Ecstasy n-4

by Nicole Jordan

  He took command then, tangling his hand in her hair, forcing her head down until her mouth met his in a feverish kiss. Raven clutched his shoulders while her hips helplessly rocked against his, trying desperately to assuage the hungry primitive ache.

  His kiss burned her to near oblivion, while the vibrant fiery pleasure mounted to a sudden, startling explosion that made them both shatter. Her cry of ecstasy mingled with Kell’s groans as the powerful climax swept them both away.

  Gasping for breath, Raven collapsed bonelessly on top of him, her hair falling around his face, a curtain of silk. Weakly his arms came up to encircle her, and he lay unmoving.

  When finally she regained her senses it was to find Kell stroking her naked back, nuzzling her temple with his lips.

  “Did you find that adequate?” she murmured when she could summon the energy to speak.

  She felt him smile against her hair. “Unequivocally.”

  Easing her off him, Kell drew the sheets up to cover their nakedness, then lay back and gathered Raven closer. Languidly she curled against him and shut her eyes.

  It was a long moment before he broke the silence. “What do you call him, your fantasy lover?”

  Raven stiffened at the question. “I don’t have a name for him.”

  “What does he look like then?”

  She hesitated. “Like a pirate. He has black hair and dark eyes.”

  “As I do?” He rolled on his side, his gaze finding hers. “Should I be flattered?”

  “I don’t think so. I imagined him long before I met you.”

  Kell reached up to brush a tendril of hair from her forehead, but he seemed thoughtful when he spoke. “If I had a fantasy lover, I think she would be very much like you… Flashing blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, a beautiful, slender body with lush breasts…”

  Raven stirred self-consciously as his voice washed over her, but Kell wasn’t done.

  “She would know not only how to pleasure me, she would know how to make my body sing, to wring me dry and make me ache with need…” A smile flickered across his mouth. “Does your lover do all that?”

  Moving away from him, she drew the covers to her breasts.

  “Does he?” Kell repeated, his tone curious.

  “Yes,” Raven replied defensively. “He does all that and more. He not only gives me pleasure, he makes me feel cherished, desired. As if I am the only woman in the world.”

  Kell raised an eyebrow but his measuring gaze was entirely serious. “Is that every woman’s secret fantasy? To be cherished?”

  “I wouldn’t know about other women’s fantasies,” Raven replied, deploring the turn their conversation had taken. “But I am perfectly content with mine.”

  “Still, I should think the real thing would be more satisfying. An image can’t fill you like a flesh and blood man can. He can’t stroke your nipples like this…”

  When Kell caressed her breast, Raven jerked back, away from his sensual touch. “Perhaps not, but neither does he incite a desire in me to commit mayhem, as you do.”

  Kell’s lips pursed in a frown. “I confess, I don’t like the thought of you seeking pleasure from your fantasy lover.”

  She gave him a sharp look of disbelief. “You cannot possibly be jealous of a fantasy.”

  “No? How do you think a man feels when his lover…his wife…constantly dreams about another man? It arouses a primitive male instinct to do battle.”

  Raven gave a sigh of exasperation. “It is not a contest, Kell.”

  “What if I were to make it one?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Never mind. Why don’t you go to sleep?”

  He shut his eyes as if prepared to do just that, but Raven made a sound of protest in her throat. “Kell…I think you should sleep in your own bedchamber tonight.”

  His eyes opened. “Sleeping together is too intimate, is that your assumption?”

  “Yes. We agreed merely to carnal relations, nothing more.”

  “Very well,” he said easily, surprising her. “If you insist…”

  Rising from the bed, he scooped up his dressing gown and shrugged into it. Then he bent and pulled the covers up over her shoulders, tucking her in. “Sweet dreams, vixen.”

  He didn’t seem at all angry that she had ordered him from her bed. Instead he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple and left the room.

  Raven frowned, somewhat bewildered and more than a little suspicious that he had been so accommodating.

