Sins of Omission. Fern Michaels
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There are many who pretend. You must know, here”—she thumped her breast—“if you pleased me or not. Do you think you pleased me?”
“I know I pleased you now,” Reuben groused good-naturedly. “I know you liked it because I watched you. I saw your face and it was beautiful.”
“Ah, yes, because you filled me with yourself. Yes, chéri, it was wild and wonderful, the exquisite release. I wanted more. I always want more. You will never be able to give me all I want,” she warned softly.
Reuben’s neck grew warm. “Would Madame care to place a small wager?”
Mickey looked deeply into his eyes. “No,” she said simply. “I think you may be the exception, and that frightens me.”
Reuben’s first driving lesson was exhilarating. He drove the roadster as though it were a windup toy, whipping it around corners, over ruts and gouges in the road, with no mind to the speed he was traveling. He laughed uproariously as Mickey blessed herself over and over. She cursed him, screaming for him to drive in a straight line. “We are not going to hell, chéri, at least not today. Slow! This is supposed to be pleasurable, not miserable. You are making my teeth ache!”
Reuben continued to laugh as he put the touring car through its paces. When at last he braked by the side of the rutted road, he pulled her to him. “All you had to do was say: ‘Stop! I want to make love with you again,’ and I would have stopped.” He kissed her soundly, passionately. Her quickened breathing made Reuben smile. When he released her, she gasped.
“You had my life in your hands, Reuben,” she said, trying to sound severe. “If you care to place yourself in danger, that is your decision. Do not take liberties with my life. Start the engine and I will take liberties with you. Start the engine!”
When the Citroën began to move forward, Mickey foraged into the folds of his overcoat and then into his trousers. He was delicious, this one, she thought as she lowered her head onto his lap. Before she took him into her mouth she ordered, “Now drive as you should.”
Reuben’s foot pressed the accelerator the same moment her mouth closed over him. For what seemed an eternity, he felt himself being hurled forward, racing toward an unreachable destination. He didn’t know if he was driving on the road or had left the earth entirely, shooting off into space. All he knew was the pleasure of being in her mouth. When he shuddered again and again, reason overrode passion and he braced himself against the brake pedal, grinding the car to a halt.
“Mon Dieu!” he moaned as Mickey began to laugh.
“Now it is my turn, Reuben. and I will request your full attention.”
“My pleasure,” Reuben answered. He would do whatever pleased her.
“And mine.” Turning toward the back of the car, she threw her sable over the seat and scrambled after it. Reuben quickly followed the length of her silky leg and the promise of her favors. After nestling deep into the fur, Mickey ran her fingers through his hair as she searched for and found his mouth with her own. Oh, how she loved the feel of him, the touch of him! The way his lips evoked a cry in her throat and how his fingers had learned and knew her body almost better than her own.
He was tall and slim and hard-muscled. Her greedy fingers could not touch him enough, her hungry mouth ached to taste every morsel of his flesh. And always there were the words: beautiful and loving, praising her beauty, adoring her passion, filling her head and warming her heart, throbbing through her and creating an aching need for him.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind and logic, she knew she was being wanton, even barbaric. But she didn’t care. All she cared about were the slim hips poised above her and the honeyed words falling from his lips.
His mouth sought hers; his strong, sinewy arms locked her in an urgent yet tender embrace. Wave after wave of desire coursed through her as she answered his kisses, her tongue darting into the depths of his mouth. Her hands caressed and stroked his back, bringing him closer still. Her breasts were taut, their pink crests hard nubs beneath his palms. Soft moans of ecstasy escaped her parted lips as he proved himself to be an artful lover.
His thighs twined with hers, and she was completely aware of his body and the driving desire he held for her. A deep wave of yearning spread through her belly. Drawing up her knees, she yielded herself to him, inviting their union.
Her eyes opened, bathing him with the splendor of her passions. Every turn and curve of her body was a song, a lyric poem. And when she whispered the pleasure she took in him, her voice was deep and husky, reminding him that she was a woman like no other.
Together they found the culmination of their desires. Together they breathed as one, falling, drowning in the sea of their desires.
They lay together on the rich Barguzin sable for a long time, touching each other. There were no words; none were necessary, all had been said and experienced.
It was dusk when Mickey heard Reuben’s stomach rumble ominously. “Mon Dieu! What kind of woman am I? I gave you no lunch,” she cried unhappily.
“You fed me in other ways,” Reuben said quietly. “Mickey, I have never—”
Mickey placed a gentle finger over Reuben’s lips. “Shhh, do not say the words. It is too soon, and I don’t know if you should ever say them. This is now, chéri. Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow will take care of themselves. Words, my darling, can wound one’s soul if they do not come from the heart. Always remember that. During lovemaking it is allowed,” she added hastily. “Often one lover will say sweet words to the other because that is what they think they want to hear. It is better to say nothing. Do you understand, chéri?”
“Yeah, sure,” Reuben said, sounding for all the world like a chastened schoolboy.
“Do not pout, chéri. These things must be said now so there is no hurt to either of us later. You must understand the difference between love and lust. There is a very big difference. Someday you will love a woman so much you will want to offer her your soul. Lust is a mingling of two people for the moment. Lust is when a man or a woman walks away and never looks back. Love is when a man or a woman looks back and…smiles.”
Reuben’s mood turned sour. “Have you ever loved like that?” He hated asking the question, but he had to know.
“But of course, chéri,” Mickey lied smoothly. “But of course.”
Reuben ground his teeth together so hard he thought his jaw would crack. Angrily he climbed back into the driver’s seat and threw the roadster in gear. Mickey was jerked forward unexpectedly, forced to hang on for dear life as the car roared down the road. But she hardly noticed how fast Reuben was driving, so intent was she on the blinding tears in her eyes.
Chapter Five
The days leading up to Thanksgiving passed swiftly. The dinner hour was the end of a busy day that began at dawn. The Three Musketeers met, dined, and talked. Daniel was full of praise for Pierre Faroux and regaled Mickey and Reuben nightly with his accomplishments. Once or twice, so pleased was Pierre with his pupil’s progress, he stayed to dinner to assure Mickey that she’d made the right decision about Daniel. He was so quick, so bright! Faroux insisted his pupil had already far surpassed what Americans required for a high school diploma and was now plowing through college-level material.
Reuben beamed like a proud father when he listened to discussions on law and other matters. It was clear that Daniel was holding his own and several times bested the old Frenchman with queries he couldn’t respond to. Daniel’s thirst for knowledge was being sated at last.
If Daniel was aware of the change in Reuben and Mickey, he gave no sign. He was so caught up in his studies, he was almost oblivious to their private little exchanges. When he noticed the hand touching, the knowing smiles, the intimate glances, he was pleased for his friend.
It was a glorious time for Reuben as well as for Mickey. They were together constantly, taking care of the château, working companionably in the barn with the