Starlight & Promises (20 page)

The hair on his thigh created friction against the opening of her sex through the slit in her pantalets. It soothed the ache at first. He took her nipple between his lips, nipping it and licking it through the camisole. His mouth closed over her breast, taking it into the moist warmth and gently sucking. Flames shot from her nipple to her groin. Her ache evolved into an acute, twisting pang, originating deep inside and working its way outward.

Her need grew, and Samantha wriggled to settle deeper on his leg. She
needed
firmer contact. He kept her where
he
wanted her, and the rocking sped up. The drag against her sensitive flesh turned torturous, no longer easing her ache but driving it more profoundly into the walls of her woman’s passage. Swollen and hot inside, a taut heaviness gathered in her belly until she could no longer tell pleasure from pain.

She was so hot!

Her breasts and belly flushed with heat searing to her core, spreading upward over her throat and face, and that place inside her became the hottest of all.

She was burning up!

Tension coiled in her lower abdomen, tight and hard and distinct from the tugging ache or the heat. It slid down and inward, like a shark, circling tighter and tighter, moving closer to the discomfort in her sheath. Her legs trembled. She braced her hands against his chest, pushing.

“No! Stop, Chris,” she gasped, her voice cracking, a hot, wild wanting sweeping over her. “You are frightening me.”

“Shhh.” His breath whispered across her nipple, and he rocked her even faster. “I’ll not hurt you. Relax. Let it come.”

Let what come?

He sucked hard on her breast, her nipple, matching the rhythm of her hips, and with a groan, she gave in. Her confusion fled on the wings of an explosion, a crescendo of glorious pleasure that overwhelmed her discomfort. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids. She bucked hard, and Christian finally stilled her, lowering her as deeply as she wished to go. Undulating spasms moved down her sheath, spread outward and through her limbs, leaving searing heat in their wake and melting her bones. She collapsed against his chest, burying her face in its crisp hair. Christian lowered his leg, shifting her off his thigh and holding her closely until her tremors subsided.

“Welcome to the wonder of passion, tigrina,” he breathed against her hair.

Samantha opened her eyes, blinking rapidly when her lashes brushed up against a hairy chest. She was as limp and boneless as a rag doll but warm and contented, floating in velvety water …

Hairy chest? Oh, Lord, a hairy chest!

What had she done? She was not exactly certain. She remembered water and a leg and heat, oh, so much heat, and someone lit fireworks … and … Christian! Vivid memories crashed over her. Even her toenails blushed.

What would he think of her now? She’d not imagined their game would go to such extremes. Swimming together in near nudity was scandalous enough, b-b-but what? But what they had done? Exactly what
had
they done? Perhaps if she were to close her eyes again, he would go away, or she would wake up from this embarrassing situation, safe in her London bedchamber. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You cannot hide your face all day.”

Oh, Lord!
Her cheeks flamed.

Christian cupped her chin. She peeked up through her lashes and met the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

He was laughing at her!

The flush heating her face nearly ignited her. A notion struck her like a fist to the chest. Tears filled her eyes, and her heart pounded. She dropped her lashes again, shielding her emotions.

Christian’s smile dissolved into a frown. He didn’t plan this encounter—truly he didn’t—and now he had mortified her. He turned Samantha around until her back fetched up against his chest and buried his nose in her hair, inhaled her essence. “There. Now you cannot see me. Do you feel more comfortable?”

She gulped and nodded.

Christian took a breath to slow his heartbeat. “Talk to me. Tell me what so upsets you. I assure you that what happened between us will remain our secret. I’ll not ruin your reputation.”

Samantha sniffled and made a small movement with one hand. “‘Tis not that.”

His frown deepened. “Then what?” He sensed her struggle in trying to form the words.

“I do not know what happened to me, but I feel certain it should not have.” She hid her face in her hands. “I do not, do not wish to—” Her voice choked.

“What?” His heart rate kicked up again. What so frightened her? Samantha was not one to be easily cowed. She must have some genuine concern about which he was unaware.

“… have a baby.” She forced the words out in a whisper.

Christian’s heart twisted, and he released a quick breath. “Christ, Sam. We’ve done nothing that would make a baby. Has no one ever spoken to you about relations between men and women?” He supposed her to be inexperienced and a maid, but according to Delia, the girl was twenty years old, older than he had presumed at their first meeting. And from her ardent response to his touch, he assumed
some
experience. What he’d not expected was complete ignorance. Did women still lead such insular lives? It was nearly the twentieth century. Surely she had gleaned some information from her women friends, had boyfriends, entertained suitors. However, she appeared to have as much acquaintance with her own body as she did with starting a fire. Even less. That a young woman could reach the age of twenty with no knowledge of men was dangerous and inexcusable. He wished he had known beforehand. He wouldn’t have touched her.

Yes, you would have!

Samantha said nothing for a moment; then her chest hitched with a deeply inhaled breath. “Really, Chris, ‘tis not as if I know
nothing
. In theory I know about men and what they do. I simply lack the specifics of the mechanics. Aunt Delia considered men and their … their appetites an improper topic for a lady. She said that when the time came, I would learn all I needed to know from my husband.” Her voice grew smaller. “I do not believe she was very fond of men, you know, in that way.”

The pang in his heart took him by surprise. “Sweet Jesus! So much for the modern woman. And your mother?”

“She died when I was small.”