  Had she questioned him, however, Kell would not have told her his intent. It would be foolish to rekindle Raven’s resistance by revealing his plans.

  He was set on taking over her fantasies.

  Her decided preference for her dream lover had roused his new resolve. Irrationally or not, it incensed Kell that Raven had another lover, however illusory. Whether driven by male pride or simple jealousy, he wanted to be the only man in her life. He intended to be the only man in her life.

  It would be a challenge, but he meant to win her away from her imaginary lover.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He came to her the next night and every night that week. They made love with passionate abandon, but Raven always insisted that Kell return to his own bedchamber. She was willing to give him her body, but nothing more intimate.

  It disturbed her, however, that the line between Kell and her fantasy lover was becoming more and more blurred-and never more so than when Kell escorted her to a brothel.

  Merely his offer surprised her.

  “I think it’s time we furthered your education and introduced you to some genuine fantasies,” he said as they lay in bed after a particularly intense bout of lovemaking.

  “What do you mean?” Raven murmured, enjoying the warmth of Kell’s hard body as she lay curled against him.

  “Madame Fouchet’s salon is the most elegant sin club in London. It specializes in some unique pleasures of the flesh and excels at fulfilling fantasies. I mean to take you there. It will be an experience I doubt your imaginary lover could give you.”

  Raising her head from his shoulder, Raven eyed Kell skeptically. “All this time I have been attempting to salvage my reputation, and you expect me to comport with you at a brothel?”

  “Your reputation seems to be repairing itself well enough. And as a matron, you are no longer bound by the same restrictions you once were.”

  “Even so…”

  “Where is your spirit of adventure, love? Haven’t you conformed to propriety long enough?”

  Raven had to admit that the forbidden allure of a brothel held an unmistakable appeal. Two nights later she found herself accompanying Kell up the steps of Madame Fouchet’s house of pleasure.

  They were admitted to an antechamber by a majordomo and greeted by Madame Fouchet, who expressed delight at their patronage.

  “All is arranged as you asked, Monsieur Lasseter,” the Frenchwoman said. “My house is yours. You have only to ring for whatever you require.”

  “Thank you, madame.”

  “I shall leave you to your pleasures, then.”

  With a bow, she disappeared through a rear door, leaving Raven alone with Kell.

  He led her through another door to a long hallway, explaining as he went. “The rooms on this floor are used for group affairs, but there are a number of bedchambers above that provide more seclusion.”

  Raven noticed the quiet and suspected that it was unusual. “There seems to be no one else here.”

  “Because I hired the place for the night.”

  “The entire house?”

  “Yes, to allow us privacy.”

  It amazed her that Kell would have gone to such trouble and paid what undoubtedly was an exorbitant expense, and yet she was grateful he intended to keep their tryst private. She might be unconventional at heart, but the prospect of a group fantasy enticed her not at all.

  “Ordinarily,” he continued, “clients select their partners for the evening and dress i
n appropriate costume. The Turkish harem is one of the prime entertainments.”

  He paused at an alcove that had a small viewing window. Raven could smell the scent of incense as she stepped up to the glass. The exotic scene was of an Eastern palace, with swaths of filmy draperies and wisping smoke and silken cushions.

  He led her to another alcove, but the viewing window was curtained, Raven saw as they entered the fantasy room through a door. This scene was lit by flaming torches and resembled the deck of a ship with railings and sails and a tall wooden mast.

  “The pirate ship is also a favorite here. The clients dress up as pirates and take captive a ship of female passengers.”

  Raven raised an eyebrow. “And what do they do with their captives?”

  “What do you suppose?” Kell asked, flashing a provocative half smile. “Ravishment is quite a popular fantasy. Here a man can have his wicked way without consequence. And adventurous ladies can pay for the pleasure of being one of the captives.”

  “I collect that I am to play the role of captive?”

  “And I will be your pirate lover. You said your fantasy lover is a pirate, did you not?”

