East loved misty nights.  Had he been a drover or stockman, they would have only given him cause for worry; animals and men milling about in the wan half light where a misstep is only a shadow away... but East and his horses were tucked up safe as man and beast could be on such a night, food in their bellies and a soft place to sleep out of the elements.  Nero and the others had been watered and fed a warm bran mash.  East reckoned horses weren't so different from men on cold nights.  He didn't know a one who'd turn down a warm meal.  His own meal, a simple stew, had been augmented with a few bottles of a dark bitter beer that had added considerably to his rosy warmth.

So did his thoughts of Grace.  

What had began simply as a lusty man's passion for a beautiful woman had deepened over the weeks, partly as his want was heightened sharply by the denial of his desire and partly because East was a man who understood wild things.  Grace was smothering, like a spirited horse with no room to run.  He wanted to taste that wildness.  He wanted to set her free.

Warmed by the beer and his ardor but sobered by his melancholy thoughts of longing, East shuffled about restlessly, finding it hard to settle.  He was young and his blood burned hot.  Patience was something he had in spades... but only when it came to animals.  From his raised living space adjacent to the stalls, East could see his pacing was making the animals uneasy. 

"Tk-tk-tk," he crooned, clucking his tongue at the horses whose ears flicked back his way.  Nero whickered back softly but still stomped his hooves restlessly.  "Sorry, mate.  I'm not fit company for anyone tonight." 

Taking up his guitar in his big callused hand, East pushed open the heavy stable door and slipped out into the cold crisp night.  He could hear the chirping of the crickets and the soft rustling of the sharp biting wind as it blew coldly over the grasses and through the trees.  In the gloom, swirls and eddies of wispy fog rolled over the land.  It made him smile.  He liked the way the mist changed everything.  He knew every rock and tree and blade of grass on that crumbling old farm, as sure as every other wild thing did for miles around. 

East the Horseman was as much a part of the landscape as rolling hills and tough scrubby brush.  He belonged; living among the wild things as one of their own.  And yet, those misty nights made him appreciate it as a man, too.  There was something in the way that it softened the rugged beauty of the land that inspired even a simple man like him to loftier thinking.  It almost seemed surreal.  A man could imagine anything was possible on such a night.

It was easy to see shapes in the mist.  The mind saw what it wanted to see.  A little girl might see a fairy queen.  A little boy might imagine the boogeyman.  A mother might see a child.  A woman might see her lover.  A man might see any number of things, depending upon where his mind dwelt when given free rein.  East saw Grace.  The swirl of her long cloak.  The luminous glow of her skin.  The soft curve of her breast.  Even that sparkle in her eye. 

With a sigh, he sat down heavily on the stone outside the stable doors and grimaced at the way the cold seeped through the seat of his pants.  Stretching out one long leg, he settled his guitar over his thigh and winced at the out of tune chord he strummed.  Blowing on his fingers to warm them, he flexed them a few times and strummed again.  This time the notes were sweet and pure, though they didn't carry as they usually did.  The heavy mist seemed to dampen them somehow, as it would soon muffle the approach of young Alan and his best mate Joe.         

East thought of Grace.  His hands became softer on the strings.  Stroking.  A caress.  They sang under his rough fingertips, responding to his skilled touch.  Much like a horse would.  Or a woman.  East was a handsome young man with a healthy sex drive.  He'd had a lot of women but none of them had ever moved him the way Grace did.  His fantasies of the others rarely went beyond the physical.  With Grace it was different.  Nobody would believe the crazy things he thought of doing with her.  Imagine if all of Turalla knew he even thought about just sharing a cup of tea with her before the fire at night?  He wasn't the oldest bachelor in town, but he was one of the wildest.  His mates would think he'd gone soft.

A wry smile touched his lips.  Well, maybe soft wasn't exactly the right word.  Mixed in with some of his more tender images was also the usual glut of graphic male fantasies.  Most of East's were a bit uninspired.  He was a simple man.  Sex in the stable's golden straw featured frequently.  And though he knew from experience sex on horseback was almost always more work than it was worth, it was another reoccurring theme.  Grace was an impressive rider with a good seat.  Somehow he knew they could make it work; find just the proper balance together, and with Nero's perfect gait.... what a ride that would be.

Still, despite his proclivity for fantasies that most people would probably consider unimaginative, East was an earthy man who had never really let other people's judgments about sex influence his private thoughts.  Tucked among his more vanilla fantasies were a few that would curl anyone's hair.  Including one featuring an ostrich feather... and another where Grace bathed nude in the river with him and the horses.  They would laugh and splash and wash each other.  He would watch as she squatted and peed in the green brush along the riverbank, all her finery gone, hair down and loose.  She would be free and wild like him.        

After a time, East's husky voice joined the mellow guitar.  A love song.  Bit of a mournful one at that, but East just closed his eyes and imagined that she was somewhere out there in the mist, listening to him sing to her his simple song.

 

 

He knew it was a bit of a soppy ballad, but he was unused to the more tender feelings Grace inspired in him.  He wasn't particularly good at conversation anyway, at least not when it didn't happen over a few pints down the pub.  Living alone probably wasn't much help for it, but it didn't really bother him much.  There were only a few people around that he liked talking to anyway, and they seemed to read him well enough as he was.  As for the softer feelings tugging at his heart, he reckoned that song about as close as he'd come to putting that strange feeling into words.  And it wasn't as if anyone was actually listening anyway.   

 

 

"It's your touch I think of---"  A sound made his gaze flick up.  He stopped singing abruptly and met Alan's eyes through the mist as his breath came out on a long sigh of longing, tinged with a bit of frustration.  Bloody hell.  He didn't want company tonight.  At least not anyone who wasn't Grace.  East jumped up so fast the guitar strings hummed as the neck slid through his thick fingers.  "Work to do," he grunted out roughly.  And then he grinned a bit in spite of himself.  They were just boys.  The last thing they needed was another boss.

East remembered larking about in the dark at that age... and he remembered how it felt to have a man, especially one from the world he was so desperate to be a part of, speak sharply to him.  He smiled at the boys and then up at the night sky.  "Cold as charity tonight."    

Behind him, he heard the familiar sound of Alan's uneven gait under the sound of the soft cheeping sparrows that had taken refuge in his hayloft.  It was a job to keep them out of there, especially on cold nights, but it was a job that East took a childish enjoyment in doing.  He wasn't so long ago that he'd been a poor scruffy boy just like Joe, and a part of that boyish immaturity remained even now; a fine counterpoint to his virile sexuality.

A look from him hushed the boys as he lit a lantern, and sticks in hand, they crept underneath the hayloft where the birds had nestled down for the night.  A wide smile lit East's face.  "One... two... three..."  He jumped, poking and banging his stick against the wooden slats of the ceiling.  "Wooooo!"  The cheeping got louder as they disturbed the dozens of birds who all began to swarm out in a frantic beating of tiny wings.  East laughed.  "Go on!  Get out of here...."  He jumped about and beat the ceiling with a boyish zeal that surpassed even Joe's enthusiastic thumping. 

