In Her Secret Fantasy

by Marie Treanor

  “Sorry,” she said shakily. “I didn’t dress for seduction.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said breathlessly. In one sudden, almost shocking movement, he swept his own T-shirt up and off, dropping it on the ground.

  God he was beautiful. Her whole body flamed as she stared at his broad shoulders and chest, downward over an impressive six pack and the paradise trail that led inexorably inside his low slung jeans. He reached for her once more, drawing her blatantly against his narrow hips while he kissed her lips and throat. She slipped her arms around his waist, loving the feel of his smooth, warm skin, the hardness of his lean, muscled frame.

  Again, he lifted her in his arms and she swung two paces through the air before landing on her back on the softness of a quilt and mattress.

  “You came prepared,” she whispered.

  “I always make my bed. I never really imagined I’d get you to lie in it with me.”

  Didn’t he know that women would scratch each other’s eyes out for the chance of going to bed with him?

  “On the other hand,” he said, drawing something from his pocket. A condom. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Sex, sex, sex,” she murmured. It was meant to be mocking, but it sounded more like a plea.

  “If you insist,” he returned, leaning over her.

  Oh God, he’s really going to do it. For the first time since he’d touched her, panic fought its way up through the delicious haze of desire. Not because his tender seduction felt anything like attack, not because she wanted him to stop, but because he’d be inside her, and she’d no idea how she’d react. She could spoil this before it was begun.

  Maybe her sudden fear showed in her face. More likely, she was hurting his arm where her fingers dug into his flesh like pincers. Whatever, he paused, before slowly reaching up and detaching her hand, carrying it to his lips instead.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s no fun if don’t relax.”

  She opened her mouth to retort something flippant that would probably see him off. Fortunately, she didn’t get the chance to say it, for his mouth came down on hers and his sheer tenderness enchanted her all over again. She kissed him back with lips that trembled with need. She stroked his face, his shoulders, his hot, naked back, which moved to her every caress.

  He unbuttoned her top while he kissed her mouth. Then, as he laid her open for his gaze, spreading the top wide, he dragged his mouth down her throat to the swell of her breasts. Both hands slid under her back, unclipping her bra. She helped him pull it off since he’d gone very still, staring at her, his eyes darkening impossibly.

  He wanted her. He really wanted her. He liked her breasts, thought she was beautiful… Pride soared as he slowly cupped one breast in his hand.

  “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he said hoarsely.

  “No, I’m not.”

  A smile flickered over his lips. His hand moved, his thumb sweetly circling her nipple, then sweeping over it and gently pressing. “I’m afraid you have to let me be the judge of that.” And his head lowered to her other breast, kissing openmouthed, teasing, arousing—how could she be even more aroused than she’d been already?—before closing his lips on her nipple and softly sucking.

  She arched upward, searching blindly for his body, his hips, his cock—Oh fuck, can I really do this?—and found his hand. Shock seemed to dissolve the fear, let the sheer sensual pleasure consume her. He kissed and caressed her breasts, and began, slowly, to move his hand at the juncture of her thighs, stroking, sliding between, sparking new urgency, new fierceness to her desire.

  She reached for his jeans, discovering the long, hard shaft that strained against the fabric. His breath hissed against her breast and that felt wonderful too, egging her on to stroke him and then, slowly, teasingly, pull down the zip of his jeans.

  As if she’d flipped a switch, he wriggled, shoving jeans and underpants off with one hand and his feet. His other hand remained beguilingly at her crotch, quite still while he wriggled out of his remaining clothes; and then it began to move again, circling, pressing, stroking in a spiral of pleasure that deepened and soared.

  His breathtaking nakedness, the glimpse of his dark, upright cock and the responsive warmth of his body as she swept her hands down his back over the taut swell of his buttocks, all combined to undo her. His clever fingers rubbed the seam of her jeans against her clitoris. His tongue flickered over her nipple, and with a cry, she arched her hips, pushing into his wicked, beautiful hand, and fell into bliss.

