by Lavinia Kent
She closed her eyes again, even though the room was dark, and concentrated on the sensation of his lips moving higher, and even higher. His fingers brushed so lightly over her other thigh. It was barely the kiss of a butterfly’s wing, but sensation spread through her.
Why was he being so slow? She wanted him between her legs now. Now. Now.
But he wanted to linger, his lips and teeth savoring her, his fingers teasing her.
Her back arched slightly. Good. So very good.
Her legs spread even more, inviting him higher.
A chuckle sounded from deep in his throat. She felt it vibrate through her.
And still he didn’t move, or at least not much. His hand rose to play at the crease between leg and torso, a spot that had always been particularly sensitive, and she found herself shifting on the bed, but his mouth stayed mid-thigh, refusing to move higher.
She wanted to moan, to scream—to scream. No. She was not ready to scream yet. He would have to work even harder if he wanted that scream.
“This raping and plundering is hard work. I am getting hungry.” And then he was on her, his mouth finding her clit, sure and true.
Her body arched off the bed as his tongue laved hard against her. God, he was good at this, had always been good at this.
—
God, she tasted good. A man could die happily at such a moment—or at least much of him could. He had to admit that a certain part of him would be most unhappy were it all to end now. He pressed his hips into the bed, enjoying the friction the fine sheets provided.
It was dark and warm under the pile of quilts and filled with the wonderful scent of woman, of Ruby. His cock twitched against the sheets, eager for its turn. He willed it to wait. This moment was about Ruby—and only Ruby—although he had to admit that he was rather pleased with the situation himself.
He nibbled at her clit, stroked her with his tongue, and reveled in all that was she. He pressed his tongue into her, feeling every twitch of her body.
Her hips rose, her thighs tightening about him.
She was close, so close, and he was the man for the task—just as soon as he got that scream.
He nipped her slightly, pressed harder with his tongue, brought his hands up and opened her wide, feasting and devouring.
She began to moan, to beg.
“Please. Please, Derek.”
He pulled back slightly, blew hard against her, felt her tremble.
And lowered his head again.
Her inner muscles tightened. He caught her delicate nub between his teeth and pulled gently, letting her feel the pleasure and the danger.
Her body stiffened and held tight.
He released her slightly. His tongue slipped out and laved her length.
She cried out slightly.
He moved his thumbs closer and sped the pace. She was straining against him, every muscle tight, fighting to reach the peak. He moved even faster, pressed harder—pushed her over the brink—and received his scream. The sound of his name filled the room.
He held her for a moment, prolonging her pleasure, then in a single movement slid up through the quilts, still holding her legs wide, and pressed himself home.
—
She was going to die. No one could experience such pleasure and live. Her whole body vibrated with feeling and emotion, wave after wave after wave. And then, just when she thought she could take no more, she felt Derek move, felt him rise and fill her.
It should have been too much, her body was far too sensitive for any further touch—even his breath upon her burned—and yet she welcomed it, welcomed him. Her body softened about him, wanting to feel him in her, wanting him to be part of her.
His hips rose and fell, hard, fast, demanding. The previous moment had been about her; this was about him, about a man who had been at sea for weeks or months and had been away from her for even longer. She could barely see his face in the pale light, but she could sense the strain.
He surged faster and faster, pounding into her. She pushed up, feeling a new need rise within her.
A second ago, a mere moment ago, she would have thought it impossible, but that was then, this was now. Her hips began to rise and fall of their own accord. Her inner muscles tightened and released, pulling him deeper.
Her head dropped back into the pillows, her mouth open and gasping.
It was too soon. She could not come again, not yet.
And then she did.
It burst upon her fast and strong.
She cried out again and felt him join her, felt that final deep push, felt the throb within her.
They both grew tense and stiff, their bodies pushing further and further, almost melding—and then the collapse. He was heavy upon her and she did not care. All that mattered was that Derek was here, was home.
She kissed the side of his neck where it lay against her face, tasting the salt of his sweat, smelling the musk of his skin. “I am glad you’re back. I worried.”
“You need not have. Nothing could have kept me from this,” he mumbled against her, and then grew quiet. His breathing grew deep and even. And he slept.
Rubbing her face against him, she felt complete contentment. This was what she longed for. This was how each day should end. She wrapped her arms tight about him and found slumber herself.
Chapter 5
Ruby awoke as her hands were stretched high over her head. She tried to pull away but could not. She pulled harder. Fingers gripped her wrists, refusing to give her any movement. A sudden click. Something cool fastened about one wrist and then the other.
Her eyes shot open.
Bending her neck, she stared up her wrists, at the heavy golden bracelets that surrounded them, bracelets held together by a thin but sturdy chain, a chain that now looped about a piece of the headboard, holding her tight.
Her head spun, finding Derek grinning down at her.
“Do you like them?”
“I…” She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Turning her head, she peered at the bracelets again—thick, heavy, golden, ornate. They weren’t something she had ever considered buying herself—and neither were they something that she’d ever dreamed Derek would purchase. His taste tended to be much more mundane—and she’d never even thought of him as a gift-giving fellow.
