Chapter Twenty-Six

 

Damon sauntered into the kitchen like a man on a mission, his deep, penetrating silver eyes not once leaving Gabriella’s. He was once again dressed in black, black hose and tunic with a black leather vest over it. His hair was damp as if he had just washed it, and he smelled of earth, wind and man. Gabriella’s heart began to race where she sat, hands still poised over the dish of beans she’d been snapping when he’d entered the room.

She wore a pale lilac gown with a darker tunic over it. Her hair was coming loose from its binding and the domestic picture she showed stirred something in Damon that he had never felt before. He’d thought of nothing else all day but her. The lithe form of her body. The succulent sway of her hips when she walked. The fire of her hair. Her soft form beneath his.

Damon grew harder than he already was just thinking of the things he wanted to do to her. He had tried to stay away from her all day. He’d stayed in the lists with his men, practicing their swordplay. He’d gone over plans with Tanak on issues of the rebels. Sent a missive to his King updating him on the situation surrounding the region and his continued hunt.

But he could not keep her from his mind, even as the morning progressed into afternoon. So he’d gone to the lists again. This time practicing with Tanak. Hours passed before he felt he had finally gotten himself under control. But as soon as he’d washed the sweat and grime from him and entered his keep, his feet moved of their own accord to the kitchens, where he knew she would be, helping Rosalynn and his staff to prepare the evening meal.

Her scent clung to him even though he had washed her from his body. His hands ached to hold her even when he’d tried to ward off thoughts of her while he held his sword. That is why he was in the kitchen now. His body ached for her just as much as his mind. She stirred him. Cast a spell and kept him enthralled. And he wanted her.

Now.

He stalked around the table like a sleek black panther on the scent of its prey. All of their touches and kisses and hungers of the night before rolled over her in a crashing wave. Her pulse was a torrent, slamming itself against her chest. Damon reached for her and every last vestige of thought left her.

He pulled her from the chair, bringing her body against his. She felt soft and supple in his arms. Her svelte form fit perfectly against his stronger one. She was the perfect height, coming just below his chin. Leaning down, he took her lips with his.

He meant it to be a soft kiss. One of longing and sensuality. But hunger overcame him as he pulled her even closer, letting her body feel the hardness she had stirred. He plunged his tongue and then nipped her lips, sipping each kiss from her. Causing a moan to escape her sweet, luscious lips.

Gabriella was drowning in his kisses. The scent of him drove her mad with need as his maleness grew harder with each delicious kiss. She wanted him. Wanted him to take her here in the kitchen, now.

Twisting her around abruptly, Damon bent her over, placing her hands on the table as he reached for her dress. “I have wanted you all day,” he whispered as he leaned over her.

Gabriella felt the warm air of the kitchen on her legs as Damon lifted the hem of her dress. His calloused hands on the backs of her thighs made her moan and rub against him.

Spreading her legs, Damon reached between them and found her wet as she rubbed herself against his fingers.

Gabriella reached around and stroked his cock, wanting it buried deep within her. “I can’t wait,” she told him bluntly. “I must have you inside me,” she said.

He loosened his hose and the soft, yet rigid mast of his cock sprang to even greater life in her hand.

Pushing her hand back to the tabletop, Damon spread the soft folds of her nether lips and drove deeply in one hard thrust.

Gabriella instantly saw stars as an orgasm quickly overtook her.

“Not so soon, Cherie,” he told her, grabbing her hips tightly in his hands. “We’ve a bit more of a ride to go.”

He thrust into her. Strong, hard strokes that seemed to last what felt an eternity. Then he would enter slowly and pull out to the tip, only to enter in deeper, harder. Gabriella could feel her muscles clenching. Her body was awash in a million dancing sensations. She knew she was close to the edge again. The amazing edge that she only wanted to walk with him.

Damon was drowning in her tight, hot sheath. He milked the wetness from her, and it only spurred him on more. He couldn’t get enough of her body beneath him. He wanted to take her everywhere. In every way possible.

Reaching up her body, he pulled open the front of her dress, spilling her breasts into his hands. He squeezed them, rubbing his palms over her nipples.

Gabriella groaned.

Pinching them between his fingers, he slammed harder into her, rocking her body against the table.

Gabriella clenched the table edge with white knuckles. She thought she would die of sexual bliss as each thrust became harder, deeper than the one before, until she could feel him at the top of her womb. Her orgasm struck like a lightning bolt, tearing a cry from her throat.

Damon felt her every muscle clench around him and as she wailed her orgasm, his followed in its wake. Jaw clenched with strain, he poured his seed deep within her body.

They both lay crumpled over the table, huffing from the strain. Their desire slaked, for the moment.

“Cherie, you will drive me mad with need,” he told her softly. “Your burning fire has called to me all day and still I could take you again,” he said, rubbing against her, proving his truth.

“I think you’ll kill us both if you take me again,” she said. “Besides,” she chuckled, “your household will grow very hungry if we remain in the kitchen when there is a meal to be finished.”

“Alas, milady, speaks true.” Pulling her skirt back down over her and placing himself back in his clothes, he pulled her against him. “But there are so many other places. Mayhap we should find them,” he told her, taking her by the hand and pulling her to the door.

When they reached the door, he found half his staff mulling around and Rosalynn tapping her foot, arms crossed beneath her breasts.

“‘Tis about time, milord,” she said angrily. “Think your men wish to be waiting for their meal?”

Damon glared at her and Gabriella flushed in embarrassment, knowing that the whole staff had probably heard them.

Shuffling her workers back to their jobs, Rosalynn walked by Gabriella and whispered, “‘Tis good to yell at them every chance one gets. Keeps them on their toes.” Rosalynn winked, then walked past and into the kitchens.

“Come,” Damon told her, pulling her through the great hall.

Halfway up the stairs, he stopped and leaned her against the wall, kissing her deeply, stirring Gabriella all over again with a lust that was growing to a consuming flame. She reached up and sank her fingers in the thick waves of his glorious hair. She burned for him. “Damon,” she whispered as his lips moved along her jaw line, nipping at her ear.

In the muffled haze of lust, a voice gruffly rumbled. “Your pardon, milord.”

Reluctantly leaving her soft neck, Damon turned to look down the stairs. John, his captain of the guards, was at the foot of the stairs, trying not to look beyond his master to the maiden in his arms.

“I am sorry to interrupt, milord,” he said sheepishly. “But riders approach.”