“Then I haven’t lost my touch.”
“No, you haven’t,” she purred, and rolling off him, she lay on her back like the enchantress she was, her legs gracefully disposed in open invitation, her smile tantalizing. “So what will it be first?”
Propping himself up in a lounging pose beside her, he gave her a considering look. “I could say it’s up to you, but I’m not feeling chivalrous. I feel like exerting my authority.”
“Just so long as we take turns being authoritative, exert away,” Aurore replied, her tone as softly assertive as his.
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t.”
“You’re right, of course,” he agreed, suddenly affable. “We’ll take turns.” He didn’t care to fight over something so ridiculous. He dominated her in size and strength; whether she took control was entirely up to him.
“Excellent choice.”
“Do all your lovers so readily comply?” he murmured, amusement in his gaze.
“Do yours?”
There was the merest pause and then he said, “I retract my question.”
“I rather thought you might.”
“We do have more interesting avenues to explore,” he said with an urbane smile.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“So then,” he said, “let’s start with these.” Reaching out, he lightly traced the plump mounds of her breasts with his fingertips. “If that’s all right with you, of course,” he added, his voice velvet soft.
It took her a fraction of a second to answer, her exaggerated response to his touch momentarily focusing her concentration on the most exquisite internal stimuli. “Do what you will,” she finally said, occupied by the wild throbbing in her vagina.
“Such gratifying hospitality,” he murmured.
Transiently meeting his gaze, she arched her back into his skimming fingertips. “I have expectations of gratification in return.”
He didn’t often find a lady so inclined to arrogance. “Does this please you then?” Dipping his head, he lightly nibbled on one nipple. “Or do you prefer this?” Her challenging presumption brought his blood up, and when he drew her taut nipple into his mouth he sucked several degrees more forcefully than he ordinarily might.
Aurore moaned deep in her throat as a sharp frisson swept downward from her compressed nipple and settled with a fierce, quivering jolt in her heated sex.
At her suppressed pleasure sound, Darley lifted his head marginally and surveyed her face—flushed pink with passion. “You like it hard, I see,” he gruffly said. “How hard exactly?” Operating in some reckless no-man’s-land, feeling both a rare tenderness toward this lush beauty and an audacious disregard for anything but brute sensation, there was a possibility he might be guided by her answer—but only barely.
“You decide,” she whispered.
They were both in a foolhardy mood tonight.
But perhaps, feeling anything at all meant you were still alive.
He decided, she screamed, and lunging upward slapped him viciously. “You bite me again,” she hissed, “and I’ll take a piece out of your cock.”
“As if you could,” he mildly said.
She slapped him again, even harder.
He could have stopped her; his reflexes were superb. “You’re strong.” His gaze was amused, his lounging pose unaltered.
“And you don’t flinch.”
“You’re not that strong.”
“You hurt me,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry. Lack of sleep or something.”
Her eyes flared wide at his indifference. “I should call you out, you rude man. I can shoot as well as you.”
Predictable though she was, Zania might have been less trouble, he thought, not sure he was in the mood for hostility with his sex. On the other hand, Miss Clement was within reach, nude, at least formerly receptive and he had a hard-on. An easy decision. “Since I didn’t bring a weapon,” he drawled, “let’s fuck instead.”
“I’m no longer in the mood,” Aurore snapped, coming to her knees, her spine rigid, her pose combative.
“You don’t mean that.” Bland words, an even blander gaze.
“I most certainly do,” she hotly retorted.
Aware of her swift glance at his crotch, however, as well as the rising blush on her cheeks, he suavely said, “You’re right, of course. I was rude. I apologize most profusely for hurting you. Do you suppose we could be friends again?” Adept at reading women, he understood a modicum of groveling was called for. Other than that, the lady was more than willing.
“You must do as I say then.” Balky, imperious words.
“Willingly,” he smoothly replied; she was clearly unable to resist her sexual urges. “May I touch you?”
He was much too assured, and if she wasn’t caught up in a tumult of emotions—all inexplicable save for her frenzied need to make it through the night—she might have answered differently. “You may touch me gently,” she said, with the merest temper in her voice, submitting with bad grace to her predicament.
“Like this?” He slipped his hand between her thighs and pressed his palm upward until her pubic bone came in contact with the heel of his hand. Since her eyes had gone shut and she wasn’t moving, he took the liberty of running his middle finger down her slippery cleft and was gratified to feel her shudder. “I’ll be particularly gentle from now on,” he whispered, smoothly rising into a seated position in a graceful flex of abdominal muscles.
Picking her up with ease, he placed her on his lap. “If I’m hurting you, tell me to stop and I will.” It might be difficult, but he was capable of controlling himself, and in the interests of politesse he would. “Up on your knees, darling,” he murmured, guiding his erection to her sleek cunt and slipping the crest of his cock between her pouty flesh. “There, now, come down,” he prompted, and with exquisite restraint, he slowly eased her down his engorged cock, practically counting to ten between each measured gradation in her descent.
