Revving Up Your Romance Engines for Valentine’s DayTurn the bathtub faucet to "ice cold" and start the shower running, as we bring you four "steamy" sex scenes, from Romance novelists Alan Nayes ( Barbary Point), Lynn Hubbard ( Run into the Wind), Lohrainne Eckhart (The Forgotten Child) and Suzan Tisdale (Laiden's Daughter) to get you in the Valentine’s Day mood. Afterward, but before you cool off in the shower, use the Comment area below to vote on which author you think did the best job. (You might even pause to say what aspects of their writing appealed to you the most.)
All four authors are featured in "The Last Way Station Mega Book Tour,"a new concept in virtual book touring, in which authors take part in tag-team guest blogs, like this one. The tour is named in honor of founder and sponsor, Jon Reisfeld’s book, The Last Way Station. Click here to take your chance at winning a Kindle Fire in the tour’s official Sweepstakes and then here to learn more about our featured authors and their books.
And now, onto the sex-scene competition:
Barbary Point.Author Alan Nayes sets the scene: "Successful, high-powered businesswoman, Kelly English, flies back to Wisconsin to close out her deceased father’s estate and ends up falling in love with a fishing guide. This is their first love scene, seen from Kelly”s perspective."
Upon hearing about my engagement to Thomas, a friend once told me—“Kelly, for a marriage to be successful, you have to love that person more than he loves you.” In the months of romantic dining, movies, and sleepovers, I was never quite able to grasp the statement’s implication. I loved Thomas, and I was sure he loved me. But to me, our feelings for each other seemed equal,
or if I had to choose, Thomas might even have loved me a wee bit more. With Mitch, though, my feelings seemed different. Unavoidable, stronger, more intense, all of the above. I just knew I was unable to deny them.
The sun was well into its westward descent when Mitch and I entered the cottage’s downstairs guest bedroom. I had purposely avoided the master bedroom. My father had slept there, and it wouldn’t have felt right. Mitch stood in the doorway and waited, an eager reticence evident in his eyes and body language, while I cleared the bed of decoys and waders. The sheets smelled fresh and piney, as if they”d been washed only yesterday and hung out in the fresh air to dry.
Mitch began to speak, and I put a finger over his lips.
“This is my doing, Mitch,” I said. “I think I’ve fallen for you and I don’t know what else I can say.”
We moved to the mattress and I pulled him down on top of me, bathing his lips, his face, his ears, his neck with my mouth.
His response was immediate and passionate. Though it was our first waltz together, the music in my head was loud enough I feared Mitch might think I was singing. Mitch was singing, too, and I loved the feeling I detected exuding from every pore of his body. Inexorably, from that first moment I’d gazed into the depths of his eyes, I’d known it would come to this. He’d appeared in my life like some mysterious magician, casting his spells, sprinkling his potions, seducing my emotions until they no longer felt like my own. These thoughts came to me not consciously, rather on a more subliminal, primitive wavelength. Love started out that way, deep within your soul first, long before any true awareness of its presence is manifested. And then, by the time you feel it, you’ve surrendered and become the vanquished.
I was conscious of how he smelled, how hard and warm his body was under his clothing, and how much I desired my skin against his. The dance of undressing one another went smoothly, without a hitch. One time with Thomas, I’d struggled with his belt and our efforts had seemed jerky, too impatient, even clumsy. Not so now, not in this cottage on this lake in Wisconsin. Not with this man. Never had Mitch felt so close to another living creature, human or otherwise. And he expressed this to me as best he could. I was a fine gem, that he would gladly polish, worship for all eternity, if I would allow it.I let myself be dominated and in so doing, I became the dominator. He moved over me like some mythical being created by a
mythical god, descended from all the great lovers who’d ever lived, and there were moments on end when I closed my eyes and felt I was being loved not by one man, but by many.
The sensations were incredible, a kaleidoscope of perceptions, building one upon the other until there was no action I could take except to clutch and hold on as if I were clinging to the side of a mountain. If I fell, I would scream out for sure.