  She heard his breathless mutter. It sounded like, “Christ, you’re beautiful,” which was a sweet fantasy, but not quite as wonderful as what was tearing her apart. He moved, covering her mouth with his, and she’d never been so happy in her life.

  By the time she came down enough to be aware of what was happening in the real world, her jeans were unzipped and halfway down her hips. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lift her bottom and help him. His hot, clouded eyes, his unsteady hands were everywhere, and in a rush, the heady satisfaction of sex morphed into a fresh surge of lust, all tangled with a need to give back, to make him as happy as he’d made her.

  Holding him by the shoulders, she pushed. He might still have been ultra aware of her past, of the possibility of her backing out even at this stage. He certainly rolled onto his back rather more easily than she’d expected, but taking advantage, she rolled with him, throwing her leg over his thighs and rearing up to straddle him. She took the bone-hard shaft of his cock in her hand, and he groaned. It sounded like agony, but the almost helpless upward thrust of his hips told her otherwise. A sound she’d never heard from herself before, a sort of throaty growl, vibrated inside her as she drew back his foreskin and stroked him. She rose to her knees, reached impatiently for the torn-open foil packet lying on the pillow and while he watched her with hot, predatory eyes, she rolled the condom on. He was breathing like a steam engine as she positioned the blunt head unerringly and pushed down on him.

  She was so wet he slid in easily, big, shocking, making her gasp as he stretched her. But his long, blissful groan was music to her ears, and when he took hold of her hips and pushed upward, all the way in, her muscles clenched not in resistance but in need.

  “This,” he whispered, “is where I’ve so wanted to be…”

  “I hope you have a nice time.”

  “Oh I will. I already am.” He moved, and sparks of pleasure scattered inside her. She rocked with him, then lifted herself and bore down, and suddenly all she wanted was to come again and bring him with her. Gasping, she placed her hand on his flat, unyielding stomach and rode him hard.

  She took him by surprise. For a moment, he just stared at her, letting her have her way, and that excited her, spurred her on. Only then, he thrust forcefully, gripping her hips to lift her higher and bring her down faster. Flame soared through her whole body. She threw her head back, matching his rhythm as his hands swept up and down her sides, roaming greedily over her hips and bottom.

  And then suddenly, she was under him. Leaning on his hands, he arched his back, bending to latch his mouth to her breast as he drove into her. She cried out, and with an effort that made his whole body shake, he slowed the pace, gentling his thrusts, and God, that was beautiful too. Frustrating but lovely. Slow, sensual fucking. The kind she’d dreamed about on cold, dark nights, even when she’d have run screaming from the reality.

  Well, this was reality. This was Aidan, making love to her, while the boat rocked and swayed under them, and she wanted to cry and scream at the same time. She never wanted this bliss to end, and yet if she didn’t come soon, she’d die.

  He left her breast and kissed her mouth instead, his tongue thrusting in the same rhythm as his hips, and her soft, incoherent cries grew louder. His heart pounded against her breasts, his ragged breath almost groaned into her mouth. When she grasped his buttocks and pulled him into her, he let go, thrusting hard and fast and desperate.

  Orgasm
hit her so hard that she screamed. He slammed into her again and again, and then fell on her as he came too. The amazing blast of heat from the condom surged through her climax, intensifying everything from the tips of her fingers to her convulsing core.

  She turned her head, openmouthed, seeking his lips and finding only his rough jaw, until he turned his head and kissed her. Fortunately, his lips seemed to work better than hers, which had gone slack and stupid.

  He didn’t move off her or pull away. She loved his weight pressing her into the mattress. Slowly, he released her mouth, which had finally learned to kiss again, and touched his forehead to hers. “Fuck, Chrissy,” he said. “Can I stay here all day?”

  And suddenly, she wanted to weep. “Yes, please,” she whispered, touching his face in wonder, smiling to keep back the tears. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to laugh and love.

  “Better deal with this first, though,” he said, grinding into her and making her gasp with intense after-tingles. “Don’t want the little fellows rushing off unsupervised.”

