The Bride Who Wouldn't by Carol Marinelli Page B

it a sob as her hips lifted? Her hands moved to his head, at first to halt him, then just to feel him buried between her legs. His hands moved to her hips and ground her to his face, her calves were shaking over his shoulders, and she could hold it in no more. Finally, she let go to his lips, pressing his head and arching into him, her bottom lifting off the bed as she pulsed into his mouth, and Isaak drank her, lapped her, and finally freed her.
    There was more in there, Isaak knew it, but he could hear her shocked breathing, feel her thighs relaxing as her orgasm started to abate, and his mouth lifted, his palm holding her swollen sex.
    Kate lay, her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath, her stomach soft, her limbs back to liquid but her sex hot and swollen in his hand.
    “Where is the shame in that?” he whispered.
    There was none. She wanted to curl up, she wanted to breathe deeply, but Isaak had not quite finished yet.
    “What are you?” It was then she felt him move inside her. “Isaak…” She looked down, waiting for the clench of spasm, but it never came, and he was completely matter-of-fact in his response.
    “Feeling you,” Isaak said, for just as she had finished coming, he had slipped two fingers in and now he slid them deeper. “Stretching you.”
    She gritted her teeth as she felt a tug and then just watched, somewhat fascinated as he slipped two bloodied fingers out. She could see his erection straining against his jeans and there was an ache to feel it, but instead he came up the bed and kissed her back to earth.
    “You don’t know what you just did,” Kate said.
    “Of course I do.”
    “No…” She thought of the tiny dilators that had proved impossible, even a finger or tampon were way too much for her. “I’ve never been able to get anything in…”
    “One good-looking Russian, and you part your legs,” Isaak teased. “Tut tut.” Then he smiled. “Have you had a nice day?
    “The best day,” Kate said. “But you didn’t…”
    “Oh, I shall,” Isaak smiled, and he did the wrist action thing again, but this time it just made her laugh, and he took her hand and placed it there for a moment, just letting her feel the size of it and explore it a little from the confines of his jeans. “And when I do I will be thinking of you.”
    “Does nothing embarrass you?” Kate asked, liking the feel of him beneath her hand, nervous as to the size, her finger tracing the head.
    “About sex?” Isaak checked. “No.”
    “About anything?”
    “We are all ashamed of some things,” he said, and he took her hand from his crotch and then kissed her palm till her toes were curling. “But for me, it’s not that. Come on, get dressed, I want to take those earrings out for dinner.”
    He spoke as if it was perfectly normal to get up and go out after that.
    In fact, he resumed normal conversation as Kate lay there realising that possibly it was.

Chapter 11
    “W ill you tell your brother about your grandmother?” Kate asked as they walked up the dark cobbled Montmartre streets towards the basilica.
    “Yes, but I don’t know when,” Isaak said. “I don’t think the news would be welcome now.”
    The streets were crowded and noisy, and his arm around her felt natural. They stopped and watched a family getting their portrait done.
    “No way,” Isaak said as Kate opened her mouth, then he relented. “We’ll get one of you.”
    It was a chance to shamelessly examine her face, and Isaak stood there, watching her smile, so much more relaxed now. He turned to a noise and watched a small bus that was often used by disabled folks and children to get to the top of the hill, and Isaak frowned as a child pressed his hands to the window and caught his eye.
    He remembered this place.
    “Isaak…” She had her portrait in her hand, and Isaak realised he had lost a few moments simply staring around. “Are you okay?”
    “Of course.” He looked at the portrait, and the artist had done an amazing