Secrets of Sin (16 page)

He’d have just a few minutes to cool off in the sea, but he hoped that would be enough for him.

Emiline found it a bit strange that he’d kiss her just once again, the gentle, intimate caress of his fingers at her center notwithstanding. When she heard him run toward the sea and a quick splash after that, she knew he was in the water, while something was still…well, stuck in her. Not that she minded, it was a very delicious feeling, knowing that he’d again placed something in her, never mind that it was not where he’d put those “treasures” the day before. It was rather delicious to know that he made sure she thought of him while he was gone. Although she’d have thought of him enough, being blindfolded and tied on top of that, kneeling there and waiting for his return. Even though—

Holy mother of…What had he done to her! She was suddenly on fire, burning up from the inside out. Her rectum seemed to tighten and expand all at the same time, to escape and to snuggle closer to that…that
thing
in her.

Merciful…Her sensitive nub was throbbing as well. She remembered he’d brushed his fingers over it just before he told her not to move and then had run off.

She wanted to wiggle, to get more comfortable, but each motion brought on the sensations even more. What was happening to her? She shouldn’t move, she knew, he’d told her not to move, but she couldn’t help it, it was…she was…

Then the stinging, burning sensation changed and it tickled through her body. Emiline had to suppress a moan as that terrible, wonderful feeling spread through her. Her whole body was suddenly pulsating with it, as if her skin, her muscles, her bones had become one big throbbing organ. She still burned, but with passion now, hot and fiery and so strong she thought she was going to drown in it. And she’d willingly drown; it was the most exquisite feeling she’d ever experienced.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and joy burst through her with the force of a hurricane. That hot, pulsing fire left her body screaming for release, only she knew she wouldn’t find any. Not yet. Not just because her arms were bound and she was not supposed to move, but because…

Pleasure is not yours to take but mine to give.
His words rang in her ears as she fought against wave after wave of the purest, most sublime state of lust she’d ever been in.

She heard herself moan at the fierce gush of arousal that pumped angrily out of her. She knew she was so hot, so ready, so primed that she’d just need a brush or maybe two and she’d find a short, temporary relief, but she mustn’t…mustn’t move…he’d know…he’d probably see…

Her ability to think coherently started to dissolve. But she hung on to her sanity by a thread. Soon he’d be back, she knew…she hoped…Another moan and she licked her lips, breathing heavily now…

“Are you wet for me, Lily?”

She groaned but couldn’t reply. Not with words, anyway.

His knees pressed against the inside of her thighs. The feel, the taste, the scent of him mingled with the salty breath of the sea on his body. Her famished senses soaked it all up. His arms wrapped around her. He was cool and wet. He rubbed salt water on her with his body. The droplets would probably evaporate in seconds as hot as she felt.

He bent her back in his arms and buried his face between her breasts as he cupped her backside. His fingers dug deep. Sucking at the tip of one breast, he shoved her up his thighs until her core was flush with his pulsating hard flesh. Her entire body responded, recognizing him, reacting with unmitigated need.

He found her drenched core, his fingers gliding over her folds in the smoothest, lightest touch. The shriek she let out instantly changed into a low moan from deep in her throat.

“Yes.” He almost hissed the word. “You are wet. Goodness, how wet you are.” His voice had degenerated. It was barely more than a sensual rasp now. She gasped at the anticipation in his voice. She could hear the triumph in it also.

“Now I’m going to take you, and you are going to come. With every long, hard thrust you’ll come. I’ll make you fly, Lily.” She moaned at his outspokenness but couldn’t wait for him to slake her burning need.

He shoved his rigid flesh into her fast. His arms slung around her, between her sides and elbows, then over her shoulder blades. The soreness in her shoulder she’d felt before was but a silent tingle now. His fingers dug deep into her shoulders from behind, while her secret muscles worked at him, tried to accommodate being stretched so unexpectedly.

Emiline could feel her nether muscles flutter and constrict around him some more. It was just as he’d said. Golden sparks flew before her eyes, blinding her in the artificial, complete darkness she was in. Her orgasm hit hard, and all she could do was give herself up to it, up to him.

