The Maid's Daughter - S01 E13

Story 3 years ago

The Maid's Daughter - S01 E13

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 13

Devlyn could barely hear her quiet response over the roaring

in his head. He had plunged headfirst over a waterfall,

tumbling wildly out of control. Was he really going to do

this? Not only decide to make love to Gillian, but here? Now?

For a grown man, he was ridiculously confounded by their

complicated circumstances and the lack of privacy. Gillian’s

mother’s house was out for obvious reasons. And there were

too many watchful eyes at the castle. Plus the fact that Gillian

was uncomfortable being entertained there as a guest

while her mother was an employee.

A Wolff, any Wolff, was too well-known to check into a

local motel unnoticed. So here they were…

She stood watching him with those big, soft brown eyes.

Vulnerable and brave, she wore her femininity gracefully.

Too unsure of herself to take the lead, but not entirely convinced

he would be good to her. That he could witness her

hesitance shamed him. A woman deserved security in her

lovers, a knowledge that coupling meant more than cheap sex.

If he could only express to her what he felt, the driving

urge to possess her, to mark her, maybe then she would realize

that this was no testosterone-driven whim.

But he couldn’t explain her appeal to himself, much less

to her.

She wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Are you too cold?” he asked, wincing as he heard the

words. He sounded like a sixteen-year-old hoping to score

behind the football stadium.

“I won’t be,” she said. “Not if you’re holding me.”

Glancing around them, he spotted a large tree stump, recently

cut. The surface was rough, but mostly dry, protected

in part by the canopy overhead. It would do. He picked her

up, surprising a gasp from soft, pink lips. “Have you ever

made love outdoors?”

She clung to him, arms around his neck. “Never.”

“This will be a first for me, too.” Her slender body, though

not petite, was a negligible weight. He looked down at her,

unsmiling, feeling twin currents of lust and tenderness converge

in his chest. “We don’t have to do this. I can wait. Probably.”

She felt so damned good in his arms…almost as if she

belonged there.

Gillian laughed softly, the sexy sound making the hair on

the back of his neck rise. “What would your employees in

Atlanta say if they could see you now?”

He snorted. “They’d probably think I’d lost my mind. Kieran,

my cousin, is the one who has no problem with sleeping

on the ground and eating grubworms for breakfast. I’m more

of a five-star hotel guy…soft sheets…a good bottle of wine.

A beautiful woman.”

“So you’re zero for three and you still want to have sex

with me?”

He stood her on the stump and put his hands on her hips

to steady her. Looking up into the face of the woman who

haunted his dreams at night, he was pained by the lack of

confidence she exhibited in her desirability. His fingers dug

into her flanks, itching to touch bare skin. “Don’t tell me

you’re not beautiful,” he said. “I’m the judge, and I happen

to be pretty damned turned on right now in case you hadn’t

noticed.”

“Men are like that.” She gnawed her lower lip, her hands

fluttering at her sides. It would take more than words to convince

her.

He lifted the hem of her skirt and slid his hands up her

thighs. “Pick up your foot,” he commanded.

She was wearing sexy ankle-high boots with—thank

God—no panty hose. Her skin was cool, but not particularly

chilled. It was almost as soft as her blouse. He rubbed her

thighs lightly, warming them with the friction of his caress.

Gently, teasingly, he curled his fingers in the waistband

of her underwear and dragged it ever so slowly over her hips

and down her legs. Gillian’s eyelids fluttered shut, her lips

parted. Observing nothing in her stance to indicate disagreement,

he brought the silken scrap of nothing to her ankles.

Holy hell. No sexy movie star had ever looked as deliberately

alluring. His hands shook and his s---t hardened to

stone. “Step out of them, Gillian.” His voice was firm.

She put her hands on his shoulders and obeyed, lifting one

foot at a time. He tucked the undies in his hip pocket, put his

hands on her waist and lifted her effortlessly, depositing her

onto the ground.

Unzipping his trousers he freed himself from the knit boxers

that threatened to cut off the blood flow to the part of his

body that demanded attention.

“Touch me, Gillian.” The guttural words were both command

and plea.

She stared at him…first skimming her gaze over his face…

then assessing his straining erection. Licking her lips like

someone anticipating a treat, she took him in her hands and

warmed his length. He could have told her it was unnecessary.

