by Jianne Carlo
He made a strangled noise, a half grunt and half snort. She flinched and made to hop off the bed, but he hauled her on top of him, and his arms tightened around her back.
“I did something wrong?” He smelled of a male spice she couldn’t identify, and of the lime soap in the tiny bathroom tucked into the corner.
“Trust me, you can’t do anything wrong. I need to take charge now, kitten. Another time I’ll let you have your fill. Okay?” He rolled them over.
Jacinta couldn’t help but grin at his fierce, growled words. “Okay.”
“First, let’s get you out of your clothes.” He tugged the T-shirt over her head, and when Jacinta toed off the white panties, his eyes narrowed. “One day, you’re going to play with yourself for me.”
Her cheeks blazed.
He cradled her face and rained kisses over her brows, temples, nose, and cheeks. She wanted to shout her joy, luxuriate in the happiness welling tears to her eyes, but instead threw her arms around his neck and kissed him in kind.
“Grab on to the post.” He loosened her linked hands from his neck and curled her fingers around the post that supported the bunks. “I have to taste you. Need it bad.”
She couldn’t take her gaze off him. His eyes had gone all brown with no hint of green. He slanted his lips over hers, and she sighed into his mouth and gave herself over to him. Reality receded, replaced by the spell of his teasing, tantalizing tongue. That anyone could taste like paradise she hadn’t expected, but he did—a smoky, flaming paradise.
He nipped the edge of her mouth and then laved the bite tenderly. His warm breath tickled her throat, and an overwhelming yearning to caress him had her fingers digging into the rough wood.
She whimpered when he sipped at her jaw and trailed a path of hot, moist kisses to her ear. A delicious shiver chased fire and ice over her skin when he bit her lobe. Pain and not. Sensations cascaded one after another, so fast and furiously she ceased thinking, her mind ruled by the frenetic demands of her body. She burned with need, her breasts grew heavy, and her sex throbbed.
She dug her heels into the mattress when his lips covered her nipple and he suckled hard, his tongue lapping the turgid peak. Arching and squirming under his weight, she kissed every inch of skin within reach. When he lifted his head, she groaned and urged him back down to her breast, but he chuckled, returned her hand to the post, and latched on to her peak.
The exquisite torture scattered her thoughts, and she could only react to the tight suction, his sliding tongue, his fingers plucking the wet nipple he’d ministered to seconds earlier.
“So pretty.” He gathered her breasts and mounded them together, moving from one to the other, suckling the tips to a sizzling inferno.
Jacinta thrashed on the mattress, and her lungs refused to draw air. She wanted his hand between her legs, wanted his fingers inside her, wanted him to thrust into her scorching core. “Please, por favor. End this.”
“Soon, soon.” He dipped into her navel. His lips skipped down her belly, leaving a moist trail that smoldered. “You smell like heaven.”
He leaned to one side and grazed the tip of his forefinger over the nub at the center of her sex. She gasped and dug her nails into the post. A shudder raced through her when he slowly and carefully separated her folds. “Spread your legs, kitten. Just like that. Nice and wide.”
Jacinta didn’t realize she’d held her breath until he settled between her thighs and glanced up at her. “I’m drunk on you. This gorgeous pussy, the smell of your cream, and I know you’re going to taste like nectar.”
The cabin spun at the first flick of his tongue. One palm cupped her bottom, the other held her sex open, and he buried his face in her folds. Mãe de Deus. Mãe de Deus.
No more. More.
She bit her lip, tasted blood, but was lost to the magic of his mouth and fingers. He lapped each fold, held the pulsing, plump flesh between his teeth, slurped at the slickness, and then he plunged a finger inside. Jacinta shrieked, the pleasure so sharp, so potent she levered off the bunk.
But he held her down, one hand on her belly, and added another finger and yet another, the driving rhythm of his thrusting hand and fingers building and building like an orchestra reaching for crescendo, almost too much to bear. All at once, his touch vanished. Her eyes flew open, and there he was above her, his features contorted, jaw clenched, teeth bared. She felt his rod probing her core and angled to meet him, feverish for his entry. He cupped her cheeks and drove inside.
