Love a Dark Rider Page 13

  Yancy thought that he had never seen anything quite so adorable in his life, and before he could stop himself, one hand cupped her cheek, turning her face up to his as his mouth settled gently on hers. He kissed her warmly, his lips moving like a butterfly's caress across hers. He kissed her many times, each time his lips lingering a teasing second longer than the time before, the delicate pressure of his mouth increasing as the minutes passed.

  It was an exquisitely sweet torture he inflicted upon them both, his hand on her face softly caressing, his lips moving with slow intoxication against hers. Utterly beguiled by Yancy's lazily sensual kisses, Sara drifted serenely into desire, all her erotic senses singing to life as he wooed eind cajoled her with his knowing mouth. There was none of the sudden, violent explosion of passion that usually accompanied their kisses, only a steady, subtle expanding of her awareness of her own body, of the gentle ache in her breasts, of the slight coiling in her belly and of the honeyed warmth that was slowly radiating upward ft-om between her legs to every fiber of her being.

  Unknowingly, her arms went around his neck, her slim fingers tangling in his black hair, and for a timeless moment that seemed to satisfy her—^the sensation of his crisp dark hair sliding sensuously through her fingers, the sweetness of his mouth moving in drugging eroticism against hers. But as the aching warmth, swifter now, cascaded through her body, she grew vaguely impatient, suddenly wanting him to kiss her ftilly, to feel his lips harden, to know again the taste of him as his tongue filled her mouth....

  She moved restlessly, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the thick darkness of his hair, a soft moan coming from her when he kissed her again, still not giving her what she wanted. This time when he would have lifted his head, her fingers tightened, holding him

  to her, and shocking herself, she said breathlessly against his mouth, "Kiss me, Yancy! Really kiss me!"

  Yancy gave a muffled groan and his lips came down hard on hers, all pretense of gentleness gone, his tongue thrusting deeply into the moist, welcoming depths of her mouth. He kissed her passionately, his body gradually lowering itself until he was half lying on top of her.

  Sara welcomed his weight, the feel of his chest crushed against her breast exciting, the sensation of his tongue rubbing and gliding against hers sending a current of fire surging upward through her, making her arch and twist from the force of it. This blazing hunger for him had happened so insidiously, so gradually, that she wasn't even aware of the changes in her body, of the wildness in her blood, of the insistent demands of nature coursing through her, and she was too innocent to fully understand how overpowering desire could be to the unwary. Yancy's drugging kisses had thoroughly snared her and she was helplessly swept deeper into passion by the longings of her own impetuous flesh.

  Forgotten were all the difficulties between them; there was only now, this moment, this sweet, heady moment when the soft grass was at her back, the cool dappled shade of the oak trees falling across their bodies and Yancy's hard form pressing ardently against hers. The infamous clause in Sam's will, Yancy's horrifying interpretation of it, even his nefarious abduction of her were all forgotten; there was only the heat of his body, the sweet violence of his kisses and the taste of him upon her tongue....

  Even his hand at her breast did not break the sensual spell and she shivered as his fingers shaped her and tugged gently at her swollen nipple. When his leg slid between hers, it seemed the most natural thing in

  the world and she groaned with pleasure as his lips traveled downward, to replace his fingers at her breast, his mouth closing hotly over her nipple.

  Coherent thought suspended, Sara was at the mercy of her untutored body, whose every nerve seemed to be driving her toward one thing, and she was powerless to halt what was happening to her. Dimly she was aware of Yancy's heavier breathing, of the increasing urgency of his movements, and in some strange, wonderful way, it added to her excitement, added to the elemental compulsion that was controlling her.

  His hands undoing her short gown and flinging it away to reveal her naked upper body aroused no alarm within her, and when he stripped off his own shirt to press his broad, heated chest to her aching breasts, she could only sigh her gratification and push up against him. Sara found the prickle of the thick black hair of his chest intensely arousing and sought to assuage the tinglings in her nipples by rubbing against him in oddly innocent abandonment.