  She nodded hesitantly, not certain she liked where this game could lead.

  “Tell me, has your lover ever ravished you or threatened your virtue?”

  Raven felt herself flush. “My fantasies are my own,” she replied, unwilling to answer.

  “Not tonight, vixen. Tonight I will be your fantasy.”

  He ushered her across the deck to a small door. Beyond was the captain’s cabin, Raven presumed. It was lit by flickering sconces and luxuriously appointed, unlike any real pirate ship she could imagine. Black satin sheets and red silk pillows embellished the large bunk, while gilt mirrors adorned the opposite wall.

  On a peg hung a filmy garment, which Kell handed her. “Your costume, my sweet.”

  Raven eyed the gossamer nightdress. “That fabric will be as revealing as wearing nothing at all.”

  Kell’s wicked grin flashed again. “I believe that is precisely the point.”

  On the captain’s desk lay a jeweled chest from which he withdrew a demimask. “For anonymity,” Kell explained, handing it to her. He also withdrew several gauzy scarves.

  “What are those for?” she asked, although suspecting.

  “For tying your wrists. Have you never indulged in bondage with your fantasy lover?”

  Raven shook her head, and yet Kell’s suggestion didn’t shock her; there were several incidents of such erotic delights described in the journal.

  “Then you can let your imagination run riot,” he said. Her uncertainty must have shown on her face, for he added in an amused voice, “Do you think I would hurt you?”

  “No…not really.”

  “Here, you will need these as well.”

  He gave her the bag of sponges and left her to undress while he donned his own costume.

  When she was attired in the diaphanous nightdress, Raven sat in the captain’s chair to wait. She was glad for the coal brazier that warmed the cabin, yet she found herself shivering, not because of the cold or her near nakedness. Despite her misgivings, the thought of the night to come was dangerously exciting.

  Moments later her heart turned over when she looked up to see her pirate filling the doorway. He wore a billowing white shirt and tight black breeches and thigh-high boots, while a dagger was tucked into his sashed waist. The demimask concealed the upper part of his face, but she could make out Kell’s gleaming gaze as it roamed over her revealing nightdress.

  “Stand up,” he commanded in a low voice. “Let me see what treasure my men have brought me.”

  She rose slowly, her heart thudding in her chest as he boldly surveyed her, measuring her rose-hued nipples and the dusky curls crowning her thighs.

  “Exquisite,” he said with a satisfied smile. Taking her elbow, he drew her toward the door. “You will come with me, captive.”

  When she held back, he withdrew his dagger from his sash and held it menacingly to her throat. “Remember you are my prisoner, mademoiselle. I can have you thrown overboard in an instant.”

  Uneasily Raven complied, telling herself she should enter into the spirit of the fantasy.

  The pirate led her from the cabin and across the deck to the mast, where he turned her to face him. Sheathing his dagger, he forced her arms behind her and secured her to the timber with the scarves. Then he leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and nipping softly.

  When she made a sound of protest, his hand went to her throat and held her still as he pressed his full length against her. He kissed her more thoroughly then, his tongue plunging deep while he moved his hips in a slow, rotating motion that made her pulse race.

  Raven’s breath was coming in soft pants when he finally drew back. Reaching to his waist, he brandished the dagger again, startling her. With the point, he drew a slow line down the valley between her breasts. Then turning the blade, he deliberately sliced her nightdress from throat to hem, exposing her pale body to his view.

  Raven couldn’t stifle a gasp.

  “There is no use crying for help,” he chastised. “My crew does my bidding.”

  The cool air caressed her naked skin, puckering her nipples. Raven wet her lips, staring at him. She was completely at his mercy. The knowledge made her tremble, even as it thrilled her.

  He saw her convulsive shiver and smiled. Returning the dagger to his sash, he lifted the curtain of her hair, drawing the long tresses over her pouting breasts. He was playing with her, prolonging the moment, Raven knew.