I had never felt more feminine, more a woman than when Mitch was inside me. I’d become a goddess of the great lake, whose shoreline lay not twenty yards from where Mitch and I held each other. More than once, I wrapped him up so tightly in my arms and legs, I feared I might smother him or choke him.
I didn’t want the afternoon to end, but dusk arrived anyway, silently like an invisible curtain, until all I could see was the outline of Mitch’s spent body next to mine.
Run into The Wind.Author Lynn Hubbard: "This scene comes from my book, Run into the Windwhich is set in the south during the later years of the nineteenth century. Brock and Sabrina have gone through some awkward moments. Finally admitting their true feelings to themselves, as well as to each other, they experience love for the first time."
Shaking his head, he hugged her again. She pulled away, getting him a plate of food. He took a hesitant bite and then another.
It was surprisingly tasty. “Very good,” he said, as she stood by hopefully.
Contentedly, she filled her own plate and took a couple of bites. She had done a lot of tasting earlier to make sure the seasoning was right so she was not very hungry. Her stomach was twisting. She was afraid he would reject her. She forced another bite and set about cleaning up. Brock raised an eyebrow, watching her move about anxiously. He quickly ate another bowl before she grabbed the plate out of his hands and went to wash it, but he stopped her.
“Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll finish up and join you in a bit.”
Sabrina wrung her hands nervously and, unable to gather her own thoughts, she followed his suggestion. She lay flat on her back stiffly, staring at the ceiling. She had worked out an entire seductive scenario in her head earlier today but her mind had abandoned her. She could think of nothing to say or do, so she just lay there waiting. She barely registered the light being blown out or the blanket lifting. She did recall Brock’s warm arms encircling her and hugging her close like he did every night. He gave her strength and she cuddled into his chest trying to get up the nerve to say or do something.
“Um…” she began softly, her voice cracking slightly.
“Yes, my love?” he said and she paused. He had never called her that before. At least not out loud.
“Well, I just wanted….” She was blushing deeply and she was glad for the darkness. She wanted to let him know that she was ready to give herself to him. Her voice obviously was not working, so she took his hand and placed it on her bare bottom. She heard him exhale sharply and she held her breath.
Still not able to answer verbally, she twisted her head, finding his mouth in the dark and kissing him softly on his lips. When he still did not move, she pulled away, unsure.
“I need to hear you say it,” he said, there was tightness in his voice she had never heard before.
“Yes, I’m sure.” She tensed up a little, expecting him to perhaps throw her on her back and ravish her fiercely. She was pleasantly surprised when he continued to hold her close and kissed her mouth gently. He kissed her lips, moving over her cheeks and kissing each eyelid. He moved his hands up, gently running his fingers through her hair and massaging the nape of her neck. He knew she was scared and wanted to help her relax.
As he kissed down her neck, she pushed away a bit as he found a tickle spot. He kept his arm around her back as his other hand worked on the buttons of her shirt. He deftly released them one by one. He moved his mouth back up to her lips as his hand gently roamed over her breasts. She moaned into his mouth at the sensations he was awakening in her.
She placed her hands on his chest dismayed to find he was still wearing his long Johns. She growled in frustration, wanting to feel his flesh against hers as she none too gently pulled at his buttons. Chuckling, he pulled away a bit and swiftly removed the offending garment.
Sabrina almost moaned as she ran her hand over his bare chest. She could feel the taut muscles underneath and traced every striation with her hand. Not sure what to do next she followed Brock’s lead and began kissing his neck and chest before moving lower. She felt his member pressing against her chest as she moved lower and paused. She slowly moved her hand down to touch it. Surprised at the softness of the skin surrounding his hardness she traced it with her finger. She heard Brock hiss as he bent down to draw her back up in the bed next to him. He rolled her onto her back and lay gently on top of her. He kept his weight off her by leaning on his elbows.
Sabrina lay still. She felt him against her thigh and closed her eyes tightly even though it was dark. She felt him move her legs further apart with his knees and she held her breath as she waited.
“You need to breathe, Sabrina,” he whispered in her ear.
Again no words would form in her befuddled mind. She did take a deep breath , though. Brock kissed her again, deeply this time, and she was so caught up in the moment she barely noticed him shifting above her. However, she did notice when he thrust quickly, and she felt a burning pain deep inside her. Cursing like a pirate, she pushed against his chest for him to stop but he already had.
