by Linda Mooney
Reaching up with one hand, Johana placed it on his wide shoulder and allowed him in. Almost immediately Warren's other arm circled behind her, and she quickly found herself securely wrapped within his embrace.
Now she was totally caught up in his lovemaking. In the way his kiss scorched her from the inside out. In the way his fingers massaged her scalp, finding those little pressure points that shot pure lust between her thighs.
Too soon he stopped and pulled back slightly. Surprisingly, they both were panting, silent and expectant, while the scent of male and female blended in the air around them like thick perfume.
She tried to say something, but her mind was numb. Void of anything comprehensible. The pressure of his mouth and the invasion by his tongue as it explored hers needed no definition. She needed no explanation for the seductive message he had been sending her. If the loveseat hadn't been between them, Johana had no doubt as to what would be happening while he consumed her mouth.
Again, she tried to voice ... what? Her thoughts? Her doubts?
What was she doubting? The fact that she wanted to make love to him?
That wasn't a doubt. It was a wish that she was clinging to with all her heart. Which made her wonder, if Warren was wanting the same thing she was, were unspoken wishes granted, too?
"Johana.” Her name sounded guttural, pushed from where it had been stuck in his throat.
"Yes."
Such a simple word. Such a simple answer.
Yes? You wanted to say? You wanted what? You don't have to ask again. The answer is yes. The answer will always be yes. Don't even worry about the repercussions. Don't worry about tomorrow. Don't worry about anything except—
The loveseat disappeared. Warren lifted her to her feet, and their bodies melted into each other. His mouth nuzzled her ear; his warm breath thrummed with the hard beat of his heart.
"Johana, I understand now. I know now."
"Know? What?"
"What I've been missing ... or needing. It's you."
"Me?” She pushed against his chest until she could look up at him and the bright happiness reflected on his face. The man looked as though he had just had an epiphany.
"Yes, you, Johana. The woman who believes in me and my world as much as I do. The only woman willing to follow me here into this painting, ignoring the dangers and dismissing my bear of an attitude. You match me, Johana. You match, check, and mate me."
His lips came down over hers again, but this time the tenderness was replaced with an insistence and need she felt echoing inside herself. She thought she caught herself whimpering in response when she got up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck.
A slight tingling sensation washed over her. Warren raised his face, kissed her cheek next to her nose, and whispered, “I want to make love to you."
"Please. Do.” It was a miracle she could voice that much.
He lifted her without much effort. Suddenly, a firmness at her back diverted her attention from his warm smile. They were inside an enormous round room with numerous narrow, vertical windows. It was a bedroom containing a four-poster bed made of dark wood.
The covering beneath her was a thick, rich blue velvet. Johana glanced up to see Warren sitting on the side of the bed. He was watching her reaction with amused patience. Over his shoulder she could see the tint of an orange sunset coming through one of the slit-like windows.
Rising up on her elbows, Johana stared at the smile on his face. “That's some trick you've got there."
"Thank you. It took a while for me to perfect it."
"So, why'd you stop?"
"Stop?” There was a moment of puzzlement before he understood. “Oh! Well...” He looked down at the coverlet on the bed, and the reason for his hesitancy became immediately clear.
"Warren?"
He glanced up. “Yes?"
"It's been so long since I've been with a man, I think I've forgotten what to do.” The length of time was the truth. The part about forgetting wasn't quite the truth, but there was a major amount of haziness involved.
Warren chuckled. “Did you know I used to be engaged prior to my accident?"
Johana nodded. She remembered reading a small blurb about it, but since she hadn't come across any kind of marriage news afterward, she had assumed the engagement had been called off.
"It was right before my parents died. Penny was the kind of woman they approved of. She was from a wealthy background. Our families had a lot in common. And they pushed for us to go ahead with the nuptials."
"Did you have a lot in common with her?"
"Of course not, but we thought it wasn't necessary. She was attending college to become a fashion designer. I wanted to paint. We thought it was the perfect arrangement. But after my parents were killed, and I had to take over my dad's position in running the business, I didn't have time to be with her anymore. She ended up breaking off the engagement first, thank goodness. Last I heard she married some guy from the Hamptons. And then I had my accident..."
"What you're trying to tell me is that it's been a while for you, too."
She was answered with a lop-sided grin. “It's been a few years. To be honest, after the accident, I never thought I would be able to love someone again."
"Love? Or make love?"
He shook his head. “I never loved Penny. I knew that even though we had planned on marrying. She was ... not my type."
"What is your type, Mr. Castle?"
Reaching up, he smoothed her hair away from her face with the tenderness of gestures. His fingers lingered on her earlobe for a moment. His eyes appeared to be evaluating her features.
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Chapter Nine
"I'm a dreamer, Johana. The woman I fall in love with has to understand that."
"In other words, she has to be a dreamer, too?"
"That. And a believer. A believer in dreams coming true. A believer in things that can't exist existing. A believer in fairy tale castles and..."
"Warren?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we sitting here trying to talk ourselves into making love? Or talk ourselves out of it?"
