.”

He stroked her hair, and then moved it aside to get at the buttons down the back of her dress. He had barely gotten the first button undone when he suddenly swore.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have my sheath with me.”

“Your what?”

“Never mind.
I’ll just pull out.”

Meredith didn’t understand what he meant but any question she might ask was lost when he began kissing the nape of her neck. His hands moved deftly from one button to the next until he laid open the dress and slid it from her shoulders. It dropped to the ground in a billowing circle and she bent to pick it up.

“Leave it.”

When she straightened, he sensed her rigidity and wondered if she had been picking it up to cover herself. He turned her in his arms and began kissing her again.

Her mouth opened eagerly anticipating his invasion. When she moved to mold her body against his, she found his hand on the closure of her corset. A moment later it fell away and his hands slipped under her chemisette. She sucked her breath as she felt his warm hands on her skin, skimming lightly upwards, lifting the flimsy garment. It touched off a strange heat that started in the core of her, radiating and throbbing with need. She never imagined a touch could feel so good and wondered how his skin would feel. Would her touch incite the same longing in him?

Her fingers adroitly traveled from one button to the next but froze about halfway down when his hands
glided over her breasts. She savored this short-lived touch, only realizing it had ended when he lifted the chemisette over her head.

Her eyes slowly opened, meeting smoldering sapphire eyes. Unspoken words passed in that moment. He was asking her one last time if she wanted to stop before they went further.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt. In a mimicking gesture, she put her hands on his chest, parting the shirt as her hands explored the flat of his stomach and v-ing toward his shoulders.

“Meredith,” he rasped in a hoarse whisper when her cool fingertips grazed his taut, dark nipples. It sounded like a desperate plea. For the first time in her life she felt she held a man in her power but when he put his lips to her earlobe, she found he held the same power over her as he kissed her lightly, teasingly, his breath warm and erotic to her ear and neck.

She slid the shirt over his shoulders hindering the movement of his arms until he shrugged out of the garment completely. Coming up on her toes, her mouth sought a path from the hollow of his throat toward his jaw, alternately planting kisses and flicking her tongue as her arms extended around his neck pulling him down to her.

He buried his fingers in her hair at her temple and carefully ran them through her hair to the end, feeling the curve of her back through its silky texture. He explored lower until his hand cupped her round, firm bottom. There was a tug on the string at her waist and her petticoat fell. There was another tug at string at her waist but when the knot did not give, there was a rending of material.

Meredith began to protest his disregard for her clothes but doubted he would even hear her. Instead she reached for his pants. Her hands trembled slightly as she unbuckled the belt and reached her fingers into his waistband. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the fly apart sending the buttons flying.

Prepared to run if necessary, Meredith watched for his reaction. A quirked brow replaced his surprise. There seemed to be a menace in the way he kept his eyes locked on her as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

She could see the contours of his muscles defined by shadows in the dim golden light. She wanted to touch him, feel the texture of his skin, the planes and hollows of his body. Since she doubted she would ever be with a man again, she refused to let her fears keep her from experiencing every nuance of the encounter.

Her hands moved over her hips pushing the torn undergarments to the floor. As Meredith stepped out of it, Blake stood and pushed his pants over his hips also.

She’d lost her modesty, Blake observed, noting the way she made no move to cover herself. Unlike most of the women he bedded, timid creatures who wanted to make love half-dressed or under a mound of bedcovers in a pitch black room, she stood as unabashedly before him as she had fully clothed. He suspected he would remember this little hellion for years.

His eyes lingered on her youthful breasts watching the rise and fall of her heightened breathing. The sight of her pale rose nipples drawn taut made his breath catch in his throat. His gaze drifted slowly down her trim torso taking in the gentle curve of her hips and the unmarred smoothness of her skin. When his eyes fell on the triangle of hair at the juncture of her legs, his loins ached with desire.

