CHAPTER 6

A/N: Sorry this update took a while, so I'll begin with a bit of a recap.

"What is it?" Maria asked.

"I'm just wondering what I did to deserve you, after all the mistakes I've made."

"Something good, I guess," she shrugged. "I know one thing you do right."

"What's that?"

"You're a very good lover, Captain."

"How would you know?" Georg smiled, apparently having forgotten he had not been her first and only. Maria had nearly forgotten it too, come to that.

"Because you never tire of giving me pleasure-" Maria began.

"Oh, darling, but it's my pleasure," he interrupted, running an idle finger up and down her arm. "Truly."

"You always put me first, even when you have to wait-"

"That's kind of you to say," and he smoothed the damp hair from her forehead, "but it's actually a purely selfish act on my part. The waiting makes it better."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "I don't understand."

"It's just a basic physical fact. The longer you wait for it, the more," he squinted, searching for the word, "intense. It's just – more. More everything."

"Really?" Maria could tell he was trying not to laugh at her naïve question. "Well, I don't like to wait."

"So I've noticed. You are quite responsive, Maria love. Being with you – for all the times I dreamed of it, it was a thousand times better. At least! I'm only saying that if you climbed mountains like you make love, you'd charge right up the Untersberg to the very peak, without stopping even once to admire the view, let alone for a picnic!"

He was laughing now.

"Perhaps I'll try it your way the next time," she said haughtily. "Just for fun, you know."

His voice was still threaded with amusement. "No you won't. Because it takes discipline, Maria, darling. Something you haven't got any of."

"I want to try it. Are you going to show me or not?"

"All right. When we get to Paris," he said, sounding nearly dismissive, as though he was sure she'd forget all about it by then. Which only strengthened Maria's stubborn resolve.

"How about now?"

He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Now? But-"

"If you need a nap first," she informed him, "I'll understand."

"A nap? A nap?" He shook a finger at her. "Have you already forgotten last night's lesson, Maria? Be careful what you wish for."

"Now," she insisted. "I want you to show me. What happens when you – ehrm – don't rush right up the mountain."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked doubtfully.

But he was already reaching for her.

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It was natural, she told herself, to feel just the slightest bit uneasy. He had promised her something more, something intense. Maria couldn't imagine surviving anything more intense than the sensations she'd already experienced. So yes, she was a little apprehensive. And curious. And very, very, intrigued.

It started on familiar enough ground: he ran his hands hungrily over her bare skin, wrapped her in his strong arms, and proceeded to kiss her nearly senseless, until she felt her apprehension melting away, replaced by the first delicious prickle of desire stirring deep in her belly.

"Slow down," she lectured her traitorous body, remembering the way he'd teased her. Rushing straight up the Untersburg, indeed!

His mouth left hers and traced a burning line across her cheek and behind her ear, sucking gently at the sensitive skin until she was squirming with delight. "Patience, Maria," he rebuked her, but he wasn't exactly making it easy, not with the way he feathered kisses down her neck and across her shoulder before taking her breast into his mouth. Her whole world shrank down to nothing but the hot tug of his mouth on her.

"Georg," she moaned, "I don't think I can wait-"

"Shh," he stopped what he was doing long enough to look up and fix her with a fierce blue stare, "you can, darling, and you will. You will wait, and you will love it. I promise."

It wouldn't have mattered what he promised, not really, because while he was talking, his clever fingers had trailed down her belly and coaxed her legs open. Without any preliminary, he slid a long finger inside her, reaching for a spot where his touch sent a wave of pure carnal desire surging everywhere in her body.

"Georg," she gasped, "what happened to-?"

"To?" he murmured.

"To," she gritted her teeth. "Going slow."

"Oh!" he laughed, although his breath was coming in hard pants, and she could feel other parts of him growing hard as well. "This is just the overture, so to speak. Are you ready?"

"Ready? Of course I'm-"

"Turn over," he commanded.

"What?"

"Like this." He rose to his knees, and with a few deft tugs, he flipped her over on her belly, slid an arm underneath her, and pulled her upward until she was on all fours. "There. Are you comfortable?"

"No! I mean I'm not uncomfortable, but I thought we were going to-"

"And we are." He moved behind her and pushed her knees gently apart, creating a space for him to kneel. "This way."

She was shocked silent for a moment, and then managed to choke out, "But why? I can't even see you!"

"You'll understand why in a minute. And no, you won't see me, but you'll see something better. Stars," he leered. "Now. Hold still."

With one arm, he reached around to hold her hips against him, while he used the other hand to rub himself against her. He felt stiff and hot and there was something so wanton about the whole arrangement that Maria felt a little shiver of lust.

