Pulling and squeezing my nipples forced me to moan. It echoed as my fingers slowly walked their way south. In my mind, my fingers were the beautiful hands of my ghostly visitor. His hands stroked my stomach and finally dipped into my well of pleasure, intermittently thumbing my clitoris with small circles.
The water lapped at the side of the tub and the candles flickered as my breath rushed out. Loving touches descended and worked into a fast frenzy that sloshed water over the tub's edge. I screamed into the empty night air as the orgasm rippled through me.
There was no denying it now, I wanted—no needed—to see him again.
As the water lapped at my chin, I slipped the ring onto my finger and waited. It was like signaling some superhero. Birds chirping filtered through the open windows. I closed my eyes and waited for what seemed like forever.
"Elizabeth,” he called and roused me from my doze.
He smiled at me and sat on the side of the tub. He picked up the soap and started to lather my legs. “Is it time for a washing? Where are your servants?” He looked about, then resumed washing my legs. “No bother. I will be your slave."
His hand moved in circular patterns and soon, I was moaning in pleasure. His hands erased all questions as they slid higher and higher up—bumping my swollen vagina lips—teasing them. Water was up to his elbows as he found my hidden forest and once again, this time for real, I was the one soaring and screaming in ecstasy.
"Well, done, Mademoiselle. Now, it is my turn.” He removed his shirt and his breeches, his stockings and then the ribbon from his hair, which came down to his waist.
I simply stared at his nakedness as he climbed into the tub with me.
Lightly, my fingers traced tiny circles across his chest. Grabbing the soap, I lathered his chest—that seemed to solidify now that he was completely aroused—and moved down over his hardened abs into his nexus of masculinity. Throwing his head back in pleasure, he mumbled something in French. Something that made my insides churn with desire, even though the meaning of his words was lost to me.
He leaned forward and kissed me. The sheer force and passion of his kiss startled me. If he noticed, he did not stop. At that moment, I knew why Elizabeth didn't want anyone else to have the ring. Apparently, this man loved her.
It didn't matter and I could have cared less—I wanted him. Soon, we were out of the bathtub and on the floor. The tile cold on my wet, naked skin only made my nipples, already tiny peaks of delight, contract even more. Trembling from both the cold and the pleasure, I gave into him.
The next morning, I awoke to an empty bed and the stale scent of sex. I noticed the ring on the floor next to my hastily discarded towel. My lover had disappeared.
At least for now.
The antique dealer was definitely wrong to call the ring cursed. And just as my grandmother guarded the ring's secret, I wasn't going to let it out of my sight. Or my bed.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Over the last twenty years, Sherrill Quinn worked very hard to build a career in Human Resources. Her last job was as Vice President of HR with a company of just over three hundred employees, where she routinely worked fifty-five to sixty hour weeks, sometimes sixty-five to seventy hour weeks, and occasionally eighty hour weeks. At some point, she decided enough was enough. The last ten months on her job coincided with her rediscovery of the joy of writing. She rejoined Romance Writers of America and took an on-line “How to Write Erotic Romance” class with Jan Springer, in February 2005. In September 2005, she signed her first contract with WCP Torrid, with many more following that.
RaeLynn Blue loves nothing more than long, hot baths, snuggling in front of crackling fires, sleeping in late on Sundays, and browsing the latest in clothing. She loves writing romance even more. Her books aren't the run of the mill romance with sex under the covers with the lights out—they're sensual and erotica romance. And that means lust, passion, and a whole lot of sex. Join her in the latest jaunt off to exotic locales with love that isn't plain vanilla.
For your reading pleasure, we welcome you to visit our web bookstore
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Visit www.whiskeycreekpress.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
Torrid Teasers Volume 18 Page 5