As the sheer size of Gazi stretched her taut, as she was forced to accept his huge penis, as every and all of her megalo-manic, selfish, carnal cravings were exquisitely indulged, the phrase die of pleasure took on a whole new meaning.
Insensible to all but the intoxicating pressure, her every quivering nerve ending inflamed and seething, nothing mattered—not discretion or options, not motive or cause—only stark, ravenous need.
She was whimpering softly as he penetrated her lush cunt that last small distance, and fully submerged, engulfed by her hot, honeyed flesh, he decided that if heaven on earth existed, this particular bed in this particular hotel was the spectacular location. “Am I hurting you?” he whispered with the doting affection of a man inexorably caught in the throes of overpowering voluptuary sensation.
She shook her head in the barest of movements, unable to force her brain to send the signals necessary for speech.
“Good,” he said approvingly, as though praising her for a deed well done. “Is it all right if I move?” Overwhelmed by an exceptional solicitude, he carefully watched for her response.
“Please.” Desperately needing what he alone could give her, she managed the single, almost inaudible word.
Feeling as though he’d been offered a glorious gift, he whispered with unprecedented fervor, “Thank you.”
That they’d met in this star-crossed world by a fortuitous accident of fate was as inexplicable as their explosive passion. Although, perhaps it wasn’t fate at all but the happenstance of Aurore’s hair color and scent that had prompted Darley’s offer of a ride. Not that either were inclined to debate why they were together with wild, impatient lust swamping their reason.
“I’m going to lift you now,” he whispered, politely giving her warning.
She didn’t reply.
But her fingers tightened on his shoulders and he knew he’d been given license. Nearly circling her slender waist with his large hands, he slowly raised her up the rigid length of his erection with an ef
fortless strength.
She whimpered at the last, fearful of losing contact with the tantalizing source of her pleasure.
“Here, here,” he quickly acceded, kissing her gently as he began to lower her once again. “You can have it back.”
Her small sigh was one of voluptuous satisfaction, and when she came to rest on his thighs brief moments later, when she was fully impaled on his stiff, pulsing cock, she languidly opened her eyes and offered him the sweetest of smiles. “When I feel this heady rapture, how can I possibly stay angry with you?”
“I’m glad you’re not angry,” he said, his tone uncommonly grave.
Both instantly uneasy, they spoke in unison.
“You first,” Darley said, gruffly, chagrined by his momentary lapse.
“I was just going to say I very much appreciate your company tonight,” Aurore offered blandly.
“A benign interpretation for this,” he murmured with a polished smile, and flexing his hips, he deliberately terminated the conversation.
She gasped as he thrust upward with unchecked power, and a hot flood of pleasure washed over her. A moment later, when the shimmering glory had passed, she slowly came up on her knees, triggering another breath-held moment for them both. The world righted itself brief seconds later, her lashes lifted and meeting his gaze, she said, sweetly, “You are most obliging, darling Gazi.”
“I promise to be obliging as long as you can stand it,” he replied with a faint grin.
“A contest I look forward to.” She smiled. “Perhaps you’d care to place a wager on what—our endurance?”
It was amazing how long his adrenalin could keep pumping when the perfect enticement was at hand. It was even more amazing how many times Miss Clement could come, Darley decided after losing count. Then again, she said she’d been celibate for some time. While he didn’t have that excuse, he acquitted himself well. Practice did make perfect.
But in time, even Miss Clement called quits.
“I can’t,” she gasped, swiveling a look over her shoulder. “No more.”
“What do I win?” he teased, his hands hard on her hips, his cock buried deep in her creamy cunt.
“How about—my eternal gratitude?”
“Whatever you say, darling.”
“As if what I say—has mattered…a whit tonight,” she panted.
“Au contraire. I have been more gentlemanly than usual.”
She glanced back again. “Meaning—no whips…like Zania prefers?”
Darley’s eyes widened marginally.
“Surely you don’t think—gossip like that…can be suppressed?”
Darley shrugged, indifferent to gossip. “I’m not sure I’m capable of thinking at all anymore,” he murmured. “Although I do need another few seconds if you can stand it.”
“Don’t expect me to move,” she warned.
“That won’t be necessary.” His continuous erection in close proximity to the captivating Miss Clement required little stimulation, and gentleman that he was tonight, he quickly finished. “There now,” he said with a grin, wiping her back with one of the towels he’d brought to the bed, “no further duties are required of you.”
“Good,” she whispered, falling back against the pillows and offering him a dazzling smile. “Then I don’t have to apologize for having been demanding.”
“Not really,” he drawled, wiping himself off.
“You’re vastly accommodating, Gazi,” Aurore purred, slowly stretching like a cat in the sun. “I like that no thought was required tonight, only feeling.”
He shot her a look from under his lashes. “Anything but thinking was on my agenda tonight.” And Miss Clement was unrivaled in offering him mindless pleasure, he decided, dropping into a sprawl beside her. “In fact, thinking is much overrated at the moment, if you ask me. To whit—the respective commanders in this damnable war who are incapable of rational thought. What we shared tonight is probably the only sanity in a world gone mad.”
