Читать книгу The Countess Misbehaves - Nan Ryan, Nan Ryan - Страница 11

For a long, tense moment, Armand de Chevalier did nothing, didn’t move a muscle. He simply held Madeleine in his arms and looked into her eyes. Unable to look away or even to breathe properly, Madeleine felt as if she were being pulled into the fathomless depths of his unforgettable black eyes.

The winds howled and the cabin plunged sharply into the sea, then rose again. Madeleine hardly noticed. She was totally mesmerized by this dark stranger with whom she wanted desperately to be intimate.

She drew a sharp intake of air as Armand slowly lowered his face to hers. Expecting another of those instantly ardent, breath-stealing kisses, she was surprised when he brushed his smooth, warm lips ever so lightly against hers. For several sweet, unhurried moments, he kissed her softly, undemandingly, as if she were actually his treasured love.

Madeleine found it incredibly moving. Stirring. Exciting. Each gentle, unhurried kiss became more thrilling than the last. His mouth seemed to fit so perfectly with hers. As if their lips were made solely for each other’s kisses.

Pressing one last feathery kiss to her slightly parted lips, Armand flipped open the buckle to the restraints holding her in place. He lifted her and sat her on his right knee and both were almost dumped to the floor when a great gust of wind hit the ship. Armand gripped the bunk’s frame with one hand and held Madeleine with the other. Then quickly drew the restraints around both of them, buckling them loosely behind her back.

Clutching his neck, Madeleine was both astonished and thrilled when he took her hand, placed it directly over his heart and said in a low, husky voice, “Touch me. Feel me, sweetheart.”

She immediately complied. Her fingers spread, palm flush against him, she eagerly explored the perfect symmetry of his naked bronzed torso. She stroked and rubbed and examined him thoroughly, letting her fingertips circle the flat brown nipples almost hidden in the dense black chest hair. She felt a small tremor surge through him at her touch and was excited by the knowledge that she had so titillated him. Her eyes focused on the broad expanse of bare flesh before her, she popped her finger into her mouth and sucked it briefly. She then circled his left nipple with her wet fingertip before looking up to get his reaction.

Incredible heat radiated from his dark eyes and he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, drew her to him and kissed her hungrily. As he kissed her, Madeleine continued to toy with him, raking her nails down his chest, fanning her hand over his hot skin, tangling her fingertips in the crisp, springy hair.

When their heated lips finally separated, Madeleine was surprised to find that Armand had managed—during the prolonged kiss—to completely unbutton the jacket of her peach traveling suit. When he pushed it apart, she suffered a mild twinge of doubt. But when he bent his head and placed the gentlest of kisses in the valley between her breasts, all misgivings fled. She felt her nipples tighten and her stomach contract. And she made no move to stop him when he pushed the open jacket down her arms and tossed it aside.

“God, you are so sweet, so beautiful,” he said, placing the tip of his little finger under the lacy strap of her camisole.

Madeleine felt the strap being slipped off her shoulder and sliding down her upper arm. She took a quick excited breath through her mouth and heard him say, “Look at me, chérie.”

Her eyes met his and again she experienced the feeling of being pulled into him.

“Trust me. I won’t hurt you,” he promised and as her gaze stayed locked with his, he raised her damp skirts and ran a hand up her stockinged left leg. When his fingers encountered the ruffled border of her knee-length pantalets, he gave the lacy trim a playful tug, then urged her knees apart.

Madeleine inhaled anxiously as his warm fingers moved steadily upward along the inside of her thigh.

“Kiss me,” he coaxed and she eagerly obeyed.

Wildly she kissed him, cupping his lean cheeks in her hands, anxiously moving her questing lips against his and thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. During the fervent kiss she felt his lean fingers move all the way up between her legs to touch her in that most intimate spot.

Through the soft cotton of her pantalets he slowly, expertly caressed her until the fabric, which was the only barrier between his moving fingers and her tingling flesh, was damp from her body’s response.

Sucking anxiously at his lips, she sighed and squirmed and became more aroused with each passing second.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Armand murmured against her lips.

“Mmm,” was all she could manage in reply.

“I want you to feel even better,” Armand told her, and with the speed and wizardry of a trained magician, he deftly relieved her of her pantelets.