She grabbed the hand still caressing her cheek and led it down to her breasts. Despite the change in scenery and their very unique circumstances, their clothing hadn't converted into anything that matched their surroundings. It was more proof he could control their situation but not her personally. Which meant that whatever actions she took tonight—or today?—were entirely her own. And not something that he made come true.
Or maybe ... it was a little bit of both.
Slowly, Johana laid back down, holding his open hand to the cleft between her breasts. The hand was warm, strong, and solid. It felt right, pressing against her skin through the blouse she wore. When she released it, he kept it there, not questioning her or her reason for initiating the contact. In fact, what she could see by the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips, he appeared to have been waiting for it.
Warren followed her down, leaning over her as his fingers spread and his mouth closed over hers. The kiss was gentle but shallow as he moved his lips over hers without broaching past them. Tickling the corner of her mouth, he bowed his head enough to where he could nuzzle her cheekbone.
His hand continued to move downward, fingers wide, seeking. It pressed into her flat belly until it reached the waistband of her pants. Then slowly he slipped underneath to continue his journey.
He moved tantalizingly slow. Deliberately weaving his way to the elastic top of her panties. His hand left a wide swath of warmth, enough to leave the rest of her shivering with anticipation.
Once the fingers reached the band, they snuggled past and crept for the softly furred mound. Johana felt her lungs struggling to breathe as his palm finally cupped her. Warren took her earlobe between his lips and pretended to chew on it.
The moan escaped her before she was aware of making a sound. Reaching up, her hands encountered his partially-opened shirt, and
she realized he was bending over her. A human canopy she wanted to descend on top of her.
"I never thought I would ever be able to do this again.” His confession was barely audible even though his mouth was near her ear.
Struggling to breathe against the heavy pounding of her heart, Johana asked, “You never thought you'd be able to make love again?"
"No.” He reared back slightly and gazed down at her. The hand touching her inner lips between her thighs paused. “I never thought I would be able to find someone who I could trust, or be willing to trust again."
The confession surprised her. “Don't you trust Gracie?” she somehow managed to whisper.
"I meant trust with my heart, Johana. Trust to believe in me. Trust to show her my world and all my creations without fear of being ridiculed."
"But you—"
She tried to say more but he slipped a finger between her folds and rubbed the quickly tightening nub. Unconscious of her response, Johana spread her legs to give him better access. A kiss landed on her closed eyelids—first one, then the other.
"'But you’ what?” Warren repeated with a trace of humor. If she opened her eyes she knew he would be smiling down at her. But the rising deliciousness he was building inside her was too wonderful not to savor, not to appreciate.
She was not a virgin, but the less than handful of men she had gone to bed with had been too quick to appease themselves. At the time, the lack of foreplay hadn't been that important to Johana. However, now she could see how much she had missed by not insisting on a little exploratory love stimulation beforehand.
One finger reached inside her weeping channel and began the in-out dance as his thumb continued to throw her body into rigidity. She cried out. In the next instant, he crooked his finger and began tapping directly on her g-spot.
She broke like glass, shattering into a thousand pieces and flinging fragments throughout the room. As the orgasm overpowered her, she was unaware of Warren stripping her bare from the waist down, then climbing between her raised knees. Swiftly he withdrew his hand to envelope himself within her.
Solid and thick, Warren slid into her even as she continued to spasm. He pressed past her nearly-virgin muscles, his erection burning through her like a rod of pure heat, and Johana arched her neck at his invasion. They rocked together until he was all the way inside, then gradually started to pump into her.
Johana shivered and clutched his shirt. With her head thrown back, exposing her neck, she silently offered him an expanse of warm, silken skin he could not resist. Warren paused long enough to lean down and mouth it, gliding his lips and tongue over it. Feeling the vibrations as she keened from his possession of her. He pressed his cheek and nose against the heartbeat pulsing just under the surface and continued to glide deep into her. Together they groaned from the sensations bursting inside them.
At some point he dropped to his elbows, lowering his face further until his hair brushed her ear. She could feel his breath moistening her shirt and shoulder. He was panting, same as she. He was working himself to his peak, and determined to bring her to her second one. Pushing, pumping, almost pile-driving himself into her. Calling out his name, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on. It was all she could do.
The last thing Johana expected was to find out she could orgasm so soon after the last one, and just as hard. But better than that there was no need to muffle her outcry. There were no neighbors to complain or call in the cops. She could scream as hard and loud as she wanted. Even Warren laughed loudly at her spontaneity as he rammed himself repeatedly into her before he also bellowed with his release.
He collapsed beside her, and together they silently lay within each other's embrace, waiting for the sweetness of the aftermath to finally slough away. Somewhere outside a bird chirped. Johana smiled in spite of it.
"Nice touch,” she whispered.
"Umm. What is?"
"The birds. The sound of the wind in the trees. All those little things that make this place feel like the real thing."
"It is the real thing, Johana. As long as I believe ... as long as you believe...” He snorted softly and rolled onto his back. “I thought you were talking about what just happened."
