chemise over her head and stood before him, clad only in garters and stockings.
He ran his gaze slowly over her, from chin to toes. ‘Lovely,’ he murmured.
Kissing him, she unfastened his trouser buttons and urged the garment down, then pushed him to sit back on the bed. As soon as he’d balanced there, she climbed on his lap, straddling him, then wrapped her legs around his back and guided herself down to enclose his swollen member.
Ah, how good he felt, slick hot steel caressing her inner chamber for all his length. Sighing, she leaned back, offering up her naked breasts. Cupping her bottom to secure her, he bent to them, rolling the hard nipples between his teeth, nipping and suckling.
The sensation was exquisite, every sweep of his tongue and nip of his teeth intensifying the throbbing pressure building deep within her, where his member stretched and pulled and teased. Feeling the urgent need for more movement, she began rocking into him, savouring the friction as she pulled almost free, then sank down on him again.
Pressure built and built, lifting her again towards the precipice she’d sensed the night before, driving her to intensify her efforts. If she could just force him deeper, rub against him harder...
Suddenly, in a rush of sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced, the pressure released in a flow of tingling, throbbing delight. She felt she was soaring, flying above all pain and misery and memory, for long, brilliant minutes before settling softly back to earth.
Boneless, she sagged against Alastair, who simply held her, kissing the dampness of her forehead and her ears. His silence was just as well, for her scattered thoughts were too incoherent for speech.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered at last.
Surprised, her eyes started open. ‘Shouldn’t I be thanking you? Especially since...’ She rocked her hips around the still-hard member still inside her.
‘All in good time. Thank you for letting go, giving me the gift of your pleasure.’
‘Isn’t it time for you to give me the gift of yours?’
‘Gladly.’ He smiled against her lips before kissing her.
She wanted to finish undressing him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Rising, still almost fully clad, he slid back to the pillows and lay back, holding her in place astride him.
‘What would please you most?’ she asked disjointedly, hardly able to formulate the sentence for the pressure of him moving inside her, creating little eddies of pleasure.
‘Watching you again, as you ride me. But first, this.’
He pulled her close, kissing her—throat, shoulders, silky skin of inner arms, down to her breasts. Though he’d pleasured them before, he began again, even more slowly, a meticulous caress of every surface, licking the pebbly nipples as he massaged the full softness.
By now, her core was throbbing again, too. Murmuring encouragement, he lay back, urging her to move on him. Balanced better on the bed, she could spread her knees wider and take him deeper still. The thrust of his hardness along the whole of her passage, from the depths to the tight nub at the peak, elicited a whole new range of sensations.
Faster and faster she moved, each stroke tightening the coil of pressure until at last, in a splendid blaze of pleasure, they flew over the crest together.
For a while afterwards, they both drifted in somnolent contentment. When at last she rose back to full consciousness, she found herself beside him, his arm wrapped around her, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
A wave of wonder and delight washed through her. How many times had she dreamed of waking like this?
And this time, she had no need to thrust away or bottle up the thought.
Instead, she nestled closer. ‘Must I go now?’
‘Go?’ he echoed. ‘Heavens, no, my sweet. We’ve just begun.’
Her eyes widened at that. ‘Just begun?’ she repeated cautiously.
Laughing, Alastair rolled out of the bed, swiftly stripped off his clothes, walked over to pour them a glass of wine and brought it back, while she admired his magnificent nakedness.
‘Here, drink up. We’ve hours yet.’
After taking a long sip, she let herself smile. ‘That’s excellent.’
He chuckled and took back the glass. ‘Let me show you how excellent,’ he murmured. Smoothing his hands down over her belly, he nudged her legs apart and moved his clever, wicked mouth to that needy place between her thighs.
* * *
Slowly Diana emerged from the heavy mantle of sleep, like a sea creature rising from the deep. Her body felt languid, replete with a humming satisfaction. When she finally forced her eyelids open, she saw a dearly beloved visage, smiling at her.
What marvellous dream was this? A sense of wonder escaping before she could cage it, she raised a hand to trace the face from forehead to lips. ‘Alastair?’ she whispered.
As if his name had evoked it, consciousness returned in a rush, accompanied by a paralysing stab of fear. ‘Alastair! You must—I must get away. At once! He mustn’t find us!’
As she frantically pulled at the bedclothes, desperate to flee, he stilled her hands. ‘Stop, Diana! It’s all right. Your husband is dead. He’ll never hurt you again.’
The room seemed to swirl around her dizzily. ‘He’s...gone?’ she repeated, trying to focus her muzzy senses.
‘Yes. He’s gone, and I’m here.’
She struggled to pull herself free from the iron grip of another world. After a moment of frantic concentration, reality began to fall into place. Graveston’s death. Coming to Bath. Meeting Alastair again. The bargain.
The luxuriant somnolence of her body clashed with the agitation of emotions still out of control. Responding to the imperative to reel them in, she pushed at the arm he’d wrapped around her.
‘Please, I need...I need to sit.’ Detaching herself, she slid away and off the bed, looking around wildly for the dressing table. Spying it in the corner, she hurried over, and heedless of her nakedness and his keen observing eyes, seated herself before the glass. The forehead of the face reflected back to her was creased with anxiety, the eyes feral.
With a trembling hand, she smoothed away the lines and began the ritual breathing. Long slow inhale, hold, hold, exhale. Applying every bit of mind and will, she forced back the anxiety and buried the panic, until finally the countenance staring back at her was expressionless and calm.
Only then did she turn to Alastair. He was still looking at her with concern—no wonder, after witnessing that performance! Better distract him quickly, before he could begin questioning.
‘I’m so sorry!’ She managed a smile. ‘I can’t recall when I last slept so deeply, I awoke with no idea where I was.’
Though his eyes still looked troubled, mercifully, he did not press her. ‘Passion satisfied can do that.’
She