Naked now beneath the skirts of her damp dress, Madeleine held her breath, waiting expectantly for him to touch her again. Armand made her wait. But only long enough to unhook her lace-trimmed camisole and remove it.

“I knew it,” he said, when she was bare to the waist.

“W-what?” she asked, trembling.

“That you don’t wear those horrible corsets. You have no need for them. Your waist is naturally small and your breasts—” his eyes lowered to the twin mounds of pale flesh topped with satiny pink nipples “—are full and need no stays to enhance or lift them.” As if to punctuate the sentence, he bent his head and kissed the rising swell of Madeleine’s left breast.

After that, everything became an electrifying blur of sheer ecstasy to the highly aroused Madeleine. While the storm raged on with winds so forceful that the couple was at constant risk of being dumped onto the rolling, pitching floor, Armand de Chevalier made passionate, prolonged love to Lady Madeleine Cavendish as if they had forever.

Madeleine wiggled and sighed with pleasure as Armand’s warm hand again stole up under her skirts to touch and tease and toy. His fingers slid easily in the silky wetness flowing freely from her, as he leaned to her and brushed a kiss to her right nipple. Instinctively Madeleine arched her back, thrusting her breasts more fully against his hot, handsome face. Armand kissed her, then opened his mouth and gently nibbled on her rapidly stiffening nipples.

Dizzy with desire, Madeleine hugged Armand’s dark head to her while he sucked on her responsive nipples and his fingers gently circled that ultrasensitive button of pure sensation between her parted legs.

Armand felt her climax beginning even before Madeleine realized it was happening. He gave her nipple one last plucking kiss, raised his head, and watched the changing expressions march across her beautiful face as she ascended steadily toward total release.

And all the while she was pleading, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please.”

“Never, my love,” he assured her, not rushing her, patiently taking her all the way, carefully guiding her to an all-encompassing climax.

“Armand! Armand! Armand!” she cried out at last and dug her nails into his muscular biceps as she reached the shattering zenith.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he soothed, continuing to caress her until he was certain her powerful orgasm was totally completed.

Frantically she grabbed his arm to stay his hand, then went limp against him, shaking and trembling with emotion. He pressed her head onto his shoulder and kissed her parted lips, her closed eyes, her flushed cheeks.

Gale-force winds continued to buffet the sinking ship and the bunk upon which the two were strapped rose and fell with the high, tossing waves. It had little effect on the pair. Hot for each other, determined to fill their last minutes on earth with abandoned carnal joy, they ignored the roar of the wind, the rolling of the ship.

When Madeleine had calmed a little and had caught her breath, Armand finished undressing her. He managed the pleasant task as she continued to sit on his right knee. And as he disrobed her, he lovingly caressed each portion of bare skin he exposed. She was like malleable clay in his artistic hands, stirring to the slightest touch of his fiery fingertips.

When she was as naked as the day she was born, save for her silk stockings and leather slippers, Armand placed a hand behind her right knee and raised it, lifting her foot up onto his own left knee. He took the slipper from her foot and dropped it to the floor. Then he smiled at her, slipped a hand under her lace-trimmed, blue satin garter and peeled it down her leg.

Madeleine watched, puzzled and amused, as he slid the garter up his bare right arm, and released it when it tightly encircled his biceps.

“A keepsake from you,” he explained and she nodded.

He stripped the silken stocking down her bent leg and tossed it aside. She suddenly felt very foolish and awkward. Here she was, naked, sitting on his knee with one of her legs bent and raised, her bare foot propped on his knee. She shuddered when he cupped her foot in his palm, raised it slightly and bent to kiss her instep. Then she giggled uncontrollably when she felt his tongue go between her ticklish toes.

He laughed, raised his head and lowered her bare foot to the floor. She waited for him to remove the other stocking. But he didn’t do it and she didn’t complain although she was sure she looked quite silly wearing nothing but one stocking and one garter.

He didn’t think so. “God, you’re desirable,” he murmured, his hand sweeping down her silk-encased leg. “I want you to leave this one stocking on for me.”

“Whatever you want,” she said, unhampered by conscience or inhibitions or thoughts of tomorrow, “I want.”