Bits of hay and feathers rained down as they worked, giving them all a dusty rough-and-tumble appearance, as if they'd all been wrestling in the hayloft.  Alan tired faster and moved off, looking out at the shapes in the mist while East and Joe thumped on.  And there, through the rolling fog, for a moment Alan thought he saw the figure of a woman on horseback.

"Grace?"

East was smiling down at Joe as the last of the birds fluttered about.  "That should keep them at bay for another week."  He stiffened when he heard Alan's voice call out to Grace.  Christ, was she really there?  Heat speared through his body.  Excitement.  Hope.  Nervousness.  Irritation too... at Alan for being sharp enough to see her first and naïve enough to call out her name, and at both boys in general for hanging about and possibly running her off when she'd finally gotten up the courage to come to him.  East was no fool.  There was only one reason a woman hung about a man's door after darkness had fallen and he had no intention of letting the boys bugger that up for him. 

He drew up abruptly, no longer concerned with the boys' feelings of being dismissively spoken to by a man.  "You boys better get home before you freeze to death, eh?"  He moved decisively to the door.  "See you tomorrow."

It was clear from East's voice that there would be no lingering tonight.  East closed the doors and Joe and Alan disappeared into the mist.  Grace observed it all from the foggy shadows.  She was uneasy that Alan had caught a glimpse of her.  Her heart beat fast in her chest but still she couldn't make herself leave.  Not now.  Not with East's rugged earthy sexuality pulling at that place inside her that had been untouched for so long.  It was a foolish chance to take... but the mist had made her bold.  While she waited for the boys to leave, Grace wondered how many transgressions the mist would hide from the prying eyes of the world tonight.

On the other side of the stable doors, East stood, breathing hard.  His fingers were gripped tight on the old iron latch, ears straining for any sound that might tell him if Grace had bolted or if she was waiting anxiously, like him, for the boys to get along down the lane.  With Alan's slow pace, the long wait was excruciating.  Blood throbbed under his skin and between his legs.  It seemed to saying: ...hurry.... hurry... hurry...     

His impatience made the horses restless.  Nero nickered softly and East's breath caught when he heard an answering whicker from outside.  Grace's mare.  One would think East was just a boy for the wild thrill of excitement that shot through him just then, but under it was something deeper; a man's quiet satisfaction and a more primal gratification, too.  The woman he wanted had finally come to him.  She was ready.  He pushed the barn doors open and the warm golden light flickered invitingly out into the silvery blue gloom.  It seemed to be a beacon to Grace, warmth in the darkness; the visual equivalent of what East's coarse potent virility made her feel.  Her cheeks flushed like a young girl.  

East admired the way Grace sat a horse.  Tall and still, regal even when she touched her heels to her mare's flanks and ducked low as she rode inside.  He closed the doors after her, barring them tightly against the night.  It was rare to find a locked door in Turalla but East threw the bolt home that night, his sense of vulnerability heightened by the illicitness of what was happening inside the crumbling old walls.

Grace had already dismounted by the time he reached her.  Another man might have simply carried her off to his bed.  East took the reins from her instead and led her mare to an empty stall and began removing her tack, running his hands down her legs and lifting her hooves to be sure she hadn't picked up a stone.  She'd come up lame if she sat with a sharp pebble in the tender frog of her hoof all night.  He took his time as he intended to do later with Grace, aware she was wandering about in his private space, watching him. 

He could see her breath in the air and felt a worrisome prick of discomfort.  East rarely paid attention to anything but his horses.  He suddenly saw his home through her eyes.  It was cold and untidy, certainly no place for a woman like her.  Most of it was in shadows thankfully... but a few lanterns and the fire lit enough of it.  The remains of his dinner were still on the roughhewn table.  Bottles and empty jugs littered most of the surfaces.  Here and there neat piles of the fine china he'd inherited when a mate died were hidden under tea towels and other clutter.  There was horse tack on the walls and ants in the sugar and his bed was rumpled....

Christ.  What had he been thinking?  He slept on a small hay-stuffed mattress slung over a netting of ropes.  It served well enough for one but it sagged in the middle and was barely large enough for his sprawling frame, much less two people writhing around in a vigorous session of lovemaking. 

Grace didn't care one bit about any of it.  She'd have lain on the cold rough ground outside if it had meant getting to hold that beautiful man in her arms.  It was East's unapologetic earthiness that drew her.  He belonged in this rough masculine place that reflected his wild beauty.  But for all his cocksure bravado, there was a tenderness about him too.  She liked how his strong hands stroked her little mare and how his eyes glittered when he bent to whisper something into her long brown ear.

"Thanks for bringing her to me, mate."  He scratched the mare's forehead and her big chocolate eyes closed in pleasure.  "I'll look after her now.  You have a bit of a kip and keep your eyes to yourself, hey?"  He gave her one last pat and moved away, walking slowly through the isle between the stalls to the steps that led to where Grace was waiting for him.  He moved forward.  She backed up.

Cornering a wild thing was dangerous.  East stopped at looked at her, a half smile on his lips.  "You afraid of me?"

"No.  I'm afraid of myself."  Her chin came up.  "I shouldn't be here."  She said it simply.  

East nodded.  "Yes, you should."  He bent and added more wood to the fire.  It popped and sputtered, roaring loudly in the quiet.  "You belong out here.  You're like the wind, love.  Shutting yourself up in some airless little box will be the death of a woman like you."

East was wrong.  It was worse than death.  Many years ago, before she'd married Charles, Grace had been young and wild and had had a handful of discrete affairs before she'd finally fallen deeply in love.  She'd been desperately, madly infatuated with a dashing young man.  Unfortunately it had ended very badly and he had hurt her fragile heart deeply. 

At the time, marrying Charles had seemed the best option in the wake of a very public scandal.  Charles was older, learned and cultured; a wealthy man who'd led an interesting life and had visited extraordinary places.  He'd been one of her father's dearest friends and she'd adored him for years.  She thought he would make a fine husband for all of those reasons, even though he had confided to her that an illness he'd contracted in Africa some years ago had left him impotent.  In her bruised young mind, that had only seemed a mere trifle.  She'd never again wanted to have her heart cut to ribbons and she'd convinced herself that she could satisfy that wild yearning inside her with exciting adventures instead of passion.  Romance brought nothing but heartbreak.  She thought herself so clever for making what she imagined to be a mature, worldly decision. 

How foolish youth is.  She was no longer that silly girl.  It had been a lovely arrangement at twenty, but youthful hearts are quick to heal.  By twenty-five she knew she'd made a terrible mistake, but by then Charles was more than just her companion; he was her dearest friend.  She could never hurt him so cruelly.  She loved him, perhaps not as a wife should love her husband.  Theirs had never been a passionate sexual love, nor would it ever be, but they both felt a deep affection for each other. 

Still, it grew harder and harder each year to silence that wildness growing inside her.  Even more frightening now was the detachment she felt from it all.  East was right about that.  The spark was growing dim.  If she didn't do something soon, she knew it would be extinguished forever.  She would grow old and wrinkled, a young girl's heart trapped forever in a wizened old prison.  Grace was loyal... but she was also a fighter.  And she was desperately afraid of never again knowing passionate love with a man. 