He whispered to her as he held her, waiting for her to settle down. After a while, she moved her hands from his chest to his shoulders. She trailed them up his neck to his hair and pulled him down in a demanding kiss. Feeling more in control, she flexed her hips tentatively, giving him permission to proceed. Brock moved very slowly as if waiting for her to stop him again.
She was very tight and moist. He trembled as he fought to keep himself in check. He was using long slow thrusts as he felt her walls stretching to accommodate him. Moving his hand between them he found her nub and rubbed it as she gasped into his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his as he continued gyrating her core.
At her insistence, he quickened his pace as her world spun. Overcome by sensation, she clawed at his back as she gasped out his name. He felt her trembling around him as he thrust inside of her deeply, spilling his seed. He felt a shudder and wasn’t sure if it came from him or her. Holding her to him he rolled onto his back, letting her rest on top.
Sabrina shivered as she lay on top of him, still impaled. She was exhausted and gasping for air. She felt Brock settle the covers over them and she looked up, trying to see through the darkness.
“Are you okay?” he asked with concern in his voice.
Not having the strength or ability to speak, she just nodded as he gathered her up in his arms and they slept.
The Forgotten ChildAuthor Lohrainne Eckhart: "In The Forgotten ChildEmily Nelson, a young mother, leaves a loveless marriage and finds work as a live-in cook and care giver at a home of local rancher Brad Friessen. Emily soon discovers that the Friessen’s son has mild, untreated, autism, but the distant, difficult man is in denial. Emily finally prevails in getting Friessen to accept his son's condition and to get him the help he needs. In the process, the two adults fall in love. This is the scene where they first express those feelings physically.
The dinner dishes were washed and put away. Emily scrubbed the kitchen table and counter. The sun dipped below the horizon lighting the sky a beautiful shade of pink and orange. Emily listened at the bottom of the stairs for any rustling from the kids. Nothing—good, they were fast asleep. Dinner had been quiet and tense, even though Emily made Brad’s favorite pork chops. For her, it was just a small effort to ease some of the humiliation he’d experienced this morning. He’d only picked at his dinner. After about ten minutes, he’d pushed his plate away and got up from the table without a backward glance, doing something he never did—leave food on his plate.
Walking to the back door, he paused before opening the door, “I have work to do. Thanks for dinner, Em.”
“You’re welcome.” Then he was gone.
Emily stepped outside onto the front porch. The cool night air nipped through the light brown sweater she’d draped over her shoulders. Sitting on the wooden swing, she rocked back and forth. She lifted her chin toward the sound of crunching gravel.
Only Brad sounded so confident and surefooted. Emily caught sight of Brad’s outline as he paused right before the steps.
“Nice night, are the kids asleep?”
“Not a peep out of them. It didn’t take them long. Join me.” She motioned to the chair beside her.
He looked straight at the front door. He wants to escape, he’s embarrassed. “Please Brad.”
He took off his worn tan cowboy hat and played with the brim in a way so unlike the confident, in control, man “Okay Em.” He strode toward her. Instead of sitting, he rested his booted foot on the chair right beside her, resting his forearm on his knee, and then brushed his hat against his leg as if knocking out all the dust.
off the off-the-charts kiss; out of breath, both of them breathing deeply, as if they’d just run a marathon.
“I’m sorry, Em. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
She stepped forward reaching up, she touched his cheek. “Please don’t stop.”
He was so tall. Her head barely reached his shoulders. But that didn’t stop her from reaching up and trying to pull his head back down to her, except he wouldn’t bend.
“Are you sure, Em? This is what you want?”
His whiskey-colored eyes looked amber in the moonlight. The words stuck in her throat as though lodged in something thick and gooey. Emily swallowed past the hard lump. Her invitation must have been clear because he threaded his fingers through her hair. Gripping the back of her head as he pulled her to him, reclaiming her mouth like it was his right and she was his woman, a possessive familiarity Emily had never experienced. His deep, intense kiss shed all sense of sanity and turned her knees to putty. Brad must have sensed her slipping, and tightened his arms around her waist, holding her hard against him.
