A tortured moan escaped her lips when she felt
her breasts swelling, felt their erect nipples poking at the confining lace. And then his hands were sweeping back down the length of her body and he was whispering wicked words in her ears, words that should have disgusted her, but didn't. Was she past disgust? Past everything except the need to have his body blended with hers?
Apparently so...
Closing her eyes, she leant back against Alan's body, giving herself up to whatever he wanted. She felt utterly boneless and without will. She felt dazed.
'You're still mine, aren't you?' Alan rasped, his hands skimming the front of the costume, making her shudder as they brushed over those hardened peaks before travelling further down her body. He caressed the smooth white
skin of her quivering thighs, first down the outside of her legs then the inside. His fashion-experienced mind quickly discovered the easy velcro opening, and he gave a growl of satisfaction as he gained easy access to the moist flesh within.
Ebony shuddered again, then lay her head back against his shoulder and squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut. 'You must stop,' she groaned after a couple of minutes' exquisite torture.
'Must I? Ah, yes... You want the real thing, need the real thing. Nothing else will do for my lovely Ebony.' His hands had stopped their intimate exploration of her flesh, to her intense relief. She could barely think. Now, perhaps, he would turn her round, kiss her, make proper and beautiful love to her.
Instead, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her captive while there was the rustle of clothes being removed close behind her. And then he was taking her hands and curling them over the top rail, easing her hips backwards, spreading her legs.
There was a moment of confusion at the choosing of a position that prevented any real sense of intimacy. But it was hard to think clearly when one was already on the edge, when every nerve-ending was twisted tight in anticipation of becoming one flesh with the man she loved.
It wasn't till Alan pushed the costume up to her waist with shaking hands that her confusion crystallised into dismay, and she saw this encounter for what it was: nothing different from all their previous encounters.
But already he was inside her, already taking her along that path he'd taken her so many times before.
Her dismay sharpened. This was not what she wanted any more, or what she'd believed this weekend would be like. She'd thought they would make love—really make love.
There was no doubt about it any more. Alan didn't really love her.
So why was she letting him do this to her? Ebony agonised. Why was she gripping this railing with a white-knuckled intensity, hating it yet wanting him to keep going, to plunge deeper and harder till she was beyond thought, beyond hating herself for being no more than a faceless receptacle for Alan's lust?
Stop him, her pride demanded. For pity's sake, stop him...
It wasn't till she saw her tortured reflection in the water below that her body listened to her brain, her arousal going as quickly as it had come. Alan must have sensed her emotional withdrawal for he stopped abruptly to pull her upright, holding her tightly against him, their bodies still one. His breathing was heavy and hoarse in her ear.
'You're not with me, are you?' he rasped into her ear, his voice shaking. 'Why, Ebony? This is what you usually like, what you've often craved, this type of sex. Tell me what it is that makes you so lacking in fire today,' he taunted. 'Normally you'd have been over the edge by now. Tell me what's wrong. Are you a little tired, perhaps?'
'No...I...' A sob caught in her throat. 'Oh, please. I... I don't want it like this any more...'
But when she struggled to escape, he scooped her back against him with ruthless ease. She'd always known he was physically strong, but it wasn't till this moment that she had seriously been afraid of his dominant male strength. She was no match for him out here, and there was no use screaming. All she had as a defence was her mind, and his conscience.
'I... I thought you loved me,' she said broken-heartedly.
'I do.'
'But this isn't making love,' she sobbed.
'Isn't it? Well, we can't have that, can we? How about this, then? Is this better?'
'Oh, God,' she whimpered when he began to caress her again, gently now, despite the other arm wrapped around her waist being as iron-like as ever. And while there was something horribly false about his tender touch, it was also insidiously seductive. God, why did he have to know her body so well? It wasn't fair...