Elizabeth Meyette by Loves Spirit

Jonathon’s consciousness like an icy mist. He looked into Deidre’s eyes, and the truth was confirmed. He felt sick.
    “I did it for us, Darling. So that we could finally be together as we ought. It was quite simple, really. I suggested a moonlight boat ride, so romantic. And Robert actually believed that he pleased me, but no one ever pleased me except you, Darling. We strolled down to the river, I with my glass of wine, Robert with his ale. Oh, how he loved his ale. It is amazing how quickly a sleeping draught works in ale. Robert was not a big man, not like you, Jonathon; it was very easy to slip him over the side of the boat.”
    Silence filled the cabin; shock filled Jonathon. Deidre leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Feeling as though he were in a dream, Jonathon pushed her away. She opened his shirt and viewed the scars, still raw. Running her hands along the scars, she traced each one, gently scratching them with her nails. Awakened to his senses, Jonathon pulled her hands away and held them in his.
    “Deidre, you must leave now,” he whispered.
    “Jonathon, I do not think I have made myself clear. We are meant to be together. I want you to make love to me, hold me and please me as you once did.”
    “Deidre, that was long ago; it is over now. I am married to Emily, and she is going to have my child.”
    Fire flashed in Deidre’s eyes.
    “I was waiting for you to return to me, Jonathon. Instead you came home with that British wench! Well, you will be mine, Jonathon, if you value her life,” she cried. Yanking the ribbon at the neckline of her shift, Deidre opened it and let if fall. She ran her hand along Jonathon’s chest, past his stomach, along his thigh. Jonathon was dismayed at his response, and Deidre’s eyes were triumphant.
    “Yes, Jonathon, see how you love me? See how you want me?” she cooed. She climbed above, straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. Reaching down, she tugged his breeches past his thighs then ran her fingers along their length. Smiling mischievously, she reached down and grabbed him, stroking him, smiling at his response.
    “No, Deidre, please, no,” he whispered.
    The blood pounded in his head and instinct took over as he felt her lower herself until he entered her. He moaned, not in passion, but in self-loathing. Deidre began a rhythmic rocking motion that his body matched, intensity increasing. She leaned into him, her breasts pressing as she undulated above him, her breath hot against his face. Unable to control himself, Jonathon moved with her, aching for relief, hating himself with every thrust. Finally, he felt himself explode within her, grateful for the release, repulsed at what he had done. Moaning, Deidre began to sob.
    “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she cried, shuddering. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she reached her climax, pressing her face into his neck. With a final shudder, she fell against him.
    Gasping with the exertion, they lay together for a moment, and then Jonathon pushed her off him.
    “Hold me, Jonathon,” she said.
    He turned away from her. She snuggled against him, putting her arm around him. He shrugged her off.
    “Jonathon, lovers lie together after making love, Please hold me,” she asked again.
    “We did not make love, Deidre. We did what dogs and horses do; there was no love involved here,” he snapped.
    “Jonathon, you forget that Emily’s safety is in a precarious position, as is that of your unborn child,” Deidre warned in a steely voice. Just as quickly, it softened again. “Please hold me, Jonathon,” she wheedled. He looked into her eyes. As tender as her voice sounded, her eyes were like ice, and he knew Emily’s life was in his hands. Resigned, he put his arm around her and she snuggled against him. He stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched, his fists balled. He had been trapped as an animal hunted, and he loathed her — and himself. Gall roiled in his stomach, rose in his throat