She sobbed when he retreated, but he was in her again, and she saw lightning cut her mind to pieces. Her bones became jelly; she felt as if she were floating in a cocoon of thick, sticky syrup.

Another hammering climax racked her body. She didn’t think that unrelenting passion he’d created could ever diminish. She still wanted more. She couldn’t get enough.

With his next thrust, her whole body caught fire. The sparks singed her skin and danced before her inner eye. Like a shell shot out of a cannon she flew, up, up, high into the sky toward the blinding, golden disk of the sun.

His word was good. He’d delivered promptly.

That was the first thought Emiline could actually grasp when she had floated back into her body.

She lay on her side, her head higher than the rest of her body. She was no longer restrained. She blinked her eyes open with deliberate slowness. She didn’t think she could do anything quick at this point, anyway.

Emiline saw her hand. Fingers splayed on his naked chest. Her head rested on his shoulder.

Even though his skin was tanned, it was still somewhat lighter than hers. The contrast was striking. What had he said? She’d been incapable of replying then. He’d always loved marveling in the contrast in their coloring. She’d always loved that too.

Long fingers ran through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. She’d always loved when he did that. He’d loosened it, probably when he’d removed the blindfold and ties.

His hand left her scalp and came to lie on the small of her back. He brought his other arm up and captured a few curly strands in his hand. He splayed them over his stomach.

He’d always had a penchant for her hair, for her wild curls that no one could tame. She’d been unhappy with her hair—until she’d met him. Already the way he looked at her chocolate-golden mane was enchanting. His playing with separate strands of it was enthralling. He’d take a mass of her hair, bring it up to his nose, and inhale deeply; she remembered that also. He’d always been completely captivated by her hair. Now that she thought about it, she’d loved that too.

The fingers of his other hand caressed the small of her back with idle, languid movements. He didn’t speak, just petted and caressed her, placing soft, tender kisses on the crown of her head.

Drawing her leg up, she let it rest on his thighs. It was too much effort to disentangle the other one from his legs. She felt a smile flit across her face and get stuck there. Snuggling closer to him, she sighed. She felt indolent. And very contented.

Bending her neck, she looked up at him. He’d been watching her, and now that she’d made eye contact with him, he smiled too. It emphasized his delicately curved cheekbones. She saw her reflection in his eyes, those eyes the color of translucent, crystalline lime green draped around amber in the center. Full lips. Straight, elegant nose. Delicate cheekbones. Soft chin. He’d always looked much too
beautiful
for a man.

His lids lowered and he bent his head to her, stroking his tongue between her lips with exquisite gentleness. Emiline opened for him, welcoming him. Their kiss was unhurried but thorough. His tongue slipped between her lips, swirling around her own, tempting her to pursue it back between his teeth. His hand was moving with easy slowness across her back.

“How do you feel?” His breath tickled her still-wet lips.

“Lazy,” she replied, wincing at hearing her voice as strained as it was. But the next moment she felt proud of it. It was a reminder of the ecstasy he’d given her.

She brought her mouth closer to his again for another one of those wonderful, languorous kisses. Emiline had always loved his kisses, no matter what kind. Heated and famished or slow and deliberate, they were all superb.

But his hand cupped her cheek and he broke their kiss much too soon. “Really?”

She nodded, snuggling even closer, burying her nose between his neck and shoulder, inhaling deep. Lilac poppies and pepper—she’d always loved that contradiction in his natural scent—with the faint trace of salt. Not sea salt but his sweat. Something deeply savage in her responded to that scent, and her tongue snaked out to taste him. She moaned, his fragrance sending a shivering echo of what she’d just experienced through her.

Finally, she found the strength to brace herself on her elbow, head resting against her fist, and brought her other hand up to let her fingers trace the contours of his chin, the outline of his lips. One corner of his mouth kicked up and his eyes sparkled. That grin was probably mirrored on her lips.

“Don’t look so smug, Reinier. It was nice, I grant you that.”

“Nice, was it?” He guffawed. “Well, it took you long enough to come down again.”