“I want you,” he said. “I want you to give me every kind of love you can possibly express. I want you to tell me everything you’ve ever wanted to do and never did. I want you to reveal to me every secret yearning you’ve ever had and never told. I want you share with me every craving you’ve ever experienced. I want you to give yourself to me completely and let me love you as no one ever has. I want you. I want you, over and over again.”

Already aroused, his bold words further awakened Madeleine’s innate sensuality. The things he said excited her, made her want to give him all she had to give, to lose herself in him and his love-making, to actually do all the forbidden things she had never done with anyone.

Armand kissed her, took her hand, and placed it on the waistband of his dark trousers. Her lips fused with his, her fingers found the buttons of his trousers and she hastily undid them. Then, without his urging, she laid her hand against the ridge of hard flesh restrained by his white linen underwear. As the probing kiss continued, Armand made a half-strangled sound that Madeleine easily interpreted.

She pulled the white underwear out and away from his flat belly, freeing his straining masculinity. Her hand was back on him then, stroking, caressing, arousing.

Until Armand could stand it no more.

He clasped her fragile wrist, stayed her hand and said, “I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.”

In seconds he was naked and Madeleine was stretched out on her back on the bunk with Armand lying atop her. The restraining straps were buckled loosely behind his back. His weight supported on stiffened arms, Armand lay between Madeleine’s parted legs, kissing her, murmuring shockingly forbidden words of passion, arousing her to a fever pitch by carefully positioning himself so that his heavy, pulsing erection was warmly cradled by her open female flesh.

Madeleine lay squirming beneath him, gazing into his eyes and clutching his upper arms. His handsome face, broad chest and muscular shoulders filled the entire scope of her vision. She could see nothing else. Nothing but him. He was her whole world, this giver of such exquisite erotic pleasure.

When Armand bent his head to press a kiss to her breasts, she sighed with prickling pleasure as his silky hair ruffled against her chin and his lips tugged at her nipple. She turned her head on the pillow and smiled dreamily at the sight of her blue satin garter encircling his muscular upper arm.

But when he raised his head and put his hand between their pressing bodies, Madeleine automatically tensed for what was to come.

“Don’t, chérie,” he said. “Relax. I’ll be gentle. Let me love you.”

She did.

And he did.

She released a shallow breath as she felt his throbbing tumescence slide slowly, cautiously into her. She knew that he was watching her face for signs of pain so she was very careful not to exhibit any traces of the discomfort she briefly experienced. It did hurt. It had been a long, long time. And he was so…so big. She felt as if her body were being filled and stretched far beyond its capacity.

But not for long. Amazingly enough, she found that her yielding flesh was indeed able to accommodate his impressive erection. And when he began to move inside her, Madeleine gave silent thanks that this stranger to whom she was willingly surrendering her body was so very well endowed.

In this dark lover’s arms, Madeleine became oblivious to the raging storm. Swept away in a tempest of white-hot passion, deeply impaled upon his thrusting flesh, she rocked and bucked against him, finding the rhythm of the rocking, bucking bunk beneath them.

It was a wild, erotic ride as neither Madeleine nor Armand held anything back. Mating in an almost animalistic manner, they moaned and gasped as they made hot, totally uninhibited love as the ship rose and fell violently, the fierce movements only adding to the savage joy of their vigorous coupling.

Glorying in the intimacy and the ecstasy, Madeleine was certain that this handsome Creole was indisputably the world’s most thrilling lover. She was totally enchanted, loving the look in his flashing black eyes, the taste of his burning lips and the splendid feel of his lean body on hers—and in hers.

She was amazed that he had the power and the stamina and the skill to make her climax again and again until she was practically weeping his name in near sexual hysteria. And she was shocked that he could attain his own hot, spurting orgasm and then be able and ready to pleasure her again within just a few short minutes.

And so it went.

While the hurricane howled and punished and threatened to capsize the already sinking ship, the lovers continued to thrill and please and pleasure each other as if there were no tomorrow.

And there wasn’t. But it didn’t matter.

As Madeleine again felt her lover’s hard flesh seek the soft warmth of hers, she sighed and gazed at him, enthralled.

He was everything. He was the only thing. There was no future and no past. Only now with him moving inside her as he looked into her eyes and murmured her name in low, soft tones that she magically managed to hear above the deafening din.

Only him.

Only now.

And now was forever.