-
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
She was lost. Nothing had ever felt as sweet and exquisite as the firm fingers that stroked her, softly and
expertly. She was senseless, caught up in the pulsing, tingling thrills and sparkling, swelling waves of fire
that chased through her body.
Shamelessly, she writhed against the insistent heat of his fingers, closing her eyes against the sunlight that
sparkled over their bare skin, and when he began speaking softly in her ear, his voice only inflamed her
more, even as his fingers teased and stroked the soft, pink petals of flesh. And she opened to him like a
rosebud unfurling in the sun.
"That's right, that's good. Aah, yes, what a beautiful girl you are. You're wet for me. Do you feel it? God
in heaven, you're so sweet& " His breath flowed like fire against the tender skin of her ear, his voice was
husky and low. His fingers stroked her, firm and quick.
"Don't fight it, sweetheart. Just let go___"
She did. A wild cry rose from her throat, a primitive, animal sound; and her body shook with white-hot
spasms, wave after rolling wave of heat. Her pulse was like a drumbeat in her ears, her fingers gripped
his shoulders, and hot tears flooded from her eyes as she collapsed, shuddering, against the smooth
golden skin of his chest.
"Sweetheart& " He was stroking her face, kissing the salty tears that poured over her cheeks.
She shook with shame and anger and disgust at her own animal behavior and pushed his hand away from
her face.
"Batard sale!"
Gareth's handsome face was blank with shock at the fury in her voice. He shook his head, flinging the
dark, wet strands of hair from his eyes. "What?"
Christianna turned away from his clear, troubled gaze, folding her arms over her white bosom. She was
still trembling. She felt exposed and humiliated; and she wanted to strike him.
"Christianna, sweetheart "
"Don't call me that! Stop calling me that! You
bastard, you stupid, filthy bastard!" She was choking with rage and shame. She struggled to get loose
from his grip.
He took her shoulders and pulled her roughly against him, turning her face up with a cool hand.
"Stop it. Stop it right now. Do you hear?" He didn't raise his voice, but there was no mistaking the anger
in his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazed?"
"Let me go." Her voice was cold, her cheeks burning.
He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "What, drop you in the water so that you can drown? Calm
yourself, and tell me what is wrong? I didn't force you, for God's sake, you were having fun."
She twisted her head away, humiliated.
"Aaah. That's it, then." He was silent for a moment, and Christianna froze, afraid of what he would say
next.
"You bloody little snob."
She glanced up through the curtain of wet black hair that covered her face and stopped at the cool anger
on his face.
"You bloody little snob," he repeated slowly. "You can't bear it, can you? If I was an earl or a prince,
well, that would be a different story, wouldn't it? You'd be laying your pretty head on my shoulder and
cooing in my ear. But you can't bear the fact that you've been twisting and crying on the hand of a bloody
peasant, can you? Like any common little wench would."
Christianna didn't know what to say, and her face burned with shame.
Gareth stood silently for a moment, his eyes bright with anger, his generous mouth set in a hard line. He
lifted her in his hard arms and carried her toward the shore, where he dumped her abruptly in the shallow
water.
"Get your clothes on and go home, little girl. And don't come trifling with me again, because the next time
you look at me with your big blue eyes and press your pretty white tits against me, you'll get more than
you bargained for. I'm no damned courtly fop to play your games with."
No, he wasn't that at all, Christianna thought, watching him stride back into the water. He looked like a
pagan god, with his long, wet hair clinging to the hard muscles of his shoulders and the sunlight dappling
over the long, smooth line of his back.
She sat where she was, wiping her tears of rage and shame away with a trembling hand, until he plunged
into the water with a mighty splash and began swimming away with long, even strokes.
She struck the surface of the water with her fist, and the resulting splash was only mildly satisfying.
Her grubby gown felt wretched against her clean skin as she dressed; and she swore under her breath as
she made her way back through the quiet forest. She wondered how she could ever face him again. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- matkadziecka.xlx.pl