She clutched wildly to his shirt and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her mind fogged. All she could think about was how great her need for him was—a need stifled for so long; she’d lost all control over the situation. A slight whimper sounded from somewhere deep inside of her. Brad pressed into her, every hard inch of himself. Oh God, how she wanted this, him. There was something about this man, and oh yes, he was very much a man, that left her screaming and rejoicing as his tongue danced with hers. Oh my, could this man kiss. Maybe that was why her mind allowed dark doubts to creep in; asking her how he could really want her. You’re just a phase, a momentary distraction. Shut up, stop thinking so much, she told herself, just enjoy, and don’t start looking for problems.
He broke off the kiss and leaned down. Opening her bulky sweater, he placed tender kisses down her neck to the row of tiny brown buttons above her breast. He then trailed his hand over her breast, pressing softly as he traced the tender outline of her nipple through her cotton shirt. He didn’t stop his sweet torture as he cupped and lifted, running his thumb against the underside of her breasts. He pulled away, reaching down, linked her hand in his and guided her into the house, closing and locking the door behind them.
He squeezed her hand and looked down on her with such heat and desire in those powerful whiskey
colored eyes, pausing with an open question she clearly understood, “Are you sure this is what you want? Tell me now before this goes any further.”
“Yes, I want you.” Her voice was husky and filled with desire.
Without another word, he led her up the stairs. Each creak of each step bumped up the beat of her heart, and it threatened to close off all her natural breathing. She didn’t know how to handle this because with Brad, there was no question; he was in charge. His whole being stated that fact. He was a poster boy for the very definition of a strong alpha male. She’d wondered if men like him hadn’t in fact died off long ago. Now she was so grateful he was here with her leading her into his room, closing the door behind him.
Laiden's DaughterWith the threat of an invasion of English soldiers and to break the troth the Earl of Penrith had made for Aishlinn, she and Duncan marry rather quickly. While Duncan has far more 'romantic' experiences than his new bride, Aishlinn is quite willing--albeit terrified--to learn the proper ins and outs of things.
There was no time for congratulatory celebration for the newlyweds. Duncan took her hand and leaned in to whisper to her. “’Tis not the wedding I’m sure ye imagined, nor the one ye be deservin’, lass. I promise we’ll have a better celebration after we be done with the English.”
Aishlinn thought his smile could light up the darkest of rooms and nearly burst into tears. She knew that after tonight, her eyes and heart would never again be blessed with seeing it.
They went to Duncan’s room, for hers had lost its door and could no longer afford them any privacy. Someone had put fresh linens on the bed and a single white rose lay atop the pillows. A low fire burned in the fireplace and candles had been lit and placed about the room. When her eyes fell back to the bed, a great sense of nervousness enveloped her. They’d be consummating their marriage soon and she hadn’t a clue what to do. Duncan saw the look of apprehension in her eyes and it brought a smile to his face. “Are ya frightened, lass?” he asked.
“Aye.” She whispered. Terrified was a more apt description. “I know not what to do.” She murmured softly.
Duncan let out a chuckle. “No worries, lass. I’ll help ya through it.”
He bent to kiss her and the moment his lips touched hers, everything else in the world seemed to slip away. She wrapped her hands around his neck, twisting her fingers through his thick hair as she stood on her toes to reach him. Until just a sinnight or two ago, had someone told her not only would she be married someday, but married to a man who made her heart pound, her palms sweat, and her stomach twist and flip at his mere touch, she would have laughed herself silly over it.
“How many buttons are on this gown?” He asked as he put his lips to the nape of her neck.
“I know not. Bree and Ellen have to help me into it.” She said breathlessly. Her skin covered in chill bumps and her knees were beginning to knock together.
“How fond are ya of this dress?” He asked her, his need for her was rising quickly.
Aishlinn was lost in her own thoughts, wanting to feel his lips on hers again. “’Tis the dress I received my first kiss from you in.” She whispered, wishing he would hurry with it. “My first kiss ever really.” She felt a smile come to her face when she thought of that night and how impossible it had all seemed then.
