He nodded.
“How? I don’t understand…”
He tried to bury the look of guilt, but Emily saw it. She froze, gripping Maxwell’s shirt by the fistful. “How long have you known he was alive?”
“I knew he never died,” Marcellus said softly.
A cry clawed from her throat powerful enough that her body jerked. She couldn’t escape the sense of betrayal she felt. Marcellus had lied to her. Even as he loved her, kissed her, reached into the depths of her, he had lied, but he had also brought Maxwell home. She disengaged from Maxwell and hesitated for only a moment, then flung herself into Marcellus’s arms, hugging him. There was no hesitation from him as he gripped her even tighter, burying his face in her neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much, Marcellus.”
Without waiting for a response, she wrenched away and spun to face Maxwell. She launched at him, the sobs tearing freely from her throat. She heard a distant scream of what sounded like his mother’s voice, the clatter of dishes, and several shouts. All through it, a loud noise pounded in her head, and she could not let him go. The low murmur of his voice washed over her, the soothing touches as he rubbed his hand on her back felt from a distance. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to the darkness was Maxwell’s rough, tormented murmur promising never to leave her again.
Emily’s eyes fluttered open. She turned her head frantically toward the form she glimpsed in her periphery. She stared into the unfathomable gray eyes of the man that held her heart and soul. A shaky laugh escaped her lips, and she shifted to sit on the bed. Maxwell was alive. It had not been a dream. Joy stormed through her along with questions. Where had he been? Was he well?
Her eyes widened as she took in his naked form. She lifted her eyes to his face. His gaze roved her body, narrowing with lust. She looked at his lean form and inhaled sharply. His erection rose, hard, thick, and engorged, to his abdomen. He surged from the chair and stalked to the bed, his intent unmistakable. Emily thought to protest, to demand they speak first, but what she saw on his face halted her. It was loneliness—stark and agonizing.
He stopped by the edge of the bed, and her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. Without speaking, he drew her to her knees. His lips took hers in a sweet, fiery kiss that melted her completely. He dipped his tongue, caressing and sucking hers lightly. He drew her response, drinking in her soft moans and needy whimpers. Gripping her head, he tilted it as he sank in for a greedier kiss.
He released her and removed her gown with more patience than his kiss. He lifted her off the bed and pulled off her shift, drawers, brassiere, and stockings. And Emily allowed him to. The torment in his eyes, she wanted to vanquish it. He grazed her cheeks with his mouth and then kissed her lips with sweetness. He swept his tongue into the moist confines of her mouth. His kiss was delicious, hot, and carnal, but so tender.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to touch you, to kiss you, to hear you cry your love for me?” he growled, lifting and placing her in the center of his bed. Maxwell came over her, resting his weight on his left arm. He cupped her cheek with his other hand, peppering soft kisses over her lips, then down to her collar. “I missed you so damn much, Emily,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with arousal.
“I know,” she gasped. “I missed you so, Maxwell.”
He drew her closer to him, grazing the tips of her breasts that were overly sensitive. Trailing his hands down, he cupped her breasts, which felt so heavy and swollen with desire. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching and then soothing them with silken caresses of his moistened thumbs.
Bending his head, he seized her nipple between his teeth before laving the sensitive flesh with a tormenting tongue tip. The wet heat of his mouth enveloped the tight bud fully, and she cried out in wantonness. He stroked his tongue over her nipple, sending shards of pleasure to her womb. Then he suckled at her breast with hard pulls of his lips. Without releasing her from his mouth, he trailed his hand down to cup her between her legs. He probed, teasing with the tips of his fingers, never sinking in too deep, torturing her. The sensation was so intense she moaned.
“Your pussy is so wet for me,” he murmured, burying two fingers into her drenched core. His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle, arousing. And she desperately needed that, as she was still slightly sore from Marcellus’s excess. Guilt suffused her at the thought of Marcellus. How would she ever tell her love that she had been intimate several times with his twin? Thoughts of his brother faded as Maxwell slowly roused her hunger to a fever pitch.
He traveled down her body slowly, loving her with his lips and hands. Emily felt aflame and alive from his touch. His tongue dipped into her navel, circled once, and then continued down.
“Oh God! I’ve missed you so much, Maxwell.”
“I dreamed of you day and night, your smile, the way you teased me, your scent, and the delightful expression that chased your features as you read a book. Everything about you I missed and hungered for, Emily.” His voice throbbed with sexual intensity. He tormented her with erotic skill, licking her with sensuality. She felt his tongue rim her entrance, so tenderly, before he pushed it inside. He was soft, gentle as he tongued between her legs. It was sheer bliss.
“Lick me deeper.” Her voice was hoarse, beseeching for relief.
He drove his tongue into her, evocative delight sizzled in her veins, and her hips arched as a cry burst from her lips. He rose above her, widened her thighs, and settled between them. She tossed upon the bed as he flexed his hips and worked his thick erection inside her. He stretched her, sinking his full length slowly.
“God, you’re perfect,” he rasped, buried to the hilt.
The biting pleasure from his thrust was ecstasy. Delight arced over her body, then into it. He kissed her lips, the corner of her mouth, and then her eyelids.
“Are you okay?” his husky rasp spiked hunger in her.
“Yes.” She twined her hands around his neck, drawing him to her, tears slipping from her eyes. She shifted her legs, twining one around his hips and the other around his thigh. A piercing sweetness stabbed through her. “I am holding you again, Maxwell. I am complete.”
His movements were deliberate and controlled as he loved her with fierce passion. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. She raised her body and met each steady plunge that slowly increased in strength. She whimpered, feeling the arousal build in her womb as it was stoked to a pitch by every forceful movement.
“So responsive, so wet and sweet,” he groaned with aching gentleness. “Wrap your legs high around my back.”
She complied. He went deeper. So deep she lost the ability to breathe. She could only clasp his sweat-slicked back and bite into his shoulder. He began to move with increased strength, driving her harder into the bed. He was voracious in his passion, and Emily felt as if fire consumed her. She shuddered. Waves of pleasure pulsed through her as she screamed, “I love you, Maxwell.”
“You make me forget the world exists. The horror of the war is burned away when I am in you, surrounded by your love, your responses, the wetness and heat of your cunt. I adore you, Emily.” His voice was rough, hot, and it peaked her need further.
Her pleasure built gradually like soft ripples that eventually crashed her with a wave of delight. He reached between their bodies, while he remained propped on his other elbow. He found her clitoris and slowly pressed. Spasms of delight racked her frame. She held him tight, afraid to relinquish him, as he shuddered in her arms, releasing inside her.