Captivated

It was unbearably intimate, what men and women did together. Better than fantasy, better than literature. The burning, churning sensation inside her and the harsh rasp of Robert's voice drew Abigail out of her pristine Victorian world into the place of forbidden sensuality that she had always dreamed of.

Throwing her head back, she let his fingers drive her, open her, become her, faster, harder, deeper, until she was gasping for air and

'How does your fantasy man take your virginity, Abigail?'

Robert's voice was a harsh intrusion. She dug her fingernails into the quilt to gain enough composure to speak. 'He… He takes me while I lie on my back.'

'Do my fingers still hurt you?'

'No.' She lifted her hips to take him more deeply.

'What do you want, Abigail?'

Her response was one of mindless pleasure. 'More!'

Suddenly his fingers were gone and the pillow on either side of her head sank down while hard, hairy legs pushed wide her thighs and she could feel him between her legs where his fingers had been, huge as a stump and hot as a poker and pulsing with life.

'Like this?' The voice above her was feral. 'Is this how your fantasy man takes your virginity, Abigail? With his legs holding you open so he can get to you?'

'Yes.' Abigail clutched at his shoulders; they were slick with sweat. Muscles rippled underneath her palmsreal, not fantasy. Hungrily she smoothed her hands over his back, tested muscles that women did not have, sank her fingernails into those small, taut buttocksmemorizing him for all the empty months and years ahead. And all the while, that male part of him pulsed and throbbed against the feminine part of her and she was wide open and completely accessibleand things were progressing far too fast. 'You feel very large, Robert,' she gasped. 'Are you? In comparison to other men, I mean.'

Moist breath fanned her cheeks, her lips. Callused fingertips soothed aside the tangled, damp hair that had escaped her bun they trembled against her skin, as if it was he who was about to lose his virginity and not her. Then his right hand slid down between their bodies. 'You be the judge, Abigail.'

Without warning, his mouth swallowed her breath and his tongue was inside her andoh, he was plunging inside her down there, too, and yes, he was large, far, far larger than his three fingers and there was nothing she could do to stop him as he plowed through the open, liquid heat that he had made of her body. Deeper and deeper he slid, stretching her wider and wider until he could not possibly go any deeper or stretch her any wider but he did and she had never imagined anything like it.

It felt as if he touched her soul.

She tore her mouth away from his. 'You said sex was dirty.'

'I lied.'

She arched her back, momentarily overwhelmed by the heavy weight of his body pressing down on her. 'Robert'

Instantly the hand between their bodies slid over and under her hip. He supported her there in the middle of her back where she arched. 'Hmm?'

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. 'Nothing. I just… I feel… sofull.'

Whisper-soft lips brushed her mouth. Again. And again. And again. 'You are. Relax, Abigail. Hook your legs around my waist.'

Abigail tried. She really did. But every movement made him slide deeper and deeper and he was bigger than a fence rail inside her and

'Robert, the limbs of a woman arenot made to'

He nipped her lip. 'Butyou are not just any woman, Abigail. For the duration of the storm you aremy woman.'

Suddenly her legs were locked around his hips and they were no longer two bodies but one.

'Stay open for me, Abigail.'

Abigail strove to catch her breath. 'I do not believe I have a choice, Robert.'

She could feel a fleeting smile, there against her forehead; it was followed by a fleeting kiss, on the tip of her nose. 'Then come for me.'

'But you have yet to fulfill your part of the bargain.'

That stillness again. 'What is that?'

'You have yet to make me beg and cry.'

Without warning, the body pinning her to the bed shifted. The thick shaft that filled her to capacity drew out and up, so that it sawed between her swollen nether lips. The angle stretched her unbearably as he slowly thrust back inside her, and again withdrew, thrust harder, withdrew, sawing back and forth, taunting and teasing the engorged bud at the top until suddenly

Raw heat replaced all traces of discomfort.

'Robert, please!' She dug her fingernails into his back.

'Please what, Abigail? Tell me. Shall I do it harder? Faster?' Robert matched words with action. 'Slower? Deeper?'

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she churned her hips in a most unladylike manner. 'No, no,do not slow down, harder, Robert, please, do it harder! Faster! Harder, Robert,harder!'

The breath whooshed from her lungs as he plunged inside herhard, fast, deep; harder, faster, deeper, a fantasy more compelling than any she had ever imagined.

'There! There!' She clawed at his slippery back and pumping buttocks to keep the necessary friction, the necessary speed, even as she wondered if she would ever be able to walk again. 'Do not stop, Robert,please don't stop!'

'Open wider, Abigail. Beg me some more, cry for it.Make me forget that I have killed, damn you. Give memore. Let me know you want more. Come for menownownow!'

Rage. Pain. Desire.

Abigail should have been frightenedshe could not tell if the man inside her was the colonel who commanded obedience or the lover who wanted forgetfulness or the soldier who killed out of duty. Nor did she think that Robert could tell who he was in that second. But suddenly the black rage of the storm split apart under the pistoning pressure and Abigail screamed Robert's name as he demonstrated that a man can indeed give a woman pleasure.

Robert! carried through the night.

Just as she fell back inside her body, he ground his pelvis into hers. As if to become a part of her. Or perhaps he was trying to bury his past inside her. Then a scalding jet of liquid spurted into her and a strangled cry erupted from Robert's throat.

Her books mentioned a man's ejaculation; they failed utterly at describing the feel of it filling a woman's body.

A fantasy man did not drip with sweat or fall bonelessly atop a woman's body in the aftermath of passion while his breath gusted inside her ear like a bellows and his satisfaction echoed in the wind.

A fantasy man did not take away loneliness as well as give pleasure.

Abigail rubbed her hands down his slippery spine. 'Thank you, Robert.'

chapter 3

Before Robert had joined the Army he had been Robbie; once in the Army he had been Coally. Private Coally; Corporal Coally; Sergeant Coally; Lieutenant Coally; Captain Coally;sir. After a lifetime of doing other people's killing he had become Colonel Coally. Outside of battle with the occasional whore or even during battle with the occasional camp follower, he had remained anonymous. No one save Abigail had ever used his christened name.