“Very well, then. If you take offense at that word, how about ‘surprising’? Is that more to your taste?”

Turning his head a little more to the side, Reinier looked straight into her eyes. “I still don’t think it covers it completely, but I like it better.”

She sighed. “I have to say the last two days have been nothing but surprises.”

Emiline had said it absently, almost in jest, but something in that statement brought a tiny bit of the past with it. It must have for Reinier also, because his expression changed. His eyebrows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.

“It’s incredible how well you’ve done. How strong you are.”

Why couldn’t she fight the feeling that he hadn’t referred to their encounter just now? Spitefulness roared in her and she wanted to respond once again that she’d had no choice. But she decided to let it go.

She knew she should want to talk about it, try to make him confront what he’d done and how they’d gotten here. But as it was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think of the past or the estate. She just wanted to let go and feel. She wished they could just enjoy their bodies again. But the look in his eyes…It was so far away, maybe even a little unguarded.

“Your father taught you well.”

Emiline wished that he could let it go also. With a sigh, she nodded. “In the time that he had, yes.”

Averting his eyes, he lifted his upper body. She crawled up, and as soon as he was free of her weight, he turned away, watching the ocean. Emiline remained sitting behind him. “My father always said only a petty tyrant rules by fear. A true leader rules by loyalty and care.” She refrained from running her fingers along the scar on his back. “He ran the estate like he ran his ship.”

“Would that he’d been my first captain.”

Reinier’s murmur had a strange shudder run down her body. “Father had retired well before you took to the sea.”

What an odd comment. Maybe she’d heard him wrong, because his words had been barely audible. But maybe she hadn’t?

“Never mind.” He turned fully to face her. “I was being maudlin, and we have no time for that, do we, Lily?”

Emiline let herself hope it was regret she saw in his grassy, pale eyes just before that familiar, despicable veil closed over them.

On the other hand, it was better this way. She smiled with genuine relief in the change of subject. No need for her to know something she’d have to make herself forget when—

“No.” She interrupted her own train of thought right there. “No time for that, monsieur.”

Her lids lowered as she let her eyes wander wantonly over his glorious, naked body. She reached for the golden patch of wiry hair between his legs but stopped in midmotion.

Blinking up, she asked before she proceeded, “May I?”

A wily grin spread over his face. He stretched his legs, leaning back and bracing himself on his forearms, waving one arm in invitation. “By all means.”

Emiline leaned forward, her lips just a whisper away from his tight, male nipple. “You’ve been so generous before, monsieur. I’d very much like to return some of it.”

His gaze filled with heat and mirth. “How noble of you to strive toward such a high goal.”

The tip of his tongue traced his full lips and she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick his nipple. “Oh, I’m very ambitious. You’ll see.”

His whole body twitched and his lids lowered as he let out a low, soft groan. Emiline had always admired that he was so sensitive there. Come to think of it, she remembered now he was sensitive all over. Time to use that information for her own purposes.

She let her mouth wander over him, tasting and licking the salt from his skin, her fingers fondling the hard peaks and grooves of his magnificent, muscled body. Her teeth nipped at his skin, and with every kiss and lick and soft bite, his body twitched and gooseflesh drizzled over him. With her mouth open, she kissed his chest; then her tongue traced the intriguing pattern of muscles at his sides while her fingers splayed and followed the path she drew down his body. He was growing harder with every touch.

Emiline thrust her tongue into his belly button, while her fingers ran over his hard flesh in a tantalizing, slow caress. Reinier arched under her.

“Oh. I see. Now.” His words were jerky and distorted by his gasps of pleasure. She would have given in to the silly titter she felt in her chest if she hadn’t been already occupied with the pleasurable task of licking over the tiny slit in his erection, savoring the salty drop that had leaked forth.

Her eyelids drooped and she let out a low moan as his taste spread over her tongue and immediately seemed to permeate every fiber of her body. She laid her head on his lower belly and let only her tongue run around the tip several times, her fingers cupping his sack and playing with the balls inside, feeling their weight, joggling them.