Forgotten Daughter

He smiled at her. Then, lowering his head, he kissed her neck.

She felt his lips against the scar, leaving a trail of hot and passionate kisses down her neck to the crook of her shoulder. Prickles spread down her body like wildfire, crackling with need, burning through her like a dry forest.

When he drew back, she shyly pulled off her ripped linen jacket, revealing the white silk camisole beneath. She pointed at a long, jagged scar along the length of her right upper arm.

“And here.”

Taking her slender arm in his rough hands, Stefano slowly kissed up her scar. She felt his lips caress her skin, felt his slick tongue along her puckered flesh as he nibbled her with the edge of his teeth.

Again, he drew back. His dark eyes devoured her, as if only the barest thread of will held Stefano back from ripping off her clothes and making love to her amid the flowers.

Annabelle should have been afraid. Terrified.

Instead, she felt strangely fearless, like the fourteen-year-old girl she’d once been. The girl who wasn’t afraid to pursue what she wanted most.

She pulled the neckline of her silken camisole down to reveal a single extra inch of skin.

“Here.”

Slowly, so slowly, he kissed the long-faded scar that stretched along the top of her naked breast. She nearly gasped at the new waves of pleasure, of tension and need. No man had ever done so much to her.

The white sun beamed down on them, the flowers blowing softly in the hot wind. On the distant hillside Annabelle could see the ruined pile of rocks of the old Moorish castle. She felt out of time, out of place. Ancient magic, a sensuality older than memory, wove through her. It made her weak; it made her strong. It flooded her body with sharp euphoria and a breathless hush of expectation.

“I want you,” Stefano breathed, cupping her face. “I’ve never waited so long for any woman. Annabelle.”

His lips were hard and hungry as he kissed her. She felt his fingertips stroking softly down her body, her neck, her waist, and she forgot to breathe. She needed him more than she needed air. She gasped as he slowly kissed down her neck, tasting her bare shoulder as his hands cupped her breasts beneath the fabric. Her nipples tightened, and he moved his mouth to suckle her through the silk.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she gasped aloud.

He pulled her arms upright and yanked the silk camisole up off her body. Her white lacy bra came next. Her upper torso was completely bare as he pushed her back amid the flowers. She shivered in the hot sunlight, beneath the dappled shadows of tree branches swaying in the wind, as he looked down at her.

For several seconds, he stared at her in awe, whispering incomprehensible words of reverence. Then he swiftly pulled off his shirt. He looked like an ancient god of passion and war. Dark hair laced the tight, hard muscles of his chest and the flat plain of his belly. His shoulders were powerful and wide, his arms strong enough to fight a thousand men for her.

His body fell against hers. She felt his hard chest crush her breasts as he moved against her, the heavy weight of his body pinning her against the cool earth. His lips plundered her mouth in a kiss of seduction and fire. His hands moved down her half-naked body, stroking and caressing every bare inch of her skin. He suckled her earlobes, kissing along her neck to the hollow between her breasts. Her breaths came quick and fast as he slowly kissed down her naked belly. He flicked his tongue into her belly button and she moaned, shifting her weight beneath him. Desire pooled low in her belly. She felt a driving need for more …

He wrapped his hand around the mound of one breast and suckled her taut, naked nipple. She felt him take her inside his wet, warm mouth and arched her back with a soft cry. He swirled his tongue against her, teasing her nipple gently with the sharp edge of his teeth. As she gasped, writhing beneath him, he moved to her other nipple, licking and suckling her. She felt his hands move down her naked waist, down to the waistline of her pants. Over the fabric, he stroked her hips, grazing lightly over her thighs.

He lifted her legs around his hips.

She felt his hardness through multiple layers of fabric. It was unmistakable. He felt so hard and huge, pressed up against her. He swayed, moving between her legs, and her breathing came in haggard gasps.

She’d never known it could be like this. She hadn’t known….

Suddenly, Stefano choked out a low, guttural curse. As the sun moved behind a cloud, a shadow shifted across Stefano’s face as he ripped away from her.

It took a minute before she remembered how to speak, before her lips could even form words. “What—what’s wrong?”

He stared down at her furiously, his jaw hard. “We have to stop. I never thought … I’m not prepared. Damn me to hell!”

Even through her pants and his jeans, she’d felt him against her, rock hard and huge. “You seemed pretty prepared to me.”

“I didn’t bring a condom,” he bit out, scowling in fury.

Looking at him, a laugh escaped her. “You mean you don’t carry one in your wallet? You? The playboy everyone warned me about?”

“A mistake I will soon rectify.” Standing, he yanked her camisole back over her chest. Wadding the rest of their clothes into a ball, he picked Annabelle up from the flowers. Carrying her against his bare chest, he strode swiftly out of the meadow and back through the forest.

“Put me down!” she said. “I can walk!”