  It was nearly Yancy*s undoing, and muttering an imprecation under his breath, he suddenly rolled away from her, his hands ripping off his remaining clothing. Before Sara's suddenly riveted gaze, his magnificent body was exposed, from the handsome face right down to the long, aristocratic feet. She could not tear her eyes away, staring in frank delight at all that manly beauty in front of her. Yancy was magnificently made, his shoulders broad, his chest deep, his waist narrow and his legs long and powerful. But it wasn't any of those charms that held Sara's rapt attention; it was the sight of his aroused manhood. Yancy was indeed magnificently built... everywhere^ but never having seen a fully erect naked man before, Sara had no conception of just how generous nature had been to him, or that he was truly a man among men. She could

  only stare at him, a strange excitement, a thrill of half fright, half sweet anticipation, flooding through her.

  It never occurred to her to stop what was happening between them—it seemed inevitable, a natural outcome of the compelling magnetism that had existed between them from the first moment he had kissed her on the staircase at Magnolia Grove all those years before. Every dream, every half-wistful thought she had ever had of him, had been leading to this moment, and a faint shiver went through her as she realized that in a few moments his hard body would be crushed against hers, that she would become truly his and that her life was never going to be the same again. ...

  And yet she did nothing to prevent it; she could not. Her own body was burning for him, every fiber of her being calling her to him, driving her, rushing her into his arms. When he sank onto the ground beside her once more, she went to him without restraint, her arms clinging to him, her mouth opening eagerly under the passionate onslaught of his. Caught up in the most shockingly primitive demands of her own body, even when he roughly dragged the remainder of her clothing from her, there was no shrinking, no embarrassment— she wanted him to see her, wanted him to look at her body, wanted to see his striking amber-gold eyes darken with hungry desire....

  Staring in dazed pleasure at the slim, lovely body before him, Yancy felt his throat tighten, and beneath all the savage hunger that raged within him, he was dimly conscious of a strange tenderness. Sara was lovely, lying there in innocent abandon on the bright green grass, her skin nearly as pale as the finest alabaster, her nipples peaked, the color of spring strawberries, and the hair between her slender thighs a downy thatch of golden honey. She was delicately formed, her breasts small

  but firmly rounded, her waist narrow and her hips curvaceous yet slim and her legs ... Yancy's gaze lingered for a moment on the shapely length of her legs, imagining himself sinking down between those slender white thighs

  With a groan, he reached for her and kissed her fiercely, his tongue filling her mouth, possessing her, claiming her as he would soon do with his body. But kissing her was not enough; he wanted to taste her everywhere, to learn her scent, her texture, the very essence that made Sara Sara. His lips trailed a line of fire to her breasts, lavishing hot, hungry caresses on each as his hands skimmed her slender body, learning her curves, exploring the softness of her flesh. His movements were increasingly restless, no one area claiming his attention for too long, before he was compelled to seek another, more demanding lure. She aroused and pleased him as no other woman ever had, and against her throat he sang a litany of delight. "Ah, mi amiga, you are so preciosa^ so soft...." His teeth nipped her gently and his hands cupped her swollen breasts as he muttered, "You taste of nectar... I could eat you alive, consume you, take you within me, so that you could never escape...." He found her mout
h and buried his lips on hers, kissing her with a savage urgency.

  Sara welcomed his hungry kiss, reveling in his unabashed desire for her, arching up helplessly against him, her hands caressing his broad shoulders and strong arms. He moved wildly against her, his legs tangling with hers, the heat of his long body burning her, the touch of his hands making her ache and yearn for something as yet unknown. Impatiently his hands slid down her body, resting for a moment on her thighs before he opened her legs and touched the golden-honey curls that grew at the apex of her thighs.

  A mixture of fear and pleasure speared through Sara as he lightly rubbed the tender flesh he found there. He kissed her deeply as he played with her, indescribable sensations spiraling outward from his caressing fingers, and she twisted mindlessly beneath his ministrations, the demanding ache within her becoming nearly intolerable. Growling his satisfaction at her reaction, he slid his mouth to her throbbing nipples and with his teeth and tongue he continued to stroke the wildfire that was fueling her wanton behavior.