"This is how it's going to be," he told her. "I'm going to be inside you, but when you're getting close,"

"How will you know that?" she interrupted him.

"I just know," he said ominously. "I'll explain it to you another time, all right? Anyway, when I stop, it might be a bit – ehrm – abrupt. No, no, don't be alarmed. I just don't want you to be surprised."

Without another word of explanation, Georg grabbed her gently by the hips, slowly pushed his way deep inside with a soft groan, and began to rock steadily against her. In this new position, the way he stretched her open, stroking at just the right angle, created thrilling sensations that quickly threatened to overwhelm her. He bent over her back, stretched out so that the rough, hot skin of his chest pressed tight against her back. When he reached beneath and caressed her breasts with his long fingers, she cried out with delight.

It didn't take long before she felt the familiar tightening low in her belly, and the heat unfurling to race through her veins. Her passion-muddled mind dimly recalled Georg's warning about rushing to the summit, and that was exactly how she felt, that she was racing at breakneck speed toward her destination. Except she had neither the ability nor the intention to stop, her whole body was trembling now, it was too delicious, her whole and anyway it would be only another moment or two and –

"Ouch!"

He had gently pinched her breast – it hadn't hurt, really, just surprised her and broke her concentration – and in the next moment, he pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed, gasping for air.

"Georg, why-"

"You'll see," he muttered, running his hands through his hair. After a minute, when he had recovered a measure of his composure, he turned toward her, eyes glittering.

"Ready to find out?"

He returned to his position behind her. Having him take her from behind was oddly impersonal, but that made it feel deliciously wicked, too, as though this encounter was solely focused on her body and its sensations. But that idea, and any other rational thought, quickly flew out of her mind the moment he thrust himself back inside her, this time with greater vigor. With one hand, Georg returned to squeezing her breasts, while the other gently skated across the place where her legs met.

Every square inch of her skin, inside and out, and stimulated by their previous contact, now positively burned with sensation. It was just as he had promised: everything was bigger, brighter, hotter, harder, faster: more.

She was racing across a sunlit meadow, crying out with joy, straining to reach the glittering summit that lingered just ahead, tantalizingly out of reach-

"Georg! No!"

This time, it had been a firm tweak of her nipple. He pulled away from her and lay sprawled across the bed, gasping for breath. "You see?" he choked.

"Y-yes," Maria moaned. When he had started up again, it had been- "Yes, but now can you just – I want-"

A moment later, he was on his knees behind her again. In her ear, a menacing chuckle. "Why such a rush? It just gets better, you know. I think you deserve to see what happens if we go on this way for a while longer."

"All right. One more time," she whimpered, although he hadn't exactly asked her opinion.

"Three more times," he demanded, "at least,'' and he thrust himself into her, hard. One hand thumbed a nipple, while the other flicked mercilessly at the soft place between her legs.

"Three? I can't-" but the rest of her words were swallowed up by her cries, and it didn't matter, really, whether he tested her limits one time or two or three or a hundred, because she couldn't count anyway.

Over and over, Georg took her right up to the edge, until every muscle, bone and nerve in her body screamed desperately for relief, but then he refused to release her. No matter what she did – pushing against those fluttering fingers, tightening against his pulsing length within her - he was relentless, moving her higher and higher, but never lingering long enough to satisfy. Every time he left her, he dragged himself against her until she ached with desire.

And when there was nothing left of her besides sensation, when Maria was nothing but a throbbing bundle of white-hot need, he summoned her back at last.

"Maria. Now. With me," he groaned, and in a swift flurry of arms and legs, he had her on her back, so she could see his handsome face, taut with desire, as he surged into her. She braced her feet against the bed and rose to meet him, clutching hard at the damp, working muscles of his back before he pulled away from her, again and again, leaving a slow, torturous trail of fire in his wake.

There was nothing except the place where they were joined, the sharp smells and frantic slap of flesh on flesh, and then his hands tangled in her hair and tugged her face close to his. His harsh cries against her mouth grew into one long scream, a scream like thunder cracking open the sky.

And then they were gone, flying into the raging tempest together, soaring past the moon, through the stars and straight into the sun, shattering into a million burning pieces, until all that remained were the cinders, floating lazily back to earth.

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They fought to stay awake as long as they could, hovering just at the edge of sleep, conscious, without speaking of it, that it was their last night together until Paris. Around dawn, when the birds' chorus joined the sound of the little creek rushing by outside the window, she fell into a fitful sleep. When she awoke, the space next to her was cold and empty.

"Georg!"

"I'm here."

He was standing before the mirror, dressed in trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. His eyes met hers in the mirror only briefly before he returned to scraping the razor across his face. "I nearly sliced my throat open trying to shave in the bathroom. The light in there is terrible. I'd forgotten," he added casually.

