Most Ardently

by Sheena Austin et al.

  Rayven sat down on the bed and took off his boots before standing up again to remove his trousers. She saw his erection and inhaled sharply.

  He took a step forward until he was inches from her. He pulled out the hairpins that held up her hair, releasing her long riot of fiery curls. He gripped the thin straps of her chemise and rolled them off her shoulders. It fell in a pile at her feet.

  Rayven nearly stopped breathing as he took in her breasts tipped with tight pink nipples. He took each breast into the palms of his hands and rubbed a thumb over each nipple. He heard the sharp intake of her breath and his cock swelled.

  “Desiree, you are so beautiful,” he said as his eyes roamed over her, unable to get enough. “What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?”

  She sucked in a breath as his thumbs continued to move back and forth over her nipples. She could barely think through the incendiary sensation.

  “You mean a demon?” She uttered faintly, surprised she could still speak.

  “No,” he replied as he stopped teasing her nipples to pick her up and lay her on his bed. “The woman I love.”

  Rayven watched the lights of the Strip play on her pale skin, in flashes of colors and swirls. He slid his hand over her soft, satin curves, reveling in her loveliness. Leaning over her, he bent down to take a taut nipple in his mouth. He sucked it, rolling his tongue lazily over it. She arched up and moaned. He released her nipple and kissed it before moving to the other one.

  Desiree was drowning in sensations she’d never felt before. How had she spent eons never knowing the sensual touch of a male? She had missed out on so much, yet she was glad she did. It made what she was experiencing with her angel so much sweeter.

  Rayven began to kiss down her body until he got to her navel. His tongue darted out to tease the indentation. She moaned. He continued down until he was at the juncture of her thighs. He parted her legs gently, his gaze fastened on her tight red curls. He slid his hands down her thighs to open her sex, revealing the glistening pink pearl hidden in the folds. He dipped his head to taste her. His tongue curled around her clit as his nostrils flared at the scent of her arousal. He licked and sucked her as she moved her hips against his mouth, her fingers entwined in his dark hair. He felt her quiver and her breathing turn into quick pants. He knew she was close. He wanted to take his time, but his fierce need and his swollen cock couldn’t hold on much longer. He sucked her clit into his mouth, and she exploded.

  Desiree squeezed her eyes shut as pulsations of heart stopping pleasure claimed her. Rayven’s hands and his skilled mouth brought her to a precipice of sexual desire she didn’t know existed. If one could die from it, she knew she would be its first victim. Her breaths came in deep erotic moans. Before her first orgasm could wane, he worked her up again, licking and sucking her until she climaxed a second time and the most explosive rush of sheer ecstasy detonated her world. She cried out, gripping the sheets as she rode it out, never wanting it to stop.

  Rayven slid between her thighs, poised at her opening. He was on fire as the taste of her orgasms hardened his cock to the point of pain. As he spread her thighs wider, Desiree stopped him.

  “Rayven,” she huffed, her breathing still unsteady, “I’ve never done this before. I’m a virgin.”

  He stopped immediately, reigning in his need. He stared at her in amazement. “You’re a virgin?”

  “Yes. I just wanted you to know.”

  “In all of this time, you’ve never had sex?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” He asked, reigning in his overwhelming desire to claim her.

  “I was never interested until you.”

  He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We don’t have to do this now if you’re not ready.”

  She gripped his arms and smiled. “Yes, we do. I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I agree. Especially since my hard cock has no intention of waning any time soon.”

  “Kiss me,” she purred and pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. “Take me to heaven.”

  Rayven eagerly complied, slowly pushing inside until he met resistance. “This will hurt for a moment,” he whispered in her ear. “I will go easy.”

  “I trust you.”

  He surged forward, breaking through her veil of innocence until he was deep inside her. He began to move slowly, rocking in and out, the feel of her velvety walls surrounding him. Heaven was a wondrous place but being inside Desiree made it pale in comparison.

