O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [97]
Easy, Zach, he cautioned himself, and stop thinking bad thoughts. Surely Lilly knows the rules of conduct of Onde la Mer, but would she be overreaching with a lad so young? His yearning for something tugged at him.
When the cannon boomed from the yacht club, the shell seemed to land at Zach’s feet.
He opened her garden gate. Lilly was framed in a scarcely lit doorway in a lush emerald gown that set off her black hair, brushed down straight on white shoulders.
They came together softly into a room of candlelight flitting under a breeze that sent shadows bounding to and from the white walls.
She held a finger to her lips—say nothing—she let him see her all. Zach was stunned. Lilly was white ivory and rounded like a Grecian statue. He’d never looked upon her likes.
She gracefully slipped his jacket off and shirt buttons open and she saw the likes of arms and chest she had only seen on powerful men working in the fields. Oh, rock of Zachary.
He could be rightfully vain of his body but was not so. This was Lilly’s place and Lilly’s sporting ground.
Lilly was nearly unable to fathom the tenderness of how his eyes watched her breathe and move her cheeks under his touch like a dancing feather. He kissed her eyelashes. His patience and wise fingertips were not what she had expected.
“You are very strong,” she said.
“You’re the boss.”
Who was this lad? How much of his cool demeanor was a ploy? He was waiting so calmly for her to set the tone and the cadence, but he was going clear through her by touching her shoulders.
All right, she accepted his silent dare. Let’s see what you’re made of, Lieutenant.
No explosions, now, but a lover’s test . . .
The lovers’ room took him in and the lovers’ place laid him down on silk. Lilly sat above him and glided him in a fraction. Her hands pinned his shoulders still, her face came close to his so they stared in each other’s eyes. She lowered herself every several seconds a fraction of a fraction, lower, and their eyes daring each other to retain sanity.
. . . each tick now whirling their heads, the room. Their eyes never unlocked. And farther and farther until they both looked half mad and beaded into sweat.
. . . and she finally could come down no farther . . . and they locked and played each other with tiny pulsations.
“My God,” Lilly managed as the sweat now burst. They remained locked. “Where did you learn this?”
“From a very wise woman, tonight,” he answered.
It was clear to Zachary that Lilly Villiard came from a tribe of Parisians for whom pleasuring a man was a way of life.
The main path offered little detour after little detour. In another time, Lilly could have been a ranking member of the sisterhood of courtesans. There were so many new delights; an enchanted seascape of diversions.
They spoke to each other, offering wise entreaties, and found a level of humor and fun, glad to see each other and to handle a clumsy moment with laughter.
Zach discovered what he already knew by instinct. He enjoyed giving pleasure often more than he enjoyed receiving it. A lover such as that was rarely come upon by her. Lilly Villiard became ambivalent about how much pleasure she was supposed to take. She began to regard each new set of sensations as dangerous and she grew afraid of where wild abandon would lead.
They came to a level of very happy lovemaking but avoided the thunder and lightning on the horizon.
Lilly and Zach spent their time together judiciously, inconspicuously joining the family’s social life. Zachary was popular but hardly invasive, and came and went from her villa so no one really knew or seemed to care.
From time to time he acted as her escort away from Onde la Mer. There didn’t seem to be a hell of a lot of gossip. Barjac was the Catholic and the Marine family of Newport.
Although there was diminishing return as lovers, they greeted each other smiling, never found the other boring, and lost any awkwardness over the difference in their ages.
There were times, wonderful for them both,