Page 44 of The Soldier
So he’d settle for half measures but make them such unforgettable half measures for her that she’d have no recriminations. He eased himself full-length onto the bed beside her and let his weight rest against her hip. Even that simple contact brought him some relief as Emmie arched into him, her refusals and remonstrations forgotten.
He pushed up and settled more of his weight against her. Her eyes flew open, and he met her panicked gaze, trailing a hand over her neck and sternum.
“I will not join with you tonight,” he said, holding her gaze, “but neither will I let either one of us go unsatisfied.”
Her eyes clouded with confusion even as he lowered his head to kiss her. Slowly, tentatively, he felt Emmie’s hands slide over his naked shoulders to join at his nape.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “we’ll take it easy.” His voice was a low rumble. He intended to reassure more than seduce and had no clue if he’d succeeded. He wanted his kiss, his voice, and his hand as it slowly explored her exposed breasts all to convey that there were eternities available for this pleasuring he offered her.
“Emmie,” he murmured against her mouth, “spread your legs for me, love.”
She startled when his hand settled on her mons. His fingers moved in lazy little circles across her pubic bone then back again, even while his tongue circled around hers. Then he shifted tactics, to comb his fingers through her curls, a slow caress intended to soothe as it aroused.
“Open,” he reminded her, smiling against her mouth. “Please.”
Tentatively, she let her knees ease apart two inches, but it was enough for his purposes. “That’s my lady.” He smiled again and began to move his hips, rocking his erection against her thigh. His hand moved in the same rhythm, but, oh the sweet places he touched…
Cautiously, he dipped a finger down the damp length of her sex. She flexed her hips to rub herself against his hand, then repeated the movement when he held his hand against her more firmly.
“Slowly,” he cautioned, shifting his weight to give his hand greater range of motion.
“Not slowly,” Emmie muttered in response. “Touch me, St. Just. You have to touch me.”
She comprehended that much, he saw, but exactly how experienced she had was hard to tell. She was experiencedenough, he decided, finding the bud of her pleasure and circling on it gently.
“St. Just…” Her fingers closed around his wrist, not restraining him, just experiencing the movement of his hand from that perspective, as well. “What are you…? Ah, God…” She lay open to him on her back, her knees now spread as his touch consumed all of her concentration. He increased the tempo of his caresses and felt her arousal kick up, as well. Her hips were rocking steadily, her breathing accelerating, and her grip on his wrist had grown tight.
“Easy.” He leaned down and swiped his tongue across her nipple. “Let it come to you.”
“I can’t…” Emmie opened her eyes and met his gaze for one fleeting, bewildered moment. He knew then that at least this part of sex—her pleasure—was new for her. He lowered his head again and took her nipple in his mouth, drawing on it in a slow, relentless rhythm.
“St. Just…” She began to buck against his hand. “Devlin?Devlin…!”
He sank two fingers shallowly into her sheath, just enough that he could delight in the spasms clamping down in a hard, ecstatic rhythm. With his thumb, he brought a firmer pressure to bear on the apex of her sex, riding out the bucking, rolling undulations of her hips. His mouth drew on her nipple, easing the pressure only when he felt her pleasure begin to ebb.
“My lands,” Emmie panted softly. “Oh, my lands, my lands…”
He smiled down at her and brushed her hair back with one hand.
“A triple ‘my lands,’” he said, smiling. “I am content.”
He wasn’t, of course. He was hard as a pikestaff and throbbing for the very same pleasure he’d just given her, but seeing the wonder in Emmie’s eyes, hewascontent. He could wait the few minutes it would take her to gather her wits.
She rolled up and wrapped her arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug.
“My lands,” she said again before easing down to her back.
“You are so beautiful, Emmie Farnum.” He brushed her hair back a second time. “So dazzlingly, glowingly beautiful in your passion. You are beautiful in your kitchen, too.” He kissed her nose and cuddled her to him. Emmie surprised him by hooking her leg over his hips and settling against him with a sigh. Experimentally, he flexed his hips against her, but she only cuddled in more tightly.
His breeches would have to go.
“Give me a minute, love.” He rolled away and shucked breeches and smalls in one movement, then rolled back to her. “How shall we go about this?”
She blinked at him, as if trying to decipher a rapid spate of some foreign language.
“Why don’t I just take matters in hand, so to speak,” he suggested, his hand dropping to caress the length of his erection, “while you assist?” He reached for her hand and brought it to his erection, then wrapped his own grip outside of hers. “Hold me, Emmie,” he urged, “hold me this tight.” He firmed his grip to show her what he meant and then turned his head to search for her lips.
“Hold me and kiss me,” he said, his mouth open and greedy over hers.
