Her Christmas Pleasure (5 page)

“You’re beautiful.” His scorching blue gaze ignited a similar flame within her, and her breath caught in her throat. Never tearing his eyes from hers, he reached out and touched her. A simple brush of his knuckles against the tip of her right breast, his movements deliberate as his hand slipped down, then back up.

Slow. Methodical. Devastating.

Closing her eyes, she clutched him tight, desperate to hold on. Savored the feeling of his large knuckles brushing against her other breast, back and forth across her hardened nipple. She swayed toward him and wished for more, wished she was brave enough to ask, but the words clogged in her throat. A helpless squeak escaped her when his fingers drew together and pinched.

The pleasurable pain spiraled throughout her body and settled as an insistent throb between her legs. She arched her head back, whimpering when he did it again.

“Please, Damien.” He continued his deliberate torture upon her body and tugged on the ribbon and it unraveled at her shoulder, the fabric slowly parting. A whisper of linen cascaded forward to expose her shoulder, her collarbone and finally her breasts.

He sucked in a harsh breath as he studied her. She lifted her head and opened her eyes so she could watch him watch her. Her breasts were in perfect alignment for his mouth since she still hovered above him. Tightening her legs on either side of his hips, she nudged forward and waited with breathless anticipation his mouth drew nearer to her tight nipple.

More exquisite torture as he nuzzled her breasts with his face, rubbing his stubble-roughened cheeks on her sensitive skin. For a man who’d nearly swallowed her whole with his earlier urgent kisses, he’d gained an enormous amount of restraint. He was driving her absolutely mad with his teasing touches. She wanted more.

So much more.

Another gasp escaped her when he licked a delicate path along the valley of skin between her breasts. Wet and hot, his tongue curved the underside of each breast, then circled the pale pink of her areola. She slid her hands into his hair, clutching his head closer as he drew her into his mouth and sucked. His tongue lashed her taut flesh, and he drew her deep until she couldn’t do anything but cry out incoherently. Lost to the touch of his mouth and his wandering hands…

“I am dreaming,” he murmured against her flesh, dropping kisses in between his words. “You’re not really here in my arms, are you?”

“I am.” She rested her cheek atop his head. His hair tickled her skin. She smiled and squeezed him close. “Take me to bed, Damien.”

He shifted, and she lifted her head so they could stare at each other. They remained silent. She waited for him to say something, anything. When he remained quiet, panic flooded her.

If he refused her and sent her back to her bedchamber, she didn’t know what she might do. Fall apart? Beg him to take her? Throw herself at his feet, grasp hold of his legs and never let go?

All options were far too humiliating to contemplate, let alone imagine actually resorting to.

“Are you sure, Celia?” He stiffened, as if prepared for the blow.

She shook her head and laughed softly. They were certainly a pair, the both of them. She was still amazed it had taken her this long to realize it.

“Why are you laughing?” He sounded as if he might be frightfully angry. She reached for him, pressed a smacking kiss to his lips as she clasped his face in her hands. “Oh, I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I…?”

“Yes, you are.” She pressed her forehead to his, staring deep into his clear blue eyes. She could easily drown in them. They were so deep and beautiful. “And yes, Damien, I am sure.”

He kissed her gently. Then he shocked her by gathering her in his arms and springing from the chair, standing to his full height. She had no choice but to cling to him for fear she’d slip from his grip and drop to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured close to her ear, striding toward the bed. “I’ll never let you go.”

Her heart grew at the promise.

Sweeter words were never spoken.

Damien removed Celia’s half-fallen night rail from her body with shaking fingers, tearing it off with an impatience he would normally never demonstrate with a lady. With previous indulgences, he had always been in complete and utter control. Not only did he want to savor the act with Celia, but he also wanted to ensure her pleasure as well. Hasty, quick fumblings in bed weren’t his style.