The skin that was pulled so tightly over firm flesh throbbed

and burned from the inside out. He braced his legs and dug

his hands into her hair.

Every brush of her delicate fingertips marked him indelibly.

Beneath her touch, his s---t leaped eagerly, aching to

find release. His brain held sway…barely. He was determined

to draw this out, to give Gillian the full measure of his attention,

his hunger, his absolute focus.

But even a strong man had his limits. And Gillian brought

him to the edge far too rapidly. Gently, he removed her hands

and stepped away. Fumbling in his pocket, he located the

single condom, ripped it open and held it out with a raised

eyebrow.

She was bashful, clearly. He swallowed hard, his throat

dry. “Please,” he said. “I want you to.” Her movements were

sweetly clumsy as she did her best to position the latex over

the head of his penis. A couple of false starts tested his patience.

Finally, she managed to cover him from base to tip.

He sat down on the stump and held up his arms. “Come

here, honey. Let me love you.”

In her face he saw the battle between shock and excitement.

Lucky for him, the latter won. She lifted her skirt and

s-------d his legs. He almost had an o----m right then.

Finding her bare butt beneath her skirt, his hands guided

her descent. “Easy, baby. Slowly. Do it slowly.”

Her hands hovered and finally found a resting place on his

shoulders. Gradually, a bit at a time, she sheathed him in her

hot, moist passage. Groaning, barely coherent, Devlyn decided

to shut up and let Gillian take the lead for the moment.

The feel of her lithe body welcoming him was indescribable.

She was silent, concentrating on the joining of their flesh.

Soft and hard, male and female, as elemental as time itself.

When she had him fully seated, the head of his s---t nudging

the entrance to her womb, she exhaled as if she had been

holding her breath. “Oh, lordy…”

Gillian winced inwardly, embarrassed to let him see that

she was in way over her head. Her few sexual experiences

in the past bore no resemblance at all to what was happening

at this very moment in a surprisingly sensitive spot deep

within her sex.

Devlyn had his eyes closed, his head canted backward as

he surged into her, flexing his hips. The strength hidden beneath

his conservative clothing was astounding. He had carried

her with ease. Even now, he t----t with power, filling

her repeatedly.

She was on top, but that was where any semblance of

domination on her part ended. Like a maestro, he played her

body, slowly when it suited him…then hard and fast, making

them both cry out.

His arms went around her waist, dragging her closer. The

chill of the air did nothing to cool them. Skin hot and damp,

he made love to her tirelessly. At moments when it was clear

she was near the edge, he eased back on the rhythm, calming

her frantic movements, slowing the pace.

Her skirt was rucked up to her waist, her half-naked body

on display. She had never been an exhibitionist, but at the moment,

modesty was the farthest thing from her mind. Desperately,

she wanted to feel his mouth on her breasts, his hands

on the bare skin of her back. But that would involve stopping,

and she couldn’t find the words to say what she felt.

Inside her, he felt enormous. She loved the sense of connection,

the intimacy of their fevered coupling, the sensation

of him filling her, claiming her.

Her breath caught as the inevitable c----x sneaked up and

sent her reeling. “Devlyn…” Her shocked cry startled a trio

of birds, who darted off into the treetops.

He held her close while she rode out the last fluttering

tremors of her release. Head on his shoulder, she struggled

to breathe. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “You haven’t…”

He played with her hair, his big frame shuddering with unappeased

arousal. “I will. Not to worry. Give me your mouth.”

It never occurred to her to protest. Their lips met, tasted,

slid apart. A tiny buzz of remembered pleasure regenerated

her arousal. Something about the fog and the sylvan glade

enhanced her pleasure…a dreamy, unfocused, self-satisfied

urge to wallow in Devlyn’s passionate persuasion.

He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “You’re going to

come again.”

The certainty in his ragged voice made moisture bloom in

secret places she’d thought well satisfied already. If you say

so… So intense was the vein of joy, she would have agreed

to most anything.

“God,” he groaned. “Where’s a bed when you need one?”

She licked the whorl of his ear. “I can lie on the ground.

It won’t matter.”

