Passionate Pursuit (8 page)

She kept fighting an urge to stroke his lips and smooth back his windblown hair, repeatedly lifting her hand, then pausing at what she was about to do. Rather than touch him, she brushed her skirt even though she’d swept crumbs away earlier. He was the same, reaching for her tresses only to stop and push back his hair instead.

Once their food had run out, she couldn’t have eaten another bite, her appetite sated, but not her desire. She was taut with need.

Tomás cleared his throat. “Had enough?”

Never. She would always desire him. “My belly should be quiet for the rest of the day. You?”

“Filled to bursting.” He sagged to the blanket, arm pillowing his head, and took her in.

A pulse beat hard in Beatriz’s throat. Surely, he could see her desire, as great as his, his features flooded with yearning, eyes hooded.

She’d never faced a moment such as this with another friend. Lightheaded, she tried to control herself. “Would you like me to read to you now?”

“If you want.”

What she wanted had nothing to do with El Cid’s tale. She opened the book to the page where they left off. Her hands trembled, her hunger for him spiking again, growing unruly. She cleared her throat and began to read, not hearing anything she said. Blood kept rushing in her ears, her pulse pounding loudly.

Somehow, she reached the end of the page and turned to the next.

Tomás captured a tress.

His touch registered in her core. Stoically, she resumed reading. He wound her lock around his fingers. Pretending not to notice, she pressed on.

So did he, winding her hair around his hand, easing her closer.

She dropped the book and fit her mouth to his.

Growling, he drove his fingers through her hair.

Only death would pull her away.

With his face cradled in her hands, she drew her thumbs over his bristly cheeks and parted her lips to his, demanding he fill her.

Tomás speared his tongue inside. She suckled him greedily, her mouth pressed so firmly to his, her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She suffered the pain without complaint, angling her head to the right and left, trying to get closer, unable to do so.

He made an uncivilized noise, slightly feral, decidedly base.

Excitement made her hot. Yearning made her weak.

He rolled them over. She squealed.

Once on top, he muffled whatever sounds she made with his impassioned kiss. She rested her leg on his and held him tightly so he couldn’t get away. He cupped her breast as he had in his study, though bolder now, squeezing, dragging his thumb over her nipple.

A pleasant ache registered between her thighs.

He ground his hips against hers, his shaft thick, hard, insistent, everything she required and couldn’t have.

Unsettled, she released him and pulled her mouth free before they lay together and she brought him scandal or shame. Tears stung her eyes.

Concern tightened his features. “You have nothing to fear.”

“We have everything to fear.”

“No. Listen to me. I would never compromise your virginity. I promise you.”

She didn’t understand. “What then? We kiss as we have been until we drive ourselves mad?”

“Hardly.” His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

She frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Never.” He grew serious. “We can enjoy each other without regret.”

Only if they were married.

Her hope soared and crashed as quickly. He could never wed her. Even if he were reckless enough to suggest such a thing, she wasn’t free to wed him. Surely, he meant something else. “What are you talking about?”

“If I touch you with naught but my lips, tongue, and hands, nothing untoward will happen.” He rested his palm on her mound.

Heat shot to her face, though not from shame. Exquisite feelings barreled through her, overwhelming need she hadn’t known until now. Longing so rich she couldn’t imagine how she’d survived without it. “What a genius you are. I want to do the same with you.” She touched his rigid shaft.

Tomás trembled. “Of course—wait. You do know what this involves, no?”

“You pleasure me with your hands, mouth, and tongue and I do the same to you. I had no idea such a thing was possible.”

“Most women refuse to allow such things.”

“I consider them fools.”

“Remove your clothes.” He tugged her to a sitting position and pulled up his shirt.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

She glanced over both shoulders. “What if someone comes upon us?”

“No one will. All the servants’ tasks keep them far from this spot. Nuncio knows better than to approach, unless he wants me to toss him off the hill.” Tomás wiggled his eyebrows. “This is what friends do for each other.”