Realizing that his harangue was falling on deaf ears, he turned to find his companion had fallen asleep.
Rising on one elbow, he took the opportunity to contemplate her at leisure, her fair, blushing beauty a delight to the eye. An intangible familiarity about her may have factored in his appreciation as well—that sense of recall therapeutic rather than burdensome, the unalloyed pleasure she’d brought him tonight, singular.
Nor was it exclusively about sex. He’d stayed when normally he would have made his excuses after a decent interval and left. Granted, he’d promised her that he’d stay, but who wouldn’t have prior to consummation?
His continuing fascination with her despite a surfeit of sex, however, was unusual. Sexual surfeit generally prompted him to a swift departure.
And yet here he was like some besotted fool when he should have been long gone.
Which word, besotted, abruptly curtailed his musing.
He wouldn’t say he’d never been besotted, but he was no longer a green youth like he’d been with Lucia. Nor was he about to contemplate so bizarre an emotion after only a few hours in Miss Clement’s bed.
Good God, he must be exhausted to even consider such a notion.
Quickly sliding from the bed, he covered Aurore with the quilt and began gathering up his clothes. Just as he was stepping into his breeches, Aurore softly moaned in her sleep and he made the mistake of looking.
Standing motionless near the bed, his breeches halfway up his hips, he stared at the glorious sleeping woman. She’d shoved a portion of the quilt aside and one of her breasts was exposed—a pink, soft, little hillock with a jewel-hard nipple, tempting as hell, tantalizing as food to a starving man.
He softly swore and attempted to tamp down the surge of lust swelling his cock.
He told himself he’d damn near worn himself out tonight.
He told himself he should sleep for at least an hour before morning.
He told himself he was getting in too deep.
Then she abruptly rolled over in her sleep, turning her back to him, and the covers twisted away, exposing her lush, shapely bottom.
There was only so much temptation a man could take. Dropping his breeches, he stepped over them and climbed in beside her.
He had no explanation other than lust.
Or not one he wished to acknowledge.
Sliding into her welcoming sex from behind, he pulled her close, their bodies fitting together as perfectly as ever, the peerless merging instantly inflaming every overwrought nerve and cell and fervid sensibility to fever pitch.
Aurore woke enough to die away with a whisper of thanks at the end and flooded with sumptuous well-being, Darley held her close, sated and content.
He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but exhausted after days without rest, he too succumbed his weariness.
They slept like the dead.
Or rather, considering their recent sexual transports, their sleep might be better characterized as one of Arcadian bliss.
Whatever the designation, in those brief hours before dawn, they escaped the beleaguered world and found peace in each other’s arms.
Chapter 12
A hard pounding on the door woke them.
“Merde,” Darley muttered, glancing at the clock on the mantel.
Shaking herself awake, Aurore sat up and, raising her voice enough to be heard by the hotel servant sent to wake her, called out, “I hear you! Thank you! And thank you,” she softly added, turning to Darley with a smile as she slipped from the bed.
“It was definitely my pleasure.” He didn’t ask her to stay. She only had a half hour to ready herself before her seven o’clock appointment at the hospital.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, moving toward the armoire, “I’d like to go downstairs first. You could follow at a decent interval.”
“Understood.” Although he would have preferred pulling her succulent nude body back into bed.
“And just for the record,” she added, turning back to him, one hand o
n the armoire door, “I am not in the habit of doing what I did last night.”
She was frowning slightly, so he answered with well-mannered grace. “I never thought you did. I was merely hopeful.”
“If my brother wasn’t so ill,” she said with a sigh. “Not that I feel the need to make excuses,” she added, a new briskness in her voice. “I don’t.” Turning away, she reached for her gown.
“I understand. I’m completely discreet if you’re worried.”
Swinging back, a blue gabardine traveling dress over her arm, she met his gaze. “You weren’t discreet with Zania.”
“I could have been. Discretion is not Zania’s strong suit, however, as you may have noticed.”
“Point taken,” Aurore noted drily, tossing her gown on a chair. “She was practically eating you alive.”
He had no intention of discussing Zania’s sexual appetites. “Will you be traveling in your carriage?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I’ll bring my carriage along, but Ibrahim was to hire a suitable vehicle in which Etienne can lie down. I talked to him after dinner last night; he stays down the hall. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Retreating behind a screen in the corner that shielded the newly installed water closet added to the palatial hotel built in the previous century, she took advantage of the facilities. Reappearing some moments later, she moved to the sink in the corner.
“You should be safe in Simferopol,” Darley offered, making polite conversation. “I’ll send a message so my staff will expect you. Since you have to travel slowly with your brother, everything should be in readiness on your arrival.”
“I am so very grateful.” She spoke over the sound of running water. “Naturally, I will repay you for your kindness.”
“You already have,” Darley said.
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Nevertheless, I am beholden.”
He smiled back. “In that case, I shan’t refuse your gratitude in whatever form it takes.”
“Libertine.” But her tone was teasing.
At Her Service Page 8