Claiming His Shock Heir
Just for a second reality impinged, but as though he sensed what was happening, he ran his hand possessively over her body until it reached her breasts. Until he touched the smooth, swollen skin she hadn’t realised how much she had longed for him to do just that. She breathed in deeply and sharply and made a small anguished sound in the back of her throat as his thumb brushed lightly over the pink aureole of her nipple. The room seemed to darken and whirl around her, a fevered heat coming off her body as she reached up, her fingers tense and uncertain as she found the fastening of his robe and slid her palm against the warm skin of his flat belly, her flesh sensitive to the rough scrape of his dark body hair as it touched her hand.
‘Philippa.’
His hand found her breast and she moaned aloud at the fierce pang of pleasure that shot through her, giving herself up completely to the savage hunger of his mouth against hers, his tongue thrusting between her parted lips to savour the moist sweetness within.
As though his touch had unleashed something wild and elemental she moved sinuously beneath him, using her body instinctively to pleasure his, everything else forgotten as she gave in completely to the urgency of her need. Her reasoning powers completely suspended, there was only blind instinct to lead the way, to instruct her body in its reaction to the touch of his and Scott’s harsh exclamation of pleasure as her hands touched the lean planes of his body, exploring and discovering the male shape of him only encouraged her fervent response. She didn’t think about what had brought them together in this place, she didn’t want to think about it, it was enough that they were here; that Scott was touching her with his hands and mouth, and that she was free to touch him in the same way, marvelling at the male texture of his skin; the male hunger she could sense within him, the unashamed response of him to her caresses.
She forgot that he had told her that he would make her plead for his possession and remembered only that this was Scott, her first lover; her only lover.
His mouth touched her breast, sparking off fierce pulsating pleasure, so intense that she cried out with it, locking her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. ‘Scott, please.…’
‘Please what?’ His voice was slurred, his breath erratic and she was deeply aware of the pulsing heat of his skin.
‘Please make love to me.’ She wasn’t even aware of what she was saying, or the triumph in his eyes, as he pulled her against him, bending over her, lean and dark, stroking her erect nipples with the rough lash of his tongue until she closed her eyes and cried out in feverish pleasure, reaching for him, wanting him to fill her aching emptiness.
When he did she was surprised by a brief, fleeting sensation of pain, sharp enough to make her tense. Scott checked, glancing down at her, but the pain was gone and she moved hungrily, arching her body up to meet him, kissing him feverishly, tasting the musky arousal of his skin, crying out with heated pleasure as he moved against her, and she picked up the familiar rhythm of his body.
Surely there had not been such exquisite pleasure before? Her body was still shuddering in the aftermath of it, still fiercely exulting in the heavy weight of Scott against her, his breathing harshly uneven, perspiration soaking both of them. He lifted his head and seemed about to say something, but Philippa could feel sleep claiming her, sucking her down into warm blackness. Scott was moving away and she murmured a small protest, curling up against him, clinging to his arm, not wanting him to leave.
* * *
The moment she woke up realisation hit her. She didn’t have to open her eyes to be aware of the other occupant of her bed, her senses had already relayed the information to her.
‘So you’re awake.’
Scott it seemed had equally acute monitoring devices, and as though to confirm it he added, ‘It’s no good keeping your eyes closed and faking, Philippa.’
Dear God, how could she have allowed him to make love to her? Her mind cringed away from the pictures her memory was showing her with seemingly compassionless accuracy. She gave a small groan and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. What on earth had come over her? She started to sit up and then realised that she was naked, hastily tugging the sheet up to her chin, her eyes flying open as Scott said sardonically, ‘It’s a little too late for modesty now isn’t it?’
‘What are you doing here? I seem to remember you saying you didn’t want to sleep with me.’
‘In the end I decided I might as well.’ Scott did not seem to share her desire to cover himself from her gaze. He sat up, stretching like a large lazy cat, the muscles moving sinuously beneath his skin. Philippa realised that she was holding her breath and expelled it hastily, wondering what time it was. It was daylight and she couldn’t remember when she had last slept so deeply.
‘So that you could gloat over me? Well you’ve had your petty revenge, Scott. It’s over now, Simon and I are leaving this place.’
‘Over?’ His coolly controlled voice splintered through her hasty outburst, ‘Oh no, my dear,’ he drawled, leaning towards her, trapping her with the hands he placed either side of her head. ‘Last night was just the first instalment, and don’t try telling me that you didn’t enjoy it.’
Her mind spun crazily, searching for an avenue of escape. That he should treat her like this was intolerable. She wouldn’t allow him to play on her emotions and use her own body against her. Feverishly she hunted for some means of destroying his arrogant assumption that she was his simply for the taking, and then it came to her. ‘
Oh, but of course I enjoyed it,’ she purred sweetly, watching his eyes widen and then narrow as he studied her. ‘You see, I simply pretended that you were Geoff… just like I did before.’
‘You did what?’ He made an explosive sound in the back of his throat and swore under his breath, grasping her shoulders so hard that she cried out in pain. ‘You.…’
He broke off as her bedroom door opened, his eyes turning to the door. Like someone trapped in a nightmare Philippa saw Simon walk into her room. He was dressed, his hair still tousled, and his eyes sleepy, but they sharpened instantly when he saw Scott in bed beside her, his thin face colouring up hotly, the door closing as he let go of it.
‘Mum.…’
‘Simon.…’ She made a move towards him and then checked it, biting her lip as she remembered that she could hardly get out of bed. Scott made no attempt to move, simply watching them both and Philippa wanted to scream and rail at him that he could do what he liked to her but he must not hurt Simon.
‘Simon.…’
‘If you go downstairs and find Mrs Robinson, son, she’ll fix you up with some breakfast,’ Scott interrupted calmly. His words seemed to break through Simon’s trance, the colour flowed back into his pale face and he stumbled back to the door. When it had closed behind him Philippa turned on Scott, her eyes burning with humiliation and pain.
‘How could you do that to him?’ she demanded. ‘Couldn’t you see how shocked he was…?’
‘Why? Surely this isn’t the first time he’s seen you in bed with one of your lovers? He’s ten years old after all, and you haven’t been celibate for ten years, despite that very convincing little show you put on last night. You should save it for men who know you less well than I do. A mother of a ten-year-old son is hardly likely to be a virgin.’ Philippa cringed beneath the lash of his contempt. Perhaps he felt justified in saying what he had, but it had been no play-acting. He had hurt her, if only momentarily. Simon’s birth had been a difficult one and her body had taken several months to recover. ‘Besides, seeing you in bed with me is something he’s going to have to get used to whilst you’re both living here.’
‘You want to humiliate me, don’t you?’ Sour bile rose in her throat. What on earth had happened to her last night? She had known how much he wanted to hurt her, but she had let him storm through her defences; she had shown him how easily he could arouse her; how much she still… still loved him? Surely not?