Celia was destroying any semblance of control he had left. Having her near and her body completely revealed for his perusal was enough to shatter his sensibilities. He was filled with the uncontrollable urge to take her. Master her with his body, show her pleasure unlike any she’d ever experienced before.

Christ.
She made him feel like an arrogant, crazed man, full of fire and ready to unleash upon her in a blaze of passion.

He chuckled. She went from making him a melancholy arse to a whimsical fool. She held so much power over him and didn’t have a clue.

“Damien.” Her soft voice brought him back. Reminded him he had her in his bed, the coverlet drawn back and her lithe body sprawled across the cool, pale sheets. She was nearly as pale as the fabric she lay on. Creamy, long limbs beckoned, the rosy flush of passion darkening her skin and her pert nipples. Her long brown hair was wound into a thick braid his fingers itched to take apart.

So he did just that. Reaching for the end of the braid, he untied the ribbon and slowly worked her hair free of its confines. It spread long and wavy across his pillow, demanding he run his fingers through its silky softness and learn its texture. She undulated under his care, her lids lowering to half-mast as he continued to stroke her; she purred like a cat.

“Join me, Damien,” she encouraged in a throaty, seductive voice, and reached for him.

Damnation. He’d never heard her sound like
that
before.

Deciding it best he do as she bid, he hurriedly removed his clothes, jerked them off with a ruthlessness that surely left its mark. Indeed, there was the tear of fabric, the pop of a loosened button landing on the floor, but he hadn’t a care. Not when he had the woman he wanted more than any other lying naked in his bed.

He wasn’t that much of a fool to ignore her commands.

Damien slipped into the bed, drawing the coverlet over their chilled skin. The bed was on the far side of the room, across from the fireplace, and the dimming fire took with it its heat.

Celia smiled when he slid his arm around her front. His hand settled at her waist, and he pulled her close. He rolled on his side. The faintest tremble moved through her, and her breasts quivered. Gooseflesh dotted her pale skin.

“Cold?” He kissed her once, a lingering, damp brush of his lips against hers. She tasted sweet, felt so right lying next to him.

His hopeful heart wouldn’t let him ignore it.

“N-no.” She shook her head, shooting him a tremulous smile. Reaching for him, she skimmed her fingers along the line of one shoulder, then the other, before they drifted down to trace across his chest, tangling in the curling hair that covered it. “Nervous,” she confessed. “It’s been so long, you see.”

He saw. He knew. She hadn’t been with a man—her husband—in well over three
years. And she’d only ever been with Lawrence, so this was all new and different and perhaps…

Perhaps she wasn’t ready for it, for
him
yet.

He parted his lips, but she shushed him by placing her fingers upon his mouth. “I’m more than ready, Damien. Don’t you dare ask again. Can you not see how much I…want you?”

Her murmured confession drove him to near madness. Grabbing her wrist, he drew the tips of her fingers inside his mouth, sucking lightly, his gaze never leaving hers. She gave a breathy sigh; her eyes drifted closed as he continued his gentle assault, licking the tip of each of her fingers. Absorbing her sweet taste. He wanted to drive her wild with desire.

The action resulted in him driving himself wild with desire. Unable to stand it any longer, he withdrew her fingers from his mouth, gripped her hand in his and held their clasped hands above her head.

Leaning over, he kissed her. He pushed her deeper into the mattress as he traced her lips with his tongue. She opened, allowing his entry. He tasted her, searched her mouth with his tongue while his free hand burned a path down the length of her body. He molded his hands around her waist, and his fingers curved about her hip, then drifted across her stomach until he settled his palm between her legs.

Her thighs parted, giving him better access, and he took it. He combed his fingers through the curling hair covering her mound before dipping a single finger into her swollen, wet folds. Stroking deep, he swirled his thumb around and around the pulsating bit of flesh at the top of her slit. She cried out, her hips bucking, encouraging his exploration. He increased his pace, wanting to give her some sort of relief so he could continue taking his time with her.

