Fire Down Below

by Carly Roberts

  “Your body lubricates itself ready for a man, Maddie. The more turned on you are, the easier it is for a man to enter you.”

  I stared at him. “Oh.” I felt as if he’d suddenly told me the sun rises in the east, a fact of which I should have been aware, but that I’d never noticed.

  “The key is for a man to get the woman so aroused that it makes it pleasurable for you both when he enters you.”

  “Ah.”

  “You did not realize this?”

  “I had no idea.” How could I be so clueless? “Does everyone know this except me?”

  “I would say probably ninety percent of men would look at me blankly if I mentioned it. Most of them think a lick of their fingers is all they need to get things lubricated down there.”

  I studied him, unable to hide my wonder at this revelation. “How do you know this?”

  “Practice.” He grinned.

  “But—”

  “I had a good teacher, many years ago. Like I said, it’s not complicated, but it is treated as if it is a big secret, which is a shame when the tweak of a few techniques would make a big difference to a lot of marriages, I’m sure.” He twirled one of my curls around his finger. “You really weren’t aware of this?”

  “I’m ashamed to admit it, but no. How do you... um... get things lubricated, then?”

  He met my gaze, and his lips curved slowly up. “Oh, I think it will be more fun to show you than to explain it.”

  My heart rate began to pick up. “Sam...”

  He lifted up onto an elbow and cupped my face. “Ssh.”

  “But—”

  He kissed me.

  I sighed and let him, sensing he wouldn’t listen to my protests. I felt like someone who’d been press-ganged on board a ship setting sail for an exotic location, and I had no idea how to climb the rigging or steer the ship. In fact I could barely scrub the decks.

  He lifted his head and stroked my face. “You need to stop thinking.”

  “That’s like asking the rivers to stop running or the dogs to stop howling at the moon.”

  “Maddie. Just relax.”

  “Maybe after we’ve fucked. I don’t think I can relax before we do it.”

  He kissed my nose. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “You’re not?” I pushed myself up, the disappointment so strong it made me gasp.

  He sat up too, got off the bed, and pulled me to my feet. “No, sweetheart. I’m going to make love to you.”

  “It’s the same thing, Sam.”

  “It’s not the same thing, and it makes me sad that you think it is. But I’m going to show you the difference.”

  He led me across to the window and out onto the balcony, stood behind me, and slid his arms around my waist. Out to sea, the Whydah rested on a still ocean, its masts painted silver in the moonlight.

  “She’s a fine vessel,” I said, leaning back against him.

  “I only sail in the best.” He brought his hands up to stroke the swell of my breasts. “And look, we have two rising moons to light our way.”

  I gave a short laugh, looking down as he took the ribbon at the top of my bodice and pulled it undone. He loosened the laces, and I inhaled sharply as he slipped his hand inside, sliding beneath my stays to cup my breast.

  “Sam! We should go inside. People will see.”

  “All those people who are watching us,” he murmured in my ear.

  I looked across the orchard. “I acknowledge there isn’t a crowd, but someone out on the beach might see us and—oh!” My lips parted as he brushed his thumb over my nipple.

  “Nobody will see us.” His words were little more than warm breath on my ear. “I want to feel you here, Madeleine, with the sea breeze on my skin and the moonlight on your face. I want to have a vivid picture in my mind of the first time you come for me.”

  “I’ve already come for you,” I whispered, shivering, not from the breeze, which was warm, but from his sure, sensual touch.

  “Ah, but this time I get to watch.”

  I closed my eyes, letting my other senses take over. The smell of lemons and mandarins filled my nostrils, along with the headier scent from the jasmine growing in the borders beneath me. I could hear the gentle brush of the waves along the shore, the occasional laugh or shout from the men still working by the docks, the singing of cicadas serenading us in the bush. But the sounds were just a backdrop to the sexy murmur of Sam’s voice in my ear as he told me what he was going to do to me.

