The Wedding(13)

By: Emma Darcy


An animal growl rumbled from his throat. He twisted, caught her hands, pushed them above her head. Then with slow and very deliberate control he moved onto the bed, stretching out on his side next to her, leaning over her with dark simmering intent. His way... that was what was glittering in his eyes.

It stirred a strong ambivalence in Tessa, the desire to know his way and the desire to turn it into something different, unique both for him and herself. She did not want him to use her and forget her. Even though she could be nothing more than a memory to him in time to come, she wanted the memory to stick. As something special.

He held her hands inactive with one detaining arm so that he could use his free hand to touch her where he willed. He stroked her throat, the now wildly pulsating sensitivity of her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. He watched her face as her flesh quivered to his touch.

Tessa made no move, no sound. She watched him in silence, both loving and defying his sensual expertise. Take me when you want, but I’ll take you, too, she promised him.

He bent and ran the tip of his tongue between her lips. She touched it with hers. He moved into a slow escalation of the kiss, teasing, tantalising, playing for maximum sensation. He slid his hand between her thighs, skilfully arousing her, slowly driving excitement and anticipation to breaking point.

She knew instinctively that it was what he wanted, to make her cry out, to plead, to make her want him beyond any thread of control. Every nerve end in her body screamed for release but she held on, grimly refusing to be easy for him.

She didn’t know why it was so important to her. Maybe it was some dark deep unfathomable sense of revenge. The man she had loved had taken her for granted. Treated her with disrespect. Thought he could get away with anything. If ever there was an archetypal man, it was Blaize Callagan. And this time, this time with him, nothing about her was going to be taken for granted.

“Relax,” he growled.

“Please let my hands go, sir.”

He released a long shuddering sigh, which told her he was stretched fairly taut himself. “Try not to claw me to death, Stockton.”

“It will only be a little blood, sir.” A drop of life, that’s all it would be, but he would share it with her. She would make him.

“Somehow I feel I can’t count on that, Stockton.”

He sensed the dark well of intensity in her, and it was getting to him. Tessa felt a thrill of power. “Trust me, sir.”

“With those tigress eyes?”

She smiled. “He who rides a tiger takes his life in his own hands, sir.” It was a challenge that a man such as Blaize Callagan would never back away from.

His eyes narrowed. “Very profound, Stockton.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He released her hands, then waited, tensely poised, to see what she would do with them. She curled one around his head and gently raked her fingers through his thick black hair, feeling the texture of it, enjoying its soft springiness. She lifted her other hand to his face, obeying an impulse to trace his beautiful bone structure with her fingertips; his brow, his cheeks, his nose, his jawline. It was a curiously exhilarating exploration, almost as though she was touching the inner man under his skin.

She wanted to touch his lips, the finer texture there, the sharp line of definition that outlined them. But he suddenly opened his mouth and sucked her fingers in, biting them a little before releasing them.

He bent and kissed her hard. She responded with a passion that fired even more passion from him. She ran her foot down his calf. He shuddered. She ran her fingernails down his back, very lightly, but he reared up, an inarticulate cry tearing from his throat.

He took her then, the need to smash her control so intense that his possession of her was explosive. Tessa’s response was instant and aggressive, riding the storm of sensation with all the intoxicating elation of a surfer on a rip curl, balancing her body through every rhythmic change, every wild contortion, welding with him in a mad drive for more and more sensation that drove them both to excesses in their fierce desire to exhaust the other.

It ended in peaceful togetherness. She melted around him, he lost himself in her, and their sweat-slicked bodies slid finally to rest.

For a long time, neither moved. They were totally spent, floating mindlessly on a tide that had ebbed but still had them in its grip. Eventually Blaize summoned enough energy to lift himself away from her and roll onto his back. They lay side by side, not talking, not touching, not moving.

Tessa had no idea what he was thinking but the silence didn’t worry her. She was busy with her own thoughts as she reviewed what had just happened with a sense of awe and wonder.