Page 40 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

He fought the weakness and tried to reach down to draw her back up so he could devour her mouth.

His mate, his woman, his lover. The scent of her overwhelmed, the feel of her -- Christ Almighty!

He reared up and could do nothing when she took him between her fingers and lightly blew on the tip of him.

When she closed her mouth over him, the control snapped like a piece of twig.

He heard the roaring inside his ears and felt himself falling -- falling.

The pleasure was so exquisite, it blinded him.

Her mouth was so seductive, so sweet, so mesmerizing that he lost all of his senses.

He could not think, only feel. He could not help but call out her name, in reverence, like a prayer and in oath as he swore.

Finally finding the strength, he gripped her arms and hauled her up and over him.

His eyes were a swirl of colors. One minute green, the next a stormy gray that reminded her of the sky when the rain threatened.

She straddled him, her breasts aching, her body already so hot, it was burning, like flames shooting from within.

A broken sigh escaped him when her tightness wrapped around him like a glove.

He trembled from the passion, his eyes flying to her face.

This was his woman, his wife, his hope and his light.

With shaking hands, he cradled her waist before moving up to cup her breasts.

Her body arched at his touch, the nipples responding violently. Understanding immediately, he lifted his head and toyed with the hardened bud. Her cries came instantly, fingers reaching for his head to hold him there. Whimpers escaped her as he suckled, gently at first and then hungrily.

He tasted his son's meal and felt his heart staggering. He suckled as if he was starving and he was. Had been for what seemed like forever. She moved sliding up and down, until he was driving into her with a force that shattered them both.

She came -- erupting all over him, her cries echoing around the room.

It did not take him long to follow. His body was already primed and ready for her.

He spilled his seed inside her. His body was slick with moisture.

Lifting his head, he crushed her lips, the kiss taking on a kind of madness that had them spinning.

When she came again, her body vibrated and he swallowed her cries, her tears sliding down her cheeks. He tasted her tears and felt his heart staggering even more. He held her when it was all over, his body shuddering, his heart full of love for her.

Shifting slightly, he eased her next to him, arms wrapped around her waist. For a full five minutes, he stared across the room at the open doors of the closet, his eyes unfocused.

Even after being with her for several months, after making love to her too many times to count, there was still more than a hint of madness that was incomprehensible.

How could this be? he wondered dazedly. How could one woman stir such emotions inside him?

He felt when she turned her head to look at him. Tipping his head down, he met her gaze and was humbled by the look on her face. There was love-- sweet and giving. She was not afraid to show him how much she loved him.

He kissed one wet cheek and then the other. "You planned this."

"Hmm." She touched the indentation in his strong chin. "Right down to the candles. I had help."

His brow lifted in question.

"Your mother." She grinned at the expression on his face.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that."

"I told her I wanted to seduce you. She suggested the candles. And that I should add rosebuds."

"Where are they?"

"I had a difficult time plucking at petals to just have them strewn around. I decided to leave that part out."

"Thank God," he murmured feelingly and made her laugh.

His hands cradled her face, his expression sober. "You almost killed me."

"I wanted to pleasure you."

"You did that and more." He brushed his lips over hers. "And I think it's my turn now." His expression turned wicked, warning her that he wasn't going to show a hint of mercy.

"Darling--"

He shook his head as he pushed her back on the pillows. "I'm going to need you to keep still."

"I can't -- Oh!" He was kneading her breasts slowly, fingers circling the nipples wet from his mouth. He grinned at her dazed expression, but very soon neither of them were talking.

*****

"You bought a house." Yasmine stood in the center of the circular driveway and stared at the sprawling ranch type building with the faded bricks and the windows -- long sweep of them, catching the light of the sun.

"What do you think?" He had been pretty mysterious when he suggested they go for a drive. He had got her up with his mouth on her body and they had spent a leisurely morning making love. During breakfast they had called to check on Christopher.

"I think--" Emotions were dangerously rushing to the surface. "It's very big." And it was. And private and secluded. The grounds were spectacular. There was a shed -- large enough to be called a home a few feet away. And she was sure she heard the trickle of water.

"Lake?"

"And a bridge." Taking her hand, he led her across grass as green as the Irish sea and flowers bursting with violent colors. There was also a gazebo, white, with wisteria trailing along the edges. The bridge had an arch to it that delighted her.