Moving to the bed, Meredith neatly folded down the covers.  Turning down the bedding was as much a stall as a condemned man asking for a smoke despite the fact that he’d never touched tobacco before. To Blake, however, her movements seemed almost ritualistic.

When she straightened up, she found he had silently stepped up behind her. His downy stroke began at her shoulders, glided in a slow, warm caress down the outside of her arms to her fingertips, then back up the inside. Gooseflesh rose on her arms causing an involuntary shudder.

He spanned her tiny waist with his hands, his fingers splayed as his hand moved to the flat of her stomach moving slowly upwards. When his caress migrated to her breast, Meredith swayed, making contact with the length of him. A sound of pleasure rose in his throat at the slight touch. The arm still at her waist tightened, holding her there. His mouth sought the soft flesh of her neck but he soon realized that would not sate his hunger any longer.

He turned her in his arms and lowered her to the
bed. The mattress sagged under their weight.

His lips sought her breast immediately. Her breath quickened and became raspy. For a moment she was so enthralled by his gentle suckling of her nipple, she didn’t move. As his tongue danced tiny circles around the firm bud, her back arched, his arms encircled her drawing her closer.

Her moment of passiveness ebbed and was replaced by a combination of carnal curiosity and a desire to touch him. His body felt hard in comparison to hers, his muscles were firm even at rest and she could feel the outline of each through his hair-sprinkled skin.

Her hand brushed against his nipple inadvertently. At his intake of breath, she wiggled further under him and sought it with her mouth intent on finding out if it gave him as much pleasure as it did her.

Blake rolled, taking her with him and she suddenly found herself on top. Her mouth slanted down on his. She captured his lower lip in her teeth and tugged playfully as her tongue stroked the line of his lip. Holding his head between her hands, she kissed his eyes shut. She ran her fingers down his throat, curling her fingers slightly so her nails continued the light tracery along his chest, intentionally scraping over his nipple before snaking her hand down his side. When she reached his hipbone he flinched and she knew she’d found a ticklish spot. She raised her head and watched his reaction as she ran her hand over the spot again.

Blake didn’t like the mischief he saw in her when he opened his eyes after the second incident and a moment later, he had her on her back again, her arms held in one of his large hands, pinioned above her head.

“None of that,” he chided and brought his free hand to the corresponding location on her body. She, too, twitched at the sensation. But rather than linger, his knees moved between hers and his hand eased between her legs.

In an involuntary motion, she tried to close her legs which ended when his fingers slipped into the moist folds and Meredith suddenly found her body going limp.

There could be no mistaking her long, low sound of pleasure as he made tiny massaging circles with his finger upon the sensitive bud he found there. Feeling her resistance wane, he maneuvered his body lower until he replaced his hand with his mouth.

At first repulsed, Meredith rose up on her forearms and tried to move away.

“Blake?” It was more of a plea than a question.

He lifted his eyes to hers but did not stop until she protested again. He rose up on his elbows. There were not many women who would let him do what he was doing to her. It was disgusting, they thought, and
they would not allow it.

But her protest surprised him. Until that moment, she had been completely pliable to his wishes, eager, in fact. Perhaps her husband had never done this to her. He found a certain pleasure in knowing he could be the first to show her oral pleasure. On some level, it was almost like taking her virginity – an act he refused to engage in as there was a certain moral obligation that came with taking a woman’s innocence.

“Let me,” he crooned. “Your nectar is as sweet to me as honey is to a bee. If not for your own pleasure, let me for mine.” The poetic babble he used when he seduced women poured out his mouth. But this night, surprisingly, it wasn’t his pleasure that prompted him – contrary to what he said, he longed to be the man to show her this way of loving.

She hesitated only a moment before she acquiesced. He had been confident she would agree since
she had been conscientious of his pleasure as much as he had been conscientious of hers – not like so many women who just lay on their backs too timid to move.

Meredith sunk into the pillows, keeping her eyes on him as if she didn’t trust him, even as his tongue found the swollen pleasure point hidden in the folds of her womanhood. He had barely begun, when he stopped.