  The pain she felt blossomed into smoldering pleasure as Rayven filled her over and over. Delicious pressure was building inside her again. Nothing prepared Desiree for the intensity of the orgasm that swept through her like a firestorm.

  “Rayven,” she cried out, floating somewhere between life and sheer ecstasy.

  Rayven wasn’t far behind her as hot, searing pulses of electric heat gathered in his groin and exploded. It sent him into the stratosphere. He thrust into Desiree, riding out his release until he slowly came back to Earth.

  He rolled over, taking her with him. They lay entwined in each other’s arms. Laying nestled on his chest, her cheek against him, she felt the steady pounding of his heart.

  “I love you, Desiree, my fiery little demon, now and forever.”

  She leaned her chin on his chest, looking at him with startling emerald eyes. “I love you, Rayven, my sexy, beautiful, dark angel. I never thought that love would find me, let alone in the book realm of Regency England. I’m so glad I watched that Jane Austen movie marathon.” She kissed his chest.

  Rayven pulled her tighter against him and laughed. “So am I.”

  About the Author

  CHARLENE IS A WAYNESBURG, Pennsylvania native. She went to Waynesburg High School and graduated Cum Laude from Waynesburg College with a Bachelor's Degree in Liberal Arts. Currently lives in Sacramento, California where she spent the last 33 years working at Northrop Grumman.

  Books have always been her passion. She started reading at an early age and progressed to full-length books by age nine. The first supernatural book series she read was Dark Shadows, and it sparked her interest in all things paranormal, with a spicy touch of romance mixed in for good measure. She also started writing poetry in grade school and continues to do so today.

  Being an avid reader, the consummate daydreamer and an incurable romantic with a Cinderella complex, she started creating her own characters and storylines because she realized she had her own stories to tell.

  She is married and has a son, a daughter, and four beautiful grandchildren.

  Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys photography, travel, music, and great movies.

  Charity by Sophie Bellabone

  Charity lacked nothing in her life; not beauty, manners, money, or friends, nor a handsome, loving husband who put her above all else. The husband, Richard Coleman, she had only acquired that very day, but it had completed her list of virtues. Not only was she the best wife who could cut their wedding cake like a pro, she truly lived up to her name as well. She felt proud of giving away her designer clothes to those in need, often her cousins, and always volunteered to help build up events to raise money for important functions that bettered the humankind; private schools and alike.

  Bubbling champagne almost spilled onto a marble floor from the crystal flute she held as she glided along in her diamond shoes . She leaned on the groomsman who had graciously offered to dance with her while her husband; she loved that word, was taking a break in the little boys' room. A giggle escaped her lips when she thought of calling him “a little boy”; a model of a man as tall as a tree. She had needed to tiptoe on her exceedingly high heels to give him their first kiss which also was her first-ever. It had been more like a peck on the lips but that had made butterflies fly in her stomach and her legs go weak for the amazing man she had just wedded and could call her husband.

  The word tasted just like the champagne she was now allowed to drink; merry, swee
t, and with a hint of cinnamon.

  Ignoring her aching feet, Charity danced a bit more in their wedding ball, or after-party as poor people called them, surrounded by twenty large Christmas trees decorated with golden ribbons and fake snow and icicles. Richard had not wanted the real things for those so he had paid an artisan to create all the two thousand delicate glass spikes to hang from each branch. People were watching her waltz with rosy cheeks glowing and smiled at the happy bride giving her impressed nods for the decor and theme. Some, of course, did not enjoy the Winter Wonderland-theme but even they did not have a cross word to say about the food that was cooked right in front of their eyes to their exact liking.

  “I absolutely must sit down for a moment,” Charity hid her giggle behind her gloved hand. “I feel just a tad dizzy,” she revealed to her dance partner who nodded and helped her to sit at the bridal table.

  She ruffled the long poofy feathers in her gown and tried to catch her breath. Instantly she had a new champagne flute in hand and a glass of water to accompany it. A single ice snowflake floated in it.

