A Cloak of Lies Ch. 05

bySweetWitch©

"What? And run the risk of damaging your tender male ego? Perish the thought," she laughed as she rose above him. "Don't worry. I got you back. You're bleeding too." She held her hands up, curving her fingers like the claws of an animal. She was giddy, drunk on the pleasure they'd just shared.

Pulling her back down to him, he ran his hands over her again, hugging her, savoring the feel of her in his arms. "I've missed this, just holding you. Your body fits mine perfectly. Let's stay right here forever."

He heard her sigh, felt her snuggle deeper into his arms. If there was a heaven, then this was it, he decided. Nothing could compare to the heat that they shared, the passion that had always been between them. Then a thought struck him, coming from that "tender male ego," as she'd called it.

"Was it ever like this between you and your fiancé?"

His question was soft, gentle, asked without spite, but it caught her by surprise, all the same. Raising her head, she searched his face, looking for some sign of that anger that he'd shown her earlier. Seeing none, she relaxed again, settling her head on his chest.

"I wouldn't know."

His body stiffened. He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, she rose over him, gazing into his face. "I have a small confession, Niko," she whispered. "Doug and I... well, we never... You see, we wanted to wait for our wedding night. I wanted to wait. I wanted it to be what we had, you and I. We waited for our wedding night and we had a very healthy sex life. I guess I wanted that with Doug, too. He didn't seem to mind, so we were waiting."

Niko cupped her face in his hands, the expression in his eyes one of profound tenderness. "Are you telling me that he never touched you, agapi?"

"He never did, not like that. Other than some necking on the couch occasionally, he pretty much kept his hands to himself."

"I have to ask," he whispered. "But you don't have to answer. Were there any others? Was he the only one?"

"He was the only man I dated after you..." Her voice caught in her throat, smothered by the lump that was steadily growing.

"My love, I'm so sorry," he murmured, capturing her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "You truly were alone. The things I said to you... God, Camille. I'm sorry."

She merely shrugged her shoulders. "It's past. Let's just forget it. I wasn't exactly nice to you either."

Raising her palm to his lips, he placed a tender kiss on the heel of her hand, dragging his lips over her wrist. She closed her eyes, shivering at the heat he was causing.

"Where'd you get this?"

When Camille opened her eyes she saw him looking at the skin that covered her wrist, running his thumb over the puckered scar he found there. Cringing slightly, she twisted her arm free, burying it between their bodies.

"Answer me, Camille. How'd you get that scar?"

Settling her head against his chest again, she sighed, dreading the telling she was about to give. "You remember that glass coffee table, the one that belonged to your mom?"

"Yes."

"Well, I broke it. I dropped a sculpture on it. Actually, I threw the sculpture. I was pretty upset at the time. It wasn't too long after you'd disappeared. I'm sorry I broke your mom's table, Niko."

"That doesn't explain how you got that scar. What happened?"

"I did it when I was cleaning up the mess. I guess I just wasn't being careful."

Niko took her by the shoulders, pushing her up, away from him so that he could see her face. "Is that all? Was it an accident? That looks like a pretty serious cut, straight and even, between the tendons. Was it an accident?"

She could feel the flood of tears that she'd kept at bay all these years, pressing against her eyes, threatening to escape. Memories of those horrible days came back -- the pain, the anguish, the emptiness -- all struggled to be set free.

"I was cleaning it up," she answered, her voice cracking as she fought to maintain control. "I told you I went crazy. I was sitting on the carpet, picking up the chunks of glass. It was your mom's table. It was part of your past. The pieces of it were everywhere, scattered all over the room. I'd tried to find you. I couldn't eat or sleep. No one would listen to me. The police threatened me, said they'd arrest me if I didn't stop harassing them. It was hopeless. I was hopeless.

"Then I saw blood. I had a big piece of glass in my hand. The corner of it was jammed into my wrist. I'd done it myself. I don't remember doing it. But I was holding the glass and I was bleeding.

"I panicked a little, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my wrist. I got myself to the hospital. Told the doctors I'd done it on accident, put my hand through the glass when I tripped. I didn't mean to do it." She stopped for a moment, taking a breath, unable to meet his gaze. "I missed you so much," she added in an anguished whisper.

"Jesus," he hissed, pulling himself upright. He pulled her up with him, crushing her body to his as he dragged her onto his lap. "My God, what have I done to you?"

"It's okay, Niko," she murmured against the side of his neck. "I got hold of myself in time. It wasn't your fault."

"No wonder you were so pissed at me." He took her arms, held her out to look at him. "I swear to you, Camille, no matter what happens, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

She switched positions, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs about his waist. " If we survive," she crooned, "I might let you do that. Right now I just want you to make love to me again."

Niko grinned, his hands sliding under her bottom. "I think I can accommodate that request."

