She had no desire to bring violence to the caves. If the Blackshirts were Marco’s enemy, at least she could refrain from leading his enemies to him. She was quite capable of telling a good enough story, without mentioning Marco and his hidden mountain village.
Through the mist of sleep that began to cloud her brain, her thoughts wandered back again to Johnny and Gillian and the fiasco at the Ellersbys’ country house. As far as Emma had been concerned, the house party had been an opportunity for a sexual romp; she’d had no idea of the undercurrents. Johnny had been shadowing German spies, and Gillian had helped him get to the bottom of the betrayal of state secrets.
In the process they’d fallen in love. They’d been completely besotted with each other after the dust settled. Emma had received a good scare when taciturn men in grey suits had questioned her for hours about her presence at the house party, but in truth, Johnny and Gillian were the major reason why she’d decided to change her ways. For the first time she’d seen two people totally in love, totally absorbed in each other to the exclusion of everything else, and she’d been envious. Sex and love, now there was an exciting combination! She might have to settle for a marriage without love eventually, because there had to be an heir to the Houndsdale holdings, but she clung to the very small hope that she might find what Gillian Christie had found in Johnny Westmarland.
Her last drifting thoughts were of the feel of Marco’s hands on her, the pressure of his mouth…
Marco’s eyes quickly grew accustomed to the night after the torchlight of the caves, and he easily made out the shapes of rocks and small trees as he followed the path downward, scanning everywhere for a sign of her passing.
He sensed her before he saw her, the hairs on the back of his neck announcing her nearness. He paused and made out the dark form bundled under a tree in a small hollow. He watched for a moment then, when there was no movement from her, he stepped off the track and crept toward her hiding place.
Once close, he bent over her. She had wrapped the shawl tightly over her head and her legs were curled close to her body. The sight of her lying helpless in the darkness sent his brain reeling. No amount of reason could prevent his immediate physical response to her. Heat flooded him and he felt the tightening in his groin.
She had to be exhausted to sleep so well in the cold. He glanced to the east. No glimmer of dawn as yet. The lack of light would make the immediate return to the caves a slow and dangerous process. There would be no movement on the slopes by anyone for a few hours yet. The temptation to steal a few minutes of delight was irresistible. He slid into the hollow in the earth and folded himself around her. He spread the blanket to cover her legs. His chest made a firm wall against her back and his breath fanned her cheek. He let his hands rest on her ribs.
Then pure instinct took over. At the feel of her his balls tightened and his heart began to pound. His cock swelled, jammed tight against the curve of her ass. It felt good pressed against the length of her, far too good.
Something about this woman triggered a terrible kind of lunacy within him. Raw need ricocheted through him. Ever since she’d returned his kiss on the path into the hills, nothing would do but for him to touch her again. And to demand more than a touch and a kiss.
He moved the shawl aside from her head and nuzzled the sweet, warm hollow of her neck. He breathed in the heady scent of her skin, and she stirred as his lips trailed along the thin line of her collarbone.
“Bella donna, be still.” He whispered in her ear and tightened his hold, his legs molded against hers as they lay fitted together like spoons.
For a moment her body stiffened and resisted him. “What the-”
“Shush, Emma.” He brushed his lips against her exposed nape where her hair had been.
“Marco?” He felt some of the tension leave her. “You found me. I suppose it was pretty hopeless to think I could make it all the way down.” She sighed. “I was dreaming that Catherine had put a warming pan in my bed. I was so cold.” She pressed against him.
Instead of an answer he snaked his arms under her shawl and his hands crept over her, under the material of her tunic, and found her breasts, cupping the tender mounds, kneading them before seeking her nipples. He held each one between gentle fingers, savoring the way they puckered and hardened at his touch. Then he tugged, making her moan low in her throat and press harder against him. A tremor rippled though him as her response to his touch stoked the fire in his belly.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered, but she made no move to break away.
He kissed her neck again, but that wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to taste all of her. Less than a breath later he turned her toward him, bringing her body flush against his. He pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss as she clung to him, the softness of her mouth an irresistible promise of the rest of her body that he ached to possess. Thrusting his tongue into her, he took her breath, still stroking and plucking at her breasts with his fingers, tugging gently to make her arch her back and utter a tiny cry. His teeth found her earlobe and nipped at it as he continued to tease her nipples and thrust his cock harder against her.
He wanted her naked, wanted her smooth, silky skin under his fingers, her slender length fitted against him. He lifted the hem of her tunic and to his delight she raised up to help him pull it over her head. In the faint light her breasts shone with a pearly sheen, the nipples dark and tempting as ripe fruit. He grasped her waist, holding her firm, took one breast between his lips and sucked, drawing it deep into his mouth. She gave a cry and arched her back again, making him pull harder.
His touch grew stronger as she began to writhe, and he tweaked the pebbly tips one after the other, tugging, biting, letting go, maintaining the rhythm of thrust and pull until she moaned helpless in his arms.
Her hands moved on his arms and shoulders until she found the opening where his shirt gaped wide and pressed her palms flat against his chest, stroking around his ribs, touching his nipples. The fire in his belly shot upward and he groaned in his throat.
He forced her down again and kissed her cool flesh once more, teasing each nipple with the tip of his tongue, feeling her movements grow wilder as her limbs trembled beneath him. His hands were hot and hard against her bare skin, making her quiver, skimming her rib cage, inching upward. He pressed his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue deep into her, still stroking and nipping at her breasts.
She didn’t stop him from pulling impatiently at the drawstring of her skirt and, when it was loosened, dragging it from her, exposing her legs and the dark patch at the meeting of her thighs. He feasted his eyes on the length of her and drew his fingertips down from the peak of one breast, over her ribs, to hover over the curls hiding the treasure of her cunt.
“You like that?” she whispered.
“More than I can say.” His voice was tight in his throat.
Her eyes glittered in the starlight as she lay still under his gaze, the rise and fall of her chest matching the pounding of her heart he had felt moments before. She watched him unfasten his trousers and kick them aside, drawing in her breath when his cock sprang free. He knelt over her and she stretched out her hand to touch him.
He was going to explode if he couldn’t do it now. She’d driven him mad with this constant craving since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d lose what remained of his mind if he couldn’t join with her now
He had to have her.
Possess her.
Love her.
Love?
“Dio!” He closed his eyes as he allowed her to hold him in her curved fingers for just a moment. She lifted her shoulders so her lips met the tip of his quivering cock and explored the cleft with her probing tongue. He had thought his balls were as hard and tight as they could possibly be, but they swelled even more as she teased him with her wicked tongue.