"What time is it?"

"Past eight."

"Eight?" Maria closed her eyes against the bright glare of morning light and the disappointing reappearance of her Captain, immersed in practical preparations for the day. Not yet, she thought, please, not yet, I'm not ready. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. I was hoping we'd have time to-" her eyes sought his in the mirror. "I mean, don't you want to come over here and-"

Georg had hoped to avoid the question entirely, but when he caught sight of her reflection, he knew he was in for a struggle. He could hardly believe this was the same girl who had so confused and bewitched him with her hot-and-cold worries about their honeymoon. Now Maria was the charming picture of trouble, cheeks rosy, golden hair mussed, her wild blue eyes watching him with undisguised hunger. Had there really been a moment when he wasn't certain she belonged to him?

"Maria," he said evenly. "If we start up again, we won't make it back to Vienna until dinner time. Max will be waiting for us at ten, and we've got to get there before he goes upstairs and finds out that Hede-"

He could hardly bear the look of disappointment, and even hurt, that crossed her face. He considered returning to her side for just a moment – a kiss on the forehead, perhaps, or a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder – but an immediate signal from his traitorous body told him that there would be no turning back after that.

"If you get dressed quickly, we'll have time for a cup of tea," was all he said.

Maria watched in disbelief as he buttoned himself into his shirt, tie and jacket, erasing any trace of the tender, ferocious Captain who had spent the last three days teaching her more about lovemaking than she had ever imagined possible. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, there was a new bond between them now, an invisible golden thread of passion and desire, and she couldn't resist giving it a little tug.

"Very well," she said cheerfully, swinging her legs out of bed before energetically pirouetting across the room. She felt his eyes on her as she bent over her bag and shamelessly wriggled her bare bottom at him. "What do you think," she asked, waving another bit of her purloined trousseau at him, "the red lace or the-"

"It's no use," he said hoarsely. She could see the muscles of his throat work before he muttered, as though to himself, "discipline, you know." Then he stalked from the room.

Ten minutes later, Maria appeared in the big room, fully dressed for the first time since they'd arrived at the little cottage three days ago. In his mind's eye, he couldn't help imagining what lay beneath her crisp blue skirt and white blouse – not imagining, for he knew it now, the curve of her waist, the round breasts and freckled shoulders and rough knees and the soft white skin of her thighs. Not to mention all that lingerie-

"I'll put the bags in the boot," was all he said, and she bit her lip, as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't manage it.

"I love you," he said quietly.

"I know," she whispered. "I just don't know how to go on. Not after what's happened."

For a moment, his heart nearly fell out of his chest. "You regret it?"

"No! No! That's not it at all! It's just that – when you asked me to stay with you here, I was so frightened. And confused. I wanted you, but I was afraid, you know, of what it would be like, and what you would say when you found out. About me."

"I told you. That doesn't matter," he said fiercely, his fists clenched against the nearly overwhelming desire to take her in his arms. "I don't care about it, not in the least. It doesn't matter at all," he repeated.

"I know," she sputtered, "That's just the thing. I thought I loved you before, you know, but – I know all about it now. Why two people like us, two people who don't seem to belong together at all, are meant for each other. Everything is different now. I'm different. We are different. You knew it all along, didn't you?"

"I-" he began, but she cut him off.

"You are part of me now, and I am a part of you. How do you expect us to pretend that none of it happened?"

"We have no choice, love." Georg crossed his arms across his chest. "Not with a houseful of servants and family and children. It's only two weeks until Paris, after all."

Before Maria could say any more, he returned to the bedroom, skirting a wide berth around her. When he emerged with their bags, he motioned with his chin, signaling her to lead the way outside.

As she reached for the doorknob, she couldn't resist giving that golden thread one last tug, just for good measure. "Georg-"

Behind her, there was a thump as their bags hit the floor.

"To hell with it," he growled, and then he had her up against the door, so that her toes barely touched the floor. Her arms went around his neck and she lifted her face to his for a kiss that turned out to be more like an invasion. Even as his tongue filled her mouth, he made a rough sound and dragged her skirt up around her waist. Surely he didn't intend to – but he'd already unbuttoned his trousers and was pushing himself, smooth and hot and huge, into her hand. He didn't even stop to undress her; he simply shoved her knickers out of the way and pushed himself inside, filling her with blissful sensation.

There was no end to his need to her, Georg thought hopelessly. She was already slick with desire, and within moments, she was convulsing around him until he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. It didn't take long at all before the fire gathered at the base of his spine streaked upward and exploded. Over the roaring in his ears, he barely heard her cry out again, but he felt her nails sink into the back of his neck, and with one last shuddering heave against the door, he poured himself into her.