“Mãe de Deus,” she moaned as he stretched and stretched her, the throbbing thickness of him hot and heavy and pure ecstasy.
“Jacinta,” he rasped. “Look at me.”
Her eyelids were anchors and she had to concentrate to obey him, but the effort was more than worth it to see the animal desire written in his blazing stare, his dilated pupils, the color of his eyes now a dark molasses.
“I want to see you come, kitten. Stay with me.”
She couldn’t move away from his piercing gaze, loved when he gritted his teeth and grunted, loved the way he drove into her, loved the grim set to his mouth. He lifted her higher, and his rod struck a spot that blurred her vision and sent her spiraling into a series of sharp, frenzied convulsions. Aching, unbearable contractions that had her seeing black spots. She surrendered to the delicious clenching, to the feel of his pulsing cock, to the crushed embrace of his arms.
He smelled all male powerful, musk and tang and spice and soap all rolled into an irresistible aroma. She drank in the dizzying fragrance, ran a finger through the light dusting of hair on his chest, and then set her mouth to where his heart beat under her palm. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, the slight wetness both salt and sweet to her lips. Wanting to prolong the precious intimacy and hold him inside her until the memory was branded into her senses, she tried not to move, not to press another kiss to his ripped muscles.
The boat rocked.
He tensed, his shoulder bunching under her hand, and he cocked his head. All trace of the lover vanished, and the warrior mask settled over his face.
When she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, he rested two fingers on her lips.
The birds had stopped chirping.
Boughs creaked. Water rippled. Branches swished.
All the normal day sounds had receded. No croaks, hisses, no hint of a bee buzzing, no undergrowth being trampled. Within seconds Demon slipped out of her, rolled over, and motioned for her to be quiet and stay put. He pulled on his trousers and boots and ducked under the archway.
Jacinta scooted off the mattress and dressed quickly in jeans, a T-shirt, and socks. After removing the knife from her boot, she slipped past the kitchen, dropped to her knees, and crawled to the engine room’s open door.
Demon, bare-chested, stood at the stern, gun drawn, his pose one of full alert. His glance swept the cove. Without pausing in his methodical checking of the thick mangrove, he waved her back inside.
She immediately recognized the kind of silence that spoke of an unfamiliar predator’s entrance into new territory. The immediate abatement of chirps, squawks, and whistles, and the hushed scurrying as small prey like rats and mongooses sought concealment. She crouched for balance, rested one knee on the deck, palmed the knife, and studied the mangrove, eyes narrowed. She sniffed and caught the faint feral stink of a big cat. To the left, a branch dipped; Jacinta trained her gaze on the tree and readied the knife.
A feline yowl preceded the jaguar’s leap from an overhead tree. The cat landed on the bank, teats hanging down, heavy with milk, and sprang for the deck. Maybe three feet separated the spotted cat from the houseboat.
Jacinta didn’t hesitate.
She threw the knife, aiming for the animal’s hind end. The steel blade sang across the deck, skimming the bow’s apex, and sank into the jaguar’s right leg. A scarlet spray stained the matted fur. Screeching its fury, the cat reared back, landed half in, half out of the river, and bounded into the dense mangrove.
B
efore she could draw a deep breath, Demon had her by the shoulders. He shook her. “Are you insane? Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
He was shouting again. Jacinta cringed but stuck her chin in the air. “I have tracked big cats. I know what to do. And I did not know if you are au courage with the jungle.”
“What?” He shook her again so hard she thought a tooth would come loose. “When I tell you stay put—you stay put. Hear me?”
“I believe everyone within three miles can hear you.” Jacinta folded her arms. “I do not understand why you are angry again.”
“You could have been hurt.” He hugged her tight, and she grew even more confused. “Damn it. Next time you disobey me, I’ll tan your backside.”
“You would hit me?” She didn’t understand him, not at all.
“You turn me inside out, woman. No, I would not hit you. Not in anger, anyway.” He nudged her jaw, and their eyes met.
“So you would hit me? Only not in anger? Truly, não entendo. This I do not understand.” Yet she felt not a hint of fear, just confusion.
