Page 85 of Outrageous

“Did you marry right away?”

“Hmm? Marry? I did not see her again for a year. Her father had been killed and she’d been taken in by relatives. It was only by chance that we met again. But I knew then—” He stopped and seemed to shake himself. “We were married for five years before she died.” His tone had gone from introspective to closed—he was done with confidences. But the little bit that he’d shared had made one point achingly clear: he had dearly loved his wife, and it appeared he still did.

* * *

Godric couldn’t believe he’d just behaved like such an arse—speaking of one woman while sporting an erection for another. He was hot with shame at his boorish behavior and slid his fingers through her wiry curls—curls so different from Lucia’s waist-length silky locks, but just as lovely. “It was a long time ago, Eva. I know you are curious, but it is part of a life I left behind,” he lied, knowing all too well that Lucia haunted his dreams so frequently he was afraid to close his eyes some nights. “I don’t want to keep that part of my life secret, but neither do I wish to dwell on it.”

Liar, you’d rather dwell on it in secret, like a miser hoarding his gold.

Godric gritted his teeth against the infuriating thought and turned his attention on the living, breathing, enticing woman in front of him, rather than the increasingly dim shade in his memory.

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. “It is you I would like to dwell on,” he whispered into the darkness. “Straddle me,” he ordered, his need for her suddenly intense. Her instant compliance was gratifying and arousing and Godric slid his fingers between her spread thighs, both of them gasping as he stroked a finger through her wet heat. “God, I love the feel of you,” he muttered, his thumb circling her stiff peak while he slid his middle finger into her passage.

She made a low whimper and her body arched to take him deeper.

“Are you sore? Too sore for this?” He pumped her gently to illustrate.

“A little,” she admitted in a voice strained with want. “But not enough to make me want you to stop.”

He chuckled at her open admission of need; he really did owe Lady Exley his gratitude. Because of her wisdom, the woman in bed with him was demanding and giving, rather than cringing away from his touches.

You never touched Lucia this way.

He flinched away from the words, his mind shying away from the treasonous thought as well as the image of his modest, shy wife that accompanied it.

Above him, Eva grunted and ground herself against him, so he increased the power of his thrusts and slid a second finger to join the first. Her hips were beginning to move, to take him deeper.

“That’s right,” he urged roughly, “ride my hand—take what you want from me, Eva. Use me for your pleasure.”

His words were like the flick of a crop to a horse’s flank and she began posting him in earnest. He pumped her with one hand, his other roaming up and down a thigh that could only have become so muscular from years of riding astride. The long, lean muscle flexed and lengthened as her lithe body hit its rhythm.

Around them the windows rattled from the gusts buffeting the house, and the rumble of thunder presaged a crack of lightning that burned the image of her into his brain: head thrown back, small hands covering her high, pert breasts, lips parted in silent ecstasy as she quickened her erotic gyrations.

She was as wild and fierce as the storm that held them all in its grip.

Godric growled and used his free hand to work her to climax, desperately wishing it was his cock, rather than his fingers, that were buried inside her when she came apart.

All too soon her body went limp and she lowered her hips to where Godric held himself at the ready. He met her on the down stroke, thrusting deeply into her heat and holding her hips still as the echoes of her orgasm massaged his swollen cock. And when her pleasure had passed, he could still feel the pulse of her heart as she throbbed around him.

He slid from her with aching reluctance, the action causing every particle of his being to cry out. But the temporary punishment was worth it when she dropped her hands to his shoulders and slammed her hips to meet him on the upward thrust.

“Like that?” she gasped.

Godric gave a half-mad joyous laugh as she rode him as if she’d been doing it all her life. “Yes, Eva,” he babbled drunkenly. “Just like that.” He buried his fingers deep in the soft flesh of her hips as he pounded her with a savagery that would surely leave bruises, and Eva met him thrust for glorious thrust.

Godric recalled himself in the nick of time and withdrew from her body. It took only one stroke before his cock spasmed with violent, almost painful, contractions that wrung him out until he was as limp as a rag.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked with a last shudder of orgiastic pleasure.

She twisted and flopped down beside him, her breathing as ragged as his. “I can think of worse ways to die.”

Godric laughed, unable to recall the last time he’d been so content. Or so happy.

* * *

Godric awoke to a sight he didn’t immediately recognize: sunshine.

“Good morning, slugabed.”