"How many rooms?"

"Eight suites."

"Eight!" She turned to stare at him. "Think it's big enough?"

Grinning at her, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. All the memories of what had happened in the past had disappeared like a bad penny. Right here with her, he felt a contentment that stole over him and settled like a warm blanket.

"A tree house."

"Hmm." Leaning back, she gazed at the trees and agreed and could see their son climbing the ladder to enter what she supposed would be a somewhat spectacular tree house.

"Let's go inside."

He sold her on the charms of the place, but he didn't have to.

The rooms were large and airy, the windows looking out to gardens blazing with colors.

There was a patio and balconies leading from every bedroom.

The kitchen was huge. The living room with its wonderful fireplace took up most of one section.

By the time they entered the library, she was already furnishing the rooms. Antiques-- it had to be antique furniture. Nothing else would suffice. The ceiling was high and lofty, with plain wooden slats. Instead of chandeliers, sconces were discreetly tucked into the walls and ceilings.

"It's enchanting," she whispered, reaching for his hand. "I love it."

Gathering her close, he inhaled her scent and closed his eyes. "I'll leave the decorating up to you."

"Naturally."

*****

Three months later she was pregnant.

"When are you going to tell him?" Eleanor was beside herself with happiness. Three months old Christopher was thriving and looking more and more like his daddy each day. And she could swear he was already teething.

They were at the pool house at her newly decorated home, having lemonade and lemon cake Maeve had brought with her.

"Tonight." Yasmine rubbed her belly absently, her expression a little troubled. "He's going to be pissed."

"Nonsense!" Maeve leaned over to wipe the drool off her grandson's face before beaming at a very pregnant Maddy. "He's going to be so delighted."

"After he strangles me. Ah well." She sighed philosophically and reached out to touch her son's cheek. "It's already done, and I am very happy."

"And so will he be," Eleanor told her decidedly. "This pregnancy might not go as badly as before."

"I really don't care." She grinned at her sister-in-law. "I suspect my brother is driving you crazy, now that it's almost time."

Maddy rolled her eyes and pressed her hands to her stomach. "You have no idea. There are times when I feel like strangling him."

"Another boy." Maeve shook her head and glanced at her daughter. "This time we're hoping for a girl."

*****

There were times when she wished she could read his expression, like now. He simply stared at her, an inscrutable look on his face. She had waited until after they had eaten the delicious meal the housekeeper had prepared and settled Christopher for his nap before she broke the news.

Her palms were damp, and she could feel her heart racing. Damn him for making her feel as if she was under the microscope!

"How far along?"

"Six weeks. The doctor examined me thoroughly and everything is fine." She started to rise from the deep cushioned armchair when he pinned her with those eyes of his. "It's going to be different this time. I can feel it."

"Can you?"

Rubbing her palms over her loose gown, she sent him a wary look. "I would also point out that it takes two people to do the deed."

His glare had her closing her mouth.

"I thought you were going on contraceptives."

"Maybe after this." Her look was pleading. "Please tell me you're happy."

"Then I would be lying." He broke off a sigh at the crestfallen look on her face. Crossing to her, he hunkered down and took her hands in his.

"I worry. The months that you suffered as a result of carrying our son into the world was devastating. You were constantly ill. You ended up in the hospital." His hands gripped hers. "I cannot go through that again."

"You won't," she promised tearfully. "Don't ask me how I know, but I do." She squeezed his hands. "I want this baby, Conail and I want you to want it too. I want you to be happy."

Rising, he nudged her aside so that he could wrap his arms around her. "I love you," he told her stormily. "I love you excessively and because I do, I never want to see you suffer."

"I won't. I promise."

Their daughter, Catherine Maeve-Eleanor was born on a windy day in April and was an easy pregnancy as well as an easy birth. After spending nine months bracing himself to suffer along with her, the proud father stared at his newborn daughter with love pouring from his eyes.

"Dada." Feeling very near to tears, he sat on the edge of the bed and hoisted his almost year-old son who was a startling replica of him so that he could see his baby sister.

"Baby," he pointed to her.

"That she is. My little princess." He kissed his son's forehead before the boy could wriggle out of his arms and raced towards his grandmothers.

Later when they were alone, he held his wife and whispered his gratitude for his family.

The end…