Duncan growled, trying to hold himself in. Had he not been an honorable man, he would have simply lifted her skirts and taken her there on the floor. “I’m afraid lass, that if I don’t get these many buttons undone soon, I’ll die from want of ya.”
Aishlinn giggled slightly, as she remembered Mary and Laren explaining to her the control a woman had over a man. She realized then what they had been speaking of. She turned around quickly and lifted her hair so that he could undo the buttons. Her hands trembled while her stomach felt as though someone were tickling it from the inside.
Duncan would have preferred to just rip the damn thing from her, but fought that urge. He’d been around enough women to know the importance they sometimes put to things. Knowing the dress held special memories for her he couldn’t allow himself do it. He groaned as his fingers seemed to not go nearly as fast as he would have liked. He would have a talk with Bree later about the number of buttons that would be acceptable on any future gowns she might make for his wife.
His wife. The realization of it sent pleasant shivers down his spine. She was his. Forever his. As he undid the last button, the candlelight flickered across her back, giving him a glimpse of the scars left by an evil bastard of a man. He held his breath and remained still. Silently he vowed that come the morrow he would personally kill the man responsible, even if he had to ride across English lands to do it.
It took only a moment for Aishlinn to realize why he had paused. Perhaps he had changed his mind when he caught sight of the scars. Bree and Ellen had insisted they were not hideously disfiguring and barely noticeable. But Aishlinn had serious doubts and was certain they lied only to protect her.
“I cannot blame you if you’ve changed your mind, Duncan.” She whispered. Her heart fell to her toes when he did not immediately answer. He turned her around so that he could look at her beautiful face. God’s teeth, but she was beautiful. “Nay, I haven’t changed me mind.” He whispered as he brushed his lips tenderly over hers. “Mayhap ye’ll change yer mind when ye see me battle scars.” He teased.
He could have a thousand scars covering him from head to toe and it would not have mattered one wit to her. It was his heart and how he felt of her that mattered.
Duncan took in a deep breath of air before he began kissing her again. He would never spend another lonely night alone in his bed mad with lust and want of her. She would be there every night with him. Och! There would be much lust, much need of her, but he wouldn’t have to throw himself into the cold loch to fight it. He would be able to reach out for her and she would be there.
“I love ya, Aishlinn.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She knew he meant the words he spoke. “I love you, Duncan.” She whispered.
She had to kiss him then to keep the tears from spilling forth. Instantly, a strange and new sensation fluttered through her body. It was rather reminiscent of being extremely hungry, a need of something but what that something was she had no clue. She wiggled out of her dress, letting it drop to the floor, and stood before him in only her shift. A most serious expression of determination appeared on his face right before he began to ply her again with warm, passionate kisses.
A burning need filled her to the marrow and she wanted to see him, all of him. She undid the broach clipped to his plaid, not certain what to do with it. Duncan took it from her and tossed it over his shoulder where it landed with a plink somewhere near the door. His plaid fell away and he pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor as well.
She sucked in air deeply as she looked at his well-muscled and toned arms and chest. His skin had been kissed by the sun and seemed to ripple in the candlelight. There were scars upon his shoulders as well as his tight, wavy stomach, scars he wore with pride for he had earned every one of them in battle. Her eyes moved downward and when she caught sight of his manhood, she closed them quickly, embarrassed for having looked there.
Duncan chuckled at her crimson face as he grasped her neck and pulled her to him. He lifted her in his arms, kissed the soft spot at the base of her neck whilst he gently laid her down upon the bed. Her eyes were still closed, her fingers holding onto the sheets tightly as if she were bracing herself for the unknown. He chuckled again as he lay beside her and began to kiss her lips, her cheeks and eyelids. She finally let go her hold on the sheets and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’ll be gentle lass, I swear it.” He told her, kissing the nape of her neck. As much as he wanted to simply plunge himself into her, he wanted for her to enjoy their first time together. It was important for her to feel the pleasures he could give her.
“Tell me if I do anythin’ that hurts.” He whispered as he kissed her bare shoulders. “Tell me if I do anythin’ ya dunna like.”