  “First we’ll get rid of some of that tension,” he said, taking my right nipple between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and gently squeezing it. I sighed and let my head fall back on his shoulder. “That’s right, sweetheart. Just relax and enjoy it.”

  He rested his right hand on my thigh and began to gather up my skirts in his fingers, kissing my neck as he did so. “Imagine you’re on a rowboat with me, bobbing about on the waves, in the middle of the ocean, with no worries, nothing to think about except the touch of my hands on your skin and that delicious tightening deep inside you that won’t go away.”

  He succeeded in lifting my skirt and petticoats, and then his hand was under my chemise and resting on my thigh.

  “Sam,” I whispered, covering my hand with his over my dress. He’d barely touched me, but already I was filled with longing, aching the way he’d described it, tightening deep inside. How had he known?

  Pressing soft kisses down my neck to my shoulder, he continued to play with my right nipple, flicking the tip with his thumb and then tugging it gently, and I moaned.

  “So easy to arouse,” he murmured, moving his hand between my legs under the dress. “I like that.”

  Covering my mound with his hand, he slipped his fingers into my folds. “Mmm. You’re wet already, Madeleine. You want me, don’t you? You want me inside you, teasing you to ecstasy?” He slid his middle finger down to catch some moisture and then brought it back up to circle over my clit. “Your little button is begging me to touch it. I want to kiss it. I want to suck it until you come on my tongue again and fill my mouth with your cream.”

  “Oh Jesus, Sam...” His deep, sexy voice stirred me inside, and I felt the inexorable approach of an orgasm as his fingers continued to stroke, pressure building inside me.

  “Yes, Maddie, come on, come for me. I want to feel you and watch you come. I want to know I’ve given you pleasure and hear you say my name.”

  He pinched my nipple, stroking more firmly over my clit, and I clutched hold of the railing and came, biting my lip hard so I didn’t yell his name across the town, even though it was bursting to spill out of me.

  His hand remained cupping me, his fingers pressing into my folds, his other arm supporting my weight as I sagged forward, holding me until the waves of pleasure had finished crashing over me.

  Chapter Eight

  My eyes fluttered open and I gave a long sigh.

  Sam tutted and turned me in his arms. “I told you I wanted to hear you say my name.”

  “I’m not going to announce my climax to the whole of Nassau, Sam.”

  “I want you to,” he said fiercely, pulling me back into the room. “I want everyone to know that you’ve finally been shown what real lovemaking is, now that bastard husband of yours has found his rightful place in the grave.”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that,” I started to protest, my mother’s religious influence still having a hold over me even though she’d died when I was young.

  But Sam ignored me, pushed me back against the wall, and covered my mouth with his.

  I groaned, opening my lips as he stroked them with his tongue, and let him invade me. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, hot and wet, sending my heart racing once again at the sheer heat of his passion.

  Tearing his mouth from mine, he tugged expertly at the pins that held up my hair and tossed them onto the floor. Releasing my hair, he let it tumble around my shoulders before separating the strands with his fingers and then sinking on
e hand into them to cup my head. “I want you, Maddie, more than I’ve ever want anything in my whole life.”

  My chest heaved with emotion, and tears pricked my eyes as he kissed me again. I knew his words to be of the moment, but that didn’t mean they held no meaning. Tomorrow, he would probably be lying with another woman, but right now he wanted me. The years we’d spent watching each other, exchanging teasing comments, catching each other’s eye, and wishing things were different, made this coming together as sweet as pineapple fresh from the tree.

  He kissed me again, and I lifted my arms around his neck and gave myself over to the embrace, pressing up against him and enjoying the feel of his hard body against my soft one.

  Pulling at the ribbons on my bodice, he unlaced the front, then tugged at the ties of the skirt until the whole lot fell into a heap onto the floor. His fingers made similar deft work of the ties holding up my petticoats, and then he unlaced my stays until that item loosened and he could remove it as well.