  It water somehow tasted better than the expensive brew and chilled her on its way down and allowed her to think more clearly. Perhaps the last glass out of five had been a tad too much for her to handle after all. Clouds in her mind chased away, she looked around trying to find her dark-eyed lover.

  “Have you seen my husband?” she asked the waitress ready to bring her anything she could possibly need.

  “No, mam,” she replied very politely, “Not since he left with the miss.”

  “Miss?”

  “Miss Tipton. Your bridesmaid.” The waitress looked down and bit her lip a little. “They went to the direction of the ladies' room.”

  “Is there some kind of issue in the lavatory?”

  “Not that I know of, mam.”

  “Why would they-”

  The waitress was just about to reply to that but one of the 12 groomsmen shooed her away by sitting right next to Charity on the Groom’s seat.

  “Anthony. What a lovely surprise,” Charity’s voice was cheery but somehow she brought out winter chill into the words. She disliked Anthony deeply knowing very well his wild nature with women. Her mother and father had told her many stories of how he dragged poor Richard into parties he did not enjoy the slightest and drew him into bad paths. That is why Richard, not Anthony, needed a wife like Charity-loyal, pure, and strong enough to avoid any and all temptations. He also looked like a mirror image of Richard’s strong nose and jaw, dark thick hair, stern but so kissable lips and eyes that looked at her like... She had to remind herself that this was not Richard and the wedding night was still hours away. She had waited 21 years, she could wait a little longer for his embrace. She regained her control swiftly and coldly continued with: “What do I owe you the pleasure of your company to?”

  “I thought I’d come to see my sister-in-law!” Anthony grinned and took her champagne glass to his hand. “You looked so very lonely.” He was enjoying himself at the party, his hair was a mess and his tie had seen better days. Earlier that day. Before he had had his fun with two waitresses in the back room. He inspected her from head to toe with an approving face and chugged down the drink. “You look great.”

  “Thank you, but I do not require any company.”

  “Are you sure now?”

  “The only company I will be needing is my husband. I suppose you would know where he has gone to?” She grabbed the glass from his hand and gave it to the waitress who gladly took it away. “Or have you forgotten that your duty in this wedding is to make sure that everything runs smoothly?”

  “Oh, I have not forgotten,” His smile grew suspiciously larger. “I made sure that at least a couple things were smooth...”

  “I will go look for him.”

  “No need. He’ll show up eventually,” Anthony got up at the same time with her blocking her attempt to leave. On his face was his kindest smile. That very smile Charity had already learned not to trust.

  “Let me pass.”

  “Why won’t we just sit here and drink a couple more glasses, and I will tell you All the embarrassing stories about Dick that I remember from our childhood.”

  Charity thought about that for a moment but she had been taught that gossip was from the devil so she just pushed him aside, gathered her long flowing skirt in her hand and walked towards the toilets, or where she thought the toilets were.

  It took her three tries to find the right gold embellished door to the men’s room, which she swiftly exited once she noticed that she was not alone and the person residing in there was ‘taking a leak’ as some crude people like Anthony liked to say. The man was as old as her father with graying hair and seemed unbothered to see her there. He even wiggled his eyebrows at her but the two thick caterpillar-like bushes strode the air without an audience for a good minute before he stopped and sighed in disappointment. He would have so enjoyed showing her his war medals on his lapel.

  A few more doors down the winter decorated corridor and a single turn behind a corner later she found the ladies' toilet and one of the groomsmen guarding it. He seemed relaxed in his uniform black suit and Armani shoes but his knuckles hit the door at an alarming rate.

  Charity frowned at him. “Why are you not at the party?”

  “My date has some kind of stomach flu.”

  “Is Brie all right?” Charity placed her hand on her chest, worry in her voice. “She must have been horribly fast to run all the way from the dance floor to here before me...” she placed her other hand on the door. “I must check on her.”