  “Such smooth, white skin,” he said in approval. He stroked his hand over the swelling mounds of her breasts, cupping the ripe fullness in his palms. “Such lush flesh.”

  His fingers traced a circle around her jutting nipples, making her arch against the delicious sensation. “These ripe buds are just waiting for me to taste them.”

  She bit her lower lip hard, trying not to respond as he pulled at the swollen crests. Yet shameful pleasure flared wherever he touched her.

  “I think I will suck on your nipples until you come.” He bent his head, his breath hot and moist against her skin, sending liquid warmth coursing downward between her legs. Yet he didn’t kiss her. Instead his tongue barely flickered over the taut peaks.

  Raven twisted against her bonds, fighting the keen sensations he was deliberately arousing in her.

  A moment later he stood, a frown of disapproval drawing down the corners of his sensual mouth. “What, no response, my beauty? No matter. You will soon be begging me, offering me anything I choose to take.”

  She raised her chin in defiance. “I will never beg.”

  His smile was utterly devilish. “You will do as I say. If you are disobedient, I will give you to my men.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she replied, although her tone held uncertainty.

  “No,” he said, his voice husky. “I wouldn’t. I intend to keep you all to myself. I won’t share my treasure with any man. You are mine.”

  Possessively, his palm covered her breast, then glided down the silken skin of her belly to her loins.

  “Tell me, are you a virgin, mademoiselle?”

  She hesitated before answering honestly. “No.”

  “Excellent. The better for me to enjoy you. I am a man of strong appetites, and I am not easily appeased.”

  He slid a probing finger between her thighs, along her wet, slippery cleft. Already it was pulsing eagerly.

  “You’re very hot, mademoiselle, are you not?”

  Raven arched her hips convulsively, feeling her bonds tighten in warning at her wrists.

  “How easily aroused you are.”

  One of his hands remained between her legs, while the other moved up to fondle her swelling, aching breasts. When he pinched her nipple, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

  “Be silent, captive,” he ordered. “You mustn’t scream, or my men might come to watch. You don’t want them
to see you naked and helpless like this, do you?”

  Raven swallowed her moan, yet the thought of his lusty, rugged crew seeing her ravishment roused a shameless throbbing heat between her legs.

  “Good, you know who is your master.” His indulgent, arrogant smile made her blood boil and race at the same time.

  “You must remain completely still, or I won’t satisfy you.”

  He was teasing her, making her wait, and the delay excited her beyond bearing. She strained against his hand, shamelessly seeking his penetration.

  “I said be still! You will obey me if you want me to take you.” His fingers thrust inside her a mere inch and then stopped. “Do you want me to take you, captive?”

  She drew a long shuddering breath. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Then you will beg me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “We shall see how long you resist when I put my mouth on you.”

  Going down on one knee, he parted her thighs and pressed his lips to her sleek folds, seeking the point of feminine pleasure. Raven sucked in a sharp breath, her legs instinctively parting even more.

  His long tongue lapped at her slowly, thoroughly, rasping against her sensitized flesh until she burned with frenzy.

  “Are you ready to beg me yet?” he asked at length, his voice husky.

  Wildly excited, she squirmed against his assault. His hands moved to clasp her buttocks and hold her still, his tongue and lips and teeth ruthlessly pleasuring her.

  “Are you?” he demanded.

  “Yes…please, yes! I beg you…”

  She writhed in helpless rapture as, with a final hard kiss, he dredged a shattering climax from her. Wanton cries of delight rippled from her throat until the fiery waves of sensation ebbed and she sagged limply against the mast.

  “Perhaps next time you will be more obedient,” he remarked, his husky murmur holding a note of triumph.

  Rising, he took a step backward. Through her haze of pleasure Raven watched as he unbuttoned the straining placket of his breeches and released his phallus, already massive and darkly engorged.

  “My cock is hungry for you. Are you hungry for it? Do you want to feel it sliding up inside your pretty, quivering flesh?”