They collapsed to the floor in a damp tangle of limbs before he choked out a single word.

"Studio."

"W-what?"

It was several minutes before he could explain himself.

"I used to have a little studio. Up on the third floor of the villa."

"Studio?"

"I briefly took up painting when it first happened, you know, but it didn't really-" he paused. "It probably needs a good dusting, but it's got a lock, and it's way over on the other side, over the ballroom. No one will be able to hear us."

"Oh, Georg," she glowed, "it sounds perfect." She gave him a bewitching smile. "I'll try to be quiet."

"There's no chance of that, Fraulein. I simply won't allow it."

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They made the careful drive back up to the main road in silence, but once they were pointed toward Vienna, he quickly set a breakneck pace.

"Georg!" she shouted over the rushing wind that nearly snatched the words from her lips. "You're going to get us both killed, and then it won't matter what Max thinks!"

It wasn't Max he was thinking about, though. He wasn't thinking of the Germans or the children, either. It was the pleasurable sting on his neck where he was sure she'd drawn blood. It was exhilaration, it was joy, and it was anticipation. They'd be back in Salzburg by dinner time. An early bedtime for the children, perhaps. After all, the wedding was no excuse to ignore their routines, and then-

They traveled the rest of the way back to Vienna with only the rushing wind for company, but once they were in the city, traffic slowed to a crawl. Maria shifted in her seat.

"Georg? I was thinking, and I was wondering-"

"Hm?" He seemed distracted, by the traffic, no doubt.

"Is it like that for everyone?"

He was silent, and when she peeked at his stern profile, she thought perhaps he hadn't heard her. But then a smug smile barely curved his lips as he answered.

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, it's not." It was only a few words, but his voice, soft and low, was like a caress.

A few minutes later, he pulled over to the curb in front of Hede's building. Overcome by self-consciousness, and the thoughts of all that had happened since they'd left Vienna three days earlier, Maria looked down at her lap, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, but when she remembered how those wrinkles had gotten there, her cheeks began to burn. When she looked up, Georg was watching her, smirking, his blue eyes dancing with wickedness.

It was a minute or two before they even noticed Max Detweiler leaning casually against a lamppost outside Hede's building, his bag at his feet.

Georg leaned out the car window.

"Max! Over here! We're ready to leave as soon as you're on board."

Max sauntered over to them and raised an eyebrow, maintaining an elegant silence for at least ten seconds before he said, "Hede sends her regards. She's feeling better, but it's safest if she keeps her distance for another few days. She'll be fine in time for the wedding, of course."

They ought to have strategized a response, ahead of time, Georg realized. He shot a cautious look at Maria, relaxing when he saw that she'd assumed an expression of perfect innocence. She was leaving it to him.

"I appreciate the update, Max. Let's get on the road, shall we?"

"Georg," Max narrowed his eyes. "As I recall, you were the person who asked for my help as a chaperon. Am I correct?"

"Yes, Max, but- look, let's just get going, shall we?"

"The moment I turn my back on the two of you, you – you – I don't even know what you did when your plans with Hede fell through. You should have gone straight back to Salzburg, you know. Did you go to a hotel? I hope you didn't-"

"We managed," Georg said, "that's all you need to know. Now get in the car. Unless you're walking back to Salzburg." As though to underscore his intention, he started the engine and put the car into gear.

"All right! All right!" Max scurried about, putting his bag in the boot and sliding into the rear seat. "Maria, darling, you know I'm only concerned on your behalf, don't you?"

"And I appreciate it," Maria murmured, "but we were able to make arrangements."

"Arrangements," Max smoothed his mustache. "What kind of a response is that?"

"A none of your business response," Georg scowled.

"Georg! Max!" Maria interrupted sternly, as though she were mediating an argument between Kurt and Friedrich. "Do stop bickering! Georg, darling, Max is only looking out for our best interests, and Max, I can assure you that Georg-"

She made an odd choking sound.

Georg looked over at her, alarmed, but she just gave him an impish grin, and with a wicked glint in her eye, added,

"It's just as I've heard you say, Max. Georg always rises to the occasion."

Georg bit back a laugh, shot his bride an approving smile, and stepped on the gas. He'd have them back in Salzburg by dinner time for sure.

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THE END

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And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading my story, and for sharing your enjoyment of it with your kind reviews – they were really inspiring! I always wanted to write an all-naughty story, and while this isn't the naughtiest story I've ever seen on this site, it was certainly new ground for me. I liked doing it, although I feel like I've eaten a pound of fudge, or an entire cake, or something. A bit much. I have already been writing bits of my next story, which will not be "mature," so stay tuned! Don't own, story or characters or anything, it's all for love.