He groaned. “Isabel…Angel…what you do to me,” he murmured.
When he was naked, she carefully held his penis, and it felt so different than when he’d thrust it inside her. He lifted her hands away.
“No more,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t be able to hold myself back, and I so want this to last forever.”
“If I touch it, that makes you release your seed faster?”
“No more talking,” he said, dragging the shirt off her body until she too was naked.
Isabel stood feeling deliciously frozen as James held the weight of her breasts in his hands, as if admiring them by firelight. He bent and kissed each of them, bringing to her body the most unbearably wonderful feelings of pleasure and happiness. She wished never to be anywhere else but in his arms. She trailed her fingers through the thickness of his hair, then gasped as he dropped to his knees before her, spreading kisses in his wake. Kneading the rounded muscles of her buttocks with both hands, he suddenly pressed his mouth between her thighs.
She let out a little scream and tried to push him away. “What are you doing? Don’t do that!”
He was laughing at her as he pulled her down into his lap beside the fire. She found herself straddling his thighs, afraid to sit down farther. James slid one of her knees aside until she found herself sinking onto him, cradling the hot hardness of him where she wanted him to be.
“Men and women do such things, Angel,” he said, kissing her face and down her neck.
She wanted to say such things were unnatural, but she forgot all her protestations when he arched her back and took each nipple into his mouth, one at a time, moving back and forth between them until she was whimpering. The sky whirled almost dizzily above her, his mouth worked magic on her breasts, and between her legs he pulsed against her, almost rocking, moving in time with the rhythm of their bodies.
A spasm of intense pleasure shuddered through her, and she didn’t want to wait any longer. “Inside me,” she gasped.
He lifted his head and gave her a languid smile. “Soon,” he whispered, pulling her into his embrace to kiss her again.
It was almost too much—his tongue invading her mouth, his erection pushing hard between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to get closer, wanting to surrender to the delight he could give her. And then she felt his fingers between her thighs, caressing, rubbing, as he’d done before. The feeling was so much more immediate, so shocking, that she cried out, and her voice echoed through the stillness of the forest.
“How do you do that?” she gasped, dropping her head back.
“No talking,” he repeated, his mouth again at her breasts. “I’ll tell you everything—later.”
He teased and caressed her with his lips and fingers until she was shuddering and shaking in his arms. Then suddenly he thrust up inside her, and it didn’t hurt at all. He filled her, completed her, made her feel every inch a woman.
He lay back in the grass, arching his body and almost lifting her. “Ride me, Isabel. You’re in control.”
She leaned forward, bracing her weight beside his shoulders and looking down into his face. The firelight flickered through the strands of her hair that curtained around him. His eyes were closed, his face intense, frowning. She raised her hips a bit, then sat back down, and was rewarded as he groaned.
“You feel so good,” he said, reaching up to pull her face down for a kiss.
Soon the movement became natural and she rode her husband hard, controlling her pleasure and his, until the passion culminated in the most exquisite release pulsing through her body. She heard James groan, felt him pressing deep inside her, even felt the release of his seed. He pulled her down on top of his chest and she rested her head against his shoulder.
For what seemed like forever, James had heard only the sounds of his and Isabel’s hearts, heard only her voice raised in cries of passion. The return of the noises of the forest almost surprised him. He’d forgotten that he lay in the cold grass, next to a blazing fire, in the middle of a dark forest where others most assuredly built their own bonfires. And he didn’t care.
Isabel, his wife, had seduced him, had wanted him, had unashamedly stripped the clothes from his body. Never in his life had he met a woman with such strength, such determination once she’d set her mind on something. And tonight she’d wanted him, and was not content to wait for him to pleasure her. It hadn’t mattered that they weren’t in the privacy of their bedchamber. To Isabel, propriety and other people’s opinions never mattered. Part of him thought he loved that best about her.
She slowly sat up, making him sink deeper into her body.
With a groan, James said, “I could do this again.”
He saw his breath as he spoke, and knew she must be cold. But instead of moving, he lay there and looked at her, silhouetted against the stars, the moon peaking over her shoulder, the fire flickering warmly across her skin. She lifted herself off him, and he sighed. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want this night to end. She had given herself freely to him, and he wanted to savor the gladness and joy. He felt like it was their true wedding night. His wife loved him.
But it was freezing.
They found their clothing scattered in the grass, and donned them quickly. After making sure the fire was stamped out, they returned to Bolton Castle hand in hand, entering again the small door cut in the wall. Guards called out soft hellos in the night. In the great hall, people still gathered at the trestle tables or before the two hearths, some well-bundled from their evening outdoors. He steered Isabel through them and up the stairs, saying countless good-nights.
In their bedchamber, James caught her to him and kissed her with all the passion he’d been withholding for weeks. She pushed him back on the bed and climbed on top.
“May we do that again?” she asked, spreading his arms wide and holding him down.
He groaned. “Please.”