He was already hard, his erection springing to life the minute her sex came in contact with his. He wanted to take it slower this time, to explore all the secrets of her body, but she had other ideas. Her hips wriggled against him, positioning themselves until his shaft penetrated her soft, wet folds. She moaned, a delicious sound that had him groaning in return as he stroked her skin.

Camille dug her heels into the ground behind him, extending her arms to support her from behind. His hands on her hips guided her, set a slow pace as she rode his body. Her eyes closed, her head tilted back as the sun played across her golden skin.

He brought one palm up over the ridges of her ribs, sliding his fingers under her breasts and between them. When his hand reached her throat, it descended again, brushing over first one mound of soft flesh and then the other. He teased her hardened nipples while he watched the pleasure play across her face.

Then his fingers worked downward, over the slope of her belly to the golden curls that moved against his groin. A harsh gasp escaped her lips, her body jerking, when his thumb grazed the hard knot of nerves that was hidden within. Her movements quickened, her breath coming in short pants and whimpering moans.

"Yes, Baby," he growled. "Ride me. I wanna feel you come all over me."

Lifting her bottom, she ground against him, moaning his name in a sobbing cry. "Niko, please..."

"Please, what, agapi? Tell me what you want."

She opened her eyes, capturing him in their cerulean depths. "I want... Please... I..."

Whatever she had been trying to say was lost as wave after wave of intense orgasm washed over her. He pulled her to him, caressing her skin, murmuring words of love in the language of his ancestors.

Holding her tightly, he hauled himself to his feet, still buried deep within her. His hands slipped beneath her bottom, clutching the silky flesh, lifting her against him. Every movement was blissful torture as he walked to the pond, wading in until the water lapped at the tops of his thighs.

With his hands he lifted her, pulling out of her drenched sex only to plunge back in again. He bucked his hips, pummeling her as she rocked against him. The water splashed around them, washing over his hands as he gripped her bottom.

Camille moaned, slinging her head back, gasping at the new waves of pleasure that engulfed her body. She felt him grow larger within her flesh, felt the tightening in his body. Then there was a cry that rumbled in his chest, rasping from his lips as he convulsed, shooting his seed within her again just before they both sank into the water.

Niko used his remaining strength to keep the giggling face of his wife above the surface as his legs dropped from under him. "What's so funny?" he sputtered.

"You. You're funny."

He grabbed her waist, dunking her head under. "Oh yeah? Am I funny now?" he asked when she came up spitting pond water.

"Yep!" she squealed.

She flipped onto her belly, kicking water in his face as she disappeared beneath the surface. When she came up again, she was near the log that held her soap. Washing quickly, she watched him suspiciously over her shoulder.

"We'd better go check on your friend," she called. "How long have we been gone?"

"Too long," Niko said, walking toward her.

He watched as she briskly rinsed the soap from her body, then left the water. She moved with the grace of a dancer, picking up her towel, rubbing herself dry, watching him with a mysterious smile adorning her face. He'd missed these intimate moments -- the moments that so many take for granted. The simple act of running a towel over her glowing skin, a smile cast over her shoulder or even the way her breasts moved when she sighed, was all he needed to feel peace in his soul. He let his mind be fooled into believing that he'd found home again, if only for a moment.

Camille tossed the towel to him as he stepped from the water's edge. He watched her dress as he dried himself, watched the way she dragged her fingers through the wet tangles of her hair. He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he didn't care. All that he needed was standing beside him on the bank of that pond.

He tossed the towel down as she reached for his jeans. When she picked them up to hand to him, something fell from the pocket, landing on the soft grass at her feet. Bending to pick it up, she saw a small black box with a label that said "Trojan."

She held the box in front of her, studying it as if it held some truth she had yet to discover. "What's this? You bought these at the pharmacy, didn't you?" "Yeah," he grinned sheepishly. "Now's a fine time to remember them. Guess I just wasn't thinking straight."

The heat of humiliation rose in Camille's face, burning her skin a bright red. "You bought these because you thought that I'd just... Oh my God. And I did. I just fell back with my legs in the air for you."

She tossed the box and the jeans at his feet, bending to gather the rest of her things. He saw the way her back stiffened, the set of her face and the flashing anger in her eyes. "Camille, I only bought them because I hoped, that's all. I didn't know what to expect."

"Go to hell, Niko," she whispered blandly. "You got what you wanted and now... I can't believe how stupid I am sometimes."

Without another word she walked back to the path that led to the barn. He watched her go, feeling like an asshole without really knowing why. All he'd done was make love to his wife. She'd wanted it too, even if she did protest at first. He wondered when she'd realize that there was no way he would allow her to marry that other guy. There was no way he'd ever let her go again. Women are so damned unpredictable.

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