East Driscoll made her feel alive.  He made her feel beautiful and desirable.  Part of her was angry with him for reminding her what she'd been missing these long years.  The other part of her gloried in it, in how it felt to be a woman with a man like him.  She fingered his things, touching his shaving strop and even holding his tin of shaving soap to her face to inhale the woodsy fragrance while she watched him put a kettle on and fetch a shallow basin and a chipped pitcher.

When she moved toward him, this time it was East who moved back.  "You afraid of me?" she asked quietly, only half teasing even though she was smiling.

He just shook his head and stripped off his coat and shirt as if he didn't even feel the bitter cold that even the crackling fire couldn't quite dispel.  "No.  I smell like horse."  Grace moved closer and pulled some of the bits of hay and feathers from his hair with an amused smile.  A touch of color rose in his cheeks and he looked down at his feet, embarrassed to have been caught wearing the proof he'd played as hard as Joe and Alan as they rousted the birds from his hayloft.  He slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer.  She was trembling like a bird.  East wanted to kiss her so badly. 

The teakettle whistled.

With a nod to her he stepped away and plucked the banged up old billy from the edge of the fire.  The boiling water steamed in the frigid night air that had made East's flat brown nipples stand up against the cold in tight little buds.  Grace watched transfixed as he poured in a splash of cold water from the pitcher, added a rag and a yellow sliver of soap and began to wash.  First his hands and then his face and neck.  The water began to grow tan.  Grace couldn't take her eyes off him as he washed his chest and soaped his armpits.  Goosebumps appeared on his skin.  Hers too, but for an entirely different reason. 

It was only when he dropped the rag and undid his belt that the thought of shielding himself from her in any way even occurred to him.  He turned away to wash his groin but when he reached for the rag it seemed to have found its way into her small hand.  It was almost too intimate an act for two people who were not yet lovers, and yet neither shied away from it.  Her hands found his soft fleshy penis and East liked the way her breath caught as she got a good look at it in the firelight.  He grew hard as she washed him. 

He took the rag from her wet fingers kissed her when she was done.  It was slow and warm and deep.  Even though it was their first kiss, it didn't seem strange that it happened after they'd already shared a much deeper intimacy.  Not for two people who were already breaking all the rules.           

East struggled between his need for her and an unfamiliar desire, an odd notion of wanting to try to make this more elegant somehow.  An idea came to him.  Haphazardly fixing a button on his pants to keep them up while he worked, he pulled on his rough coat over his naked chest against the cold that was considerably more noticeable outside of Grace's arms and strode over to a corner that was mostly hidden in shadow.  A bit of digging produced a gramophone and a small packet of fragile records. 

Even if the clumsy attempt was a bit tawdry, it endeared him to her all the more.  The music, a beautiful waltz, was loud.  There was no volume control, and the waiting made Grace feel restless and unsettled.  She wanted to fly to him.  To shake him and make him realize it was his rough masculinity that drew her not any contrived notions of elegance.  She didn't want pretty music.  She wanted to hear the wild sounds of the night; the wind in the trees, the crickets and the soft sighs and grunts of a man in his deep pleasure.  Couldn't he understand that?  And still, for all her frustration, his rough effort touched a tender place inside of her.

"You want to dance?" she asked softly when he'd turned to her.

East shook his head.  "I want to lay with you."

Grace flushed.  She was not used to men who spoke so plainly.  She'd shared a life and a home with her husband for more than twenty years but they'd never spoken candidly or shared a bathroom or a bed, or had even seen each other nude.  It was different with East.  Her presence in his home had already exposed her desires.  There was little point in holding on to the rest of society's restrictions now and so she tossed them all away.  She wanted to be as wild and free as he was.  She wanted it all, everything she'd denied herself these long years.  She didn't just want to make love with him, she wanted to watch him shave and urinate and bathe and sleep and a hundred other simple everyday things. 

Still, Grace was surprised when East pulled the tattered old quilt from his bed and threw it over his shoulder before leading her away from the place he usually slept.  She resisted initially, unsure and desperately wanting just to sink down somewhere soft and let nature and desire take its course.  Grace was no green girl.  She might not have had a lover for more years than she cared to remember, but she'd known passionate love before and ever since she'd bargained with East over Nero's stud fee, she'd imagined making love with him there on the small sagging bed she'd glimpsed tucked away in a corner. 

In her mind she'd ridden him there a hundred times... and they'd spooned there with him behind her, thrusting deeply as they squeezed together into the tiny bed... she'd even seen herself on her stomach with a lumpy pillow under her hips while he pumped into her from behind.  The bed was getting further and further away.  Just where was he taking her?

East felt her resistance and smiled.  

"East..... ?  Her eyes darted to the bed.  Why was he leading her away from the soft bed and the crackling warmth of the fire?  In the background, the waltz tinkled on, slow and lazy.

"Too small," he said, looking away again.  What must she think of his crude little home?  For the first time in his life he felt the desire for more than his meager surroundings. 

"No it's not."  Grace blushed as her fantasies betrayed her.  

East stopped and turned to face her, a sudden look of intensity clouding his light eyes.  "I want room to move."  His hand tightened on hers.

The heavy knot of desire in her belly tightened at his words and Grace shivered as she felt a warm creeping moisture begin to flow between her legs.  Her knees went weak but East's strong arms were there to hold her up.  He felt the softening, that heavy lethargy that tells a man he's having just the effect he wants to have, the one that makes the woman he desires soft and open and prepares her to receive him.   

Tossing the large quilt up to the hayloft, East led Grace to the ladder and handed her up.  It was darker up there and the night was bitterly cold but the thick layer of sweet smelling hay would give him all the room he needed.  It was cozy and comfortable and surprisingly warm.  The hay acted as natural insulation and inside the soft cocoon of the blanket even Grace's fine smooth skin would be warm, pressed next to his as he worked, sweating and straining over her.  Christ, just thinking about it made him warm.

East was no stranger to idle hours in the hayloft.  He'd never had a woman there but he wasn't so different from boys like Joe and Allen who lay in the warm sunshine stroking themselves to intense orgasms in the privacy of the tall waving grass; their soft pants and grunts snatched away by the wind.  East had done the same at their age and the real truth was that there were times he felt that same urge even now that he was a man. 

As a boy he'd thought nothing of the innocent exploration of his body undertaken in the relative privacy of a grassy meadow, but as a man he was more careful about revealing his vulnerabilities.  Now he preferred the warm seclusion of his hayloft, eyes closed, smelling the sweet fecund scent of sun-warmed hay and feeling the tickle of grasses on his face while he pleasured himself.  He often thought of Grace and on rare occasions, he indulged himself afterwards, dozing while he lay sweaty with his seed drying on his belly... even sometimes with his hand still curled reassuringly around his spent penis, drifting off with a soft smile on his face.

East was an earthy man who lived closely in tune both with the seasons and with the quieter salty rhythms of life.  He knew how to listen to them.  To recognize them in horses as well as men.  He knew how to recognize them in women, too.  And what he saw and felt in Grace made his blood pound and his head swim and his heart feel curiously warm.

