“Jesus,” Simon muttered, rubbing the red imprint of her hand from his cheek. “Don’t blame me.”

“Who else should I blame?” she exclaimed. But his erection was still tantalizingly poised and rigid at the very entrance to her vagina, making it difficult to be completely vexed.

“You could be a little more amenable…”

She knew what that meant. “I’m not playing games.”

“As I recall… sometimes you do.” Dipping his head, he drew one of her nipples into his mouth and moved his hips just enough to gain her attention.

She clutched at his shoulders, the exquisite pressure of his mouth, the compelling promise in his erection lodged against her vulva, effectively stifling her protest. She shouldn’t be so willing and had she not been without sex so long, she might have been more blasé. As it was, within moments, she was melting with longing and suddenly it didn’t matter who set the rules.

She was famished, the wild thrill rushing downward from her tingling nipple to her throbbing cleft, obliterating discord, fierce need effectively erasing contention. All she wanted was to feel him deep inside her. Arching upward, she lifted her hips to draw him in.

He pushed her back, his large hands splayed over her hips, holding her captive. “Ask for it,” he whispered, spurred by an inchoate jealousy, and a quixotic sense of betrayal that wouldn’t be assuaged.

She tried to jerk away.

His fingers bit into her flesh, jerking her back. “Ask,” he muttered.

She hit him so hard he tasted blood.

“Fuck this,” he growled, abruptly done with useless argument, intent on doing what he’d been wanting to do from the second he’d seen Caro downstairs. He plunged into her, driving in with such unbridled violence, he lifted her off the bed.

Her scream exploded in the silence of the room.

But he wasn’t in the mood to apologize. Her cunt was too damnably wet, and hot and welcoming. It was so fucking drenched, any cock would do. Tightening his grip on her hips, he rammed in deeper in retaliation.

She whimpered this time, but not from pain.

If he heard, he gave no indication, swinging his hips back for another plunging downstroke, blaming her for the insatiable lust burning through his brain.

And then her arms twined around his shoulders and she pulled him closer, opened her thighs wider for him, absorbing the huge, long length of him with a gloating sigh. “I’d forgotten,” she breathed. 1 would have begged for this…“

He didn’t want to hear that. It was the last thing he wanted to hear when he needed some inexplicable virtue from this woman he wanted to fuck to death. Even he realized the brute illogic in his wishes and he breathed, “I’m sorry,” in blanket atonement… for now, for the past, for the fierce violence of his lust.

“I’ve been waiting for you…” she sighed, warmed by rapturous bliss and fond memory, by scented lust.

His fingers loosened on her hips.

Their eyes met in unspoken detente.

She smiled and moved her hips because she could now-in a distinctive flowing undulation that caused them both to catch their breaths.

When she could speak again, she gently brushed his cheek with her fingertips. “I like being with you in storms…”

“I’ll have to see that it keeps snowing,” he murmured, guiding her hand to his mouth, lightly kissing her fingers. “Or barring that,” he whispered, settling into a dexterous, practiced rhythm of thrust and withdrawal, “I’ll find something else to keep you happy.”

This time when she was about to come, he took care to gauge the exact measure of her need; he went still when she wished it and moved when she moved and held himself hard against her womb at the last as she uttered a high, keening primordial scream. And when her last gasp had died away and her rippling orgasm had subsided, he finally allowed himself his own climax, pouring onto her stomach with such explosive spasms he felt the shuddering ejaculations down to his toes.

He couldn’t move when it was over, nor find breath enough to fill his lungs.

She couldn’t have moved if she wished with his body braced above hers.

The fire crackled in the hearth, their labored breathing counterpoint to the light snapping sound. Even the whisper of snow on the windows was audible in the hush of the room.

Caro brushed a kiss over Simon’s jaw. Thank you,“ she whispered. ”You don’t know how much I needed that.“

His head swung around. “Don’t say that.”

She measured his critical gaze for a moment and then softly exhaled. “Am I supposed to pretend I’m some innocent… or-what, Simon? Since when has the style of your bed partners changed?”

He didn’t answer; he rolled away. “Screw you,” he said, reaching for the sheet.

“If you want to say you were celibate the last five years, I will too.”

He growled deep in his throat, an indistinct contemptuous sound, glared at her for a second and then began wiping himself dry.