  Leaving me in my linen chemise, he undid the ties of his shirt and tugged that over his head, unbuttoned his breeches and kicked them off, divested himself of stockings and shoes, and took off his linen undergarment to stand before me naked.

  Taking hold of my chemise by the hem, he drew it up my body, then threw it onto the heap of clothes without a second look.

  He rested his hands on my hips, his gaze sliding down me like warmed honey. “Maddie...”

  His voice trailed off, and he stared. I followed his eyes down to where they’d stopped at my navel.

  I had a small silver piercing through the tiny fold of skin above my navel, and in the dip below it sat a bluish pearl.

  His eyes came back to mine. “Is it...?”

  “Yes. I figured it was safer if I kept it on me at all times.”

  He laughed and brushed his thumb over it. “It looks sexy.” He slid his hand lower, cupping my mound. “Not as sexy as this, though.”

  I swallowed hard. I felt naked in more ways than one. Until then I hadn’t understood how taking off one’s clothing removed more than a physical barrier. Tom had rarely bothered to take the time to discover what lay under my dress, and in fact sometimes I’d wondered whether the sight of my young, curvy body had made him ashamed of the way he treated me.

  In taking off my clothes, Sam had also stripped me of all pretension. He’d removed my carefully constructed facade, along with the weight of the past that I carried on my shoulders. Standing like this, wearing nothing but a nervous smile, I was no longer the blousy and confident owner of the tavern but just Madeleine, a hesitant and somewhat shy twenty-three year old girl rather than the knowing woman in her thirties people took me to be.

  “You look so young,” he said with a measure of awe in his voice. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough.”

  He gave me a wry look and brushed my waist with his thumbs. “And no babies?”

  “It never happened.” Mainly because Tom had preferred to either take me anally or for me to go down on him. I’d never protested, glad at my failure to fall pregnant each month. I wouldn’t have wanted to bear Tom a child, although sometimes I wished I had someone of my own, someone I could love and care for.

  “Do you want me to make sure I don’t father a baby?” Sam asked huskily.

  I thought of the way he’d spilled into Liza’s hand, and how much I’d yearned to feel him come inside me. Even though the tavern was one of the worst places I could think of to bring up a child, I shook my head.

  “If it happens,” he said huskily, “let me know, won’t you? I would make sure you were well provided for.”

  He would make a terrible father, spending less than a month at home over the year and with the constant threat of death hanging over him. But something raw and primeval was rising through me, and without another word I sank my fingers into his hair and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  He slid his arms around me and pulled me close, and I reveled in the feeling of his warm skin against mine. “I dreamed about this,” I whispered when he kissed around to my ear. “It was a fantasy that got me through some dark days.”

  He cupped my breast and rubbed his thumb across my nipple. “I tried to picture you without clothes but I swear, Maddie, the truth is more marvelous than the dream.” Placing his hands beneath my bottom, he lifted me onto the dresser, and I opened my legs so he could stand between them.

  “Your skin is like silk,” he said with a measure of awe. He nuzzled my neck. “And you smell like a lady.”

  I’d spent an hour bathing and rubbing my skin with perfumed lotion, but I wouldn’t tell him that. I was pleased he’d noticed, though.

  He kissed down my neck to my breasts and lifted one in his palm, feeling the weight before he covered my nipple with his mouth. I leaned back on my hands, tipping my head back and arching my spine to push my breasts toward him. He sucked, his mouth hot and wet, switching from one nipple to the other until they gleamed like pebbles fresh from the ocean floor.

  “Sam...” I was spiraling out of control, lost in sensations both physically and emotionally new to me.

  He dropped to his knees, and I groaned and fell back onto my elbows as he kissed up my thighs to between my legs and, without further ado, buried his mouth in me. “Fuck,” I said, feeling wanton as I spread my legs and opened up to his searching tongue.

  Instead of berating me for my curse, though, he gave a murmur of pleasure and said, “Yes, let me hear you, Maddie.”