Christian remained silent, groping for an acceptable explanation, knowing he could not, in all good conscience, allow her to feed her fears. How much could he say without overwhelming or alarming her again? He drew in a breath and plunged ahead. “I wouldn’t want to confuse you with a lengthy, scientific explanation. How much
do
you know?”

He had no need to see it; he felt her blush.

“You needn’t be embarrassed,” he said, keeping his tone quiet, reassuring, or so he hoped. “What men and women experience together should be wonderful and special, and hopefully, fulfilling. It isn’t shameful. We did nothing you should regret.”

She should have no regrets, but I should
.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

When he looked down at her face, her eyes were wide open. She still trembled. He ran his hand down her face and closed her eyelids. “Now take a few deep breaths.”

She drew in and expelled air, her chest rising and falling.

“Pretend I’m your … your mother,” Christian said, keeping his voice low. “Feel free to ask me anything. Knowledge banishes fear. Trust me. What do you want to know?”

She took a breath before speaking, and her words came out in fits and starts. “What did you do to me?”

Once again, her question rocked his senses. “Have you never touched yourself intimately?”

She tensed and shook her head. “I was tempted once, but it seemed dreadfully, dreadfully …” Even from behind her, he could see her cheeks color. “Something a lady would not consider.”

“Disabuse yourself of that notion. Though you may have been taught otherwise, touching yourself is merely a way of taking pleasure without the complications of babies. I simply showed you what you could do for yourself.”

“But what happened to me?”

“When you feel desire,” he said, “passion builds up inside you and seeks release, what men, and some women, call an orgasm. When the release comes, it brings you pleasure. You did feel pleasure, did you not?”

The tightness of her muscles relaxed. Her breathing slowed. “Indeed, but the sensation was also strange and unnerving, as if I were on a runaway horse. I had no liking of being unable to stop.”

“It’s natural to feel frightened at first because you have no knowledge of what to expect. Your trepidation will pass with experience.”

“But more than simply what we did comes later, does it not?”

He chuckled. “Indeed, a great deal more, but nothing you’ll learn from me.”

Samantha twisted her head to look up at him. “Was it pleasurable for you?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course I enjoyed it, too.”

“I once heard a man must, must—”

“Spill his seed?” Christian gave her an amused smile. “A rather quaint euphemism. Apt but not necessarily true, though some men believe it to be so. Making love involves not only taking pleasure but giving it. I received my pleasure from watching yours.”

She gasped, and her face reddened. “You watched me?”

His smile widened into a grin. “You’re beautiful in your passion.”

Her head moved from side to side, as though denying his words. “We are not wed. I should not enjoy such intimacies. Does that not make me a wanton? Nice ladies, proper ladies, do not act as I did.”

The muscles in Christian’s jaw flexed. “You’re not wanton,” he said harshly, “merely naturally passionate. And you’re a fine,
proper
lady, even when you lose control.” He exhaled, wondering why he had initiated this conversation. It was going far beyond what he’d envisioned. “Have I answered all your questions?” He should have known from experience that Samantha never ran out of questions.

“When you held me, I felt your … your male part against me.”

“It’s a penis or a phallus,” he said flatly. “Call it what it is. It has a few cruder names, but you have no need to know them.”

“Your p-penis against me, it felt larger than I expected it to be, larger than those in the pictures of Greek and Roman statues, and somehow, I do suspect it would not fit under a fig leaf.”

A laugh exploded from his chest. Samantha was such a delightful mixture of innocence and audacity. “No, I don’t expect it would. When a man becomes passionate, his penis becomes larger and harder.”

“I do not believe I understand.” Confusion ran through her words.

“It’s similar to blowing up a balloon.”

“Oh!” Her forefinger headed for her mouth. He caught it and bit her fingertip, throwing an exasperated look at the ragged nail.
Great, now I’ve given her the notion an erect cock looks like an inflated balloon!

“How much larger?” she asked after she retrieved her finger from his grasp.

At her words, blood filled his groin, and he had no wish to frighten her. Christian paused before saying, “I believe that question is one I have no business answering.” The first time a virgin saw an erection, the sight was shocking enough. At this moment, size, his or any man’s, was an issue about which Samantha had no reason to concern herself. “Have I answered all your questions now?” he asked again.

“One more.” When he nodded, she said, “May we do it again?”

He lifted his eyebrows, and she threw a mischievous grin over her shoulder.

Not on your life!

“No. Don’t be greedy. Were I obliged to go through that again, you would learn a great deal more than you have a need to know.”

She shifted away from him. A stillness came over her, a steeliness in her posture. “Learn? A need to know? Do you feel I am in need of a tutor? If that was your intention, I assure you that I require no lessons. Simply because I have questions …”

He shook his head. “No, Sam. I’m no tutor, not yours at any rate. That wasn’t my intention.”

“If you are not saying that merely to placate me, then only one question remains, and I will bother you no longer. Why
did
you do it?”

Christian expelled a breath. “Bloody hell, I have no idea. The water is warm and silky, the sun hot, the sky blue. I knew you would like it, and it pleased me to give you pleasure.”
I did it because I’m hornier than a rooster in a henhouse, and I have no self-control!

He took a step closer, gaining his composure if not completely suppressing his ever-present arousal, and slapped her on the bottom. “Sojourn over.”

Hurt supplanted indignation on her face. “First a lesson, then a sojourn? Is that all this was to you, a sojourn?”

No, do not say what you want to say!
“Please do not let us quarrel now. Climb out of the pool and pull on your clothes. We have a lengthy trip back to the ship.”