Chapter 67 Freeing My Hands

• “Freeing my hands so I can finish taking off your dress.”
She laughed in surprise, wriggling to help him. “Your shorts, too. I want you as naked as me.”
He swiftly removed his remaining clothes, then slid her dress down her legs, ridding her feet of sandals at the same time.
“Touch your breasts, Christabel,” he softly advised her as he parted her legs and moved between them, stroking her inner thighs. “Feel them as I felt them. Know them as I did…beautiful, sensual, full of womanly excitement. Do it as I do this.…”
Very gently he moved his caressing to her moist lower lips. “Close your eyes. Think only of feeling,” he murmured, swooping down to kiss and stroke and tease into intense arousal the most intimate part of her, spreading one hand through the silky hair above it to hold her still for him, sliding the other down the softly swollen folds, deepening the caress, circling the passage inwards, feeling the convulsive clutch of her muscles as he moved his mouth over and around the peak of excitement and breathed in the musky scent of her rush of desire for him…so sweet and heady and intoxicating.
“Jared…”
His name bursting needfully from her throat as she quivered, writhed, and he was filled with a wild exultation…Christabel calling for him…her man…the only one to make her feel like this.
“Jared…please…I can’t bear it.… I can’t.…”
“Yes, you can,” he soothed, moving to answer her need. “Go with it. Let it happen.”
And he kissed his way up her pulsating body, deftly replacing the caress of his hand with the extension of himself she really craved…the glorious exhilaration of feeling her convulse around him in frantic welcome as he entered, pushing slowly inwards, providing the solidity for her to shatter around.
“Oh…” She arched in ecstasy.
He paused, kissing the highly thrusted peaks of her breasts.
“Oh…oh…” Tremulous waves rolling through her. She suddenly grabbed him, fiercely pulling him upwards. “More…more, Jared.”
He gave her the full length of himself, plunging hard and fast to the inner rim of her womb, and again she arched, loving all he could give, and the blissful, “Oh!” as she felt the completion of his thrust poured a sweet elation through Jared.
He kissed her mouth, passionately reinforcing the intimate link of their bodies. Her arms wrapped around him. Her legs wrapped around him. She clung to him, greedy for every sensation of this deep and mutual possession of each other, hugging him so tightly, he knew she wanted the feeling prolonged forever.
“Jared, this is so incredibly wonderful,” she breathed against his lips.
The joy of her uninhibited heart zinged through his heart, instantly compelling the urge to control his own need while giving her all the pleasure he could. “It will keep coming,” he promised. “Just ride with it now.”
One orgasm—even if it was her first—wasn’t special enough. Wanting her to feel a rolling sequence of them, Jared moved them both into alternating rhythms—fast and slow—reading her response, her need, driving her to each quivering pinnacle, riding the crest of it, sliding to the next one, loving the voluptuous roll of her body as she flowed with him and around him, the little cries of pleasure that burst from her throat, the sheer abandonment of herself to him.
His excitement in giving her this pleasure became so intense, he could not contain it any longer, and the last shred of control left him as he drove towards answering his own urgent need. She was so hot, so welcoming, so deliciously open to him, it was impossible to slow the compelling rush towards climax. Tension gripped his body, stretching it to the inevitable burst of sweet violent spasms, and again she wrapped herself around him, revelling in the gift of himself, and she was kissing him, caressing him, loving him, and for Jared it was the most perfect moment of his life.
“You truly are the pleasure King,” she murmured in husky wonderment, still pressing soft little kisses on his face. “You truly are.”
The title bemused him. “Is that how you think of me?”
“It’s in your eyes, the way you touch…even that very first night you came to the markets, you took pleasure in running your fingers over my jewellery display, and when you looked at me…” She sighed, her warm breath feathering his cheek.
“Looking at you gave me pleasure, Christabel, and I want more of it now, looking at you lying on my bed where I’ve wanted you a thousand times. And that’s where I’m taking you right this minute.”
She gave a gurgle of delighted laughter as he scooped her up and held her cradled across his chest, his legs purposefully striding down the veranda to the French doors that led into his bedroom. It was coming out right, he thought triumphantly. Christabel hung her arms around his neck and nestled her head on his shoulder, wanting what he wanted.
“The rain has stopped,” she observed in surprise.
“So it has,” he agreed carelessly.
“A storm to remember,” she murmured.