  Laughter shook her—that felt amazing too, for both of them, judging by his hiss and the way his hips moved. “Little fellows?”

  He grinned. “Your friends and mine, but they have to be kept under strict discipline.”

  “Well, you’re the cop. Arrest them.”

  He pushed up on one hand, easing out of her, and stripped off the condom. In Chrissy’s experience, this was where the closeness usually ended. Flat-out sleeping or a bolt for the pub usually ensued—normally in her company, she had to admit. She hadn’t gone out with many bastards. The isolation, the sense of loss she’d generally felt had been her problem, not her lovers’.

  Aidan dropped the condom carelessly on the floor beside the bed. “Remind me that’s there,” he said and settled back down against her, drawing her onto her side so they could lie face-to-face, fitting together like a jigsaw. His strong arms closed securely around her. His leg pinned her in place. And she didn’t mind at all. She was so grateful, she kissed him.

  When she’d finished, for the present, his lips smiled, and so did his eyes, and she couldn’t look away. His smile was everything she’d imagined and more. Her whole being seemed to thrill in response. Or perhaps it was her heart turning over with a whole new fear.

  I could fall in love with you. Oh, but I could…

  “You didn’t run away screaming,” he observed.

  “Did you expect me to?”

  He considered. “I was prepared for it. I can’t tell you how glad I am it didn’t happen.”

  “Me too.”

  With the tip of one finger, he traced a line from her lips to her neck and shoulder. “Am I your first lover since…?”

  “Since I was attacked?” It was easy to say now. No defiance, no need to prove that her recovery was complete enough to talk about it naturally. She had been attacked and raped. She’d endured, suffered and done the right thing and got on with her life. And now she’d made love with the sexiest man she’d ever encountered, and she felt…amazing. “Yes,” she said. “You’re the first.”

  Like the first ever. A new beginning.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

  Something not quite laughter caught in her throat. “That should be my line.”

  He shook his head, brushing his lips back and forward across her skin. “No,” he said. “No.” He cupped her face in his hand, kissing her mouth long and thoroughly. Against her thigh, his semi-erection stiffened and grew.

  The boat gave a bigger rock than usual, and Aidan broke the kiss with reluctance. “I should go up on deck and check on things. The weather’s a bit unpredictable.”

  She hugged him, pressing her cheek to his. If this was all there ever was between them, she’d remember it until the end of her life. Remember him.

  He stroked her hair. “We could get dressed,” he suggested. “Go back up on deck, drink more coffee and look out for seals.”

  “I can live with that.”

  He kissed her again. And when he stopped, she kissed him.

  He groaned, pulling himself slowly out of her arms. “Temptress. I’m having fantasies now about taking you against the wheel.”

  Desire surged higher. “In the warmer weather,” she said, and then flushed because when the weather was warmer here, he’d be in Iraq or somewhere else across the world. He wouldn’t be here. And suddenly that seemed wrong. Not because he wouldn’t be able to fuck her against the wheel in the sunshine, but because he’d be back in that murky world that he’d almost escaped.

  He paused, half out of the bed, and she covered her embarrassment with a cheeky grin. “Mind the condom.”

  “Damn,” he said, sliding to his feet and bending to pick up the offending object. Chrissy happily watched his bum as he walked across to a door on the right to get rid of it. “Toilet’s in there,” he added, reemerging, and this time she got to watch him walk naked from the front. He was, in anyone’s book, hot. As if unaware of her scrutiny—although she didn’t think he was—he climbed back into his clothes, including his sweater, and then sat down on the bed to kiss her.

  “This would be good,” he said huskily. “Right now.”

  Chrissy was far from averse. She even rubbed her naked breasts against his chest enjoying the rough wool on her sensitive nipples. His breath caught, but he released her with a groan and stood up. “Hurry or I’ll drink all the coffee.”

  “Not if you want to live,” she called after him, and he laughed. A proper laugh like the proper smile he’d given her earlier. As if he, like she, he was no longer broken.

