Disguised Enchantment

by S. Quinn McAfee

  "You're so beautiful and your skin feels like satin," he breathed, running his hands down the length of her arms, across her midriff, and up over her full, creamy breasts. His touch was so light that she trembled from the sheer gentleness of it.

  "Are you cold?" His voice sounded concerned as he wrapped his arms around her gathering her to him again.

  Shannon could only shake her head in a negative response as she clasped her arms around his lean waist and buried her face in his chest. Her whole body suddenly felt as though a sweet, agonizing pain was consuming it. A pain that only he could relieve. She stood there clinging to him, aching to feel the heat of his mouth and the feel of his hands on her body again. For the first time in her life, she knew she was truly ready to experience love and the pleasures it held for her.

  During those revealing moments, she wasn't aware that the Marquis had picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed until she looked up and saw him gazing tenderly down at her. Wordlessly, he dropped a quick, soft kiss on her lips then moved away and unabashedly removed the rest of his clothing. Shannon felt the hot color flood into her cheeks at the sight of his nakedness and, even though she tried to keep them from doing so, her eyes automatically turned away. Not because she was ashamed to look at his body, but because of her innate shyness.

  The Marquis walked to the bed where she lay and lifted her chin forcing her downcast eyes to meet his. "Don't be afraid to look at my body," he whispered with a slow, deliberate shake of his head. "I want you to look at me and enjoy doing so, just as I enjoy looking at you."

  Carefully, he pulled the teddy off over her hips, and slowly, seductively, eased the sheer nylon stockings down over her shapely thighs and calves, one leg at a time, before stretching out beside her.

  The scent of Shannon's skin and perfume galvanized the Marquis' senses as he drew her tight against the length of his erect penis. Although he'd been with countless other women, not one of them ever aroused him as deeply as she did. His whole body trembled from the force of his desire for her, and it took every ounce of his control to keep from simply taking her then and there. He was determined to go slowly, taking time to make sure she attained as much pleasure from their shared passion as he did.

  Reaching out, he took her hand and placed it on the soft, pliant flesh beneath his rigid shaft. "I want you to feel free to touch me everywhere and anywhere you want," he murmured huskily.

  Slowly, with his gentle encouragement, Shannon began hesitantly, then more assuredly, to explore the sinewy lines and curves of the head and shaft of his thick penis. She had never known how extraordinarily sexy and emotionally stimulating the male body could be until now, and it wasn't long before she could no longer keep back the soft, whimpering cries of her own need.

  The Marquis eased her back to him and gently pushed her down on the bed. He felt her shudder uncontrollably as he kissed the tip of her ear lobe before moving on to caress her neck and breasts. Her scent was intoxicating--sweet and musky, like night-blooming jasmine--and it drove him wild for the taste of her. He took one breast in his mouth, and suckled briefly, then, trailing a fiery path with his tongue and lips over the pale, smooth skin of her abdomen and thighs, he worked his way to the mound of silky hair between her thighs. For a moment his hand lingered there, teasing the short strands with his fingertips, then slowly his mouth lowered to her quivering clit.

  Waves of scorching heat that seemed to radiate from every inch of Shannon's body threatened to engulf him in flames as he buried his tongue deep inside her. She writhed beneath him, making little whimpering sounds as he licked and nibbled her while flicking his tongue back and forth from just inside the opening of her vagina to her clitoris. Over and over, he teased her, suckled her, savoring the sweet honey taste of her washing over his tastebuds. He couldn't, wouldn't stop until he was certain she was as hot and wanting as he was. Suddenly, he sensed that her body had frozen beneath him as the words of a fearful plea sounded in his ears.

  "Please," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm ... I'm afraid. You're so big. I'm afraid you'll hurt me..."

  The Marquis raised his head. A spark of amusement glimmered in his eyes as he studied the worried expression on her face. Without realizing it, she had just paid him the greatest compliment a woman could give a man and, while he was delighted she was aware of his dimensions, he was not about to make light of her concern. "It's true I'm somewhat oversized, sweetheart," he whispered, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. "But I promise I won't hurt you. I've got you nice and hot and wet, so just relax and let me do the rest. Trust me?"

