The sound of his name from her kiss-swollen lips sent Ian over the edge. Desire flared through him. Jerking her gown, he pulled it to her waist and tore off her fine lace drawers. He was beyond thinking. This was war. This was hunger. This was primitive, basic lust. He had to have her now, to place his mark on her for all time. She would belong to no one but him from today onward.
Her naked splendor unveiled to him, Ian growled at the sight of the golden triangle of curls between her shapely thighs, his carnal hunger burning away his sensibilities. Hands shaking, he touched her sweet, hot cleft, groaning at the wet dew there. Without the leisurely petting he had oft dreamed for this night, without the words of love he had once imagined he would speak, he unbuttoned his pants, shoved them halfway down and pushed her legs apart. He was wild with desire, his flesh so hard he literally ached with the force of his erection.
He rolled over on top of her, resting on his elbows as he moved into position. He wanted to be able to see her face at the moment of possession. Holding her head between his hands, he stared into her smoky eyes, eyes that were heavy-lidded with lust. How he loved this woman!
Clair moaned, arching beneath her true love, struggling to get closer, needing to be one with him. Her insides ached with want for this wild beautiful man who lay atop her, looking down at her with such need and tenderness in his eyes.
"Please, Ian…" Clair hesitated, unsure of what she needed to stop the fierce ache between her legs.
But Ian knew. With one push, he embedded himself within her, breaking through her maidenhead and seating himself to the hilt. It was the most primal feeling he had ever experienced. She was his! Let no man put them asunder. Let no man try. Let no vampire try. He would kill any or all that would attempt to steal this wondrous woman. She was now his. His future. His destiny.
Caught in such overwhelming feelings of pride, possession, and lust, he sensed tears in his eyes. Then he felt Clair quiver, a whimper escaping her. Feeling the beast, he lowered his head to hers.
"Forgive me, Clair. I meant to go slower. I know it hurts, my love. But give it a minute," he gasped. She was the white to his black, the sun to his moon, and the youth to his aging responsibilities.
"God, Clair, how I love you," he said. He felt her lush breasts against his chest, the nipples hard little circles. He felt the heat and tightness of her sheath, and he smelled the fresh scent of her woman's arousal and virgin's blood. He wanted to lick her there, taste her, and make her scream with ecstasy.
Dazed, Clair freed her hands from beneath his chest and, placing one on each cheek, she raised his head and gazed deeply into Ian's eyes. They were burning with a rawness she had never seen before, the green sparking like emerald fire. His jaw was tense, his neck corded. Tenderly, she kissed him on the lips.
"I love you too, Ian Huntsley," she murmured. She arched against him, tears staining her cheeks, a bemused expression on her face. This was what she had dreamed of in the long-ago dreams of a foolish young girclass="underline" love, pure and simple and true.
With the damp, cool earth beneath her and the midnight velvet of the night above, the stars were her guide. Clair arched up against Ian. She had to feel him move within her secret core now that the pain had faded. Her body was throbbing—hot, aching with an intense desire she didn't understand but instinctively knew only Ian could satisfy. Her movement triggered something inside him as Ian began to plunge his hips wildly back and forth. His movements became more forceful as Clair lifted her hips to meet his in a dance of love as old and fierce as nature and time.
Suddenly, Clair felt a building of some momentous force within her. Deep purple filled her mind with flashes of white lightning. The feeling built… built… built until it burst forth with a brilliance that left her frozen and in awe. She screamed a cry against the night.
The sound fired Ian's own primitive response. He shouted as he thrust hard twice more and released his seed, claiming Clair as she held him in the cradle of her arms, clasping his head. With a lightened heart, he whispered words of love to her, some English, some in Welsh. His long days' journeys into lonely nights were now over. He had come home.
"Oh Clair, you are truly a miracle in my life. Are you all right?" he questioned anxiously. "I didn't mean to be so rough. I meant to wine and dine you, to kiss every delicious inch of your body. It was your first time and I should have been more circumspect, more a gentleman."
Clair laughed, the musical sound filling his heart. "I am living up to my family name. My first time making love and it's in a cemetery. You do know how to spoil a girl," she teased, kissing him lightly on the lips. "I think I rather like you wild and untamed," she decided after a moment. She brushed a dark, damp curl off his forehead. "No wonder no one tells us young ladies about this… this incredible, mind-altering, marvelous, earthshaking experience. If they did, we would all become wanton hussies with swollen bellies nine months out of every year," she finished enthusiastically.
Ian threw back his head and laughed a laugh of pure joy. He was free at last from the tribulations of his youth. He felt young for the first time since being a cub of fourteen, before his father's death and his mother's overshadowing grief, before the winds of time had blown his hopes into the dark abyss. "Marry me," he said.
Clair's head shot off his chest. "What?"
"You heard me. I want you to marry me. I would get down on my knees and ask, but it appears I'm already there," he remarked drolly as he twitched his legs, which were entwined with Clair's.
She shook her head, her palm against his cheek. "Ian, you don't have to do the honorable thing. I am almost twenty-five years old. I am not some young innocent."
"You were a virgin, Clair." He frowned. This was not going at all as he'd planned. She was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to be kissing his face in happiness, squealing with delight. She was supposed to be discussing her wedding dress.
"I know this sounds silly, but I am still not as innocent as some innocents truly are. I am a—"
Before she could finish, Ian interrupted her, impatience clear in his tone. He knew what he wanted. He wanted her.
"I know, I know. A Frankenstein. But I want to make you a Huntsley. Besides, together we are the perfect example of a covalent bond."
"Oh, Ian. You've been boning up on your science." Clair sighed admiringly.
He chuckled. He'd been boning up on something, all right. "Be my baroness. The Baroness Huntsley."
"But that is the point, Ian. I am a Frankenstein. I will be published. I will continue my research. I will win the prestigious Scientific Discovery of the Decade Award. And after that I will still be involved with my scientific research. How will you feel about me running all over God's green earth, chasing vampires and werewolves?" She asked as she must, her heart breaking. Ian would want her to give up her adventures; she just knew it.
"I wouldn't care for it too much. I would rather you run around God's green earth after our children. That will keep you busy and fulfilled," he added pompously.
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I want your children. Yes, being a mother and wife will keep me fulfilled. But I won't give up my scientific ambitions. I just won't, Ian. Not for all the tea in China."
"Or for being a baroness, either, I guess," he replied, stung. "I love you, Clair. We can work something out. Besides, you could already be pregnant." He put a hand possessively on her stomach. How he hoped she was. The thought of Clair carrying his child, suckling his child, stirred him deeply. He would teach his child the mysteries of living and giving. At such a dream, his heart swelled with love and a deep sense of abiding fulfillment. His John Thomas, who'd always had a head of its own, was once again ready and rearing to go.