There was a flutter of movement in the darkness.  He heard the rustle of hay and felt more than saw her bend to flick the quilt out.  He caught her as she straightened.  "Watch the beam, love."  He took her hand and set it on the massive wooden beam just above them.  Under his fingers he could feel her slender hands exploring the texture of the smooth old piece of timber.  It was strangely erotic to feel her fingertips creep along the knots and gouges and over the rough bump of the rope wound around it.  The wood was satiny on either side where the friction of the rope had polished it smooth.

Standing there side by side in the dark made Grace very aware of him in a way she hadn't ever been before.  It felt like that charged pregnant pause the moment before lightning strikes.  Her nose bumped his in the pitchy blackness.  This time when their mouths met, it was wild and hungry but when he took his hands off the beam to hold her to him she caught them and put them back, pressing her own over his to keep them there.

He could feel her tremble against him and the musky scent of their combined arousal was pushing him to the outer limits of his control.  He couldn't keep his mind from dwelling on one thing and one thing alone.  She'd come to him.  She was finally his.  His to touch and protect and care for.  She was free.

The tinkling sound of the waltz faded.  For a moment the silence was so profound East thought he could even hear the mist roll.  Or maybe it was just the rush of blood in his ears.  Her hands left his and he felt them slide up under his coat, up the naked skin of his back and then he felt the light scratching of her short rough nails as she dragged them slowly up and down.  Grace could feel the tension growing in him; a shift from the easy carelessness as he'd bathed to something darker, something wild and hungry.     

Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that she could make out the shadow of his square jaw.  He swallowed.  "Be sure you want this, Grace."  His voice was rough and his breath was hot against her cheek.  She could feel it stirring the wispy tendrils of hair that had fallen around her face.  "I won't ask again, so be sure."

Grace understood what he meant.  His body language said it all even if his words didn't.  He wasn't going to ask her again because he couldn't.  Once they started this, there would be no stopping it until she was his in every way.  She parted his coat and pressed a kiss to the warm skin just over his heart.  "I'm sure." 

East's fingers tightened on the beam and he dropped his head to take her mouth.  He felt drunk on the heady scent of Grace and desire.  His every primal instinct was screaming at him to possess her but he willed it back, content to let her explore him at her own pace.  For now.  He would have his turn soon enough.   

Lit by misty moonlight and sculpted by shadow, he was the very picture of male tension.  His jaw was clenched and he stared at her through heavy lidded eyes dark with desire; coat open baring his chest to the elements.  And to her.  His breathing was erratic and the flush of arousal touched his harsh sensual features.  His body resonated raw masculine power, from the carefully leashed strength in his tensed muscles to the prominent erection straining against the homespun fabric of his serviceable trousers.   

His eyes slid over her appreciatively.  Her skin seemed almost luminous in faint silvery light.  She should be afraid of him, but he could see she wasn't.  Her eyes glowed with desire and her graceful body moved temptingly under her long coat with each uneven breath.  Her lush mouth was curved into a beautiful welcoming smile and he could hear her heart beating wildly within her breast.  She was everything that was good and feminine and soft and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself inside her forever.

The air was thick between them, humming with unspoken desire and the sweet promise of fulfillment.  She was acutely aware of each breath he took, each minute move of his powerful body.  Their eyes met and the depth of emotion he saw there stunned him.  Her eyes burned for him.  Wildly.  Fiercely.  Nobody had ever looked at him that way; like he was temptation and salvation, like he was her whole world. 

He couldn't stand it a second longer.  A small subtle shift of leashed strength brought their bodies fully together.  Soft met hard and their world burst into flames.  East sighed at the contact, at the sweet press of her body against his.  Her arms slid around his neck and one of his hands left the beam and found her hips, fitting her tightly against him.  She felt the hard ridge of flesh trapped between them and instinctively pressed herself against it. 

East groaned in response and lowered his mouth to hers.  This time the kiss was urgent, demanding and utterly consuming.  She met him with equal passion, stroking his tongue with hers, nipping at him with her small even teeth.  And this time when she coaxed his tongue into her mouth and suckled it, he let her feel the full measure of his desire.  When they broke apart his eyes were wild.  Desire raged at him, tearing at his tattered control.

Her hands found his and put it back on the beam before they went to his lean waist and then moved over the front of his pants as she undid the button.  East's eyes closed and his head dropped back, baring the corded muscles of his throat.  This was going way too fast but he couldn't bring himself to stop it.  He'd wanted this moment for too long.

"Grace...."  His voice was rough, husky.  Her name on his lips was both a plea and a warning.  He couldn't tell her to stop.  Not now.  He wanted her touch too badly.  He toed off his boots and her hands slid his pants from his hips as she knelt before him and pushed them down his long legs.  East stepped out of them, acutely aware of her position and the effect it was having on him.    

Without taking her hands from his legs, Grace paused to look up at him.  His body fascinated her.  He was so masculine, so primal.  His face was flushed with arousal and his chest heaved.  His hands were clenched on the beam and there was tension in the muscles surrounding his sensual mouth.  Her eyes followed the light furring of golden hair on his stomach to the darker tangle at his groin.  His thick cock was full and long, heavy with need and beginning to weep.  His breath hissed through his teeth at the first soft brush of her hand. 

He wasn't going to be able to last if she kept touching him like that.  He was already afraid he was too far gone to be gentle enough with her the first time.  That thought worried him but the scent of their desire combined with the rhythmic motion of her hand was too much.  Grace rose up on her knees, pressing her face against the taut muscles of his stomach as she drank in his scent.  She rubbed the satiny skin of her cheek against his belly and he fought the desire to tangle his fingers in her hair and hold her close as her fingers slid over him. 

"East?"  The word was breathless, a caress as it spilled from her lips.  

He knew what she wanted and wordlessly he covered her smaller hand with his, showing her his rhythm, teaching her how to make him burn.  He was much too close to the edge and knew he shouldn't... but he could no more stop himself than he could stop his heart from pounding wildly in his chest.  A wave of heat suffused his body and his lip curled in a silent grimace as he felt himself grow dangerously close to the edge.  His large hand stilled hers when the pleasure became too great and when he spoke his voice sounded rough in his ears.        

"It's not supposed to be like that.  Not the first time.....  I want to be in you."  His mouth protested but his body did not.  He might have stilled her hand, but his hips were still moving slowly. 

She caught his eyes.  Maybe it was supposed to be that way for them.  Maybe she needed to know him that way first.  "Let me...."  Her sultry voice dropped and she nuzzled him gently.  A moment passed.  And then another.  She watched as his face softened slightly and he nodded.   

Grace felt a flood of relief.  It wasn't that she was afraid.  It had been a long time since she'd exchanged so intimate a touch with a man and she was overwhelmed, but that wasn't the reason.  Nor was she particularly interested in slowing him down so he'd last longer later.  She didn't care about that.  What she wanted was to experience every intimacy with him.  She was obsessed with the idea of tasting him, of drinking down not just the proof of his desire, but the very essence of his virility and vitality.