  In the words of an Irish friend of hers, it was amazing what a damned good feck could do for you.

  Aidan whistled as he leapt onto the deck. His whole body felt energised and alive, sated with sex and tingling still from her caresses. He’d never thought of sex as sweet before. In his experience, it could be good; it could be fucking good, hard and urgent, or slow and gentle. Sometimes it was funny, and it was frequently just necessary. But this with Chrissy had been intense, deeply satisfying and curiously…beautiful. She was a sweet and passionate lover. The sweetest.

  As he scanned the sea around the boat, a movement behind the sail caught his eye. “What the…?” Frowning, he strode across the deck and stopped dead in his tracks.

  A naked woman smiled at him. The same naked woman he’d seen on the beach, all sleek dark hair and curves. She glided towards him, one slender foot in front of the other, walking with the poise of a catwalk model on the unsteady deck.

  “Aidan,” she purred. “And already in the mood.”

  A sense of wild unreality held him paralyzed as she slipped her body up against him and wound both arms around his neck.

  He grasped her wrists. “Where did you come from? Where’s your boat?”

  “We swam,” she said. “From the island.”

  “In this weather?” She should be shivering to death, not clamping her body against him. She didn’t even feel wet, never mind cold.

  “Any weather. Stop fighting me, Aidan. I’ll love you better than she did, than she ever could.”

  “Stop talking crap. I’ve no idea who you are!”

  She laughed deep in her throat. “Yes, you have.”

  “Aidan?” came Chrissy’s voice. “I’ve got this strange—” She broke off, possibly because she’d just caught sight of her lover of moments ago clutched in the arms of another woman. But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even look to be sure, for his gaze was riveted on the woman now leaping away from him, grabbing something he hadn’t even noticed from the deck, and jumping over the side of the boat.

  It happened so quickly, he couldn’t stop her. As it was, he bolted after her in time to see her hit the water.

  Chrissy smiled as she dressed hastily and climbed the ladder. She was eager just to be in Aidan’s company again. As she passed through the dim, tiny corridor to the deck, a shiver ran down her spine, making her pause and scan the shadows. She imagine
d a presence there with her, solid and yet unworldly. Breath stirred her hair.

  She pushed through the hatch, laughing at herself. The wind had stirred her hair, and it was certainly cold enough up here to make her shiver.

  Aidan’s voice drifted over to her. “…crap. I’ve no idea who you are.”

  On the phone perhaps. And yet as she moved towards him, she imagined a woman’s voice, speaking low and teasingly. Wind again, surely.

  “Aidan,” she called, stepping over the pile of ropes in her path to the other side of the boat. “I’ve got this strange—” She broke off, staring beyond the sail, where a totally naked woman unwound herself from Aidan and jumped away from him. She delved, snatching up something dark from the deck, and in almost the same movement, leapt overboard.

  Forcing herself, Chrissy moved forward, but Aidan had already landed against the rail, peering into the grey, choppy water. She caught a flash of pale flesh and black hair in the sea, and then, like some weird dream, she was gazing at a round seal head. The seal stared right at them from its dark, liquid eyes, opened its mouth to give a funny little bark and then it dived beneath the waves.

  “Where is she?” Chrissy demanded, unable to process what she’d seen. “Where did she go?”

  “We,” Aidan muttered. “She said we swam, not I swam…” He strode along the side of the boat, staring into the gently heaving water. From the other side came a splash and Aidan ran to the opposite side. “There’s another.”

  Chrissy trailed after him. A second seal swam away from the ship in the direction of the island. After a few moments, it was joined by the first, and they swam together.

  Chrissy stared at Aidan’s concentrated profile.

  “Aidan,” she said slowly. “Please tell we’re not letting some woman drown in the sea while we’re watching seals.”

  “She’s not really a woman, and they’re not really seals. I don’t think she can drown…”

  Fear for him clamped around her heart. “You’re not making any sense. What’s going on, Aidan?” As she spoke, she reached up to grab the hanging life belt, desperately scanning the sea for the woman who’d jumped.