Free Impostress by Lisa Jackson Page A

and wanting more ... Somewhere deep in the back of her mind she knew she was making a vast mistake, an irreversible error that could never be forgiven, that she should try to stop this now, but the pleasure of the moment, her dizzy head, and the incredible ministrations of this man held her tongue. She spread her legs further and he growled as he kissed her through the bunched fabric that had collected over her abdomen.
    "Beautiful ... beautiful wife," he said.
    "I'm not—" she said, trying to explain that she wasn't Elyn.
    "As beautiful as any woman." While still touching her with one hand, he slowly untied the laces of his breeches, and his manhood, straining against the fabric, slipped out. She swallowed hard upon seeing the length of him, the thickness. No ... this could not happen. She gasped and tried to draw away, but he swore, "I'll be gentle. Tell me if anything displeases you."
    "I can't," she whispered as he kissed her again, then stretched atop her, his weight pressing into hers, his hand slowly sliding from her, his shaft hard against her skin. She felt bereft, wanting more of him, and then he kissed her again. Hard. His hands tangled in her hair, his muscles straining.
    "I'll be careful."
    No!
She couldn't do this. He was Elyn's husband and yet ... she wanted him. "Wait," she begged.
    He paused, took the time to stare into her eyes and brush a wayward strand of hair from her skin. "For?"
    She couldn't think of a single excuse other than the truth. Why wasn't that damned potion working? He nuzzled her neck, tingles raced over her skin, and the heat within her was a palpable ache. "I don't feel that we are wed," she said breathlessly, her head spinning.
    "Were you not there?"
    "But I knew not the priest ..." Her words were thick. "Mayhap we should wait until Lawenydd's priest returns and ... and have another ceremony and ..." He stared down at her as if she were a half-wit and then a small smile curved his lips.
    "I don't think another wedding would change things." He kissed her then, harder still, his lips molding over hers and his tongue touching and seeking hers. Kiera's arms wrapped around him of their own accord, her fingers tracing the grooves of his shoulder muscles, her mind swimming. His mouth and hands were everywhere, caressing her buttocks, kissing her nipples, rubbing the curve of her spine and holding her close. His tongue was moist and anxious as it trailed across her skin, his fingers kneading, stoking the fire that was already burning white-hot within. She writhed and ached. A deep, dusky want that no amount of rational thought could deny pulsed through her blood. His lips found the most intimate part of her, his fingers and tongue probing, gently teasing. All her doubts were lost in the darkening room and she bucked as the first spasm hit her. A primal cry tore from her throat, the ceiling spun, and she had barely time to catch her breath before he was atop her again, his mouth covering hers, his knees parting hers, his body melded against her damp, flushed skin. The chemise bunched as he pushed forward, the tip of his shaft grazing the sensitive skin surrounding her womanhood. She gasped; he pressed forward. Oh, God, she wanted this.
    Her fingers curled in the bedding.
    He moved, prodding deeper.
    "Oh!"
    There was a rending, a burning pain, and she tried to wriggle away, but he kept moving, straining above her, holding her close and kissing her.
    "The pain does not last long," he whispered against her neck. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, and the pain gave way to a warm, needy pleasure. She caught his rhythm and began to move with him, faster and faster, as wild as a swollen river, as hot as the sun. "Kelan," she cried out as her body arched and all the dying flames in the room seemed to burst behind her eyes ...
    A growl escaped his lips as he threw back his head and shuddered with his release.
    His breath covered her face and he collapsed atop her, his weight flattening her