  Sara was burning up, her flesh desperately wanting— no, needing —succor from the earthy sensations and emotions that were rioting through her, and her own kisses became more agitated, more demanding, her hands moving over him in frantic excitement. When Yancy delved deeper between her legs, his tormenting finger slowly sinking into the warm, moist flesh, Sara's soft shriek of raw pleasure rent the air and she bucked wildly against his blunt invasion.

  "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she cried out, half delirious, half frightened by what was happening to her. "I can't bear it! What are you doing to me?"

  "Making love to you, mi amiga^ Yancy said thickly, kissing the comer of her mouth, never stopping the havoc of his teasing finger. "Making your body ready for mine! Making you feel the same hunger that bums within me...." His lips dropped to her breast and he suckled with passionate vigor. "You are so beautiful," he muttered against her breast. "So warm and desirable, so very . .." He sighed, as if unable to find the words, and kissed her, his tongue tasting the sweemess of her mouth once more.

  Feeling consumed by him, her entire body almost vibrating from the force of the erotic demands that controlled her, she thrashed wantonly beneath his caresses as the most intensely pleasurable feelings seemed to center

  themselves beneath his lazily thrusting finger. Her hands roamed in increasing frenzy over his broad shoulders and back and daringly she trailed her tingling fingers down the front of him, each time her hand sinking lower and lower....

  When she finally touched him, feeling the heat and the size and the texture of him, Yancy groaned deep in his throat. "Enough!" he muttered. "Enough! I cannot bear it any longer either! You're driving me crazy, sweetheart!" He suddenly shifted, his hands firmly holding her thighs apart as he sank slowly between her legs.

  Sara's breath caught in her throat and, eyes wide, she stared up at his lean, dark face. This was what she wanted, this was what her body craved and yet she couldn't help the tremor of fearful excitement that shook her as he boldly positioned himself and began to push into the hidden heat between her thighs. Instinctively she stiffened, her hands coming up to shove at his chest, but as if sensing her fears, Yancy slipped a hand between their bodies and gently toyed with her, deliberately stoking the fire, making her forget everything but the rightness of this moment.

  Despite the raging desire scalding through him, Yancy took her gently. It was instinctive, something about Sara restraining him, some inner wisdom warning him to exert at least some control over his almost savage need to take her, which ultimately made his possession of her slow and indescribably memorable for both of them.

  With a tenderness he hadn't realized he was capable of, he coaxed her body to accept his invasion. Inch by sweet inch, he slid slowly within her, the press of her silken heat against his swollen shaft making him grit his teeth as he fought against the urge to plunge deeply, to sink himself to the hilt in one violent motion. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back as he concentrated on what he was doing, savoring each stirring moment of it.

  but when he reached the barrier that proclaimed her virginity, his eyes snapped open in stunned disbehef.

  The sensation of his flesh joining with hers, of feeling her body widening to accommodate his bulk, made Sara shiver with a strange tenderness for him. Her eyes soft and dreamy, her breasts pushing up against his chest, her arms wound around his neck, she accepted him eagerly, the sudden pain catching her by surprise.

  For a long, wordless moment they stared at each other and then something leaped into his amber-gold eyes, something fierce and exultant. He grinned triumphantly and then his mouth came down hard on hers, and inexorably he broke through the barrier and possessed her completely.

  Lodged deep within her, Yancy relished his victory, forcing himself to remain still, ignoring the questions that whirled in his head, wanting only to imprint mdel-ibly upon his brain forever this treasured joining. But he could not remain still, the elemental desire to complete the act driving him to move. Mindful of her state, he fought to restrain himself, with a mighty effort pacing himself so that he thrust into her with slow, lazy strokes, unconsciously prolonging the sweemess, intensifying the pleasure for them both.