  Placing his hands on either side of my folds, he parted them to give his tongue better access and slid it inside me, as far as he could reach. I cried out, and he removed it and replaced it with two fingers, turning his attention instead to my clit. Covering it with his mouth, he swirled his tongue around the swelling, and the combination of the hot, wet pressure there and the stroking of his fingers sparked the first, delicious tightening of muscles deep inside yet again.

  “Oh...” I said with a groan, and sank my fingers into his hair.

  “Jesus, Madeleine, you’re so wet.” He plunged his fingers in and out of me, giving appreciative comments as I covered his hand with moisture.

  Tension built inside me, and I widened my legs further, conscious that I now lay sprawled on the dresser, my legs wrapped around his shoulders as he returned his mouth to my clit. “I can’t... oh...”

  I squealed and came hard, clenching around his fingers, and he sucked on my clit and flicked it with his tongue, drawing out the orgasm until I was a shaking, shivering wreck.

  I release the tight grip I’d had on his hair and fell back. “Sam... for God’s sake...”

  He laughed, kissed the pearl in my navel, and pushed himself to his feet. “Come on Maddie,” he scolded, pulled me upright. “We’re only getting started. I expect you to have at least another six orgasms before the end of the evening.”

  “Sam, I couldn’t possibly come again, I’m exhausted...”

  He wrapped my hair around his fist and tugged it, pulling my head back so I looked into his eyes. “You can, and you will,” he said. His eyes had lost their usual humor and held a measure of flinty, erotic hardness. It told me that although he loved me and he wouldn’t hurt me, he wasn’t being completely altruistic. He was there to use my body, and if giving me pleasure was what turned him on, he was damn well going to do it as many times as he liked, whether I wanted him to or not.

  Chapter Nine

  I swallowed nervously, suddenly wondering what I’d let myself in for. He cupped my head, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me to relax and not to worry, but he didn’t.

  Instead, keeping his gaze fixed on mine as if he wanted to drink in every flicker of emotion that passed across my face, he directed the tip of his cock to my entrance.

  My breasts heaved with my rapid breaths, and he dropped his gaze to watch them for a moment before returning his eyes to my face. I saw in them a glimpse of triumph, of smugness—he liked that I was turned on, that I was excited and nervou
s all at once.

  His mouth brushed mine but he didn’t kiss me. Instead, he kept his lips there, the light touch of them on my swollen and tender mouth making me quiver, and then he pushed his hips forward and sheathed himself inside me.

  My lips parted with an exhalation, and he covered my mouth with his as if he wanted to capture that moment and steal the widening of my eyes and the shock of his first penetration from me.

  Fuck, he was big, and my groan continued as he pushed in, pulled out, and then, lubricated with my moisture, pushed in again all the way until his hips met my thighs.

  “Aaahhh...” My head fell back and my fists clenched as I adjusted to the sensation of having him inside me. He wasn’t a small man, and I felt myself stretch to accommodate him. I’d never felt so full—I could feel him all the way up, thick and hard.

  He waited for me to adjust, watching me, and when I lifted my head his lips had curved up.

  “All right, Maddie?” he asked, acting innocent.

  I groaned. “Sam...”

  “Now it begins,” he said, and gave a hard thrust.

  I wailed and fell back onto my elbows, and he held my shoulder, keeping me in place as he set up a firm rhythm.

  I could only lie there and let him take me, entranced by the sensation of him repeatedly filling me and plunging through my sensitive folds that were becoming more wet and swollen with every thrust.

  “I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he said, his voice harsh as he tilted his head to watch his cock sliding in and out of me. He slid his hands to my breasts and cupped them, squeezing them as if they were ripe fruit, and then he bent and covered a nipple with his mouth and sucked.

  “Sam...” His name came out as a long groan.

  He straightened, his eyes gleaming with exultancy. “Yes, fuck yes, say my name, come on.”

  I let my head fall back, biting my lip, not wanting to give in to everything he demanded of me. I had some pride.

  Or so I’d thought. Sam apparently had other ideas.