  The groomsman that Charity had identified as Patrick O’Cunningham, son of a mining millionaire, tried slowly to block her way. “She is REALLY sick. I would not go in if I was you. We wouldn’t want the bride get sick too, would we?” the pitch in his voice rose above casual.

  Charity placed both of her hands on Patrick’s dress shirt and straightened his tie bit more than it required. “Is he in there?” she asked with a low voice. “Is my husband in there with someone?”

  Partick did not get a say before a hurricane dressed in red pushed both him and Charity off its way and entered the toilet. Both of them stared at the large woman disappear into a stall with torture in her face. Her repetition of ‘nononononono’ was audible until the door closed by itself and muted the ‘yesyesyes’ that seemed to come from inside the room as well.

  Charity looked at Patrick and attacked the door before the poor man with a little too many idle brain cells could do anything. He grimaced at the door opening and closing in front of him, decided it was not his place, and slowly backed off from the door and what he assumed was about to happen. Aware of his own shortcomings he tried to look as idle as possible walking back to the party and closing the door leading to the toilets and the entry to the grand hall above a large beautiful staircase.

  In the ladies' room, Charity heard two things and wished to hear either of them. The lady in red, Countess Echam, she assumed, had her own issues to worry about so Charity tried to close her out of her consciousness but the furthest of the stalls was shaking from another kind of noise. That she listened for a moment before she heard another word than ‘yes’.

  “Was that you?” a deep man’s voice whispered.

  The other person could only make some kind of denying ‘mh’ before Countess Echam’s poor personal food choices attacked them.

  “Oh, God!” the man said louder.

  Countess Echam whimpered a little in embarrassment.

  “One should not say the Lord’s name in vain,” Charity said behind the door, holding her nose.

  Countess Echam whispered a tiny “Sorry” in case it was aimed at her and tried to be as silent as the two people she had spooked to muteness.

  Slowly the stall door Charity stood in front of opened and she saw Richard trying to hide the someone he had been with for quite some time. He did not look guilty wiping off red lipstick off his neck or stuffing his shirt back into his pants but
the woman there was trying to crawl through the small opening at the bottom of the toilet stall. She was wearing the bridesmaid eggshell blue dress that was unzipped from the side.

  Charity did not waste her time on the woman though. She wanted to scream at Richard, punch him in the face, to break his neck, and throw him in front of everyone at the party for shaming her like that. Holding her fists on her sides she just stared at him and his smug smile and the words he was forming with his voice. She did not hear those words.

  All she could think of was how she had been betrayed by him before she could even give her flower to him. Rage made her shake and tears started falling out of her eyes. Her mascara spread on her cheeks and she turned to leave.

  Richard made the mistake of trying to touch her.

  In a fit of rage, Charity grabbed a soap dispenser from the wall and tore it off with her fitness crazed arms and threw it at him, spreading soap and Richard's blood all over the floor. She also let out a sound that was more dinosaur-like, if they ever existed, than human and walked out.

  Richard staggered and fell on the floor from the slippery soap. He no longer smiled. He tried to get up with a confused look on his face and go after her but he lost precious seconds slipping around.

  Once he was gone, Countess Echam took a deep breath and let it rip. She knew she should not have eaten all that dairy but all the food had been so heavenly that she just had to cheat her diet that day. Screw death, she thought. There were far worse things to die to when you reached a certain age.

  In the corridor, Charity did not know where to go. Her legs lead her towards the hall but she stopped before she got to the door leading to the cascading staircase. She tried to stop her sobbing and wiped off her tears knowing that she could not go in there and be seen like that. Turning on her heels she walked to the men’s toilet and leaned over the sink to clean up all the running make-up a little and to take deep breaths.

  “Honey? Sweetheart? Where did you go?” she heard Richard calling her on the other side of the door. His steps sounded like he was limping or having a hard time to stay on his feet. “Come on, let’s talk.”