  With Shannon's demure nod, he moved away and quickly applied his trademark sheath of pleasure, a black, nubby-textured condom, then taking her hands in his, he placed them back on his neck and lowered his body over hers. Despite his words of reassurance, he was aware of her body tightening as if she was bracing herself for a stab of burning pain and an onslaught of torturous thrusts. He made sure neither came. His penetration was gentle and initially shallow, allowing her ample time to get used to him as he slowly inched into her a degree at a time.

  God, she was small! Certainly the smallest woman he had ever been with, and her exquisite tightness was driving him over the edge. Even though he was as hard as tempered steel and twice as hot, he was glad he had left an extra margin at the end of the condom because he felt himself lengthen another inch inside her.

  For the first time ever, Shannon experienced true lovemaking as the Marquis became her teacher in the art of sexual pleasure. Snuggled to his shoulder in the warm, protective embrace of his arms, she soon found herself spiraling higher and higher to a level of ecstasy she never knew existed. Despite his massive size, she was amazed at how perfectly his body fit with hers, and the slow, delicious way he was moving inside her was sheer heaven. She could feel herself flying higher and higher with each rhythmic stroke of his body until she feared she might never descend again. Her muted cries told him of her distress.

  "Stay with me, Shannon," he muttered hoarsely in her ear. "Just concentrate on the feel of my body within yours and go with it." He was determined she would experience her first orgasm with him.

  The Marquis' hands sent trails of fire all over her body. When he slipped his arms under her back, pressing her even closer to his hot, throbbing penis, torrents of new shock waves exploded inside her, and she was propelled into a multi-colored world of seemingly endless spasms of pleasure. "Oh, God," she choked as her hands roamed over the bulging muscles of his back and shoulders. "You feel so good inside me."

  Shannon had no idea that her whispered confession had affected the Marquis like a potent stimulus. Or that, even though his body ached for release, he had chosen to postpone his own fulfillment so he could again see to her pleasure. All she knew was the feel of him around and inside her was something she wanted to last forever, and she was slightly disappointed when he slowly withdrew from her and rolled onto his back, beckoning her into his arms to share the spreading warmth of their first union.

  His chest was damp with perspiration, enhancing the earthy, masculine scent of his body as she snuggled against him. Timidly, she raised up and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, tasting the saltiness of his skin as well as a trace of herself on his lips, and it ignited her desire for him all over again. "I never thought it could be like this with ... with you," she confessed, her cheeks still burning from the intense pleasure of her first orgasm.

  "Oh, sweetheart, this is how we were meant to be," he whispered, leaning over to gently kiss away the tears trickling down her cheeks, aware that they were tears of joy and not pain or sadness. "From the first moment we met, I knew I was destined to make love to you. I'll never forget the way I felt when you turned around and looked at me with those big, beautiful, but frightened, green eyes of yours. I vowed then and there the only place you belonged was in my arms, and I'd never be content until I had you there. But, at the same time, I knew you were afraid being with me meant letting yourself in for whatever I chos
e to do to you and what pleasures I chose to take for myself at your expense."

  Shannon nodded soberly as he continued. "Well, now you know that's not true. At least not with me," he said quietly, his hand gently rubbing her bare shoulder. "When I make love to you, Shannon, I'm not taking from you, I'm giving to you. Not only my body, but my heart and soul as well ... which reminds me," his voice was thick with renewed passion. "That was only your first lesson. I do believe it's time for number two."

  Turning her in his arms, he easily lifted her up until she was lying full on top of him. A small gasp escaped her lips as his massive penis again found the warm, moist, delicate softness of her vagina. Then he was moving, holding her snug against his chest while his mouth devoured hers with relentless kisses that set her whole being aflame with their warmth. She could feel the same expanding pleasure she had just recently enjoyed begin anew, and she pressed closer to him, answering his thrusting pelvis with a silken grace that inspired his muted words of encouragement. Circling and rising. Higher and higher. He was taking her beyond herself, driving her to the brink of overwhelming rapture.