Turning her head to look at him, she could study his handsome profile without incurring a peevish reaction. “Warren, what just happened?"
"Huh?” He looked at her in puzzlement.
"Emotionally. I'm talking emotionally. Yes, I believe this place truly exists, although I won't begin to try and understand how. Yes, I believe we can be whole and well when we're here. And, yes, I believe we can have the most fantastic sex that ever existed. But what's left for us after we leave here?"
"I'm not leaving. Not ever again."
"No, no. Don't say that.” Turning onto her side, she scooted closer to where their bodies once again touched. Like her, he was naked from the waist down. She stared for a long moment at his flaccid member, and realized she wished she could reach over and play with it to her heart's content. Maybe try a little of that oral gratification she had read about in some of the romance novels she owned. That, and maybe a different position other than missionary.
"I mean it, Johana. I'm not going back. I've done my duty. I've gotten Dad's company to the point where it can manage now without me. They don't need me anymore. Tell Gracie when you leave to file a missing person's report on me."
"Warren!"
"No. Listen to me. Tell her to file that report. Then order her to seal the painting."
"What? Why? Why seal the painting?"
"You know very well why. I don't want anything to happen to it. I'm afraid if it gets damaged, it'll somehow affect my being in here."
"Affect you being in here? You mean by yourself?"
He paused long enough for the full effect of her meaning to sink in. “Haven't you grasped by now that I'll never leave Castle's Keep? That I'll spend the rest of my life here. Where I can be a whole man? A free man?"
"So that's it?” she snapped at him, feeling her own anger quickly rising. “You'll let me play in your sandbox, but afterwards you're kicking me out?"
His dark brows snapped downward and his cheeks flushed at her reproach. “Just listen to me, dammit! I'm not done!"
"The hell you aren't!” Swinging around, Johana slipped off the bed and reached for her pants lying in a heap on the rug. She could feel the bed move as Warren lunged for her, but she was quicker. Snatching up her shoes, she ran out the only door she could see, then raced down the stone stairwell that corkscrewed down the keep. Behind her Warren tried to catch up as he yelled at her to stop.
"Johana! Johana, dammit, let me explain!"
William Castle was back. The perpetually angry and belligerent man was chasing after her, wanting her gone so he could live his happily ever after all by himself.
"Screw you, Castle!” she yelled back.
"Johana, for crying out loud, give me one minute! One! Minute!"
They had reached the bottom of the stairwell that opened up into T-shaped entryway. A door led to her left and one to her right, and she had absolutely no idea which way to go.
"Let me see a way out, dammit!” she cried out to the building. But like the incident in the dining room, the painting refused to follow her orders. Letting out a little growl of frustration, Johana whirled on him. Without knowing the way out, or being able to make one, she might as well let him have a second chance.
He half-fell, half-hopped the last three steps, landing in front of her. The dark cloud remained on his face, but she could sense fear as well. But why he would be fearful eluded her.
"Johana...” He reached for her. She took a step back, and the gesture was enough to make him pause. “Johana, listen to me."
"I'm listening, but I don't like what I'm hearing. Are you telling me I'm not welcome here? That I don't belong here because I didn't create it like you did? Because if that's what you're saying, you're not only a son of a bitch for being that selfish, you're also a h
orse's ass!"
She took another step away from him, then pointed to the nearest doorway. “Which exit is the way out? Tell me, damn you, and I'll be out of this painting so fast—"
"Johana! Dammit, stop and think for a second! Just think!” Warren lunged for her and managed to snag her new arm before she could jerk it out of his reach again. “Listen to me!"
Suddenly his voice was gentle, the anger and bitterness replaced with the same tender tone he had used when he'd made love to her. She blinked. He noticed her confusion and lightly squeezed her arm.
"Johana, if something happened to me, how would you survive here? I mean, I created Castle's Keep. I created this world. I can call up the weather, a place to sleep, food to eat ... I can do it at will! But you can't! The painting, this place obeys me, not you."
She looked up into eyes that were no longer dark with anger, but filled now with worry. “We don't know that for certain. Maybe I haven't tried hard enough."
"It won't matter,” he confessed, shaking his head. “I already know you can't."
"You're so damn sure of yourself, aren't you?” she bitterly murmured. They were standing in a cold entryway, half-dressed and naked from the waist down. Like her, he was carrying his pants and shoes. Reminding her that a few short moments ago they were involved in the most perfect blending of bodies. Her heart wept with the memory.
He was throwing her away even though, deep within herself she knew he didn't want to. Why couldn't the man see she belonged here with him? Why couldn't he admit that the only other person capable of penetrating the painting's barrier could also penetrate the barrier he had thrown up around his heart?
They stood in the foyer for another full minute. Neither of them willing to budge. Neither wanting to admit the truth. It wasn't until a chill went through her and she shivered that the spell broke. As Johana bent over to pull on her pants and put her shoes back on, she realized she'd forgotten her underwear. It didn't matter. Warren gestured behind her.