God, what…what are you doing?” Her lips trembled as his tongue swirled the nipple.
He growled.
“I will give you the gift your mate stole from you.”
“The gift?”
His warm breath slid down her belly, and a puff of steam touched the curls at that apex of her thighs.
Oh, my stars! This dream was exactly what she had envisioned would happen on this bed when she first glimpsed the monstrosity. The warmth of velvet brushed her thighs, and she bit the inside of her lip. After parting her legs farther, the spongy slickness of muscled tongue slid along the slit of her sex, and her womb clenched.
Virgin’s blood, echoed in her mind. Seed that does not belong. The warmth pressed into her womb, and her body arched once more off the mattress.
Yes, enjoy the gift he denied you.
The tongue swirled the crevice, licking and sucking, as if he tried to remove every last ounce of the evidence from her folly. Oh, if she could only remove the memory from her mind!
Her heart pounded in her chest, and teeth grazed the flesh of the opening to her womb. Intense pleasure spiraled through the muscles of her legs, tightening them. Her toes curled, and her womb contracted, spending juice from her core. “Oh…oh!”
His tongue traveled across her scored flesh and lapped the honey that now flowed freely from her. Fierce sensation shot, arching her hips off the mattress. She rubbed her curls against the large head and wide shoulders she now felt pressed between her legs and bore down on his tongue. Oh, there truly resided a man between her legs!
Blissful tingling grasped every nerve of her body. Her fist clenched tight; blinding light flashed as every muscle in her body thrashed in wave upon wave. She screamed and then shook, her legs bucking to the touch of his tongue. He licked her clean from anus to curls as her muscles jumped and pulled away from the too intense caress.
“What…what was that?” Her gaze focused on the figure of an extremely large man who, without a doubt, knelt between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, she’d gone daft!
“Your pleasure. For allowing a boar to mount you.”
“Pardon? The gift,” she whispered and squeezed her legs together about his thighs. Indeed, he was there.
“Yes.” His large hands gripped her thighs and gently squeezed.
A howl pierced the air from down the hall. She started, and a swirl of air washed across her. The warmth of silk and body heat gradually faded, and the faint smell of cinnamon clung in the air.
She trembled and pulled the covers up close to her body. Was this a dream? She reached down and slid her finger into the slick flesh of her sex. It surely was.
Raising her hand to her nose, the smell of cinnamon clung stronger than her scent. How strange and too odd to think about. Her gaze shot to the closed door to the hall. In the faint light she counted eight thrown bolts. Exhaustion fluttered her eyelids shut, and she drifted into a strange and blissful sleep.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
“Ma’am. Ma’am.”
Jane woke with a start. Scrambling her body to the upright position, she stared at the door. She scrutinized the line of eight securely latched locks and then pinched the bridge of her nose. It had all been a dream.
“Ma’am, I have your laundered garments.”
“One moment.” She pushed off the bed and headed for the door. Sliding each latch open, she turned the knob. Surely a dream.
“Pardon, ma’am.” A hand thrust through the opening; it was holding her dark gray wool dress, stockings, petticoat, and corset. She clutched them. “Thank you.” Then she peeked her head through the crack in the door.
“Lord Tremarctos has been informed of your stay with us and wishes you to take breakfast with the family.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I will send Jerome up in a quarter of an hour to escort you to the hall.”
“Very well.” She shut the door and bolted the locks. All she wanted to do was depart and straighten out this whole day with Jonathan, but she would like to see the house in daylight. Leaving an hour later would not change the situation one whit. She frowned.
Turning back toward the bed, she gasped. Across the chair she had sat in the night before, a stunning pale green muslin dress lay. The color exactly matched her eyes. “Where did that come from?”
She raised her hand to touch the smooth, expensive fabric and noticed her hand wavering. She clenched her fingers into a fist. He had said he loved her eyes. It had been a dream, right? She turned away from the temptation and studied the room. No one could have gotten in. There was one door, and the window…
She rushed to the drapes and pulled them back. Rain came down steadily beyond the panes of clear glass, but the bolt remained latched. Certainly the dress had been there last night. How strange she had not noticed the garment. Then again, her mind had swum in other issues last night.
She glanced at the bed; the color of the linens shone a deep crimson in the daylight. The carvings entwining the posts depicted beautifully detailed bears.
Her fingers glided along the carved figure of one bear. Smooth and cool, the bear stood on its hind legs and fought with paws and mouth the next bear carved into the richly hued wood.
She bit her lip as her fingers stilled on the interlocking paws and mouth. Her stomach fluttered, and her other hand spread across the taut surface. How odd! Surely her stomach rumbled because of hunger. She needed to dress and feed her rumbling middle.
She gazed at the gray wool draped over her arm and then glanced longingly at the fine muslin stretched across the back of the chair. How silly to long for a piece of clothing. She had never owned such a fine-looking garment. Yet that dress pulled at her.
She wanted to put on the garment, to feel the slip of the fine fabric down her body. Would it be as smooth and as warm as the touch of her lover? She gasped and turned away from the dress. Nonsense, just nonsense.
“Bruno, are you sure she remained bolted in when you asked her to come to me this morning?” Lord Tremarctos shifted, agitated in his seat behind his desk.
“Yes, your grace. I heard the bolts slide. There is no way she could have faked it.”
Very interesting. His brows lowered, and the corner of his lip curved up in concentration. His boars were all on edge this sunrise. The disquiet surely came from the smell of a woman inside the walls of Tremarctos.
“Still, none of this sits well. Does it, Bruno?”
“No, your grace.”
With the torrential rain, she would not leave until the ill weather ceased. “Make sure all my boars are at breakfast. I don’t want one of them coming across her without the knowledge that she is our guest. Or for her to be caught off guard by one of us.” If we are all in the same room, the situation will arise without much prodding. Then he could decide what needed to be done.
“Yes,