If he could withstand it—or her—for much longer. He was desperate to get inside her.

Utterly desperate.

He slipped his index finger inside her tight, slippery heat, and her inner muscles clamped, eager to capture him. She was so wet that his finger eased deeply, her fragrant, uniquely feminine scent filling the air. He thrust slowly, in and out, again and again, and his ministrations drew a low, shuddering moan from her. He continued to rub her with his thumb, and the bit of flesh rose and swelled with his every stroke. He knew she was close. Very close to spending, if her straining hips and intense quivering were any indication.

“Oh,” she whispered with wonderment. She threw her head back, arching as she stilled for one single, hanging moment. And then she fell apart, her entire body shaking with her climax. Her whimpers and cries echoed throughout the room, rang loud in his ears. His cock jerked and lengthened eagerly.

She was beautiful when she was in the throes, and he watched her in fascination. Slowly, she relaxed. Her body melted into the mattress, and she slung an arm over her face, covering her eyes. Her other hand rested on the center of her chest. She inhaled deeply, as if she tried to calm her erratic breathing and her racing heart.

It was the sweetest, loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ve never experienced anything that…intense before,” she admitted between ragged breaths.

His chest swelled with pride.

“Damien.” Her soft whisper washed over him, cleansing him, and he went to her. He shifted so he was completely over her. Propping his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned all his weight on his forearms and pushed his erect cock against her belly.

Her eyes widened. “I can feel you.”

Damien smiled. “I should hope so.”

She spread her legs wider, and he settled deeper. The very tip of him brushed against her molten-hot center, and he closed his eyes. Breathing deep, he held still so he wouldn’t plunge inside like a beast and possibly hurt her.

“You’re rather…large.” She squirmed beneath him, and her jiggling body made his skin tighten with need. “I must tell you. I’m not very big.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Reaching for her, he feathered stray strands of her hair away from her forehead, reveling in the silky softness of her hair and skin. She was soft everywhere. Beautiful. Her feminine scent still lingered on his fingers. Musky and uniquely Celia.

Later he planned on tasting her. Pleasing her with his fingers and his tongue.

He could hardly wait.

“Sometimes…sometimes the act would hurt, if I may be truthful. And when I gave birth to Theo, I had a somewhat…difficult delivery.” She turned her head, her gaze tearing from his.

Sympathy flooded him. Thank Christ she’d told him. Otherwise he could’ve hurt her. The last thing he wanted to do.

“I’ll be gentle.” He rested his hand on her cheek, forced her to look at him once more. It would take everything within him to hold back, but he vowed he would do so. “I won’t hurt you, Celia.”

“I know.” She turned her face into his palm, nuzzling him. “I trust you.”

Her words touched his heart. He wanted her trust and had worked hard to earn it. She was more than a woman he desired. He liked her, considered Celia a friend. A woman he admired and trusted as well.

A woman he believed would make an ideal wife. Not that he was worthy of such a title as her husband. He never believed this moment would happen, and even while he kissed her and touched her, something told him this would be his only chance. It couldn’t happen again. She was taking such a risk, indulging with him this one single night.

Perhaps, as him, she believed the stolen moment worth it.

Celia was restless and needy. Her body still hummed from the aftereffects of their climax, but she wanted more.

She
needed
more. Of Damien inside her, filling her, completely consuming her.

Yet it was almost as if he was overcome with restraint. Was he afraid of hurting her? Afraid to offend her delicate sensibilities?

Oh, no. She couldn’t let it happen again. She didn’t want him to be careful with her. She wanted passion. Unrestrained and out-of-control passion. Something she’d never experienced before in her life.

Determined to make it happen, she curved her hands around Damien’s thick shoulders and tugged, gaining his attention. He kissed her, his mouth gentle, and she thrust her tongue between his lips, tangling with his tongue. She deepened the kiss with
ease, relishing the way he licked and nipped at her lips until he broke away from her.