She looked back, her face quizzical.
“They reminded me of something in a book you have—sketches of famous paintings. A maiden waiting for the sea monster.”
“Andromeda Chained to the Rocks, by Rembrandt,” she said. “I am not sure that I like the comparison. It is not the most flattering of works.”
“Truly all I remember is the flow of cream-colored skin against the dark, the gentle curves and beautiful breasts—and I always imagined that the monster was going to ravish the maiden rather than devour her. I rather thought that you might like a bit of a game. I don’t have a sea monster, but I do know of a certain dragon that is eager to make your acquaintance.” He slid up in the bed, slipping from beneath the sheets, the early-morning light highlighting the bronze of his skin. Where had he picked up so much color? Even if he’d sailed south…Although she knew just how quickly the man could work up a healthy sweat—perhaps he took off his shirt no matter the weather.
Her mouth watered at the thought of all those muscles heaving with strain. But, then, she didn’t need to imagine; she had them right here. She lifted her head, wanting to kiss his chest, but was restrained by the bonds about her wrists. Restrained. Her inner muscles clenched.
Derek moved, kneeling before her, straddling her chest—and she confronted the dragon.
She always forgot how glorious it was, until it was before her.
Spreading from hip to hip was the glorious tattoo, greens and reds, a hint of blue. Its wings twitched with his every movement, vibrating as the muscles of his lean belly tensed under her gaze. And its tail. Oh, its tail. The tail of the beast wrapped about the base of his cock, strong and hard—and growing, demanding.
&n
bsp; Yes, this monster would devour her, devour her and ravish her, and she would welcome the taking, give herself up to it.
She pulled against the restraints again, becoming that ancient princess tied to the rocks, awaiting the creature that would come for her, feeling the fear but also the anticipation. Captive. Powerless. Her thighs pressed together, moisture beginning to seep.
Derek moved again, pushing another pillow beneath her head, angling her neck.
He eased forward, the dragon now inches from her face.
She wet her lips, even as her mouth grew dry. Her wrists twisted in their bracelets, wanting to be free.
Closer.
The dragon was all she could see now, rippling, restless.
Derek’s hand caressed her cheek. She parted her lips, sucking in his thumb as it brushed across them. Need blossomed within her. She wanted him, wanted him now.
She pulled his thumb deeper into her mouth and nipped lightly as he pulled it back. The dragon’s tail jerked before her gaze, swelling toward her.
The ache between her legs grew; her hips pushed upward, bucking. His thighs tightened about her chest, holding her steady.
And still the dragon—the creature that had come for her—filled her gaze. It was all she saw, all she knew. It tantalized her, drew her nearer even as she knew she should flee.
Derek’s thumb left her lips, and she pursed them in want and desire—and then parted them farther, inviting more, wanting more of him, wanting to truly taste him, wanting to taunt the beast.
He moved then, thighs pushing forward until the tip of his cock came to rest against her lips. She closed her eyes briefly, breathed in, smelled that deep musky scent, imagined herself captive against the rocks, awaiting what was to come.
Her body stilled. Her eyelashes fluttered, but her lids did not open fully. She breathed against the dragon for a moment, relishing the anticipation, the want, the wait. Her tongue slipped out and touched the tip, gathering the drop of fluid that clung there.
She savored the flavor, the essence of him.
Her tongue slipped free again, eager in its exploration. He tasted so good, felt so good. Opening her eyes, she traced the pulsing vein that ran along his cock from head to base, traced the winding scales of the dragon, her tongue lapping against it. His whole body grew stiff, shifting and changing with each tiny movement. The power of his restraint amazed her as he knelt there, quiet and strong. His thighs turned to iron as he held still, and she wallowed in it, licking his length, sinking into the deep joy that came from giving pleasure.
Another drop of liquid seeped from the tip. And then another.
She licked and laved, relishing each small taste.
Her eyes still fastened on the magnificent beast before her, her focus filled with swirling green and red.
His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging slightly, the tiny prickle of pain only increasing her need, increasing the sensations that filled her.
She slid her lips farther, taking the full head and moving down toward the base. Her shoulders ached with the effort, but still she pushed herself, needing more.
Her tongue pressed hard against the lower vein, back and forth.
Her cheeks grew tight and then loosened, granting him greater access to her open throat, making herself ready for him.
And he took it, took her. Holding her head still, Derek pressed forward until she could feel him on the back of her throat. She shifted, and he pushed farther, burying himself almost to the base.
It was hard to breathe, but she would have stayed in this instant forever.
Her tongue pressed again, wanting to drive him to the brink of madness with his need.
He pulled back, pushed forward, increasing speed and pressure.
She felt the moment when it became too much, the moment when he pushed hard forward, taking every fraction of an inch she allowed him. His whole body jerked and spasmed. The fingers in her hair pulled hard, holding her motionless. He pushed in even deeper.
