Chapter 6 The Forbidden Cousin - Chapter 6

A sound escaped her throat, a muffled moan that was swallowed by him. Her hands, until then hanging inertly at her sides, rose and buried themselves in his hair, short and thick between her fingers. She pulled his head closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing the line of her lips in a silent question.

He opened them.

His taste flooded her mouth. It was red wine, darkness, and pure Gael. His tongue found hers, and it was an explosion of sensation. It was a wet, hot, lascivious dance. He explored every corner of her mouth with a hunger that left her dizzy, her own intentions becoming equally desperate. Her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, then down his back, pulling him against her, feeling his hard, bare torso pressing against her soft breasts.

He looked at her, his eyes were two pools of pure darkness, of pure intent. The hand on her waist slid down, over the curve of her hip, and squeezed the flesh there, an incredibly intimate and possessive gesture. His hips pressed against hers, and she felt what she did to him. The unmistakable and impressive rigidity of him, confined only by the cotton shorts, pressed against her lower belly. It was a hot, pulsing length of stone, a promise of pleasure and sin.

He broke the kiss, both of them panting, their faces mere inches apart. Their saliva glistened on their swollen lips.

"Do you feel it?" he growled, his voice rough, as his hips moved in a small, but unmistakable, thrust against her. "Feel what you do to me? What you've always done to me?"

"Yes," she moaned, her own voice a strange, hoarse whisper. Her hands slid down, her trembling fingers tracing the hard contours of his abdomen, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. She was beyond reason, beyond fear. She had crossed the threshold, and there was no going back.

"I need to touch you, Keth. For real. I need to feel you," he whispered, and his hand, which was on her hip, slid to the inside of her thigh, moving up, up, until his fingers found the wet heat awaiting him through the thin silk of her panties.

The touch was electrifying. Kethlen arched her back, a stifled cry escaping her lips. His fingers pressed against the exact point of her need, and a shock of pure, raw pleasure shot through her body. She was soaked, the wet fabric clinging to her skin, and the evidence of her desire was both embarrassing and exhilarating.

"Please," she whimpered, not knowing if she was begging for more or for him to stop.

Gael understood perfectly. His fingers moved against her, exerting a delicious, rhythmic pressure through the silk. His eyes were locked on hers, watching every spasm of pleasure on her face.

"I want to hear you," he commanded, his voice a low, dominant vibration. "I want to hear the sounds you make when you tremble for me."

He then slid his fingers to the elastic edge of her panties and, without ceremony, pulled the wet fabric aside. The sensation of the cold air on her exposed, sensitive skin made her shudder violently. And then, his hand, his large, rough hand, was on her. On her bare, swollen, and throbbing flesh.

A long, tremulous moan tore from her throat as his middle finger found her clitoris, swollen and hypersensitive. Her knees buckled completely, and she would have fallen if he weren't holding her against the wall with his body. His movements were skilled, firm, as if he had known every inch of her body for years. He watched her, studied her reactions, adjusting the pressure, the rhythm, until he found exactly what made her lose control.

"Gael..." she cried out his name, her fingers digging into his arms, her head spinning. "I'm not... I'm not going to last..."

"You will," he whispered in her ear, before gently biting her earlobe. "And then I'm going to make you last again. And again."

His promise was the final spark. The pressure inside her exploded in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Her body arched violently, a muffled scream against his shoulder as the climax consumed her, shaking uncontrollably in his arms. It was an intense, stolen orgasm that seemed to tear pieces from her soul. She slumped, gasping, her entire body a tingling mass of sensation.

He held her as she came down, his kisses now soft, almost consoling, on her neck, her face. His hand, wet and intimate, was still on her, possessive.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, the world had changed. The darkness of the hallway was no longer threatening; it was a blanket hiding them, protecting them. She looked at him, at his eyes blazing with triumph and an unsated desire.

He brought his wet hand to his lips, without breaking eye contact, and licked his own fingers, slowly, savoring her taste.

"Better than I imagined," he growled. "Sweet and salty. All mine."

The statement, so primitive, so possessive, should have frightened her. Instead, it ignited a new fire in her already sensitive, sated core. She was no longer just Kethlen. She was his. And he was hers. The point of no return hadn't just been crossed; it had been set ablaze, and they were on the other side, burning together in the same delicious inferno.