  Yancy had taken her so gently, with such unexpected care, that Sara's pain was gone in a flash. There was only a slight discomfort that faded with every exquisitely tender movement of Yancy's big body on hers. She was willingly dominated by him, reveling in the power of his body, in the way his chest was pressing against her breasts, in the way his hands cupped her buttocks and held her to him as he drove time and again into her welcoming sheath. She was so aware of him, so conscious of everything about him—the taste of his flesh, the musky scent of his body, the terrifying and wonderful things he was doing to her—^that when he suddenly

  stiffened and cried out her name in a strangled, tortured tone, the warm wash of pleasure that eddied through her was a surprise.

  Sara's eyes flew open in astonishment, the faint tinglings of her own flesh suddenly absorbing all her attention, and she was hardly conscious of Yancy slipping from between her legs to lie at her side, his arms flung across his eyes. She had thought his possession of her had been the most thrilling event that had ever happened to her, and the feel of him thrusting deep within her had been equally exciting, but the other ... An oddly satisfied smile curved her mouth. Mmm, the other, she decided dreamily as she stretched like a sun-warmed cat, the other had been, oh, sheer bliss!

  Her movement on the grass beside him made Yancy turn to her, and oblivious of his nakedness, he again propped himself up with one elbow and stared down into her face. His dark features expressionless, all signs of his earlier passion gone, he asked harshly, "And now, considering what just happened, would you like to explain to me just what the hell sort of marriage you had with my father?"

  10

  Sara's sweet feeling of satiation vanished at his words and she flushed. Reality hit her like a lightning bolt and the memory of all the mistrust and animosity that lay between them became disturbingly clear in her mind. With a sick sensation in her stomach, she realized that she had been a fool to forget that Yancy was her enemy, that he mistrusted her and had accused her of the ugliest motives in having married his father. He was also her abductor, and a chill feathered down her spine when it occurred to her that his lovemaking had been a coolly calculated maneuver on his part. He had already sworn that he would be the father of her children. How could she help but suspect that what had been a momentous experience for her had merely been the means to an end for Yancy?

  A rush of shame overwhelmed her and she scrambled into a sitting position and grabbed up the short calico gown, which lay nearby. With shaking hands she clutched it to her, hotly aware that it did little to cover her naked body.

  Yancy's mouth twisted sardonically. "A little late for modesty, wouldn't you say?"

  Sara's flush increased and she muttered something distractedly under her breath as she glanced uneasily around for her knicke
rbockers.

  Yancy wasn't the least bothered by their state of undress and he ripped the short gown from her grasp and growled, "Por Dios Tell me about your marriage! Why were you still a virgin? What sort of dark spell did you cast over my father that kept him from your bed?"

  Sara's eyes were fixed beseechingly on the scrap of faded material in Yancy's lean hand and she muttered, "Um, we, um, that's what we decided. Now may I please have my clothes?"

  Yancy swore violently. "No! What the hell sort of an explanation is that—you decided? What did you do to my father to get him to agree to such an unnatural state?"

  "It was what he wanted!" she said tightly, snatching futilely at her short gown.

  Yancy easily kept it out of her reach and effortlessly fended off her attempts to grab it. "What he wanted!" he exclaimed disbelievingly. "You're lying! My father was a healthy, virile man when you married him— there was nothing to stop the consummation of your marriage."

  Unhappily, Sara realized that she was not going to get her clothes back until she had explained to his satisfaction her odd marriage to Sam. Sighing, she said, "Your father and I loved each other, but not in the way you think—it was never like that! From the moment I first met him, Sam always treated me like a daughter— there was never any hint of any other emotion—and I..." Sara faltered, her eyes filming with tears when she remembered how warm and kind Sam had been to her and how much she still missed him. She bent her head and said huskily, "Over the years I came to think of him as my father." She smiled wryly. "He certainly worried more about my future than Matthew ever did." She looked up at Yancy, her gaze meeting his scornful stare bravely. "No matter what you think, there was