Aishlinn could not imagine him doing anything to her that would be at all unpleasant. Excitement coursed through her as she pulled him closer, desperately needing to feel his lips against her own. “Kiss me.” She said breathlessly.
He honored her request. Her mouth was hungry for him and his hers. She felt his hand as he touched her thigh ever so gently with just the tips of his fingers. More chill bumps covered her body and she thought she might faint from the sheer exhilaration he brought to her with his touch. His feather soft touches, as he slowly ran his fingers across her skin, brought forth more chill bumps. Ever so carefully and slowly he pushed her shift up exposing her skin, her secret places. It left her feeling nearly intoxicated.
When he kissed her belly button she thought for certain she would lose her mind for it seemed so inappropriate! She stopped breathing altogether when he touched her breasts, for she didn’t think that was proper either. He stopped only long enough to lift the shift over her head before tossing it to the floor.
She had not been prepared for this, for laying completely naked and exposing herself in such a fashion! She had imagined she would have only needed to expose the places necessary for consummation, not every square inch of her body!
“Breathe lass, or ye’ll swoon on me.” He chuckled as he began to kiss her again.
She forced herself to breathe for the last thing she wanted was to swoon and miss out on what might happen next. Running her hands along his arms then his back, she could hear him moan with pleasure. She was surprised to find that when she heard his soft moans, they brought an intense and thrilling excitement to the pit of her stomach.
Before she realized it, Duncan was on top of her and his kisses were growing more penetrating and passionate. The powerful, urgent need boiled within her like liquid heat. It was as exhilarating as it was confusing. Exhilarating because she had never before felt so alive and blissfully happy all the while feeling very alarmed and anxious.
’Twas confusing because she knew not what the vibrant, pulsing need was, only that it made her feel there was more to this joining of husband and wife than just deep, ardent kisses, heavy, anxious breathing, and feverish, unrestrained touches. There had to be more to it.
’Twas then that she felt something rather large as it lingered near the entrance to her womanly nether regions. She gasped when she realized just what ’it‘ was and what he planned on doing with it. Before she could even ask the question ’are you quite serious that you mean to do what I think you mean to do‘ he did just what she thought he had been intending to do.
“Ow!” She said, taking in a deep breath of air and holding it until she nearly swooned again from fright and shock and the pain.
Duncan paused, lifted his head from her neck and looked at her with a fearful and frustrated expression. “Do ye wish me to stop?” he asked.
She was certain that what he truly meant to say was, ‘Please, I beg you do not ask me to stop now.’ Or to hear her say “Nay, husband, please continue at your leisure.’
For a moment she could not speak. She could only hold her breath and retain her deathlike grip on the sheets near her hips. After several agonizingly long moments, the pain began to subside and she was finally able to find her voice, or a close likeness to it for she wasn’t sure she recognized the sound that came from her own mouth. “Nay.” She told him.
She was frightened for his wellbeing and health for there were many times over the last sinnight that he had told her he was ready to explode with want and desire for her. The image of her husband exploding into a thousands pieces of flesh all over the marital bed kept her from saying nay. How would she begin to explain it to anyone?
She fought the urge to laugh a moment later when she heard his deep sigh of relief at her answer. Somehow his frustration made her feel a bit better about the entire situation and for the life of her she could not figure out why. Perhaps it made him seem more human and less God-like, more real and less perfect, even though he was as close to perfection as any man could possibly get, at least in her way of thinking.
Not a moment had passed before he began to slowly move within her, kissing her tenderly as he caressed any part of her body that was naked and exposed. As he moved, she realized that ’this’ was the deep need she had been craving. He whispered to her in Gaelic, a few of the words she recognized, others not.
As his pace quickened she began to feel very odd, tingly sensations as she began to meet his movements with her hips. It was all beginning to make sense, this joining of a man and a woman. It did not take very long after that for her to realize what Mary and Laren had been talking about when they discussed the pleasures joining brought to both man and woman when it was done correctly.
“Mo Chuisle.” Duncan whispered. “Is tu no ghra,” Aishlinn knew what those words meant. More excitement rushed over her when he used the Gaelic to say he loved her.