His breathing was ragged, his mouth pulled down into a frown as he stared at her. “Slow down, love.” He dropped sweet kisses along the edge of her jaw.

Her heart soared at the endearment, but frustration rose as well. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“I know.” He continued to nibble and kiss along her jaw.

“Then don’t treat me as such.”

Lifting his head, he studied her with narrowed eyes. “You asked that I be careful.”

“No, I merely wanted to share with you my past problems.”
Without revealing too much detail.

His brows lowered. “I believed it a warning that you wanted me to proceed with caution.”

Oh, dear. Had she ruined the mood? Only moments before he’d been deliciously rough and doing such things to her body she hadn’t known existed. Now he moved at a snail’s pace, cautious and not wanting to hurt her.

She appreciated his concern, but a woman couldn’t have a sampling of such passion and then have it snatched away.

“Damien.” She caressed his cheek and drew a single finger across his lower lip, lingering at the center before she dropped her hand. “I don’t want you to be too careful and cautious. I want you to behave as you did earlier. I want to feel you moving inside me.”

She took heart at his sharply indrawn breath. He was still as affected by her as she was by him, a most positive sign.

“Take me.” She lifted her hips so his erection brushed against the very heart of her. She shuddered at the contact. “Please.”

“Ah, God.” He crushed her mouth with his. The kiss was brutal. Ruthless. His hands were everywhere. He cupped her breasts in his palms, kneading and squeezing them. He brushed his thumbs across her rock-hard nipples, and she cried out against his mouth. She grew even wetter between her legs, the sensitive flesh throbbing with the beat of her racing heart. Had she ever been this aroused? Had she ever experienced such strong desire before?

No, she didn’t believe so.

Damien reached between them, and his fingers clasped around the base of his shaft. Slowly he sank his length inside her. She widened her legs and gasped at his width, how long he was. He filled her, inch by excruciatingly exquisite inch. Consumed her as she’d wished, until he pulsed deep inside her and his body completely covered hers.

He surrounded her until she could see nor feel no other. Exactly what she wanted.

What she’d wished for.

“Oh, Damien,” she whispered on a gush of air as he withdrew almost completely before surging back inside. He moved within her, in and out, over and over, slow and torturous and driving her beyond madness.

Their bodies were slick with sweat. She smoothed her hands down the expanse of his muscled back, marveling at the sleek feel of him. He trembled beneath her touch, his skin damp with his restrained exertion, and her hands settled upon his firm buttocks.
She squeezed him there, pushing him closer. He groaned, the sound muffled against her tousled hair.

“You feel so good, Celia.” His voice was a guttural groan, the words ripped from the deepest recesses of his chest. “So hot.”

Her skin tingled at his words, and her core tightened with need. Never before had she spent twice in one night, but the way Damien moved within her, she knew she would again.

Soon.

He moved faster, his thrusts more forceful. She encouraged him with whispered passionate words and furtive touches on his body. She wanted this, relished in it. The way he made love to her with thinly held restraint and the wildness simmering just beneath the surface. She wanted him unleashed and told him so. She murmured the inviting, seductive words close to his ear just before she nibbled on the lobe.

It was the encouragement he needed. He slammed inside her, grunting with every impalement of her slick, hot core. She tightened her legs about his hips, and he pushed upward, rubbing against her in the most exquisite way. His hair-roughened thighs brushed against hers, his sleek, muscular body dampened with sweat. She breathed deeply, the musky scent of his skin overwhelming her senses, and dug her heels into his backside. Shimmering tingles cascaded over her entire body, and she cried out her release, clinging to him.

He erupted soon after, moaning her name as he spilled his hot seed inside her. Closing her eyes, she clasped him close. He shivered and groaned until he slumped over her with an agonized moan. She tangled her fingers in his damp hair and kissed his cheek, thankful she’d shared this moment with him.

Knowing in an instant she never wanted to let him go. Ever.