Forever in Your Embrace (60 page)

When at last they grew still within each other’s arms, Synnovea crooned near her husband’s ear, “That was much nicer than it was before, very, very pleasurable, in fact.”

“Aye, madam, we were interrupted before we were able to finish.” Tyrone kissed her again, feeling as if a weighty burden had just been lifted from him. “I should have done this sooner.”

Synnovea smiled beneath his caressing lips. “I’ve been wanting you to.”

“I never expected it to happen like this,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Not with such a sumptuous chamber at our disposal.”

She laughed, thoroughly content now. “You were so wary of our chambers, I didn’t seem able to approach you with an invitation.” Her eyes glimmered brightly in the shadows. “I was beginning to think you hated me.”

“I was afraid of the pain your nearness would inflict upon me,” he rejoined with candor. “I was too susceptible to even think of trusting myself around you.”

“Are you sorry now that you made love to me?” she queried diffidently.

“Nay, only relieved that my foolishness has finally been put to an end.”

“We could have dinner sent up to our chambers,” Synnovea suggested coyly. “No one but servants will be in the house.”

“After we bathe, madam,” he assured her. “You caught me when I’m smelly and dirty. Hardly what a bride appreciates when her husband wants to mount her.”

“You smell nice and very manly, and you’re not dirty,” she argued, “but even if you were, I wouldn’t be able to deny you after I’ve waited so long for you to make love to me.”

“We’d better finish what we were doing so we can get on with more important things.” Tyrone grinned as he pushed himself away and sat back on his heels. “I’ve been beset long enough by fantasies of making love to you in a bathing pool, and I’m most eager for that event to take place.”

Synnovea rolled away and came to her knees, but when her husband clasped the back of her thigh, she looked back at him in curious wonder. Her eyes fairly flamed as he clamped his arm around her waist and lifted her back into his lap. Willingly she nestled against him and leaned her head aside as his lips nibbled at her creamy throat.

“Perhaps we could delay a few moments more,” he suggested, cupping a pale breast within his hand. The fact that he was already aroused again didn’t surprise him in the least, considering his lengthy abstinence.

“I was rather anticipating making love in the pool,” she murmured with a flirtatious smile, moving her buttocks teasingly against him. The delectable delight awakened by her soft flesh stroking across the flinty hard shaft made her shiver with renewed desire. “But what you’re doing now is very nice. Shall we dally in the hay some more?”

“The pool awaits, madam.”

Slipping a hand beneath her buttock again, he boosted her to her feet and then followed, springing upward with a swift, effortless movement that clearly evidenced his strength and manly grace. After scooping up her kerchief, he dipped it into the watering trough and, beneath her fascinated gaze, began to wash himself. A moment later, he nearly took her breath away by performing the same service for her, being incredibly gentle and deliciously thorough in his bathing techniques.

“We’ll never make it to the bathing chamber if you continue,” she breathed shakily. “I like what you’re doing too much to even think of waiting until we reach the bathing chamber.”

Tyrone had become caught up in the stimulating task as well and extended his ministrations far beyond what was required. “Another taste of such blissful fare wouldn’t take that long,” he rasped softly, making her catch her breath in delight at his bold intrusion. His free hand came around to cup a breast, and as she leaned against him, his thumb stroked across a soft peak. “And right now, I’ve no heart for tending the stallion. To be sure, my lengthy wait has made me greedy.”

“The door is locked, and we have all the time in the world,” she crooned invitingly with a sensual smile as her eyes caressed his handsome face.

