The Playboy's Baby. Mary Lyons
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God’s sake!’ he breathed thickly, his hands sweeping erotically over her trembling figure. ‘Are you really asking me to stop making love to you? Because if not, my darling,’ he added with a muffled laugh, pressing his warm lips to her swollen breasts, ‘can we please leave any argument about moral ethics and civilised behaviour until later?’
Unable to prevent a deep, responsive shudder from scorching through her body, she found her arms closing instinctively about him, her fingers curling into his thick dark hair as he pressed feverish kisses over her soft, warm flesh.
She wanted him. There was nothing...absolutely nothing in this world that she wanted more than the possession of this man. Racked by desire, her body burned and shook, her need of him so intense that it was like a deep, physical pain.
‘No, I...I don’t want you to stop...’ she gasped. ‘And yet...’
‘Oh, shut up, Sam!’ he groaned, before effectively putting a stop to any more of her hesitant protests, his mouth crushing her lips in a long, deeply sensual kiss of rampant possession.
A soft moan broke from her throat as she yielded to the intensity of his kiss, the sound provoking a deep, shuddering convulsion in the body pressed so closely to her own. And then she was lost, firmly in the grip of a basic, primeval force that seemed quite beyond both her control and his. There was no time for shame or regret as her fingers savoured the strong contours of his body, the flesh beneath her hands so achingly and poignantly familiar. The savage, raw passion which had been repressed for so long suddenly exploded passionately between them, their bodies merging in a wild, untamed hunger and overpowering need.
Much later, lying warm and drowsily replete, their limbs entwined together on the thick rug in front of the blazing fire, she became aware of Matt’s fingers trailing softly up over her body, to turn her face gently towards him.
‘Darling...’
‘Mmm...?’ she muttered sleepily.
Still feeling dazed at the passion which had so completely engulfed them, she was almost unable to believe the frantic intensity of her own reaction to his equally frenzied lovemaking. It seemed as if some wild, dynamic force had taken possession of her mind and body, igniting a fire in her blood which had raged totally out of control.
But now, as the first glimmer of harsh reality began to break through the thick mist in her mind, Samantha became aware of the first definite stirrings of unease.
‘Darling Sam,’ he said quietly, softly brushing stray locks of damp, pale blonde hair from her brow. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to apologise for what’s just happened between us. Because I’m damned if I will! It was wonderful, glorious, totally sensational—and virtually inevitable.’
She trembled at the note of certainty in his voice as his arms closed possessively about her body.
Quite suddenly, each and every one of the high barricades and fortifications which she had erected so carefully over the past years now seemed in danger of being entirely swept away. And with them all sense of being in charge of her own destiny. It was frightening to realise that she might now be leaving herself dangerously exposed.
She had been deeply in love with Matt, all those years ago. But was it a resurgence of that deep emotion which she was now experiencing—or merely a sudden flash-flood of overwhelming lust? Because there was no point in denying the powerful sexual magnetism which lay between them. But she feared it would prove as unstable and potentially explosive as TNT—merely needing a light spark on the fuse to destructively blow her life apart, yet again.
With the touch of his fingers softly caressing the curves of her warm, naked flesh, it was practically impossible to try to think in a straight line. Even as she struggled to sort out the thoughts crowding into her brain, she found herself being gathered up into Matt’s arms and carried down a wide corridor to his bedroom.
‘I think we’ll both be much more comfortable in here,’ he said with a low laugh as he lowered her down on to the wide bed. ‘And I don’t want any arguments,’ he added firmly, rolling her beneath the sheets and joining her a moment later, before once more clasping her in his warm embrace. ‘We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later, OK?’
But ‘talk’ did not seem to be anywhere on his agenda when she found herself stirring some hours later, the first pale fingers of dawn gradually seeping in through the light, gauzy curtains at the window, and illuminating the room with a ghostly light.
Drowsily gazing at the unfamiliar surroundings, she turned her head to see Matt slipping silently into bed beside her. And, as he gathered her gently into his arms, she noticed, from the slight dampness of his flesh, that he must have just had a shower.
In a dream-like state, halfway between sleep and waking, she became aware, despite the fresh scent of soap on his skin, of the intoxicating aroma of his own spicy, individual body heat.
Carefully clasping her in his arms as if she was a cherished object, precious beyond compare, he gently kissed her mouth before tenderly trailing his lips down to the scented hollow at the base of her throat. She could feel his breath on her skin, his hands slowly moving down over the warm curves of her body, each lingering caress, each sensual and intimate touch generating tremors of deep pleasure, leaving her aching with the intensity of her need for his possession.
‘My darling!’ he whispered thickly. ‘Right from the first moment I saw you this afternoon—standing so nervously across the room—I suddenly knew just what a fool I’d been. It was totally devastating. Like...like being hit by a ten-ton truck!’
‘A truck...?’ she echoed, so bemused by the thrilling, velvety touch of his fingers on her quivering flesh that she was having difficulty in concentrating on what he was saying.
‘I suddenly realised just what a stupid idiot I’d been. We were always so great together. Both mentally and physically. Two halves of one whole. But it couldn’t work then, all those years ago...you were so very young...with the whole world in front of you.’
‘Oh, Matt...’
‘I’m absolutely crazy about you, Sam,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I always was, of course. But now...now we can handle it. We can make it work. In fact, I’ll make damn sure it does—because I’m not prepared to let you go again,’ he vowed, before giving a low groan of pleasure as he buried his face between the deep valley of her breasts.
As his hoarsely whispered words seemed to hang in the air of the quiet, still room, Samantha could almost physically feel the burden of uncertainty and doubt rolling away, like a great stone from her shoulders, her qualms and hesitant fears dissolving at the deeply sincere note in his voice, and in the direct heat of her own need and desire.
As his hands and mouth moved enticingly over her body, she was filled with wonder and amazement at just how familiar...just how right it all seemed, and how equally right Matt had been when he’d said how perfectly their bodies appeared to fit together.
His flesh was sweet and moist and firm as a summer apple. While his groans of delight, and the shudders that rippled through his body in the wake of her own, softly tender touch, as she caressed the oh, so familiar taut muscles and smooth, tanned skin, only served to increase her own pleasure and excitement.
She suddenly realised that making love with Matt again, after so many years, was like returning home from a long voyage, and rediscovering a familiar and intimate joy. And she could only marvel, silently, at why she hadn’t always known that it would be so.
In sharp contrast to their earlier, frantic coming together—when they’d been like two people dying of thirst in the desert, who suddenly discovered a lush green oasis—Matt was now slowly savouring her swollen breasts and aching nipples, his fingers and mouth exploring each intimate and private part of her quivering body. As her flesh opened to him like a flower unfolding in the sun, it seemed to her that he moved in love as he did everything else in life, smoothly and easily, clearly tempering the strong, pulsating thrusts of his possession to fit her own rhythm and pleasure, until she became lost to all sense of reality. Her whole