A Taste of Paradise

by Connie Mason

  Sophia didn’t know how much longer she could stand Chris’s sensual torture. His kisses felt like pinpoints of fire as his mouth trailed down her stomach to her inner thigh. When she quivered in response, he held her hips in a gentle grip. He glanced up at her, his eyes glowing hotly in the dim light.

  “I want to taste you.”

  She went rigid as he resumed his nibbling caresses up her inner thigh to a place that ached for his touch, crying out when his tongue found her dewy center. Her taut body was hot and explosive with need as he held her open with his thumbs and laved her with the rough pad of his tongue.

  “Sweet,” he murmured against her damp folds. When he thrust his tongue inside her, she jerked upward, crying out his name.

  Her entire body clenched with anticipation as his tongue thrust into her slick heat again and again, and then he gently suckled the aching bud of her femininity. She whimpered and clutched at him, her fingers tightening reflexively in his thick hair. He continued his wicked, teasing assault, exploring the supple wet petals of her cleft, until the pleasure became too great to bear. Her heart beat wildly, her pulse pounded with desperate desire.

  “Oh, God,” she gasped. “I can’t . . . I want . . .”

  “Do it,” Chris said, lifting his head from his succulent feast. “Take what you want.”

  “Don’t stop,” she wailed.

  “Never!” His hands slid under her bottom, raising her against his mouth to savor her more fully.

  Sophia began panting. Each slow, arousing stroke of his tongue was part heaven, part hell. He continued suckling her, lapping, drinking from her essence, tormenting her beyond endurance. When his probing tongue thrust deep inside her, she shuddered and shifted her hips, straining under the determined lash of his tongue, the relentless plundering of his mouth.

  A scream built inside her, rising in her throat. She shuddered, thrashing her head from side to side, rising to meet the passionate assault of his tongue.

  “I can’t stand it,” she panted jerkily.

  “Come, then, don’t hold back.”

  Unbearable pleasure brought forth a keening wail as she shattered. Bliss crested again and again as Chris continued his tender torture, until she collapsed in the breathless aftermath of her climax. Dazed and quivering, she was scarcely aware when Chris stretched his body over hers and gently began suckling her nipples, prolonging the tide of her pleasure until it finally ebbed, leaving her drained and limp.

  When he finally lifted his head and looked at her, his face was hard, taut, like a man pressed to the limits of his endurance. Staring into her eyes, he spread her legs with his knees, flexed his hips and thrust hard and deep inside her. He lowered his head and kissed her, their mouths and tongues melding into one entity.

  Suddenly he turned, bringing her on top of him, his cock still embedded deep inside her. Grasping her knees, he brought them up on either side of him, opening her fully to his hips.

  “Ride me, Sophia. You’re in charge—do as you please with me.”

  Scant moments ago, Sophia would have sworn she had nothing left to give, but Chris proved her wrong. He knew how and where to manipulate her body to make her yearn for more of his magical loving. She began to move on him, taking him deep, writhing against him. He caught her nipple between his teeth and bit down gently. She felt it clear down to the place where they were joined.

  His body taut, his breath harsh in her ear, he urged her on with guttural words that brought her closer and closer to achieving Paradise.

  “Now, Sophia, now!”

  Sophia soared, reaching for the stars, and then she touched them. Vaguely she felt his body stiffen, heard her name whispered through the darkness, felt the warm gush of his seed.

  “I love you, Chris.” The words came without volition, torn from her by unrequited love and frustration.

  Chris stared at her in horror, and then he slammed his mouth over hers, stopping her from saying anything more he didn’t want to hear.

  Chris went limp. Long moments later, he shifted Sophia beneath him, pulled out of her and rolled away. They were both breathing hard, their bodies shaking.

  “Don’t love me, Sophia.”

  “I’m sorry if I upset you. I thought . . . I hoped . . .”

  “Hoped what? That I might return your love?”

  “Would that be so terrible?”

