hollow of her throat to her
breasts, her body tight with excitement.
Honoria closed her eyes, cradling his head in
her hands and pressing him to her. He caught her breast in his
mouth, suckling her, the movement fierce. It hurt her and it
didn't, and it was glorious.
Every time they came together was like a
thunderstorm--a tense buildup, then a sudden explosion of wind and
lightning. The buildup was over, their tension had wound high. The
release was going to sink the ship.
Christopher shoved her bodice downward,
kisses falling on every inch of her bare flesh. His muscles worked
as he lifted her to her feet and set her on the floor. "Take off
the dress."
Honoria's fingers shook as she obeyed him.
She pushed the gown down her hips and stepped out of the circle of
fabric. At the same time, he slid off his boots and shoved his
breeches down and kicked them away. Still in his shirt, he lay on
the bunk again and dragged her on top of him.
He moved her thighs so she straddled him,
while his warm hands skimmed her torso. Honoria felt a bit shy
being bare for him--the other times she'd been with him, they'd
never taken the trouble to unclothe themselves completely.
But her shyness dissolved as she lost herself
in the absolute beauty of him. Christopher's erection, long and
hard, rested against his abdomen, crisp curls of dark blond hair at
its base. She shifted until the hardness nestled between her legs,
the friction of it promising more joy to come.
"You're always ready for me, Honoria," he
said. "I never have to wonder if you want me."
True, she was swelling and parting, already
imagining him inside her. Christopher lifted her, his hardness
rising between them, and he slid her down onto it.
In the cell in Charleston, everything had
been quick, wicked, burning. Now Christopher went into her
carefully, inch by slow inch, letting her grow used to him. His
hands were slick with sweat, just as she was slick from wanting
him.
Christopher eased her down, more, more, while
he rose inside her. His eyes darkened as he watched her,
candlelight touching his lashes and the golden bristles on his
face.
"Honoria, love, I missed you so much."
He eased her the rest of the way down,
closing the last inch of space between their bodies. Honoria rocked
her head back, her loosened hair brushing her shoulders like warm
silk. Her flesh rose and tingled, her nipples dark and tight.
Christopher lay almost quietly beneath her,
muscles playing under the shirt he still wore. She wished he'd take
it off so she could run her hands over his body, but he did not.
His bronzed throat showed in the V of his collar, shining with
perspiration.
And inside her was the blunt, rigid length of
him, loosening what had been tight in her for so long. Honoria
welcomed the burning at her cleft, wanting it and wanting him.
This was right. The only time in her
life she'd ever felt complete, whole, was when she and Christopher
came together. She did not understand why this should be--she only
knew that she wanted to pull him deeper into herself, as deep as he
could go.
"Harder, please, Christopher."
He obliged, droving his hips upward, filling
her. His gray eyes were heavy, like a drunken man's, and his warm
hands engulfed her.
Honoria let her head drop back again, eyes
closing. Christopher thrust his thumb between them to where they
joined, gently teasing the bud that swelled for him.
Her climax came, the apex of the storm.
Incoherent sounds came from her mouth, Honoria rocking desperately
on him. Christopher thrust and thrust, and then suddenly he was
gone.
She cried out in disappointment, but then
Christopher pushed her down into the quilts, his body a heavy
weight on hers. Honoria sank into the pillows she'd insisted on
keeping, then he moved her legs apart and entered her in one long
stroke.
Honoria's climax went on, her voice ringing
from the beams. Christopher pinned her with hard hands on her
wrists, droplets of his sweat falling to her chest. He sought
breasts, her body tight with excitement.
Honoria closed her eyes, cradling his head in
her hands and pressing him to her. He caught her breast in his
mouth, suckling her, the movement fierce. It hurt her and it
didn't, and it was glorious.
Every time they came together was like a
thunderstorm--a tense buildup, then a sudden explosion of wind and
lightning. The buildup was over, their tension had wound high. The
release was going to sink the ship.
Christopher shoved her bodice downward,
kisses falling on every inch of her bare flesh. His muscles worked
as he lifted her to her feet and set her on the floor. "Take off
the dress."
Honoria's fingers shook as she obeyed him.
She pushed the gown down her hips and stepped out of the circle of
fabric. At the same time, he slid off his boots and shoved his
breeches down and kicked them away. Still in his shirt, he lay on
the bunk again and dragged her on top of him.
He moved her thighs so she straddled him,
while his warm hands skimmed her torso. Honoria felt a bit shy
being bare for him--the other times she'd been with him, they'd
never taken the trouble to unclothe themselves completely.
But her shyness dissolved as she lost herself
in the absolute beauty of him. Christopher's erection, long and
hard, rested against his abdomen, crisp curls of dark blond hair at
its base. She shifted until the hardness nestled between her legs,
the friction of it promising more joy to come.
"You're always ready for me, Honoria," he
said. "I never have to wonder if you want me."
True, she was swelling and parting, already
imagining him inside her. Christopher lifted her, his hardness
rising between them, and he slid her down onto it.
In the cell in Charleston, everything had
been quick, wicked, burning. Now Christopher went into her
carefully, inch by slow inch, letting her grow used to him. His
hands were slick with sweat, just as she was slick from wanting
him.
Christopher eased her down, more, more, while
he rose inside her. His eyes darkened as he watched her,
candlelight touching his lashes and the golden bristles on his
face.
"Honoria, love, I missed you so much."
He eased her the rest of the way down,
closing the last inch of space between their bodies. Honoria rocked
her head back, her loosened hair brushing her shoulders like warm
silk. Her flesh rose and tingled, her nipples dark and tight.
Christopher lay almost quietly beneath her,
muscles playing under the shirt he still wore. She wished he'd take
it off so she could run her hands over his body, but he did not.
His bronzed throat showed in the V of his collar, shining with
perspiration.
And inside her was the blunt, rigid length of
him, loosening what had been tight in her for so long. Honoria
welcomed the burning at her cleft, wanting it and wanting him.
This was right. The only time in her
life she'd ever felt complete, whole, was when she and Christopher
came together. She did not understand why this should be--she only
knew that she wanted to pull him deeper into herself, as deep as he
could go.
"Harder, please, Christopher."
He obliged, droving his hips upward, filling
her. His gray eyes were heavy, like a drunken man's, and his warm
hands engulfed her.
Honoria let her head drop back again, eyes
closing. Christopher thrust his thumb between them to where they
joined, gently teasing the bud that swelled for him.
Her climax came, the apex of the storm.
Incoherent sounds came from her mouth, Honoria rocking desperately
on him. Christopher thrust and thrust, and then suddenly he was
gone.
She cried out in disappointment, but then
Christopher pushed her down into the quilts, his body a heavy
weight on hers. Honoria sank into the pillows she'd insisted on
keeping, then he moved her legs apart and entered her in one long
stroke.
Honoria's climax went on, her voice ringing
from the beams. Christopher pinned her with hard hands on her
wrists, droplets of his sweat falling to her chest. He sought
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