“It matters to me. You deserve to be cherished.” He chuckled

raggedly, despite his obvious urgency. “I think I may have

lost my mind.”

Wiggling her hips experimentally, she imagined his big,

masculine body on top of hers. The image brought her to the

edge a second time. Panting, impatient, she ripped at the buttons

on his shirt. “Put this on the ground,” she pleaded. “I

want to feel you on top of me.”

His face flushed dark red. Indecision painted his features.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Devlyn. Yes.”

Still buried inside her, he wriggled out of the sleeves. She

undid the last button and tossed the shirt on the leaf-covered

ground. “I’ll go first,” she said, already lifting herself from

him.

His fingers dug into her hips. “Don’t. Don’t move.”

She obeyed.

He cursed, the words choked and broken. And then it was

too late. With a shout, he exploded…hard…hips pistoning

wildly as he t----t, his s---t rubbing intimately at her inner

flesh that was already too sensitive.

Stunned, she whimpered a sobbing cry. “Oh, oh, oh…” The

second peak was more powerful than the first. Wrapped in

his fierce embrace, she felt everything she thought she knew

about herself incinerate…flare brightly…and fade away.

What was left behind in the aftermath was an odd sense

of peace. For so long she had assumed she knew what she

wanted out of life. A dependable, kind mate, a handful of

children, security.

But what she had discovered instead was that she had a

wild, self-destructive streak. Devlyn was dangerous…in so

many ways. He was a lone Wolff, a sociable animal whose

affability masked a complicated personality with enough layers

to stymie a psychotherapist.

She couldn’t discern his secrets, and she didn’t really have

the right to ask. Whatever the nature of the relationship they

found themselves embroiled in, it surely didn’t include the

kind of permanence that merited shared confidences.

It was sex.

For some unfathomable reason, Devlyn wanted her. It

wouldn’t last. She knew that. But for better or for worse, she

wanted him, too.

Seconds passed, perhaps entire minutes. Gradually their

breathing returned to normal. And almost simultaneously

Gillian felt awkwardness roll over her in a suffocating wave.

She wanted to stand up, but she wasn’t sure her legs would

support her. Devlyn seemed in no hurry to move. So her hands

roved with a will of their own over the smooth, taut skin of

his back. Muscles flexed beneath her touch. The part of her

that was feminine, vulnerable, responded to his latent power.

In prehistoric times he would have been the kind of man who

kept danger at bay, protecting the weak and the defenseless.

Gillian was a fully evolved woman. She had a career. Or

at least she would have one again sometime. She knew how

to change a tire. Was not averse to killing the occasional

mouse. Balanced her own checkbook, planned for the future.

She didn’t need a man to shield her from the world. But despite

all evidence to the contrary, she craved Devlyn’s unspoken

strength. His personality was so unlike her own. Though

she was more of an introvert, her past was an open book. Ordinary.

Boring.

His silence made her uneasy. Was she supposed to say

something? Do something?

In the absence of conversation or even the unmistakable

sounds of lovemaking, the woods teemed with sound…a

whip-poor-will’s call, the rustle of small creatures scurrying

through the underbrush.

Devlyn’s face was buried against the side of her neck. She

almost imagined that his lips moved on her skin.

Did she want tenderness from him so badly that she was

willing to manufacture emotion where there was none?

For the first time since they had walked into the glen, cold

seeped into her veins, chilling her from the inside out. Goose

bumps erupted in places she’d rather not contemplate. At the

risk of committing a sexual faux pas, she stood shakily, allowing

the connection, flesh to flesh, to be broken.

Hurriedly, she smoothed her skirt. She bent and picked

up Devlyn’s shirt, holding it out to him. “At least we didn’t

ruin it.”

Was that supposed to be a self-conscious attempt at humor?

If it was, Devlyn ignored it. He stood and straightened his

clothing, taking the wrinkled garment from her hand without

comment and putting it on.

As she watched him adjust his boxers, tuck in his shirt

and zip his slacks, her stomach curled in mortification. His

movements were unhurried, matter-of-fact. He must have

dealt with the condom when she looked away.

Gillian was a wreck. Last night she had been hurt by his

rejection. Now she was satisfied physically, but as confused

as ever.

Devlyn was cool as ice.