  “Have you forgotten our past? I’m a killer; I murdered my best friend. And you are the woman we dueled over. Guilt is the only emotion I am capable of.”

  Sophia stared at him. “But you made love to me as if you cared.”

  Chris searched his heart. It was not completely empty, but he didn’t recognize what he found inside. He thought he knew what love felt like, for he had fancied himself in love with Sophia seven years ago. That feeling was definitely absent now. But there was something there, something he couldn’t put a name to.

  “Perhaps I do care,” he mused. “I married you to keep you safe, didn’t I?”

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

  Chris ignored her probing question. It opened him to the kind of hurt he never wanted to experience again. “Your nagging is becoming annoying,” he said gruffly, pulling her beneath him. “The night is young. I can think of more pleasant ways to enjoy what is left of it.”

  His mouth settled on hers, and pleasure built, waned, built again until, exhausted and sated, they fell asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chris had already left for the fields when Sophia awakened the morning following her wedding. She stretched lazily. Her limbs still felt weighted, her body flushed and languid. She had gotten little rest during their long night of loving. How could Chris have so much energy when she could barely move?

  Kateena entered the room and began picking up discarded clothing. “Are you ready for your bath, mistress?”

  “Tea first, Kateena, and a sweet biscuit. I’m famished.”

  Kateena left immediately to do Sophia’s bidding. Sophia stretched again and smiled to herself. Chris had taken her to Paradise more than once last night, and though he hadn’t said he loved her, her heart told her he cared deeply.

  Kateena arrived with tea and a sticky bun. While Sophia ate, the tub was carried in and filled with water. She took a leisurely bath and dressed in an attractive blue dimity gown, one that Chris had commissioned for her. Then she went downstairs and waited for Chris to arrive for lunch.

  Sophia lunched alone. Chris didn’t return, nor did he send word about when to expect him. She ate dinner alone that night, too, all her dreams of a happy marriage crumbling. As Chris’s wife, she expected to be informed about his comings and goings, not left in the dark, wondering when or if he would deign to return. Obviously, Chris intended to lead his life as if their marriage made little difference in the scheme of things.

  That night, as Kateena helped Sophia prepare for bed, she said, “The men are working around the clock to get the cane cut and sent to the mill. Then it will be brought back to be turned into molasses and distilled into rum.”

  “I wonder why Chris didn’t tell me that,” Sophia mused. “I’ve been kept in the dark about every aspect of his life.”

  “I’m sure the captain meant no slight,” Kateena soothed. “He’s very busy, and new at this. He has a great deal to learn.”

  Chris didn’t return to the house that night. Sophia fell asleep feeling lonely and wanting her husband. She awoke later to the smell of smoke and ran to the window. Her heart sank when she saw flames rising from the fields. She watched for a while, assumed the fire had been brought under control and went back to bed. When she awakened the following morning, she asked Kateena what had happened.

  “It’s normal to set fire to the fields before harvesting the cane to kill or chase off rats and snakes and get rid of trash and leaves,” Kateena replied. “Mundo explained the process to me when I first arrived.”

  That’s more than I learned from Chris, Sophia thought.

  Chris arriv
ed home late that night, exhausted, dirty and smelling of smoke.

  “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “Don’t fuss, Sophia,” Chris answered grumpily. “All I need is a bath and a good night’s sleep.”

  “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “No, the fire had to be watched closely.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? I became worried when you didn’t return home last night. Kateena had to explain the burning of the fields to me.”

  He removed his shirt, boots and breeches. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

  “We’re married, Chris. I’m interested in everything you do. I can’t be your partner if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m tired, Sophia, leave off. Chuba is filling a tub for me in the shed off the kitchen. We’ll talk after I’ve bathed.”

  He took his robe from the wardrobe and left before Sophia could reply. She knew he was tired, but didn’t a wife deserve some consideration? Why was Chris treating her as if she had no stake in making the plantation a successful opperation? She had never been a wife before, but it seemed to her that she should be helping Chris in some way. Sighing, she sat on the bed and waited for her husband to return.