Two years ago she'd stopped bleeding each month.  It had been the catalyst for their move to Australia.  Another adventure to fill up yet another empty dream.  Her youth was gone.  Her fertility wasted.  She wanted to restore some lost sense of womanhood, and who better than East?  He was the epitome of youth and virility, of all the things she'd traded away for a comfortable life.  She had none of the fears of a younger woman.  There could be no embarrassing accidents.  No bastard children.  No scandals.  Except for the marks this might leave on her heart, she was free from all consequence as long as their affair remained a secret.              

"I want to lay with you, I do...."  She paused, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his hip and stroked him pointedly.  "But I want to be with you this way.... first."  She turned her face against his stomach, shy about speaking her thoughts aloud but compelled to by the ferocity of her desire for him, by the desire to please him- to reassure him she did want this with him... for him... and for her own selfish reasons, too.   

East felt his cheeks grow warm.  He'd never before had anyone put her mouth on him in that way that he hadn't paid first, but her soft admission stripped the last of his reluctance from him and his restraining hand fell away to touch her cheek softly before he grasped the beam once more.  He nodded again and the naked hunger in his dark eyes made her breath catch. 

"Touch me, Grace..."  His words turned into a hiss of pleasure as her fingers stroked him.  Her lips curved into a seductive smile and she drew the flat of her tongue along his hipbone.  His eyes closed at the first touch of her open mouth on his skin, and when they finally opened and looked down at her, they glittered with undisguised arousal.  "So beautiful..." he breathed, unaware he'd spoken the thought aloud.  Her pale creamy skin appeared flawless in the misty moonlight.  Her head bowed and the dark tendrils her hair hid her face from him but he could smell the sultry scent of an aroused woman.  Her hands trembled with the desire to touch him and when she finally looked up, he saw her eyes were on fire for him.

"You're beautiful too, East."  He could feel the warmth of her breath against his throbbing sensitized skin.  He wanted to contradict her... but the sight of her, the feel of her hands on him robbed him of breath.  Her hand resumed the rhythm he'd taught her and the other stroked the back of his knee before moving up the hairy muscular column of his thigh.  Her body swayed gently to the rhythm of her movements and he was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her finding pleasure in pleasuring him.

Her face was flushed with desire and her heavy lidded eyes burned for him.  He shuddered at the exquisite heat as her mouth closed over him and she suckled gently.  And then there were no more words, only the raspy sound of his breathing and his soft grunts of pleasure.  They blended with Grace's quiet moans creating a sensual rhythm unique to them, to the intimacy of the moment.  He shook, overwhelmed by both emotion and desire.  A low sound rumbled in his chest as his head lolled back in pleasure.  His body tensed under her hands and mouth and Grace could tell he was close. 

East's hands gripped the beam hard, both for a bracing support and because he had to fight not to slip a hand down and hold her to him to ensure she didn't break the connection and leave him helpless and wanting in his final moments.  He needn't have worried.  Grace had no desire to pull away from him, especially now.  She leaned into his body, accepting more of him inside her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his lean hips.  Her unconditional acceptance and uninhibited response flooded him with satisfaction, pushing him swiftly over the edge.  He stilled for an instant and his vision exploded into brilliant white as release seared through him. 

His body burned and his soft guttural sounds of pleasure matched the throbbing between his legs.  The cadence was so rhythmic, so primal, so intimate as he poured a river of life down her throat.  Grace struggled to keep up, taking a strange sort of pleasure in it, in almost choking on the proof of his fertility.  It was euphoric.  Twinkling lights danced at the edge of her vision as the tide of desire swept over them both.  This was what she'd wanted... to drown in it, in him.  To feel his youthful energy flood her, to take it into her and swallow it down like a gush of sweet water over parched land.  She savored the heady wild taste of him, holding his eyes as she swallowed around his over-sensitized cock and stroked his stomach with her small hand while he rode out the last waves of pleasure.

His legs buckled and he fell to his knees, pulling her close as he buried his sweaty flushed face in her neck.  He wanted to kiss her, to taste her and feel the mouth that just gave him such incredible pleasure.  She held him tightly; awed that she could cause his powerful body to tremble so violently.  His chest heaved as he drew in several ragged breaths.  Grace felt the gentle scrape of his stubble and then the soft press of his warm lips against her throat.  His whisper was a caress against her heated skin.  "God...."  Another kiss and a flick of his tongue as he tasted her skin.  "Gracie....."  Still another kiss and another barely audible whisper from lips that had yet to leave her skin.  "Amazing...."  His hand was stroking the small of her back now that his world had stopped spinning.      

Clutching the frayed lapel of his old coat tight in her fist, she hid her face against his chest, a little shy and more than a little overwhelmed by the incredible intimacy of what they'd just shared and by the raw feelings in had engendered in her.  He lifted his head and looked down at her.  "Grace?"  His hand cupped her chin and brought her head up so he could look into her eyes.  "Don't be shy."  There was nothing for her to be ashamed of.  His eyes glowed with fulfillment and a tender affection whose unfamiliar intensity had begun to concern him.  "I want everything, Grace."  He stroked the pad of his thumb over her wet red lips.  Heat touched his eyes and his voice.  "I want you to be free."

His words hurt, but the tender young man in her arms wouldn't understand why for many more years, until time had touched him too and robbed him of his potency.  He lowered his head to hers and kissed her lush swollen mouth, at once tender and forceful as he demanded entry and stroked her tongue with his.  She tasted of him, of herself, and of want.  He lifted his head and smiled at her, still brushing the satiny curve of her back with his fingers.  His gaze grew thoughtful.  Maybe she'd been right.  Maybe it was supposed to have been that way for them first.  He felt... softer somehow. 

The word amused him.  He reckoned it applied physically as well, at least for the moment, but he hadn't been thinking of it that way.  He'd had in mind something else entirely....  Gentled.  That was how he felt, like the first few steps of a wild horse just after he stops bucking.  Not tamed or broken, just... gentled.  East liked it.  And he liked seeing Grace's spirit so free. 

He smiled against her neck.  His naked backside was cold.  So were his feet.  His coat had kept the chill of the night from seeping into his bones, but he'd never much cared for the cold and he was ready now to snuggle down with her in a nest of warm blankets.  He knelt up, threading his fingers softly into the knot of hair gathered at her nape.  "Take this down for me...?"  The idea of seeing her with her hair down was almost more illicit than the idea of seeing her naked. 

Grace's hands shook as she pulled away the pins, tucking them carefully away into her pocket.  She had not forgotten she had to repair the damage before she left him.  The mist hid many things... but not that.  Her hair came down in dark waves around her shoulders.  It was longer than he had imagined and made her look very young.  East knew nothing of women's fashion but there was a message in that image that most men understood subconsciously.  Young girls often had that look, skinny arms and small budding breasts but hair that was long and thick and hung down in shiny waves... whereas women tended to be softer and rounder and had shorter hair, or it was styled in a way that was directly opposite to that girlish look of healthful vitality left to run wild. 

It felt soft between his fingers and he twirled a piece around and playfully teased her lips with it.  He found himself smiling for some reason he couldn't quite work out.  He felt... giddy, almost.  Like he wanted to sweep her up and spin around or fall back into the tall grass and roll about laughing.  He might have even knelt there playing sweet lover's games with her, exploring and teasing to his heart's content, but the cold drove him on. 