“Aw hell. Forget I ever said that. I do not hit females.”
She blew out a long sigh and pointed to her heart. “I know that here. But your words skitter my thoughts.”
“Scatter. Who taught you to throw a knife?” Demon shook his head. “Don’t tell me, the vaunted Sister Helen?”
“Yes. She is so much better than I with the knife. But I am far superior with guns and a bow and arrow. Not as good with the blowpipe.” Jacinta smiled. “I told you I am not helpless.”
He studied her for long seconds. “After we eat, I’ll assess your competence with guns and knives. The blowpipe and bow and arrows can wait.” Demon flicked the tip of her nose. “Why do I get the feeling that your talents don’t extend to the kitchen?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can churn butter. But alas the sisters complained of stomach cramps the few times I cooked a meal.”
He chuckled. “You can churn butter? That’s it in the culinary arena?”
“I can clean and gut and smoke a fish.” Jacinta tried not to sound defensive. “I can dress a chicken. I have not the talent for watching pots. Things burn very quickly.”
“Breakfast is on me, then.” He curled an arm around her waist. “Scrambled eggs and toast?”
“There is no bacon?” She had discovered bacon on the second morning at the school. Her mouth watered remembering the heavenly scent of the strips cooking.
“Don’t know. Didn’t check. I’m starving. Let’s eat, and then, woman, you are going to do a ton of talking.”
“I enjoy conversation. There was not much of it in the cloister. Sometimes, I would climb to the top of our mountain and shout until I was hoarse.” He had halted, and Jacinta risked a quick peek. “It was foolish, no?”
“No.” He framed her face. “You are amazing, Jacinta Nunez.”
“Nunez?” She frowned. “My name is Jacinta Maria da Silva. Why would you call me Nunez?”
“My bad.” He tugged her through the engine room and into the kitchen. “You’re on toast duty. I’ll get everything else. Why don’t you check the pantry and let me know what we have?”
Nunez. She knew no one called Nunez. And he was not the type of man to mis-say his words.
“The pantry?”
“I am sorry. My mind wandered. The pantry is the larder, no?” She opened a cabinet that ran ceiling to floor, and scanned the top shelf. “Beans, many cans of beans. Peanut butter, I like that very much. Welch’s grape jelly. I have never had that.”
“It goes with the peanut butter. Kind of an all-American snack. And today’s your lucky day; we’ve got bacon.”
So he was American as she had suspected. And in the military. Or a mercenary? He knew guns and was fit enough to stay underwater for a long period. The navy? Maybe one of those SEALs that had killed Bin Laden?
“That’s it? Nothing else?” Demon sorted pots and pans from under the sink cabinet. “See any salt or pepper?”
“Yes.” Jacinta handed him salt and pepper shakers.
“Is that rice in the salt?”
“To keep the grains from becoming too moist. It’s the humidity. There are many cans of soup and fruit. Lard. Packets of milk.” Jacinta peered at a box she didn’t recognize and read the label out loud. “Lucky Charms breakfast cereal. I have heard of this. On Saturday mornings when we watched cartoons, they would advertise this.”
“Au courant.” Demon shook his head. “You said au courage earlier, but the term is au courant.”
“Au courant. A French phrase that has become English. So you have some knowledge of the jungle, then?” Jacinta picked up a bag and showed it to him. “Are these chocolates?”
“Peanut M&M’s—chocolate-covered peanuts.”
She clutched the bag to her chest. “I think I have died and gone to St. Peter’s gate. Peanuts covered by chocolate. I do not want any eggs. I will eat this bag.”
“No, you don’t.” Demon snatched the bag. “You’re a definite chocoholic. I’ll hold onto this. For now.”
“I will give you all my bacon for one handful of peanut M&M’s.”
“Not buying.” He cracked an egg into the frying pan. “Bacon, eggs, and toast. You’ll have to earn the M&M’s.”
He set the bag of chocolates on the top ledge. Jacinta decided not to say any more. He hadn’t slept and she had. While he was sleeping, she’d get the peanut M&M’s.
“Earn?” She leaned a hip against the counter.
