Page 64 of The Vagabond Viscount
I want to feel.
There was no pain, not even a pinch. Just a glorious sense of being filled. Of knowing that Flynn was here, and they were finally joined together as one. Nothing would ever take this beautiful connection with her man away from her.
Caught up in the moment, Augusta raised her arms above her head. Her breasts moved to and fro as Flynn slowly stroked her sex. The expression of enrapture which sat on his face telling her just how much he appreciated her doing this, that it was all for him.
He shifted, taking one of her tight, hardened nipples between his lips. Pleasure rocked through her core. She had always thought there was nothing better than having Flynn feast on her breasts but having him lavish his attention on them at the same time as his hard erection rubbed against her sensitive bud had her world shifting on its axis.
This was heaven.
“Flynn,” she whimpered.
He gave her a low growl of manly desire in return, then picked up the pace. His thick cock stroked her sex, and with each thrust, the tension built.
When she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, Augusta shattered into a thousand shards of light.
A second later, Flynn stilled above her. “Augusta,” he whispered.
The near-empty room echoed with their sighs and gasps as they both struggled to catch their breaths.
A short time later, he finally stirred, raising himself up and sitting back on the end of the bed. There wasn’t room for Flynn to lay down beside her on the narrow cot.
As her body began to rapidly cool, Augusta shivered. Flynn shook his head and climbed off the bed. He held a hand out to her. “Come, my love.” On shaky legs, Augusta rose and came to him.
They stripped the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around them. It didn’t help much—she continued to shiver.
“I am sorry. There isn’t any heating in here. I often sleep in my clothes,” said Flynn.
Augusta clung to him for warmth, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause. She drew out of Flynn’s arms and, gathering up her gown and cloak, hurriedly dressed. Flynn did likewise.
Once they were fully clothed, he pulled her back into his embrace and kissed her again. “Is that better, my sweet?”
She smiled up at him. “Yes, being warm is good. Being with you is even better. You know, I don’t think I could ever tire of just seeing you. I could happily sit and watch you for hours, though I expect I might have to pinch myself a few times just to remind myself that you are really alive. Feel free to keep kissing me.”
I love you touching me.
“I am indeed still one of the living, but there were times when I wasn’t sure if I was in the mortal world or if I was on the cusp of crossing over. On the boat out from England, I think it was touch and go for several days.”
Augusta kept her arms wrapped about Flynn’s waist. She didn’t want to spoil this wonderful moment. Didn’t want to let him go. This first time together was special. It should have happened long ago.
But she had to know some of what had transpired between the afternoon when Flynn had walked out of Hyde Park and today, even if it was just a little piece of what she suspected was a large and complicated story.
“What did your father do?”
There was no point in pretending otherwise. It was obvious that the earl had played a part in his son’s disappearance. He had made a solid enough effort to obstruct the investigation into Flynn’s fate.
“You must have seen the scar on my shoulder,” he replied. Augusta nodded. “Well, there is another one on my back. They are where my father stabbed me. Where my sire tried to end my life.”
Augusta gasped. “No!”
“While I was unconscious, he had me carried to the docks and stowed on board a boat which sailed from London late that evening. When I finally did regain consciousness, we were somewhere off the coast of Portugal.”
Augusta shook her head in disbelief. How could anyone do that to Flynn, let alone his father? And why?
“The crew was meant to throw me overboard, but they had a change of heart. We hit a huge storm, and apparently, being superstitious sailors, they decided it was a sign from the gods. A warning that they shouldn’t do the evil that they had planned. They kept me alive but then realized they couldn’t release me too close to home just in case I set the authorities on them.”
“So, they brought you all the way to Italy? Where you didn’t speak the language, and you didn’t know a soul. And then they abandoned you?”
The sailors might well have chosen the lesser of two evils, but they had still done a terrible thing. Sentenced Flynn to a life far from home and with little hope of finding his way back.