It was too much. He was too deep. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted more. Needed more. Keeping her eyes closed, she forced herself to relax, to soften her throat, to allow Derek all that he needed, to allow the beast to feast its fill.
She should have felt powerless, helpless, naked, restrained, giving herself over to the dragon, but instead she felt strong and womanly. Her whole body still swelled with need, with the desire for his touch, his very intimate touch.
Her face pressed tight into his belly as he pressed forward again. She wished she could look at his face, see the need that drove him. Even as her body drew want from this game, her heart longed to see his, to look deep into his eyes, to feel his soul, his emotions.
He pushed deeper then, his cock at the limits of her mouth and throat. She felt the surge, the spurt. Her throat worked to swallow, as his fingers dug into her scalp.
And then the relaxation, when all was complete, when all was finished.
She waited, felt his thighs tighten and relax and return to their normal state, felt his body do the same, as he slid his softening flesh from between her lips.
He caressed her cheeks, his fingers running over her as if he were memorizing the feel of her face. His thumb moved across her lips again, but this time the gesture was soothing, not seeking.
His hands skimmed down her neck, kneaded her shoulders, moved up to her forearms as he lay down and pressed his body tight to hers. A slight movement, and one wrist and then the other slipped free. She cuddled against him, relishing the spent heat and dampness.
It was what she longed for, what she treasured, this few seconds of after, when the world was still far away and all that existed was the two of them. Her body curved to his, her breasts tight against the muscles of his chest, her hips sloping forward. Her body still thrummed with desire, but there was none of it in the magic of this moment.
He wrapped his arms about her, held her tight for the briefest of seconds, and then pushed her back so there was space between them. She longed for his heat and warmth—and safety.
But only for a moment; then she felt the nip of his teeth on her neck, her shoulder, the upper curve of her breast.
His voice vibrated against her. “I believe it is the monster that is supposed to do the devouring.” His lips found her nipple, even as strong, callused fingers slipped between her legs—and something else pressed against her thigh. Could the dragon be rising again already?
—
“Six times. I was not sure that was possible,” Ruby said, rolling onto her side.
“I did not think it was either, even after so long at sea, but you do strange things to me, my lady.”
She laughed. “I do rather think it was all that time alone on your ship that did it to you. And I am about as much a lady as I am a lion.”
“I think you’d make a rather fine lioness. I’ve never seen you let your prey escape.”
She sat up, looking down upon him, feeling no shyness in her nudity. “I admit that there will be no escape for you, Captain Price, now that you have returned to my lair.”
“No escape is desired.”
She grinned down at him. “I am so pleased you are home, Derek. I know I said it last night, but I don’t think I can tell you how deeply it is true. I have missed you.”
“And I you, Ruby.”
“I feel as if I cannot stop smiling.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, but I have never had the problem before.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No, I suppose not. Although,” and she grew solemn, “I do have enough worries that I must tend to.”
He looked at her in question.
“My sister arrived last night.”
“Your sister?”
“My half sister. My father’s daughter.”
“His legal wife’s child?”
“Yes.”
“How? Why?” His face displayed his confusion.
“She is with child, rather heavily
so.”
“Oh.” His brow furrowed with thought. “And not married?”
“No.”
“And what does she want from you?”
She slipped away from him and walked to the window, pulling open the drapes a bit to let in the morning sun. The light was blinding. Snow covered the world and reflected the sun in all its glory. It was rare to see London looking so clean and fresh, with only a few tracks marring the pristine beauty. She pressed her forehead against the window, taking it all in. It would not be long before the dirt of coal fires smudged the freshness. “I don’t know.”
“Surely she has said.”
“She did not say much. I think mostly she was looking for a place to hide. My father struck her, and I am not sure her mind has moved beyond that point. She knows all the things that cannot be, but she has not yet figured out the possibilities for what should happen next.”
“Your father hit her? Did he ever…”
“No. I have never known him to be violent; but then I was never as important to him as his true daughter. I was born in disgrace. There was only so much I could do to make it worse.” She kept her eyes focused on the snow, tried to ignore the pain of her own words.
“You do not have to let her stay if her presence upsets you.”
She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “You know that is not true. I could never send her away. And stop staring at my bum like it’s an apple you want to bite. I am trying to have a serious conversation.”
“Have pity, woman. I’ve been at sea for…”
“I had pity six times.”
“I am only looking. You are an enchanting sight with the morning light all about you.”
She snorted. “You have been at sea too long. I haven’t even washed up yet.”
“Believe me, after being at sea, you seem fresh as a daisy in the morning dew.”
“If you’re not careful, my dear captain, I will not believe a word you say.”
“I would never lie to you, Ruby.”
And he probably wouldn’t. Probably. She stopped at the word. Why did she need to add it? Derek had never given any indication of dishonesty to either her or anyone else that she knew, so why did she waver? Derek wouldn’t lie to her. She said it firmly to herself. “I know. Now, we should get dressed and I’ll call for breakfast. I must talk with my sister before the day progresses. I do hope she is more ready to talk today.”