They would linger at this another night.  She was quiet while he undressed her, though her hands swept gently over his body while he opened her blouse and fumbled with the small fine buttons and various laces and ribbons that hid her soft curves from his gaze.  Grace flushed and buried her face in the hollow of his neck but a soft whimper escaped her lips as she pressed herself against his solid form.  Even while he undressed her, East never let up his sensual assault.  His hand slid down her stomach to cup her through the soft fabric of her skirt and he whispered to her how much he wanted her. 

Her teeth were chattering lightly by the time he was done.  One last push and his old tweed coat joined the pile of their discarded clothes.  Naked in the cold night air... moments from being wrapped up with a beautiful young man... Grace had never felt more free.  Even the sharp icy wind felt good.  Those precious moments while she lay naked on the tattered quilt, looking up at him and waiting for him to join her, were some of the best of her life.  She felt young and free and her heart beat fast with excitement and passion.                

East stared at her intently for a long moment before threading his fingers in her hair and covering her mouth with his.  He lifted his head and whispered against her lips just a single word.  "Free....."

Stretching out beside her, he caught one of her small hands in his.  True to his word, he didn't ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this as he pulled the edge of the quilt up over them.  Instead he simply watched her, savoring the moment, savoring the scent, the sight of her ready and waiting for him.

Without taking her hand from his, she lay back, making no effort to cover herself or hide a single thing from his gaze.  It pleased him.  She had no reason to hide anything from him.  Not now.  A slow smile touched his lips.  Soon, very soon, her body would harbor no more secrets.  Not from herself and certainly not from him.  Heat flared in his eyes at the thought of knowing her body so intimately. 

The feel of her fingertips on his knuckles galvanized him into motion.  He moved between her raised parted legs, settling himself on his knees with his weight on his heels, the blanket making a cocoon around them both.  His hand rested possessively on her thigh.  Grace could feel the burning heat of his palm and the look in his eyes was nothing short of feral. 

He seemed to be claiming her as his even though he never gave the words voice.  To be honest, he didn't have to.  From the moment they'd raced across the prairie after that silly ostrich, that part of her she carefully tended and kept hidden from the world had been his.  Stolen without his knowledge.  Given without her consent.  It just..... was.  Like some fact as undisputable as the winds and the tides or the movement of the sun through the sky.   

East ran both hands now from ankle to knee and back again.  The touch was curiously tender, at odds with the look of savage desire on his face.  Her hair was in disarray from being tangled in his fingers and her mouth was still red and slightly swollen from earlier.  He flicked his eyes upwards to meet hers as his hands glided sensuously up her legs to rest on her knees.  "I can smell myself on you."  Her eyes fluttered shut at his erotically whispered words, but snapped open again quickly as he gave her calves a hard squeeze.  "Do you have any idea what that does to me?" 

The most incredibly beautiful smile turned up the corners of her lush swollen lips.  He looked so masculine, so powerful kneeling naked between her spread legs, sculpted in misty light.  "Tell me."  Her voice was whisper soft.  "Tell me what it does to you, East."  Her voice grew even softer.  "And then show me."

The emotions running through him were heady, wild, but he forced down the primal instinct to claim her and instead touched her with tender passion.  He didn't know how may years it had been for her, but he knew it had been a long, long time.  Touch was too new, too overwhelming for her for him to let himself go completely - at least at first.  He left his hands resting possessively on her knees and watched her face.  He wanted to see her reaction to both his words and his touch as he showed her what she did to him.  Humming softly, East kissed the inside of one raised knee and then the other.  The feeling of his open mouth, hot and wet on her skin, made her shudder. 

"It makes me wild."  He noticed the direction of her gaze; a lingering stare between his open legs were he stood up thick and proud for her.  "Makes me hard."  His eyes darkened.  "Makes me want to touch you...."  A smile of pure male pleasure touched his mouth and he wet his lips in anticipation.  "...taste you...."  Her eyes flicked back up to his.  "Everywhere." 

He grinned wider at her soft gasp before his expression grew more serious.  It made the base part of him want to fuck her until she screamed his name but it also made the tender part of him want to hold her close and love her softly and sweetly to convey that giddy joy he felt in his chest that seemed to grow more prominent as their intimacy deepened.  And then, because East was East, and he had a habit of speaking directly, he waited until her eyes wandered up to his.  "It makes me want to set you free, Grace."

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the erratic beating of two hearts and the unsteady rhythm of softly panted breaths.  Grace wanted to cry.  She wanted to say 'I love you'.  She wanted to rail at fate for putting the beautiful man in her path now, when she'd already spent her youth.  She met his eyes and said instead.  "Touch me....."    

The heat in his eyes grew even hotter.  He slid his hands under her skirt and up the smooth silky column of her thigh.  His fingers gripped her hips and his thumbs brushed gently over the hollows of her hipbones.  East grinned and his thumbs widened their circles and drifted inward, where they brushed against soft curls.  Christ.  His body grew even harder and he bit back a groan.  Something inside him snapped.  East slid his hands back down her thighs and then put both hands on her ribcage, just under her breasts.  He'd looked plenty, but hadn't touched them yet.  He knew she had to be aching for that touch by now, but still he waited.  He wanted her wild for it.

Part of him wished for the freedom to do exactly as he wanted.  To have her in his bed all night.  To wake with her in the morning.  To love her without having to hide it.  To not notice how she'd been so careful putting away the pins that had held up her hair.  That had made him want to tear her clothes in a wild rush to get at her.  He couldn't do that either.  He wanted to be able to leave his mark on her soft white flesh.  Somewhere in the misty night, his desire to set her free had gotten twined with a new powerful desire to have her all to himself.  Maybe even forever. 

It was the first time he'd ever seriously considered wanting all the strings that he had always so carefully avoided.  And why shouldn't he have felt that way?  Until he'd met Grace, he'd had everything he ever wanted.  All the men had wanted to be him and all the women had just wanted him, period.  It was something of a shock to suddenly realize how fragile a balance that all was.  Now he was the one doing the wanting.        

East looked down at her.  "Beautiful...." he breathed, aware he could see his breath in the darkness but equally aware they could no longer feel the cold.  In fact, he was burning up.   He took his time looking at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body.  A pretty blush stained her cheeks and spread down over her chest but she never once took her eyes from his face as she watched him watch her.  She hoped he liked what he saw. 

His eyes flicked up to hers.  Grace's eyes widened.  He looked... hungry.  Ravenous.  It never occurred to him to think of Grace as old.  When East looked at her, he only saw beauty; a wild creature he wanted to set free and a woman he wanted as his lover.  

With predatory grace, he uncoiled and stretched out next to her.  East heard her sharp intake of air as he pressed his body against hers and nuzzled her neck.  His skin was hot against her and she felt branded by the heat of the hand resting possessively on her stomach.  The feel of his erection throbbing insistently against her hip seemed to raise an answering ache inside her. 

She reached out and stroked her small fingers over his wrist, turning his hand over and touching his palm.  She loved his rugged hands with their short ragged nails and thick calluses.  They were strong and tender and she liked the way they were so confident when he worked and so gentle when she felt them on her body.  