  Shannon shifted into a kneeling position astride him letting the sensitive tips of her nipples lightly graze his chest. She gasped at the friction of his skin on those taut, sensitive crests, the tingle adding exquisite intensity to the pulsating sensations of his penis inside her.

  Immediately, the Marquis rose up and, cupping her breasts with his hands, began kneading and suckling them. Shannon's world tilted upside down, and a whirlwind of new sensations overtook her. She didn't know if she was falling or floating as a blissful aura burst around her, taking her breath away and bathing her with convulsing waves of seemingly neverending pleasure. Now the Marquis was fervent with longing. His body, well past the point of forbearance, screamed with the need for its own release and, now that he was certain she had been completely satisfied, he gave into it, thrusting deep inside her until the white-hot, pent-up desire surging through him erupted in a long, shuddering climax.

  Shannon collapsed onto his heaving chest, limp from the loving she had just received. Instantly, his strong arms cradled her against him in a snug, protective embrace. At last he had what he wanted--the chance to love her. Prove he wasn't the ogre she thought him to be. But even as she lay warm and sated with her cheek pressed against his heart in slumber, he was mindful of the great obstacles still facing him. She was no longer fearful of him or the mask that concealed his secrets. Yet, now more that ever before, it was a barrier between them. As long as he wore it, he couldn't give her anything but sex and, God as his witness, he knew she deserved and needed much more than that from him. Without it, however, he stood to lose her and everything this wonderful night had brought. His decision was swift and self-evident. Though he may be damned for doing so, he intended to employ the mask and savor the tender flower he held so lovingly in his arms for a very long time to come.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The start of a new workweek held little enthusiasm for Shannon. Somehow returning to the drudgery of waiting on customers and replenishing depleted merchandise seemed terribly mundane. She had become a woman in the Marquis' arms that magical Valentine's night, and the thrill of that passage was all she could think about. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but even her reflection in her vanity mirror seemed to radiate the secret carnal knowledge she now shared with the Marquis, and it filled her with such a delicious sense of wickedness she could hardly contain herself.

  "Oh, God!" she gasped aloud, as a horrible thought suddenly struck her. If she could see the glow of newfound sexual awareness in her eyes, others probably could too--including Donna! Certainly the last thing she needed was her discovering another reason to pester the living daylights out of her. No. There would be none of that. She would just have to wear her best professional face and pray Donna couldn't discern the jubilance that bubbled just beneath the surface of her well-composed demeanor. Fortunately, her fear was unfounded as Donna clearly had a much different plan of attack in mind. Shannon's feet had barely crossed the Boutique's threshold when she gleefully informed her that Mrs. Phillips wanted to see her in the fabric room immediately. Something about her condescending manner filled her with dread, and she couldn't help feeling that her job might be in jeopardy.

  Trepidation dogged Shannon's steps as she walked to the small room off the storage area. Mrs. Phillips stood amid the piles of packaged cross-stitch material calmly sorting and rearranging them into neat stacks. She looked up and smiled as Shannon entered the room. "You wanted to see me?" she asked in a tentative voice, seating herself on a stool beside the cutting table.

  Mrs. Phillips turned away from her work and focused on Shannon's gloomy face. "Yes, I do ... and I hope what I have to tell you will cheer you up a little."

  "What do you mean?" Shannon scowled.

  "Well, when I saw how upset and disappointed you were when I marketed Donna's designs, I felt so badly I decided there must be something I could to make up for it. Sooo, I took the liberty of sending some of your designs to a particularly well-known cross-stitch magazine in San Francisco."

  "You did what?" Shannon exclaimed.

  "Now, I know it's a gamble," Mrs. Phillips continued, smiling at her shocked expression, "but I happen to know they're looking for a Sampler Designer for their bi-monthly publication and, since your work is such an exquisite example of that medium, I decided it was worth a try."