He smiled, interpreting her words as proof of the feelings he’d successfully implanted in her memory.
Once inside his bedroom, he laid her down on the pillows and switched on a table lamp, driven to match the reality of her to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind. He walked around the bed to the other side, feasting his eyes on the sheer perfection of her.
Her glorious hair was just as he’d imagined, a lustrous fan of silky waves, rippling out in sensual invitation, and her skin did gleam like smooth honey. Her body was the very epitome of femininity, lush curves and long, elegant legs, but he saw not a trace of the tiger image he’d imbued her with.
There was almost an awkward self-consciousness in the way she lay there, waiting for him to join her, not shy, but acutely aware of her nakedness and his appraisal of it. Her fingers made agitated little movements, as though uncertain of whether they should cover something, at least a little.
It made him wonder why…how she could not know the power of her sexual attraction…what had undermined the pride and confidence she should have?
Her eyes were not inviting dangerous play. Her eyes were fixed on him, avidly drinking in every detail of his physique as though it was a source of intense inner marvelling. It hit Jared forcefully that everything about this situation was new to her, being with him like this, both of them freely naked, totally unrestricted intimacy with no fear of criticism.
It was oddly moving that she was delighting in him so much, like a child being showered with gifts at a surprise party. He stretched out beside her, propping himself up on his elbow so he could watch the expressions on her face. She smiled at him, no exotic mystery in her eyes, more a twinkle of happy mischief.
“Am I allowed to touch you now?” she asked.
He grinned an open invitation. “All embargoes on touch removed. Go right ahead.”
“Anywhere?”
“Whatever takes your fancy.”
She immediately sat up in a commanding position, her face wickedly gleeful as she challenged him. “Then you lie down, Jared. Just you lie there and let me do what I want.”
“Am I allowed to touch?” he asked teasingly as he settled his head on a pillow, assuming a totally relaxed position.
She cocked her head on one side, considering the question. “No. Better not. You’ll distract me and take over and this is my turn.”
He was amused and intrigued by what her turn would entail.
It very quickly became the most incredibly erotic experience of his life. She touched him as though she was sensually absorbing all that he was—his arms, his body, his legs, every part of him—her soft, beguiling fingerpads making their own paths and patterns, emitting a tingling magic, creating a sensational artistry focused entirely on him.
Wherever she kissed him it was with a kind of fascinated concentration on his response, wanting to know what excited, what pleasured, and clearly delighting in arousing him again. She knelt between his legs, lightly running her nails up and down the taut muscles of his thighs, watching the effect on him, the stiffening swell growing to full hardness. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around him, then gently cupped him with her other hand, squeezing as she bent over and took him in her mouth, rhythmically inciting the most intense and exquisite pleasure.
Her hair was spread all around him—his stomach, groin, thighs—silkily feathering his highly sensitised flesh as she deepened and accelerated the flow of excitement. Apart from the exquisite stimulation she was imparting, the visual pleasure of her was enthralling, lifting the whole experience to levels of intensity that blew Jared’s mind. He heard himself calling her name in a wild crescendo of need.
Instantly she lifted herself and moved into straddling him. Then she was taking him inside her, lowering herself slowly, feeling and making him feel the long slide into blissful chaos as he climaxed in a series of violent tremors. Her beautiful breasts brushed his chest as she leaned over, and the soft curtain of her hair enveloped them as she loved his mouth with long, avid kisses.
Jared lost all track of the questions he’d wanted answered about Christabel. For the rest of the night they wallowed in a feast of sensuality, moving around each other, exploring and discovering, indulging an ever-increasing appetite for every possible intimacy, entranced by their connections, stimulated by their almost constant capacity for arousal, their desire to feel all that could be felt between them.
They didn’t talk. Speech seemed irrelevant. There was a deeper, more elemental communion happening between them, a bonding that was more satisfying, more fulfilling than words could possibly express. This was Jared’s instinctive belief, and his instincts had not been wrong about Christabel. She was the woman for him, just as certainly as he was the man for her.
When languor finally overtook them, energy completely spent, Jared drifted into sleep, never doubting that the woman he held in his arms would still be there when he stirred again. It didn’t occur to him that when the night ended, Christabel would leave him. What she had stipulated earlier was forgotten, overlaid by a sense of unbreakable togetherness.
He simply didn’t comprehend—couldn’t comprehend—had no way of even beginning to comprehend—that for her, it had to remain…
Only one night.