Caragh said nothing, but her breathing remained unsteady.
‘Place your hands upon your breasts,’ he said. ‘Stroke your nipples until they harden.’ He moved beside her, gritting his teeth against the taut erection. It was torment, telling her all the places where he wanted to touch her.
Yet, he would not dishonour Elena by lying with another woman, much as he wanted to. his conscience warned that this act between them was nearly the same.
But his wife no longer wanted him. And Caragh did.
‘It aches,’ she confessed. ‘I feel it all the way between my legs.’
‘Don’t stop,’ he ordered. ‘Use your fingers to roll the tips and imagine that I am the one touching you now.’
He heard her emit a shuddering gasp, her body arching against the pile of clothing.
‘Lick your fingers and then touch your nipples,’ he commanded. ‘As if it’s my mouth on top of them. Suckling each one, and imagine my tongue against the sweet tips.’
A moan broke forth from her, and he couldn’t stop himself from curling his fist around his erection, squeezing the shaft and imagining that she was impaling herself upon him.
‘Now move one hand downwards,’ he ordered. ‘Over your ribs and your belly. Down between your legs.’
‘I—I’m wet,’ she said, as if not understanding what was happening to her.
‘It’s your body preparing itself for lovemaking,’ he said. ‘Take one finger and slide it inside.’
She let out a low hiss, and he added, ‘Keep touching one of your breasts while you slide it in and out.’
‘Styr,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t. I need you.’
‘No.’ His voice came out in a low growl. ‘You will not argue with me. Tonight, you are my prisoner. And you won’t leave this tent until I hear you cry out in release.’
His words were nearly as erotic as the touch of her own hands. Caragh had never imagined her body could be awakened like this. And though it was wicked, she wanted to know what it was to take a lover. He was guiding her, teaching her mysteries she’d never known.
She obeyed because she trusted him implicitly.
‘Two fingers now,’ he ordered. ‘Stretch yourself and move your fingers in and out while you caress the other breast.’
She did, and the added pressure of touching her breast echoed the rhythm below. It should have shamed her to be openly touching herself, but she imagined that it was his hands upon her body. That it was his thick manhood invading her flesh, sinking against the wetness and withdrawing.
She was trembling now, her breathing quickened into short gasps. Something was happening to her, and she couldn’t know what it was.
‘Remove your fingers,’ he ordered.
‘I don’t want to,’ she murmured, revelling in the sensation that was so close, the trembling feelings rising up within.
‘Obey me.’ He reached for her wrist and removed it, guiding it until the heel of her hand rested upon her mons. With his fingers, he commanded hers, bringing her to a small fold of flesh above her entrance. ‘Circle your finger over this,’ he said. ‘Keep stroking yourself until you start to tremble. And imagine that it’s my tongue upon you.’
The words shattered her inhibitions, and she found herself experimenting with the pressure, learning how to touch and how to bring forth the deep arousal she’d conjured earlier.
‘Do men do that?’ she whispered, arching when her body responded with more warmth. ‘Use their tongues upon a woman’s—’
‘Sometimes,’ he said.
‘And do women taste a man’s flesh?’ she enquired.
He was so quiet, she didn’t know if she’d offended him. ‘My wife never did,’ he admitted at last.
‘She never touched you?’ The very idea seemed impossible. Even now, she wanted to explore his body with her hands, kissing him And finding out what brought him pleasure.
‘I don’t want to talk about Elena,’ he countered. And he commanded her again to touch herself, to draw out the aching pleasure until she was starting to shake. The pressure was building inside, and she couldn’t stop her hitched breath, nor the keening cries as she came closer and closer.
‘Styr,’ she begged, not knowing what it was she needed.
‘Don’t stop,’ he commanded. ‘Keep going.’
The needs were so strong, she instinctively quickened the pace, crying out as her body tightened with a wave of heat so intense, she was hovering on the brink of collapse.
But when Styr’s warm mouth closed over one nipple, she lost control. The sensation of his tongue suckling her while her fingers moved upon her wetness was too much. She bucked her hips, gripping his head as a frenzied storm of shaking hot pleasure boiled through her body, making her so wet, she couldn’t stop herself from plunging two fingers inside. The rhythm of release shattered her apart, and she reached for him, closing her hand over his silken erection. He was hot and moist as her thumb brushed the tip of him. It took only a few strokes of her hand before he let out a harsh breath and spilled his own seed.
He murmured words in his own language, words that sounded like a blend of an apology and a curse.
‘Put on your gown and leave this tent. Now,’ he commanded.
‘Are you certain—?’
‘If you don’t go right now, I’m going to break every vow I ever made.’
With shaking hands, she pulled the gown over her nude body, her breasts sensitised against the fabric. Between her legs, she still longed for him, but she’d pushed him too far. For he’d nearly done what she’d wanted.
She left his tent, tiptoeing outside into the night. The coals of the fire glowed red, while flames licked the banked pile of wood.
His revelation, that Elena hadn’t liked to touch him, had revealed a side to their marriage she didn’t understand.
But more, he’d offered her a hope she’d never dared to imagine. He would see to it that Elena was safe. But afterwards…it might change.
He hadn’t turned her away tonight, and he’d given her a pleasure she’d never dreamed of. The only way it could have been better would be if he’d been inside her.
The unexpected kiss upon her breast, the feeling of his tongue swirling over the nipple, had been such a shock, she could only imagine what it would be like to share his bed.
As she curled up within her own sleeping space, her body was so warm, she hardly needed a coverlet.
But fear and worry slid over her sense of honour. Styr had made her no promises. Everything depended upon Elena and what she would say.
