THE HAND OF GOD

PART THIRTEEN:

She couldn't think. She absolutely could not form a coherent thought. For a while she was all body, nothing more, and that was melting under the liquid fire of his form atop it.  His hunger was overwhelming, a totally new experience that took her instantly beyond the place where she'd thought calmly of things as Brendon kissed her there on the mountainside. Then she'd  kept her eyes open, watching the changing shapes of high, wind-blown clouds. Now the wind  was blowing inside her, swirling her around so that she had to keep her eyes closed or fall off  the world.

At first she lay there, simply letting him devour her whole.  The desire flaming from him was an unknown thing so she merely let it flow over and around her, something deep inside her shaken to its core. Then his tongue was in her mouth, searching, needing, and she let hers rise to meet it, feeling something change inside his body at her touch.

Ben had literally fallen on her and as he gave in to what he must, for a moment he was a mountain lion atop its prey, too filled with hunger to do more than that. Then her tongue brushed along the side of his, jarring him with the sudden pleasure of it, with the mere fact that she had responded, and he led her in a dance, probing every corner of her mouth as she followed, brushing, pressing, thrusting with her own.

Elizabeth abandoned herself to his kiss, fisting her hands in his hair, holding on to him as though in fear that he might pull back, only vaguely aware that the bones of her pelvis had dissolved and begun to ache for him as much as her mouth was doing. He was still supporting himself with his arms and she arched herself a bit so her pelvis was in closer contact with his. Immediately he lowered himself, an almost growl-like moan rising up his throat.

In all his years he'd never wanted to take a woman quite in the way he wanted this one. He was already near to exploding with his need to be inside her, not as some receptacle for the release  of his seed, not that, not...just...that. Everything that was male in him, everything that had gone into making him who he was, all of it, wanted this woman, this Elizabeth. He wanted...he had to...
pour himself into her. She was the edge of the cliff that his fingers had grasped. She was the last page upon which he'd drawn his last sketch. She was in some inexplicable way, the 'X' on the map, his goal, his destination. He didn't begin to understand all the whys of it and wasn't interested right now in any examination of his reasons. All he knew was this was LizzieBess and he had to make her his LizzieBess or...or what? He couldn't go there, wouldn't go there.

Nearly gasping for breath, he pulled his lips from hers only to kiss his way down her jaw line,  on down her neck. She tipped her head back, exposing her throat to him and just that small thing nearly sent him over the edge. Briefly he buried his face under her chin, marshalling  every ounce of his considerable willpower to delay the intense building up in his body. As much as he wanted her, he would not simply 'take' her, not like that.

As his fingers found the top button of her coarse jacket, he lifted his head enough to search out her eyes, finding nothing in them that signaled a 'no' to him.  He slid off her to her left side, keeping a leg across hers as he intently slipped one button after another through their frayed holes. Somewhere, very far away, his ankle protested, but he pushed that back, refusing it admittance.

The front of her jacket open, he found beneath it a thick flannel shirt with its own row of buttons. His instinct was to slide his hand up through them, popping them off, but he maintained enough conscious thought to know this might well be her only shirt and so he set about unbuttoning these as well, filling his eyes with the sight of her face as she lay there, her eyes  half-closed, watching him.

The fire was in need of more wood and so the light in the room steadily grew dimmer. The glow of the embers reflected in his eyes as she looked up at his face, strands of his hair hanging forward down his cheeks. A small log crumbled in half, sending a shower of sparks up into the darkening air, and her eyes moved to them, watching as they faded and disappeared completely. It was enough of a distraction that she thought clearly again, thought that she should really stop Ben. After all, she was a nun. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't. Not now. Not for months. Especially not here. Here she was simply Elizabeth. LizzieBess. Yes, that's who she was, what  she was. She was LizzieBess. And when his lips found her breast, she forgot even that.