East watched intently as she drew his hand to her mouth and kissed each fingertip in turn.  "I love your hands."  She nipped at the fleshy pad of his thumb.  "You have good hands.  Strong hands."  He was humming a little now.  Grace wasn't sure if it was in pleasure or because he didn't agree with her, or both.  "I love how they feel touching me."  She guided his finger to her lips and sucked it into the warm cavern of her mouth, flicking it with her tongue as she suckled gently.  He grunted softly and rocked his hips against her, seeking relief from the intense arousal.

Grace withdrew his finger slowly, dragging her teeth along it and watching with satisfaction as he shuddered again.  She secured his hand in hers and met his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.  It seemed such a simple thing and yet East still found it overwhelming.  He was an accomplished lover but he had little experience with intimacy of this sort.  The kind that made his heart glow.  Unlike most of the other women he'd known, Grace wasn't trying to own him or hurt him or trap him or use her body to get something from him.  He was still trying to wrap his mind around that when she flicked her tongue over the thin skin between his knuckles.

"Grace....."  Her name was almost lost in his sigh of pleasure.  That was all the warning she got before his head descended, capturing her nipple in his mouth and giving it a strong suck.  He released it almost instantly and did the same to its twin.  He pulled away and blew gently across her damp skin, watching with supreme satisfaction as her nipples hardened under his gaze.  It hadn't happened because of the cold this time, but because she liked what he was doing to her.  He lowered his head and took her thick nipple back into the warm cavern of his mouth. 

Lights danced in her head.  Grace could only close her eyes and arch up under him at the exquisite sensation.  Her body ached for him.  He brought his hands into play and Grace thought she'd lose her mind at the intense pleasure.  "Oh, God..... East."  She could feel him smile against the soft curve of her breast as he nuzzled her, drinking in her scent.  His hands were everywhere, her breasts, her ribcage, along her breastbone, touching her nipples, drawing down her sides with long sensual strokes.

East wasn't in the habit of talking a lot during sex, but there were things a responsible man always addressed.  He ran a stud service, for God's sake.  He was the last man who would ever ignore the danger of pregnancy.  "Don't worry.... I won't get you in trouble... Trust me, love..."  He felt himself flushing a little.  "I'll pull out...."  He preferred to finish inside, but he wouldn't risk her that way.  He wondered if she'd let him spend his seed on her belly.  The thought suddenly excited him.

Her throat got tight, not so much because her fertility was gone but because it never even occurred to him that she might be beyond her childbearing years.  She thought what he saw when he looked at her must be so very different from what she saw when she looked at herself.  She whispered to him that it wasn't necessary; that she couldn't conceive.

A funny sort of smile touched his mouth and eyes.  "Hey, I run a pretty good stud here... rarely fails.... Maybe you just haven't had the right stuff yet."  Grace wanted to weep for him, for the youth that blinded him to her faults and for the arrogance that made him think of himself as invincible in that regard.  Her eyes grew moist.  Powerful as he was, he couldn't turn back time.  Nature always won in the end. 

Her hands touched his strong jaw, bringing his beautiful face close to hers so she could look into his eyes.  "Promise me you'll stay inside."

He nodded and kissed her softly before whispering against her lips for her not to worry, that deep inside her was where he most wanted to be.     

His hands were going lower now with each sweeping stroke.  He caressed the peachy curve of her hip, the delicate hollow of her hipbones.  He teased his fingers over her dark curls, smiling again as he felt her arching up to meet his hand.  He nudged her legs open and groaned when his fingers skated over the damp flesh of her inner thigh.  A little embarrassed by the copious amount of fluid her body had wept for him, she tried to close her legs but his words stopped her.  "Don't....."  He didn't want her to hide anything from him.  He thrust himself against her hip.  She could feel how much he wanted her.  It was only fair that he got to feel how much she wanted him, too.

Her legs relaxed and they both groaned when his fingers slid over her.  She was ready and he knew he couldn't wait much longer, but there was one more thing he wanted to do.  He had to taste her.  Her sweet scent was driving him wild.  East trailed kisses down her stomach and slowly slid a finger inside her as he covered her with his mouth.  She tasted of wild honey and spice and something that was uniquely Grace. 

The first touch of his mouth was electric.  Grace gasped and her hands clutched frantically at the blanket as the intimate touch overwhelmed all her senses.  East hummed softly deep in his chest and fought for control as he felt her flutter around his fingers.  Her body began to tremble and he knew he had to stop.  Grace made a low noise of protest deep in her throat and dug her fingers into his arms as he reluctantly pulled away and slid up her body.

East soothed her with a soft crooning.  The low rasp of his voice was hot against her skin.  She arched under him, silently demanding something she was unable to put into words.  East stroked his tongue over the pulse beating rapidly in her neck.  He knew she was close but he wanted her to need him like that the first time.  He was a large man and her body was small and tight.  He didn't want to hurt her.... and he also liked the way it felt to push inside a woman on the edge of orgasm.

His body moved over hers, at once protective and sheltering but also aggressive and demanding.  She shuddered at the incredible heat when he guided his erection to her opening and slicked himself before fitting just the tip inside her.  "Put your mouth on my neck."  East whispered the command roughly against her ear.  He wanted to feel her mouth on him when he took her.  Too close to the edge and utterly lost in ecstasy, Grace obeyed blindly, pressing her open mouth to the sweaty skin of his neck.

A hoarse cry was torn from him as he thrust forward and took her the way he was meant to, without hesitation or reservation of any kind.  Grace gasped against his throat and bit down hard as he slowly filled her.  There was no pain, only the unbearably erotic feeling of being filled and the sweet ache of her body stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. 

East grit his teeth and buried himself deeper still in the incredible heat that surrounded him.  Her body gripped him in velvet fire, exquisitely tight and unbearably soft.  He lifted his head so he could watch her expression as he withdrew and pushed back inside her once again.  Her face twisted in a beautiful grimace of pleasure and her lush mouth opened in a breathless pant.    

He slid one hand under her neck so he could stroke her nape and fit the other under her hip to guide her movements.  She was trembling and he could feel her body begin to flutter, tightening around him.  He knew she was close; he'd wanted her to be.  Clenching his jaw in an effort to hold back his own release, he thrust forward again and rolled his hips.  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her body shook with intense pleasure.  A distinctly male smile touched his lips.  Now.  He wanted her to come now.  He covered her mouth with his and thrust sharply, deeply, swallowing her throaty cry as the searing pleasure splintered her apart beneath him.

East dropped his forehead to her shoulder, gasping hotly against her neck as he pushed down the desire raging at him and held her tightly as she rode out the last waves of pleasure.  The rhythmic feel of her body greedily pulling at his nearly undid him and he mouthed silent thanks for the earlier release that afforded him this tenuous control with her now. 

Grace fluttered under him and he raised his head to meet her eyes.  They were soft and dark, shining with tears.  "You okay?"  He whispered roughly, glad for the misty light that provided just enough illumination for him to see her face.  She nodded jerkily and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face to his neck.