Half turning, Tyrone tossed the kerchief into the pail and then swept his wife up into his arms. With a playful growl, he made a pretense of devouring her breast, evoking a dreamy mewl as his licking tongue plied its crest. Whirling her about, he drew her breath out in an excited little laugh before he sprawled back upon the mound of hay and pulled her down astride him. A small, ecstatic shiver went through her as he lingered over the delectable merging, pressing the vibrant hardness upward, seemingly into the core of her being. Synnovea’s breath quickened as his throbbing heat filled her, and with eyes that had grown dark and sultry, she held his gaze imprisoned as she swept her hands over her own body, encouraging his to follow wherever she led, over the swelling mounds, along her narrow waist, and into the moist crevice. Nearly shuddering with her rapidly intensifying excitement, she slipped her arms beneath the ebon tresses, sweeping them off her neck as she arched her back and stroked against her husband’s loins. Her rhythm intensified with her increasing fervor, drawing his breath out in harsh gasps. Though Synnovea hadn’t thought it possible for her to transcend the heights to which she had recently climbed, he seemed intent upon eliciting every degree of delight she was capable of experiencing, making her writhe and shudder with the sensations he created within her until she felt as if she were dissolving in a warm, blissful flood.

In the moments following their soaring flight, only the stallion found reason to fret, evoking his owner’s sigh. “Alas, the poor steed still awaits our attention.”

“I liked what you did when you bathed me,” she whispered, cuddling against her husband’s chest. Coyly she stroked her bosom against the muscular hardness of his chest, enjoying the thrills which were readily derived from the caress. “Will you do that again?”

“In the bathing chamber, madam,” Tyrone promised huskily, nibbling at her ear. “Else we may never leave the carriage house.”

“Would you let me wash you, too?” Synnovea asked, unwilling to move on to a different subject.

“As much as you would like, madam…but in the bathing chamber.”

She pouted prettily. “ ’Twas your idea to delay our departure.”

“Aye, I know. I’m very susceptible to the sights. Your derriere is too fetching for me to ignore.”

“Do you suffer a particular fetish with my backside, sir?” Synnovea teased coquettishly, continuing to massage his male breasts with her tautening nipples.

“I like all of you, from your dainty toes to the top of your head, but there are places in between that I’m especially partial to, such as this area here,” he said, catching a hand around her breast and forcing the crest outward to meet his stroking tongue. “These pale orbs are beyond description. Their sweet nectar leaves me fairly besotted.” Though his mouth moved upward to caress her throat, his hand slipped down between them and clasped the dark nest. “But nothing is quite as delectable as the ecstasy I find here in this warm, velvet sheathe.”

“I have a feeling we’re not going to make it to the bathing chamber tonight,” she sighed shakily. “I’m quite besotted from what your caresses have awakened within me.”

“We could spend the night out here,” he suggested with a grin.

“You’ll have to keep me warm.”

“I do that now, madam, every night in our bed, but I’d really enjoy holding you again in a bathing pool.”

“Then shouldn’t we hurry and finish our chores?” Synnovea urged. “Otherwise, we’ll never get there with all the delays we’re wont to indulge in here.”

Tyrone was just as anxious to get there, but he was also wont to linger and enjoy the different views he was presented as he collected his clothing. He was most attentive to his wife’s efforts to shake the hay out of her clothes. The rounded orbs now bore a rosy blush after his light bearding, but it was the way they bounced every time she snapped her blouse and skirts in the air that fascinated him. “Do you think you’re accomplishing anything, my sweet. The hay seems quite tenacious.”

Synnovea paused and smiled back at him. “That’s very nice what you called me.”

“My sweet?”

“I was afraid you wanted to call me worse things.”

Tyrone indicated the horse’s tail. “We’d better get to our chores, madam, or we’ll never get to the pool.”

Synnovea pouted prettily as she sauntered toward him in all of her unadorned glory. His breath hissed outward in a pleasurable gasp as she pressed close against him and fondled him in a way that left his knees weak. She seemed eager to continue, but the stallion whinnied, growing weary of being ignored.

“Later, my sweet,” Tyrone promised thickly, cupping a round breast in his hand before leaning down and taking the peak into the heat of his mouth. Then, because he found such sights totally distracting, he drew her chemise and petticoats over her head and then lowered the skirt and blouse into place before turning her and thrusting her gently away from him. Giggling, Synnovea stumbled backward and rubbed her derriere against him, causing a quick response. Since she seemed to enjoy dawdling at length over her playful temptations, Tyrone reached down and clamped a hand between her buttocks, evoking a startled gasp from his young wife as he prodded her forward.