Beatriz giggled, not caring how foolish she sounded. No one could hear or see how she behaved. The Church and society would certainly condemn her for the coming pleasure, calling her vulgar. She had too little time to spend with Tomás to worry about decency. Her future held naught but loneliness. For these few moments, she wanted him to desire, pleasure, and love her beyond belief.

After pulling off her shoes, stockings, and tunic, she set to work on the endless laces on her gown.

Tomás piled boots and clothes nearby.

She stilled at his male beauty. Smooth bronze skin taut with youth, his muscles superbly defined. His biceps spoke of a man who’d known hard physical labor for years on end. His tiny nipples were dark brown, resembling newly tilled earth, a faint scar near the right one, another on his firm belly below his navel.

Wanting to touch every part of him and not knowing where to begin, she simply gaped.

He rested his hand on her thigh. “Are you pleased?”

His rigid member jutted from a thatch of brown curls, the crown plump and reddened with passion, the shaft thick with lust. Veins traveled up the magnificent column, each so prominent she wanted to touch and lick them.

She nodded. “Exceedingly pleased.”

“Good. Do the rest of your clothes come off, or do I only guess at your beauty?”

Laughing, she plucked her laces. “Can you help me with the rest of these?”

Together, they pulled the gown and chemise off, baring her to him.

Pleasure radiated from Tomás, widening his smile, quickening his breath. Her nipples constricted at his arousal. More moisture bathed the folds between her legs, proving how much she wanted this.

No other man had seen her naked. She’d always imagined feeling timid, shamed, repulsed at the prospect.

Not with Tomás. Her desire for him made her bold. She melted into his arms and kissed him first, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He groaned and suckled her greedily.

They sagged to the blanket, Tomás on top, his hand sweeping over her nudity, Beatriz touching his, their musk mingling and scenting the air. She traced the small scar near his nipple, circled his navel, and stroked the thick thatch on his groin.

On a wild growl, he tore his mouth from hers. Before she could ask why, he slipped down and latched on to her nipple, suckling and tonguing the tip. Heat and desire sped through her, astonishing in its power. She’d never experienced such passion and excitement, or being so sensitive to touch.

He fastened his mouth on her other nipple, running his tongue over the rosy halo, lapping the tip lazily before he returned to the first one. Breathless, she pushed her fingers through his hair, soft as she’d hoped, and kept him to her.

He suckled hard, which she liked, and slipped his hand down her torso. She quivered. When he reached the dark curls between her legs, she parted her thighs, inviting him to explore.

A low groan poured from him, signaling what sounded like pleasure. He cupped her mound possessively and stroked her small nub, outrageously susceptible to his touch.

A lifetime of carnal sin wouldn’t have prepared Beatriz for the feeling he’d generated within her… sweet tension that nagged and teased, unlike anything she’d believed possible. Unable to resist, she alternately pushed into him, then tried to pull away when the delight grew too intense.

He settled the matter by ending their kiss and crawling between her legs. “Bend your knees and push your hips up.”

Her cheeks stung, again from elation not embarrassment.

The moment she lifted her buttocks he slipped his hands beneath them and settled his mouth on her folds, tonguing them, her opening, and erect nub.

Reckless with need, she pushed closer.

Her wantonness seemed to excite him further. He suckled her kernel, ran his fingers down the furrow between her cheeks, and stroked her tightest opening.

She craved more, helpless against her desire.

He worked her well, alternately licking, suckling, and tonguing her nub, giving her no rest. An inner frenzy gathered strength, wanting to break free.

In order to prolong these moments, she fought the delicious tension building inside.

Tomás suckled harder, faster, stroking her other opening, remaining there, tempting and teasing her vulnerable flesh.

Beatriz lost control, the world spinning too fast for her to keep up. She gripped his shoulders needing an anchor against what was happening. Breathing proved hard, speech impossible, her limbs tensed, then trembled. A pulse ticked within her sheath.

She shuddered.

Surprising warmth filled her. Heat so comforting and needed she never wanted to feel anything else.

Tomás licked her nub one last time. She thrashed wildly.

He leaned up and smiled. “Will you live?”

