Stones of Fire

rag, I want to know about it.’

48

‘Leave the light on.’

His request, not hers.

Believing sex an act of give and take, she’d wordlessly complied.

The golden glow from the bedside lamp illuminating their every move, they had undressed one another, fingers and hands slightly trembling. Both of them succumbing to a nervous hesitancy. A bashful sort of voyeurism as more and more flesh was revealed. Torso. Breast. Pelvis. Thigh. Until they finally faced one another, completely and disarmingly naked. Edie was acutely aware of her own body. Her breasts brushing against her inner arm. Her puckered nipples. The slight quiver in her knees. It’d been three years since her last lover. She wondered if she measured up.

‘You are lovely.’

Pleased with the compliment, Edie stepped forward. Needing to make contact, she ran her hands over his chest, surprised to discover that he had the lean, tight build of a younger man. Moving closer, she pressed her mouth against the pulse at the base of his throat. Able to feel the blood course through him with each rapid beat of his heart.

He was nervous.

For some strange reason that excited her.

Bending her head, she brushed his nipple with her tongue. Teetering slightly, C?dmon moaned her name, the cultured accent nowhere in evidence. She bit into his pectoral muscle.

‘I just put my mark on you,’ she murmured, tilting her head to one side as she admired her handiwork.

‘Two can play at that game.’ Warning issued, he slid his hand between her legs, possessively cupping her mons. A moment later, he smiled. She was already wet.

Maybe not so nervous after all.

Feeling an insistent nudge against her abdomen, Edie glanced down. For several seconds she stared brazenly. Now who was smiling? With his fully erect penis and ginger curls, he put her in mind of a lusty Viking.

A lusty Viking who liked Beethoven, the strains of a piano concerto drifting across the room from the clock radio. Thinking she needed to introduce C?dmon to R & B, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Taking the lead, she slowly backed him to the divided bed. When the backs of his knees hit a mattress, she shoved him to a seated position. She then straddled his hips.

Caedmon’s hands glided along the tops of her thighs, up the sides of her ribcage, before finally stopping at her breasts. A nipple popped between the V of his fingers. It was a strangely beautiful sight. She was glad they had left the light on.

Intuiting what she wanted, his hands slid back to her waist. His eyes having turned an iridescent shade of blue, he helped her to find the right angle.

‘Ready?’

‘Set, go,’ she replied, wrapping a guiding hand around him.

Taking her time, she seated herself, biting back a yelp as her body stretched and widened. The slow, steady expansion bordered on pain.

‘Lie back on the bed,’ she ordered. A second later, her hands on his chest, she started to move. Gripping her thighs, C?dmon groaned, the guttural sound competing with the strident piano chords in the background.

Edie clenched her muscles. Then released. The movement merited another groan. C?dmon’s grip tightened. Go faster.

Heeding the silent request, she picked up the pace, her buttocks slamming against his crotch with each downward stroke. She started to pant, sight and sound coalescing into a synchronized blur. Bouncing breasts. Bunched muscles. Pulsating veins on the backs of his hands. All of it accompanied by a frenzied piano crescendo.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. The achy fullness between her legs tightened.

Until…

She came. Quickly. Powerfully. C?dmon held her gaze, silently pleading with her to keep moving. Reaching behind her, she touched him. Then watched as he shuddered, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

The crisis passed, Edie fell forward, crash-landing on his torso. Tears in her eyes, she struggled to catch her breath. Her damp cheek nestled against his, she laughed softly.

‘I don’t know about you, but I now have a whole new appreciation for classical music.’

49

C?dmon raised a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn.

‘Sorry. I’m a bit knackered. Last night was…’ He laughed softly. ‘No need to tell you. You were there.’

Walking alongside him as they made their way down High Street, Edie nudged him in the ribs. ‘Was I ever.’

Their paltry belongings stuffed into the Virgin shoulder bag, they had checked out of the hotel immediately after breakfast. The plan being to take a coach to Heathrow and there hire a car for the drive to Godmersham, they were presently en route to Gloucester Green. The receptionist had informed them that the airport coaches left every twenty minutes. C?dmon and Edie were nevertheless agreed that St Lawrence the Martyr church might well prove a false lead.

He glanced at his watch. Half past seven. It explained why High Street was nearly deserted. Smiling, Edie pressed closer. Returning the smile, like most men in the initial throes of lust he wondered if he fancied Edie a bit too much, his thoughts frequently settling upon her.

The events of the previous evening had unfurled so quickly, he could only call them to mind in flashes. The quiet hum of rain pounding against the window-panes. The not so quiet guttural moans and lusty sighs. Round one had ended in an exhausted tangle. Round two had been more subtle, more seductive. They’d eaten mandarin oranges in bed, Edie squirting the juice onto his lower abdomen then lapping it up with her tongue, a mass of curly hair falling to either side of his hips. Unable to control himself, he’d grabbed her head and pushed her lower. The pleasure that ensued had been near unbearable.

‘You’re smiling. Broadly, I might add. Just what the heck are you thinking about?’

‘Hmm?’ He glanced at his companion, seeing breasts like smooth melons, legs falling open to expose an overripe fig. ‘I am contemplating the most erotic fruit bowl imaginable,’ he replied.

Edie laughed, no prude. ‘I hear tell you guys have one of those thoughts every ten seconds. Amazing that you ever get anything accomplished.’

‘A pencilled list helps greatly.’

She laughed all the harder.

As he’d already discovered, understanding Edie Miller was one thing, sorting her out another thing altogether. Her early life had been one of abuse and betrayal. And unfathomable pain. Yet somehow she had persevered.

Simply put, he was awed by her strength.

‘What if we actually find the Ark of the Covenant hidden at the church?’ Edie asked out of the proverbial blue. ‘Have you given any thought as to what we would do with it?’

In truth, he’d given this scant consideration, focusing instead on deciphering the quatrains.

‘I mean do we hand it over to a museum? Or do we give it to a church or synagogue?’

‘Perhaps we should wait until we find the Ark,’ he answered evasively.

‘Or maybe you intend to keep it for yourself,’ she pressed, refusing to let the matter drop. ‘Fodder for your next book.’