Tyrone chuckled as he took note of the darker hue now imbuing his wife’s cheeks. “Do you find that offensive, madam?”

“ ’Tis a bit shocking,” she replied candidly, twitching a bit as she plucked her petticoat free of the cleavage.

He grinned while he donned his breeches and shoes. “Then you’d best be warned, my sweet. Now that you’re my wife, every part of you is fair game. Indeed, you may well rue the day you invited my attentions.” He jerked his head toward the stallion. “Now let’s get back to work.”

Obediently Synnovea bent to the task of spreading the horse’s tail as Tyrone supplied a fresh flow of water. After rinsing it, he squeezed the liquid from the strands and began to gently comb through the length as Synnovea picked out the snarls. Finally he snuffed the last lantern that hung near the horses’ stalls and turned in time to see his wife casting a repugnant glance toward the straw-strewn path that led to the door; it had been enriched with several droppings of manure prior to her entry into the barn. Tyrone took pity on her plight and bade her to tuck her stockings and shoes in her apron pocket and to climb on a low stool, from whence he lifted her onto his back.

“I haven’t ridden like this since I was a child,” Synnovea informed him happily as her lips hovered near his ear.

Tyrone slanted a grin at her over his shoulder. “I’ll have to teach you better ways to ride.”

“What other ways are there?” she asked coyly, folding her arms around his neck.

“I’ll show you several before the evening is out.”

“In the bathing chamber?”

“That will do for starters, but I’ll demonstrate others in our bed.” He turned his face in profile as she leaned close over his shoulder. “I’ve been quite hungry for you, madam, and I don’t think I’ll be sated until the last of my energy wanes, so you’ll have to tell me if you get too tender from my attention.”

“I will.” She sighed blissfully, stroking his breast with wifely familiarity. She sang a child’s song in Russian, cooing softly in his ear as she strummed her fingers across a male nipple. Then she paused in the melody to ask, “Is it as much fun for a man to ride a horse astride as I had when I rode you?”

“Nothing equals a good ride between a man and a woman, my sweet,” Tyrone assured her, casting a roguish smile back at her.

“Did you enjoy it, too?”

“Immensely.”

“I like your body,” she whispered, tracing her tongue over his ear. In all honesty she added, “I would have mourned over my loss if I’d been forced to marry Vladimir. You’re so much more handsome and exciting to look at. I regret that you were whipped, Ty, but I’m not sorry you were forced to wed me. I enjoy having you as my husband, and I especially relish the moments when you’re aroused. You make me tremble with excitement just looking at you.”

Not knowing what to answer, Tyrone pinched her buttock, drawing a squeal from the little sprite who rode his back.

“You bruised me,” she complained, rubbing her soft breasts against his back. “You’ll have to massage me there later.”

“I’ll massage you, all right, but not in the way you think.”

“In what way do you mean, then?” she queried teasingly.

“You’ll see soon enough, madam. Never fear. And then your greedy little hands can show me just how much you appreciate my body.”

“Promise?”

“You have my pledge on it, my dear.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Tyrone carried her to their chambers by way of the private stairs, and then, after donning kaftans, they descended to the lower depths of the mansion, where he dismissed the male servant shortly after a bath was prepared in one of the larger tubs. Once the door was securely barred behind the man, Tyrone approached his wife, who was just shrugging out of her robe. His own had been quickly tossed aside, and he grinned as her admiring gaze swept downward. Taking her hand, he led her to the tub, stepped into the warm bath, and then, bidding her to sit facing him within the spread of his thighs, pulled her legs over his and settled her feet behind his buttocks. Leering at her, he began to soap her body while she, in turn, lathered his. They seemed especially wont to linger over the sensually sensitive areas and grew thoroughly stimulated beneath each other’s lingering caresses. They rinsed with as much care and then, stepping from the tub, descended the steps of the pool. Gazing down into her warm gaze, Tyrone pulled her close and gave her a long, thoroughly provocative kiss before sweeping her into a very passionate reenactment of several of his fantasies.