“Yeah. Let’s see…ten kisses will get you one M&M.” He winked at her and cracked another egg. “Make yourself useful. Put the bacon in the other pan.”
“Okay.” She liked this. Liked that he caressed her cheek, picked up her hand and kissed the palm, liked that he seemed to feel the need to touch her. “I should like to tell you something.”
“Like I said before. You can tell me anything.” He tore open the plastic covering the sliced bread, and she knew he stared at her, because her cheeks warmed.
“I do not regret that we had sex twice.” Jacinta kept her focus on the sizzling bacon strips. When his hands rested on her shoulders, she didn’t look up. “I know I should, but I cannot find it in my heart to regret something so wonderful.”
He switched off the gas. “I’m glad you don’t regret us making love. And I’m glad you thought it was wonderful. I made a big mistake though, Jacinta. I didn’t use protection.”
“Protection?” Before the question left her mouth, she understood what he meant, and though heat coursed over her face, happiness sang through her veins. “I could have your baby. What a boon that would be.”
She turned around, and her smile died at the thunderous expression on his face. “You are angry again. It is selfish of me to want to have part of you to keep after you leave.”
“I’m not angry. I promise.” He kissed the back of her hand. “You’re barely twenty. You haven’t even begun to live. The last thing you need is the burden of a baby. I have no excuse, but it won’t happen again. And know this, Jacinta: if it turns out that you are pregnant, I’ll be there for you.”
“You are a good man. And I will not call you Demon. Tell me your name.” Love threatened to burst through her skin and the words from her mouth. Her eyes prickled, but she willed the tears away.
“It’s better that you don’t know, kitten.” His thumb brushed her lip. “Once we’re safe, then I’ll tell you.”
Why wouldn’t he trust her with his given name? She tried to hide her hurt by making a joke. “I am dreadfully close to being weepy again. A handful of M&M’s should cure my tears.”
His belly laugh proved contagious, and she chortled with him. “Honey, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that to get around me.”
Jacinta pouted.
Demon reignited the burners. “Do your job. Watch the bacon.”
“I shall call you babe. That’s what lovers call each other, no?” Jacinta used a fork to flip a bacon strip.
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br /> “Oh, I don’t know. I’m partial to Oh Exalted One.” Demon pinched her cheek. “Or Your Majesty.”
“You are pulling my thighs.” She couldn’t stop grinning. Never had she felt so at ease with another human being.
“Legs, kitten. Pulling your legs.” He shook his head.
“English can be so illogical. I make very few mistakes in Latin and Gaelic. Even German is not so hard, but English…and the slang. I felt silly saying chill and my bad. But the day girls use all the ‘cool’ terms, and I wanted to as well.” She placed the cooked strips on a paper-towel-lined plate. “I didn’t want to be different.”
“Do you worry about fitting in?” When she went to sit in the other chair, Demon tugged her into his lap.
Warmth crept up her throat, and she ducked her chin. “Always. I didn’t belong in the cloister. I didn’t belong at the day school. I didn’t belong with Emilio. I should like to ask you something—babe.”
“I like you calling me babe. Ask away.”
“Do you think Consuelo spoke the truth? That Emilio is my half brother?” She couldn’t swallow, her throat too scratchy, the answer too important.
His gaze never faltered. “Yes.”
She covered her face. “I have always dreamed that one day my mother or father would come to claim me. That I had many, many brothers and sisters. A grandmother. Aunts and uncles. But I would rather be alone in this world than have to share the same blood as Emilio’s.”
“Don’t.” He pried her hands loose. “I learned the hard way that you can’t choose your family. An accident of birth related Emilio to you. Look at me, Jacinta. Ah, kitten, don’t cry.”
Even biting her cheeks till they ached wouldn’t stop the tears. “What he wanted to do to me—even thinking of it makes my heart hurt. Why? Why would a brother hurt a sister?”
“Some people are born evil. Emilio’s one of those. You aren’t tainted in any way by being related to him. Are you listening to me?” His palms warmed her cheeks.
She nodded.
He swiped away the moistness from her face. “Let’s make a pact. We’ll be each other’s family.”