“Is that a yes or no? Are we still playing games? I don’t usually, but I can.”

“Don’t tell me what you usually do,” he muttered. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“And I don’t want you sulky and sullen like a prudish ascetic when we both know you’re not.”

He gave her a sullen look in answer.

Sitting up, she took a portion of the sheet for herself and began wiping her stomach.

The silence was oppressive.

Having swabbed away his semen, she crumpled up the soiled portion of sheet and sitting cross-legged on the bed, made a small moue. “Why can’t we just enjoy our time together? Is that asking so much?”

Her voice held a small plaintive note, as did her gaze.

And he had to admit, he didn’t know what he wanted-other than sex with her for the next million years. Not necessarily a realistic desire. “Forgive me.” He smiled faintly. “You’re right. I always had a partiality for carnal excess; why change now?”

She laughed. “Ah… the darling Simon we all know and love…”

He shrugged away his reservations and reaching out, trailed his finger across her thigh. “Friends?”

She nodded, liking the sound of the word, pleased to be with this man she’d missed more than she’d realized. “Very good friends,” she murmured, glancing at his undiminished arousal, “from the look of things.”

He rolled closer and touched her cheek. “I’d better shave before next time. I’ve scratched you.”

She gave him a sportive look. “You mean there’s more?”

“I’ve ordered a week of snow. Do you mind?”

“Despite that glorious orgasm, I’m looking at bedposts and doorknobs and beautiful erections like yours. I don’t mind at all.”

He grinned. “We always were a randy pair.”

Her smile was affectionate. “I had a good teacher.”

He shook his head. “Natural talent”

“And you would know.”

“I guess we can’t all be innocent like you,” he murmured, a moody undertone to his voice.

“I’m not starting that fight again.”

He softly exhaled. “Maybe I should buy this place and keep you in bed filled with cock.” He grinned. “Mine, of course. Then you wouldn’t have to look at doorknobs with longing.”

She stretched luxuriously, her full, ripe breasts rising in the most delectable way. “The way I’m feeling right now,” she murmured, letting her arms drop to her sides, “I might let you do that.”

“God Almighty, Caro…” His voice was husky at the licentious thought. “Look what you’re doing to me.”

His erection had surged higher, the veins turgid, pulsing with blood, the large head swollen purple.

“I’ll shave later,” he whispered, reaching over, picking her up at the waist and swinging her up over his hips. He eased her down in a slow descent, his muscles flexing and then he guided her down his rock hard penis until she was firmly impaled. He was scarcely breathing, his senses skittish, inflamed, not sure he would survive this fortuitous reunion unless he could get a grip on his ravenous desires. Sheathed by her tight cunt, he could have come that second and the next one as well, and a dozen times after that. But in his new benign mood, he repressed his orgasmic urges, wanting to please the lady.

“I think I could come without moving,” she whispered, her eyes half shut, her hands braced on his shoulders.

She was as feverish as he, their desperation predicated by their long separation, or by the heightened intimacy of the small bedchamber shrouded by the storm. Or perhaps their fevered senses had always been in sympathy.

Like now.

“You come first,” he proposed, raising her, his hands light around her waist until she balanced on the tip of his erection.

Brushing his hands away with a smile, she sank back down with a luxurious sigh and slowly rotated her hips. “Ummm… don’t move.” She rocked lightly, feeling the rapture in every inflamed nerve in her body.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, thinking if this wasn’t heaven, it was a very good approximation. Sliding the pad of one finger up her slippery cleft, he gently stroked her swollen clitoris in a lazy small circle. “You’re running wet,” he murmured, catching a droplet of pearly fluid on his fingertip. “Does that mean you like me?”

“I find you very pleasing, milord,” she whispered, riding him in a slow, sensuous rhythm. “Very pleasing, indeed. If you keep me filled with cock, I’d be ever so grateful…”

Her gaze was angelic and playful and so filled with longing he seriously thought of coming in her and indeed keeping her in every sense of the word. But reckless emotion immediately gave way to the prudent habits of a lifetime. “I’m available, darling,” he murmured. A facile, casual phrase implying neither past nor future, only the transient present.

And he made himself available for her as often as she wished that morning, both of them making up for lost time. Until, finally, hours later he rolled away. “Give me five minutes,” he panted.