When she thought the feelings of joining with her husband could not possibly get any better, something unfamiliar began to spread over her body. It began from somewhere deep within her and rapidly rose before exploding to every inch of her body. Her toes curled, her fingers dug into her husband’s back, and her eyes rolled back into their sockets.
She was horribly frightened by it, not at all certain what it was that was happening to her. Perhaps it was an apoplexy and the thought of dying now, in this moment nearly scared her to death. “Duncan, what is happening?” She whispered quite desperately.
She heard him chuckle slightly and then nothing else as the explosion grew to great waves that plunged her into an unbelievable sea of what could only be described as a maddening yet blissful, inconceivable ecstasy. For a moment she thought her soul had left her body as she dove her fingers even deeper into Duncan’s back. She shuddered involuntarily and felt the need to scream for…her mind went blank for she couldn’t think of what to scream for other than for him to not stop.
If I die now, then so be it. I will die feeling the grandest of pleasures. Aishlinn had not realized she had said the words aloud until she heard Duncan’s light laughter before he said, “Ye’re welcome.” For once she did not turn red.
The feeling subsided, yet lingered just on the edge and she was certain she would go mad if he did not stop, to let her catch her breath. He began to kiss her again and within moments all thoughts of stopping disappeared.
All she could think of was that joining with her husband had turned out to be far more pleasurable than her mind could ever imagined. Her heart swelled with love for this man and she knew he loved her and would do anything for her. Aishlinn hoped that he was enjoying himself as much as she was and she took the chance to open her eyes. He looked to be in a good deal of pain. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
“Aye.” He whispered, moving slowly as he kissed her again. It was not long after that she felt the tides of passion return and soon they were both lost, thundering along in that intense and unbelievably joyous and thunderous wave.
She felt Duncan begin to shake against her as he moved faster, calling out her name, expressing his love to her once again. Aishlinn realized the pleasure she brought to him was just as intense and exquisite as what he had brought to her. She smiled just before the explosion overtook her again.
When it was over, he lay soaked in sweat atop her, his face buried in the pillow, trying to catch his breath. As she hugged him, tears came to her eyes. There were too many reasons to count as to why she felt like crying at the moment.
He began speaking to her, his voice muffled and she could not make out the words. “Are you all right?” she asked him again.
He slowly lifted his head and there was a very broad smile on his face. “Aye. I am now.” He kissed her lips, her forehead, her cheeks and her eyes. “I love ye, Mo Chuisle.”
She found she rather liked the way his words made her stomach flutter and her heart race madly. Her heart began to seize momentarily, for the thought of morning time came to her mind. She would miss him but she knew she would be able to carry this one night with her throughout eternity.
Duncan rolled to his back and he pulled her near. She rested her head upon his chest, just as she had imagined doing many times over the past weeks. It was just as pleasant as she thought it would be. She could hear his heart pounding against his chest, like a big Scottish drum.
As they lay there with their legs intertwined and trying to come back down from the celestial territories they’d just explored together, Duncan gently caressed her arm with the back of his hand. He imagined the smile on his face to be permanently sealed there for all eternity. He had been with many a woman in his life, far more than his fair share he supposed. But none had brought forth the passion or the intensity to lovemaking that Aishlinn had. He would have sworn on his family’s graves that she had touched his very soul.
He felt hot tears as they landed on his chest. He hoped they were tears of joy and not sorrow or regret over marrying him. He also hoped he had not caused her any great amount of pain. “Lass, why do ye cry?” He whispered, his voice laced with concern.
“I’m happy.” It wasn’t a complete lie, for she was happy beyond all human comprehension. Intermingled with that however, was the sorrow for what she would do when he fell asleep.
Duncan patted her arm gently, giving her a slight hug. “No regrets?”
“Only that I had not met you long ago.” Which was the truth. Had she grown up here, had her life been different, then her heart would not be now disintegrating into ashes.
“We’ve our whole lives to make up fer it.” He said sweetly.
Aishlinn could only nod her head. She wanted not to utter any lies to him. Lies it seemed had been what her entire life had been based upon. Wanting only to leave him with a night of very happy memories, she remained silent.
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The Last Way Station: Hitler's Final Journey
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