  Shannon was flabbergasted. This was absolutely the last thing she expected to hear, and she sat there in stunned silence unable to find the words to express her feelings.

  "Well, say something!" Mrs. Phillips laughed.

  "I-I ... Oh, God, I can't believe you did this!" she gushed. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

  "Don't thank me yet," Mrs. Phillips cautioned. "We don't know what might come of this little venture. They may send everything back without even so much as a glance or they may, at the very least, offer to buy some of your charts for publication in the magazine."

  "That would be so great!" Shannon cried. "I'd be thrilled if that happened!"

  "Well, we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed ... But in the meantime, why don't you go back out there with a smile on your face and try to get along with Donna. Maybe if you treat her a little nicer, she'll grow weary of harassing you."

  Shannon made a face. "You don't know what you're asking ... but, all right, I'll try." Sliding off her stool, she gave Mrs. Phillips a brief hug before returning to the storefront.

  Donna, who could hardly contain her curiosity, rushed up to her as soon as Shannon came back into the room. "My God, what did she want? She didn't fire you, did she?"

  Shannon fixed Donna with a deadpan stare. "You know, I really thought she might, but she didn't," she conveyed in a low voice.

  "Well ... well, what did she want then?" Donna grimaced.

  "Ohh, she just wanted to tell me she sent some of my designs to a cross-stitch magazine. That's all."

  "Oh," Donna shrugged, characteristically missing the point, "I thought it was something real-lly important."

  Shannon squelched the urge to laugh in her face and quickly busied herself with a customer. The fact that Donna failed to grasp the significance of Mrs. Phillips' attempt to further her career greatly pleased her and she wasn't about to enlighten her any time soon.

  The rest of Shannon's day was lost in a blur of activity. When she wasn't occupied with the various needs of the shop's customers, she was busy making thumbprint sketches for future designs. After weeks of disinterest, Mrs. Phillips' generosity had given her back the hope and incentive she needed to start designing again and, by the time quitting time rolled around, she couldn't wait to get home and start putting her ideas on paper.

  Armed with several packages of fabric, her portfolio, and an assortment of embroidery floss, Shannon hurried into the corridor concerned only with getting to the parking lot and her car as fast as possible. Suddenly, her ankle turned on the freshly waxed surface, and she q
uickly found herself plummeting toward a painful meeting with the block-covered concrete floor. At the same instant, hands with a vise-like grip clamped around her waist and hauled her tight against a solid, stationary form. When Shannon's head finally stopped spinning and she realized she was still standing, her eyes came to rest on a masculine chest clad in a snow-white shirt.

  Slowly, her bewildered gaze traveled up over the remainder of the full-cut, buccaneer-style shirt and settled on the ruggedly handsome face grinning mischievously back at her.

  "I always did believe high-heeled shoes would lead to the eventual downfall of the female population."

  Shannon's astonished eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the droll face before her. "Ben! H-how did ... What are you doing here?"

  "I was hoping to catch you before you left work. Looks like I did--literally," he chuckled, kneeling down to retrieve the stitching materials scattered about the floor.

  "Really? Why is that?"

  Ben's intensely blue eyes were solemn as he handed her the items. "I hated the way we were so rudely interrupted last week," he began. "I wanted to apologize and hopefully accomplish what I intended to do then."

  Shannon's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

  "Come on," he gestured. "Let's sit down."

  When they had seated themselves on a nearby bench, he again turned to her.

  "Several weeks ago I promised to call you and I'm sorry to say I've been terribly remiss in keeping that promise--not that I intended it to be that way..."

  "You don't owe me any explanation," Shannon commented softly.

  "Will you let me finish!" he laughed, grasping her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Like I said, I never intended to neglect you. It's just that my shooting schedule became quite hectic, and I ended up spending more time at the studio than usual. That's why when I saw you at the restaurant the other day, I wanted to apologize for taking so long to get back to you, even though I was lunching with my co-star. Believe me, it never occurred to me that she would react so resentfully just because I took a moment to talk to you."