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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 me
more.
Let me know you want more. Come for menownow
now!"

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
    contents

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.
No woman had ever screamed for him when reaching her pleasure.
No woman had ever thanked him for fucking her.
Small, firm breasts heaved against his chest. Tiny little contractions continued to ripple about his spent manhood.
Abigail's pleasure.
She was a ladythere was no doubting her accent or her mannerisms.
She was a twenty-nine-year-old spinsterwho had willingly sacrificed her virginity.
She had accepted his pain and his passion and given him the gift of her body.
Without her he would not have survived the storm.
And he knew, just as surely as he knew that he should get up and spend the rest of the night in the privy, that he would hold her to her promise. By the end of the storm there would be nothing that he did not know about her.
Including the reason she lied about her genteel status and hid herself in an isolated cabin with nothing but erotic literature for companionship.
Carefully levering himself onto his elbows to take the brunt of his weight off her, he pressed his mouth to her ear.
A bittersweet surge of pleasure washed over him.
It was such an innocent thinga woman's ear.
He suddenly wanted to know that ear, to taste each nook and cranny, to make it a part of himself.
He wanted to make Abigail a part of himself.
Her ear was shell-shapeddeceptively cool and delicate on the outside,