East could feel her hot tears wet his neck.  He knew she wasn't in pain, just overcome by the intensity of what they'd shared.  Hushing her softly, he stroked the nape of her neck tenderly and gentled his hold on her hip.  Still buried deeply within her, East's body throbbed painfully and he struggled to ignore it, knowing she needed his tenderness, not his desire, at least for the moment.

Grace trembled.  Twenty years vanished in the blink of an eye and she was again that foolish passionate young girl, lost in the heady rapture of a man's lovemaking.  She pulled him closer, searching for the words to describe the powerful emotions she was feeling, the awe she felt at the incredible beauty of taking a part of him inside herself.  It had infused the part of her that felt like her femininity had died along with her fertility with a new fire so bright it burned away the long shadows.  She sighed his name, so softly... so very softly.

East could hear the awe and the wonder in her voice.  He understood perfectly.  Something equally powerful was moving inside of him.  He couldn't describe it but he knew he'd never felt it before.  It wasn't that she was simply easing his loneliness or assuaging a physical need.  She gave him a softness, a gentleness he hadn't even known he'd been craving.   

Grace lay back and stared up at him, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion between them.  Looking at his pained expression, she was suddenly aware he was still hard and throbbing inside her.  Her brow furrowed as she took in the smoldering heat in his eyes and the tight set of his mouth.  Her small hand cupped his cheek and she brushed her thumb over his lips.  His eyes slid shut and he shuddered.  Grace became aware of the incredible tension in his powerful body and realized he was holding himself back.  "Inside...." she whispered, using her body and her voice to urge him to move.

His eyes snapped open and held hers for a brief second as it sunk in.  That's what he'd been waiting for.  With a soft grunt he thrust forward, cutting off her soft plea as a torrent of pleasure burned through her.  His body was railing at him, screaming at him to move, to let go.  He fought it, setting a strong rhythm he knew she'd be able to match.  Flames licked at him, pushing him higher.  Her fingers dug into his buttocks, urging him deeper and he responded, moving faster, increasing the force of his thrusts until they were both panting.  Fire arced between them as the friction became unbearable, increasing the pressure, building and building.

Their movements became wilder, more uninhibited, more untamed.  His hands pinned her hips, as he thrust harder, deeper, wanting to meld himself so seamlessly with her, there could be no distinction between his body and hers.  One body, one heart, one mind.  Forged in flame, tempered by emotion, and honed to an exquisite point by desire.  Her nails scored his back and his teeth found her throat as the intense heat burned his iron control to ashes. 

He panted when she began to shake under him.  Again, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her hoarse cry of pleasure as her body flew apart and giving her a soft sigh of his own in return as release seared through him.  His body stilled for an instant and then exploded into motion with a series of wildly erratic thrusts as he gave himself over to the sensation of her body milking his of a gush of creamy semen.  Behind closed lids, white light blinded him and he collapsed heavily against her, throbbing out silvery streams of that precious water of life.   

When he could move again, East rolled to his back, cradling Grace against his chest as their breathing eased and their hearts slowed into a more even rhythm.  The soft flush of fulfillment lingered on them both, long after the sweat had cooled on their skin.  East drew the quilt up over them and smiled into the darkness as Grace settled into his side.  He pulled her closer still and encouraged her to slide one of her legs over his.  His smile widened as he felt their combined wetness seep from her and dampen his thigh.  There was something deeply satisfying about her body carrying his mark, his scent.  He entwined his fingers with hers and breathed in, reveling in the fact that her scent marked him too. 

The darkness settled over them like a soft blanket.  Under her head, East's heart beat strong and steady in his chest.  A feeling of complete peace filled him as he held her in the darkness and listened to her soft even breathing.  He wished he could just close his eyes and fall into a deep dreamless sleep, curled up there with her as they listened to the wind and the soft cheeping of the few remaining sparrows that were hidden in their nest of straw.

A cold climb down from the hayloft is what they got instead.  Neither of them were ready for reality to intrude.  Not yet.  East stoked the fire and put the kettle on.  They cuddled up together in his quilt before the hearth while they waited for it to heat.  Grace thought he was going to make her a cup of tea.  He used it to bathe her instead.  Naked and warm in the rosy glow of the fire, he carefully washed away the traces of their lovemaking from her body; his scent, their sweat, the pearly smears of his seed.  It was the most intimate attention she had ever received.

East did not bathe himself.  He wanted to crawl into his small cot with the scent of her filling his head and the feel of her still clinging to his body.  He wanted to wake in the morning with proof that this night had not been a dream conjured by ghostly shapes in the mist and his desperate longing for another man's wife.  He imagined waking to the sun on his face and sliding a hand down... down... feeling the sticky residue on his genitals and smiling.  And why shouldn't he?  He was due for a lazy morning.  He'd worked hard all day... and half the night too, he thought with a smug inward smile, though he was hardly complaining.  If he'd had his way, he'd have still been on the job well beyond the sunrise.  He was young.  He could sleep when he was dead.             

When he was finished bathing her, he redressed her slowly.  Skillfully, she observed.  It was not the first time he'd redressed a lady, though the wonder on his face said it was the first time he'd ever watched a woman pin up her hair.  They shared what was left in his flask, holding each other tenderly but speaking little.  East hated that he couldn't see her home.  He didn't like the idea of her riding alone in the darkness. 

"Nonsense," she whispered, kissing him lightly.  He frowned but said nothing, merely pulled on his trousers and went to saddle her mare instead.  At least that was something he could do. 

Grace waited for him by the stable doors.  He put the reins in her hand but a strong arm around her waist kept her from mounting.

"When will I see you again?"  The impatience in his words made her smile.  So did the fact that he didn't ask her 'if' she was coming, but 'when'.  Was she so transparent?

"When I can," was her enigmatic answer.

His arm tightened around her and he kissed her hard.  "Not good enough."  For a moment she saw a hint of boyish petulance about his mouth but his bearing was adult enough, demanding and masculine.  Grace knew she should stay away but she couldn't seem help herself.  He made her feel giddy and foolish and so very young.

"Tomorrow then.  In the field by the old graveyard."  A wide smile split his handsome face and they kissed tenderly.  "Fancy a race then?"  This time the kiss was deep and slow.  "Catch me if you can," she murmured against his lips when they parted.

"I was born in the saddle, love," he shot back with a cocky swagger and then he bent his head and whispered something very crude about his riding prowess into her ear.  They both laughed in the golden lantern light, just two sleepy lovers holding each other like they were the last two people on earth. 

It was such agony to leave him.... Grace was so filled with him there was no room yet for the guilt to creep in.  That would come later, at home when she lay in her cold lonely bed and prayed that her dear Charles would never find out what she'd done.  She mounted her mare and East doused the light before he pushed open the stable doors.  What a picture they would have made had the rolling fog not hidden them from the world; a shadowy figure of a woman on a horse standing beside a man clothed in only a pair of hastily donned trousers. 

Grace bent to kiss him, scolding him softly to go back inside.  That he'd catch his death of cold.  He grinned back.  The cold?  He didn't even notice it.  He was feeling something else entirely as he watched his lover disappear in the mist. 

 

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