  Chris knew he owed Sophia an explanation, but when he had left her bed yesterday morning he hadn’t wanted to awaken her. He knew he might not make it home that night and had meant to send word later, but as the day progressed, more pressing needs took precedence. Sophia would have to learn that the plantation came first with him and always would.

  Chris sank into the tub Chuba had prepared, feeling his tension drain away with the dirt and grime. The fire had nearly gotten out of control. Yet the fire had been necessary to clear the north field of rats and snakes so the cutting could begin. He didn’t relish the idea of losing good men to snakebite.

  Resting his head against the rim of the big wooden tub, Chris finally had time to think about his wedding night. Sophia’s response to him had been magnificent. Though he had already experienced her passion, his wedding night had far exceeded his expectations.

  He’d tried not to think about the words she’d cried out, unwilling to acknowledge how deeply her declaration had affected him. He didn’t want Sophia to love him, and had told her so. He wanted to remember the pain of Desmond’s death and the reason for it. Returning Sophia’s love would somehow negate his guilt. He had lived with guilt so long, he couldn’t imagine existing without it.

  Nevertheless, Sophia was his wife and deserved a place in his life. But where did she belong besides in his bed? He didn’t know, was too tired to think that far ahead. He finished his bath and climbed the stairs to his bed. Sophia was waiting for him. She looked ethereally beautiful in the candlelight. Unfortunately, he was too tired to do more than fall into bed and close his eyes.

  “Chris . . .”

  He sighed. “Go to sleep, Sophia. Don’t expect more from me than I’m capable of giving. Planters like Lord Chester have slaves to do their work. And if he needs more workers, he simply buys them on the slave market. I pay my workers wages and toil beside them because there aren’t enough free men of color looking for work. That means my days are going to be long and hard. I’m sorry if you can’t live with that.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Sophia whispered as she turned away from him.

  Chris tried to sleep, but as the arousing scent of Sophia’s body reached him, his exhaustion drained away. He should have slept in another bed. He reached for her. She stiffened.

  “I thought you were tired,” Sophia said.

  “I am, but I can’t seem to relax.”

  “Perhaps you’re not accustomed to having another body in your bed. Shall I leave?”

  His arm curled around her waist. “No.” He brought her beneath him. He was already aroused. What had seemed physically impossible when he returned from the fields suddenly became not only possible but necessary to his well-being.

  With renewed energy, he slowly began to arouse Sophia, using long, slow kisses and heated caresses. He suckled her breasts, teased her nipples with his tongue until she moaned and writhed beneath him. He reached between her legs, found her wet and swollen. He fondled her slick folds and shoved two fingers inside her.

  “Chris!”

  “You’re ready for me,” he said hoarsely.

  Unable to wait a moment longer, he rose up and thrust deep inside her.

  Her moans set off a firestorm inside him as he jerked his hips back and forth, his sex plunging deep, withdrawing, again and again, faster, deeper. Perspiration gathered between them, their slick bodies gliding together in perfect harmony.

  Chris couldn’t recall when he had felt such power, as if he could go on forever, as if his body had no limitations, no boundaries. But when he heard Sophia scream his name and felt tremors rip through her body, his own body clamored for release. He thrust once, twice, and went rigid, emptying himself inside her.

  He pulled out and sank down beside her, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  Sophia remained awake, her mind racing. Chris had made love to her despite his exhaustion. Though she didn’t want to read too much into his change of heart, hope for their future soared.

  The following days passed in a whirl of activity. The sugarcane had been taken to the mill to be cut and then returned to the distillery to be processed into molasses, rum and raw sugar. The machinery continued working night and day without stop. Since cane could be cut any time of the year, the procedure never ended. Chris slept away from the house more than in his own bed. There was no opportunity for lovemaking, and Sophia missed him.