Her chest now completely bare to the rapidly chilling air in the room, Ben felt her gooseflesh rise and set about to warm her with his kisses, with the soft kneading of his hands. When she arched her back again, one of his hands moved lower, beginning to lift her skirt. The last of the embers died away, leaving the room now in total darkness, so she closed her eyes, her breath coming in rapid little pants as she felt his hand work its way up to her thigh.

Her skirt was ankle-length, thick as any blanket, and bunched around her waist as he moved it up. He felt for some fastening but didn't seem to be able to locate it in all the gathered folds above her hips, so he let the skirt stay with just a slight, unseen grimace to indicate he wished it weren't there, then leaned to find her mouth with his again. This time his hands were touching her as he kissed her, touching her as she'd never been touched before and she blew explosive gasps of breath into his clinging mouth. She had never known a need more all-consuming than that he be inside her and she dug her fingers into his back through the thin top of his longjohns, holding on, pulling him down more, pulling him closer.

He managed to loosen his pants with one hand while not stopping his movements on her with the other. Then both arms came up, slipping under her shoulders and she felt him slide smoothly into her. Her eyes flew open. It was entirely, entirely different from her experience with
Brendon, who hadn't seemed to have a real grasp of a woman's feelings. Ben had made her ready, had gotten her right to the brink of some huge edge before he came into her, and now that he was there, the motion of his hips was sending her rapidly beyond the end of solid ground.
He had her literally gathered in his arms and he took her up with him, on and on and then still on some more until the essence of her was concentrated into a single dot of intensity that exploded, scattering her with him across the night.

Then she lay with him still atop her, utterly spent, as together they sifted slowly, slowly downward. And she knew that the particles of her had mixed and mingled inextricably with the particles of him and there would never be a getting past it, a forgetting it.

After a while, he slid somewhat off to the side again, pushing her skirt down to cover her bare legs then putting one of his legs over them as he'd done before. Her chest he left bare so he could rest his head between her breasts. "LizzieBess," he murmured, the only word he'd said. She felt
his warm breath blowing over her skin, just that, and her pelvis began to melt again. Almost languidly, he cupped a hand around her right breast, nuzzling it with his nose and mouth, and her femininity burst into longing for his presence as though he'd not just left her.

She kissed the top of his head, then moved out from under him. "Liz....," he began.

"Wait," she murmured, rising and finding the inside woodpile from weeks of practice. Using a branch, she poked at the embers, stirring them enough that a bit of flame flared up. She added small twigs to it, then larger pieces until she had the fire going again. Only then did she turn, looking back at him where he lay, propped up on one elbow, watching her. The air was still quite frigid in the shack as she stood there, smiling down at him. Her jacket and flannel shirt hung loosely open and she moved her shoulders, letting them fall to the floor behind her. Reaching behind her skirt, she undid a thick string, and her skirt fell in limp folds around her feet.

Again Ben was utterly surprised by her, and he let his eyes roam freely over her body, backlit by the fire so that she was outlined in glowing light. She was more beautiful than anything in  this world had a right to be, and it was then that his mind turned on him, that Ben Wade began to snort derisively at the disheveled man on the dirt floor for the bastard that he was. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes, leaning his head way back.

Elizabeth saw the change come over him. "Ben," she whispered. "It's all right, Ben."

Maintaining his position, he shook his head. "No, LizzieBess, it ain't.  You're a nun, for God's sake, and I couldn't keep my...."

"I'm not a nun, Ben. Not any longer."

He lifted his head, looking at her again. "Not since me."

"Not since way before you, Ben. Not for a long time."

She came and knelt beside him, beginning to unbutton his white undershirt. "Aw, LizzieBess," he moaned. "You shouldn't be...."

"Yes, Ben, I should. Now if you wouldn't mind just scooting yourself a bit over to this thing that passes for a bed...."

"You want...?"

"Yes, Ben. I want."

He got himself back on the pallet and lay there, letting her undress him, never taking his eyes off her face. When his clothes lay beside hers in a pile on the floor, she stretched out atop him, pulling the two blankets up over them both. "Shall we warm each other, Ben?"

"Oh, God," he moaned, sliding both hands down her back, cupping them around her buttocks.

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