She laughed, surprised she could, considering how spent she was. “I fear not.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I need this again and again.”

“Good. Wait. Have you forgotten me?” He gave her a withering look. “You have. And here I thought you were my friend.”

Poor man. “I shall tend to you before you dissolve into tears.”

“Before I what?”

She muffled her yawn with her hand. “Very well.” Fighting fatigue, she pushed up and let excitement rule. “Weep all you want.” She put her hands on his chest.

“What? Hold on. What are you doing?”

“This.” She shoved.

Taken off guard, Tomás toppled over, arms shooting out to catch himself. The hair in his pits was dark and silky, surely scented with his musk. Crazed with need, she crawled to his side. “Spread your legs.” She ran her fingertips up his hairy thigh.

He groaned.

She smiled. “Bend your knees.”

“Tell me why first.”

“Do you have so little faith in me?”

“An untried virgin?” He placed his hand over his shaft and sac. “I might pay dearly for any mistake you make.”

“Very well, I shall nap.” She yawned loudly and crawled away.

He grabbed her ankle. “Get back here.”

“Sí, my lord.” She returned to his side. “One day I may tell you a fantasy I have regarding you, with me as the conquered maiden.”

“Sounds as though you made me a warrior.”

“What else?”

He smiled. “Is this the way you treat a battle-weary soldier and friend, making him wait endlessly for pleasure?”

In answer, she cupped his sac, fascinated with the male power it represented, the ruddy skin lightly furred.

He groaned softly.

Lover’s music that thrilled, increasing her boundless joy, encouraging her to press her face to the pelt above his shaft. He smelled exactly as she’d hoped, clean, musky, and completely masculine, intensifying her desire.

After her first lick on his rigid column, she traced the veins with her tongue. He pushed toward her, murmuring Arabic words that sounded like praise.

She never wanted to do anything except give him pleasure. Until they’d met, she hadn’t believed a man like him existed. He was generous, kind, playful. She envied the woman who would capture his heart, and wished she could stop time so he could be hers for eternity.

A foolish and sad notion.

She had nothing more than these few moments and needed to make them count for the dark days ahead.

She lapped his crown, pausing frequently to gauge his reaction. He whispered something she couldn’t hear. She grew bolder, flicking her tongue over the entire head, at last reaching the back. He stiffened and made a passionate sound.

She’d found the spot that pleased him most, paying great attention to it, then brushed his sac lightly.

He shouted and a bird took wing.

Tomás would have no escape from her. She licked his shaft fully, liking its faint saltiness, the same as the moisture that escaped the small opening in the crown. He made pleasant rather than uncivilized noises. That wouldn’t do. She wanted him as wild and helpless as she’d been when he was between her legs.

With one hand fondling his sac, she lifted his member and took him in her mouth.

He bellowed heartily, pushing himself toward her.

Although Beatriz was untried with men, she sensed he wanted her to take his entire shaft inside her mouth, mirroring what her sheath would do. How could she not? He hadn’t forced her as most nobles would have done. He offered to protect her virginity, treating her with kindness and respect.

As a friend would.

Tomás was already far more to her. She had to give him her best.

She eased his shaft as deeply into her mouth as she could, then took still more, not content until she had nearly all his length inside.

New sounds poured from him, similar to when they’d kissed, only these were more spirited. Encouraged, she allowed his shaft to slip from her mouth except for the crown. Holding it between her lips, she licked his most sensitive area.

He cried out repeatedly, each louder than the last.

She took his sex within her mouth and ran her thumbnail over his sac.

Explosive noises burst from him.

She tempted and teased as he’d done with her, pacing herself so he wouldn’t reach the end for minutes, perhaps hours. Given her innocence in these matters, she had no idea how long a man could last.

Perspiration bathed his face, throat, and chest. His features had twisted into what looked like anguish…or pleasure so intense he found the feelings impossible to bear.

His shaft grew harder and thicker. Tirelessly, she glided her tongue over his member, increasing her pace, then pausing, not allowing him to know what her next move would be.