  To pass the time, she decided to take Kateena and Casper to Kingston for a day of shopping. Since Mundo was busy in the fields with Chris, Sophia asked Chuba to drive them to town in the carriage. Unfortunately, both Chuba and Casper had been recruited for work in the distillery. Sophia didn’t let that stop her, however. She was perfectly capable of driving the carriage herself.

  The weather didn’t look promising. The sky had a threatening cast; purple and gray clouds hung heavy on the horizon, and the air held a strange air of expectancy. But Sophia wasn’t about to let a summer storm stop her. The storm probably wouldn’t arrive for hours, and she needed new ribbon for her bonnet and a few personal items.

  Sophia found Kateena in the laundry room. When she told Kateena they were going to Kingston, the maid looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Have you noticed the sky, mistress?” Kateena chided. “I’ve seen the likes before, and it doesn’t bode well. I think we should remain close to home.”

  “Why ever for? This is the tropics. Storms come and go all the time. If a storm does come while we’re in town, we will simply seek shelter until it passes.”

  “You could be wrong, mistress. Hurricanes often come this time of year. One never knows when an approaching storm might carry fierce winds that destroy everything in their path. I’ve lived through several myself, some worse than others.”

  “How can you tell if it’s a simple storm or a hurricane?”

  “At this time of year we don’t know until it arrives, that’s what worries me.”

  Sophia pulled on her gloves. “A little weather isn’t going to stop me. Are you coming or not?”

  Kateena looked torn, but in the end she put on her bonnet and joined Sophia in the carriage. The ride over bumpy roads to Kingston was uneventful. The marketplace was teeming with shoppers of all colors and descriptions. Sophia waded into the crowd, admiring the array of goods offered in each stall as she strolled along. Somewhere between the cloth merchant’s stall and the fruit hawker, Sophia and Kateena became separated.

  Sophia made her purchases and was wandering aimlessly when someone snagged her arm and pulled her into a dark space between two stalls.

  “Ray,” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d returned to England. Your wife must be sick with worry.”

  “My wife left me,” Rayford sneered. “S
he went back to her parents before I left England. She said she was tired of living like a pauper.” He snorted. “If Claire’s father had given me the blunt I needed, I wouldn’t be in financial straits.”

  “Good for Claire,” Sophia applauded. “She finally found some courage. You can’t blame her father for denying you when you’ve gambled away Claire’s dowry and all the money he lent you over the years.” She shrugged free of his grip. “What do you want?”

  “Money, you stupid cow. Any other woman would have found a rich husband after her come out instead of causing a scandal and living off the largess of her brother. You’ve brought nothing but trouble to the family. You owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing but contempt,” Sophia spat. “You tried to sell me. Good-bye, Ray. I need to find my maid and start for home.” She glanced up at the sky. “The storm is closing in faster than I expected.”

  “You’ll pay one way or another, Sophia,” Rayford warned as she backed away from him, straight into the arms of Sir Oscar Rigby.

  “Well, well, what have we here? I’ve waited a long time to find you alone.”

  Panic swept through Sophia. The marketplace was quickly emptying as the wind picked up and the skies darkened. No one paid her the slightest heed as Rigby and Rayford cornered her between them. Where was Kateena?

  “Take her to the carriage,” Rayford said. “I suspect her husband will pay dearly for her return.”

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” Sophia warned. “Chris will make you sorry if you so much as touch me.” She hoped he would.

  “You’re right,” Rayford grumbled, “but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook. I need blunt. If you don’t get it for me, I’ll make sure Radcliff meets with an accident. Machetes are dangerous weapons in the hands of inexperienced men.”

  Sophia didn’t bother to reply. She spun on her heel and ran. Rayford reached her first, stopping her in her tracks. The wind had picked up; it began to rain. The few people remaining in the marketplace were fleeing for cover. Where was Kateena?

  “Mistress, there you are! We must leave immediately and find cover. I fear—”