Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) (21 page)

She was glad he had turned to lead the way on the
short distance to the small pool of artesian water. Now that her passion had been more than satisfied, she felt
terribly self-conscious about her nudity, especially when
she was up and walking around rather than sitting in the dark with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Phantom made a production out of dipping a toe into the
water to test its temperature. “Yes, the maid has gotten the temperature just right this time.” He stepped into the
pool, still holding Pamela’s hand. “Trust me, you’ll feel
better after a bath.”

In a sudden rush of uncertain feeling, Pamela wondered if Phantom had taken other women to this oasis to make love
to them. Was she just one of a string of those to have an assignation with the virile Midnight Phantom here in his purportedly secret place?

She tugged against his hand, resisting the pull that had
taken her to the water’s edge.

“
What’s wrong?” he asked. He released her hand, walk
ing into the pool until the water was up to his waist then
dropping down until the water was up to his chin. He
began rubbing his chest and shoulders vigorously.

“Who else have you brought here?” Pamela asked, fer
vently hating the jealousy in her voice. Still, she was im
pelled to discover whether she was the only woman to have cooled her love-heated body in the pool after pas
sionate lovemaking with Phantom.

Clouds had diminished the scant moonlight, but with
Phantom now facing her from the pool, Pamela placed one hand over her vagina
and the other across her
breasts.

“Are you jealous?” He sounded amused at the prospect.
His attitude did nothing to assuage Pamela’s newborn fears or to bridge the distance that now separated them when
only a few minutes earlier they had been as one.

“Of course not,” Pamela shot back, sounding as haughty
as possible under the circumstances. “I just want to know
if there are spirits of past lovers lurking around, that’s all.”

“Spirits,” Phantom exclaimed.

He seemed to suddenly realize that Pamela was open, tender, and much too vul
nerable for further jokes. His expression turned contrite.

“Well?” she demanded.

“No, Pamela, I’ve never taken anyone here but you,” he said with absolute solemnity. “And to ensure that your
spirit retains its privacy, you can rest assured in knowing
that I will never bring anyone here but you.”

“That’s a promise?”

“With all my heart.” Phantom offered her a dazzling smile
that made her want to trust him.

My weakness for this man will be my undoing,
she
thought, though at that happy moment, she had no desire to be anything but “undone” by Phantom.

With her hands still strategically placed, Pamela walked into the pool then knelt in the water to conceal herself.
The bed was solid rock, somewhat slippery with plant life. T
he water’s temperature was cool enough to be refreshing and cleansing, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable.

They bathed in silence, he at one end of the pool, she
at the other. Pamela ran her hands over herself, washing away her own perspiration and Phantom’s, washing away semen. After their lovemaking,
the scents of their bodies had hovered about her, continu
ally reminding her of what they’d done with each other,
of what she’d felt. Pamela had never before experienced that
peculiar, unmistakable aroma—that of man and woman fresh from energetic loving. She filed it away in her memories.

She turned at last toward Phantom, shocked to see that,
while she’d been bathing, he’d taken off his mask to wash
his face. But he had turned away from her and was just
now tying the black silk over his eyes once more. Pamela had
been lucky enough to get a glimpse of him without his mask, though for such a brief time and in such poor light she still could not guess his identity.

“Doesn’t the mask make it difficult to swim?” she teased, feeling more refreshed now that she’d spent ten minutes splashing about in the cool water. Phantom, it seemed, had again been right.

“I haven’t gotten it wet,” he replied, and Pamela could hear
a bit of tension in his voice. “I keep it on for your protection, not my own. I explained that to you already.”

“I can protect myself,” Pamela replied softly. Trying to
convince herself that it didn’t matter whether he revealed himself to her or not hadn’t worked. After all she’d shared with him, she wanted more than ever to know who he was.

“Sure you can,” Phantom teased, moving closer to where
she knelt, concealed in the shallow water.

“I can,” she replied petulantly, disliking her strength or courage questioned after having had to prove herself for much of her life.

“Even against me?” he asked, gliding toward her, only his head and those much-too-broad shoulders visible, his
smile wolfish.

Now it was Pamela’s turn to smile. She retreated in the water, trying without much success to move away from
the advancing Phantom while at the same time staying low
enough to remain concealed.

When he closed in, reaching for her, she giggled play
fully, trying to move faster. Her feet lost traction against
the hard, slick bed of the pond, and she went under the surface.

“Oh, you!” she sputtered, bobbing up, without any of the anger she really wanted to display. “I didn’t want to get my hair all wet.”

Pamela raised her hands and, twisting her thick blonde
tresses into a roll, piled them atop her head. With her arms
raised, her breasts were elevated above the surface of the
water, where they glistened and glowed in the moonlight,
the areolas soft pink, the nipples peaked from the cool water.

The sight of them froze Phantom. He knew he should not
respond so forcefully to the sight of a woman’s breasts. Pamela’s most certainly were not the first he had seen. But experience did not matter. Pamela’s breasts were the most
beautiful he’d seen, big and round, riding high on her body,
and in perfect proportion to the width of her shoulders, the narrowness of her waist, the erotic curve of her hips.

For several weighty seconds, Pamela and Phantom remained
motionless, looking into each other’s eyes. She wanted to
dip beneath the surface of the water to hide herself once more, but she also wanted to stand up so he could
see all of her. Torn between what was right and what was
wrong, she stood absolutely still, her hands holding her hair above her head.

“Pamela…” Phantom whispered breathlessly, closing the
distance that separated them.

He moved close enough so that, beneath the water, his
knees surrounded her hips. His gaze went down just
briefly to her exposed breasts, and he felt his cock coming to life in the water, expanding in response to Pamela’s un
practiced sensuality.

As she felt his thighs against her own, she saw the hun
ger for her in his dark eyes. So soon to make love again?
she asked herself. She looked at his mouth, wanting his kisses once more, though not certain she could accept
lovemaking once more. Contrary to her earlier denial, she
felt a little sore now.

“So beautiful,” Phantom whispered.

He raised his hands to her face. Pamela closed her eyes,
still keeping her arms over her head. She felt him touching
her, starting at her forehead and trailing his hands down over her face, the contact of his fingertips barely more than a whisper of feeling yet shattering in their impact upon her senses.

A warbling sigh was emitted from Pamela’s throat as he
circled her lips with a fingertip. The touch was so light and soft, yet it aroused her deeply and made her feel she
was being kissed. When his hands moved lower, she an
gled her chin upward, exposing her throat to receive his strange, feather-soft caresses.

Over her throat, chest, and shoulders, Phantom’s fingers
moved and then lower still, into the valley between her breasts,
at first stroking in large circles, circles which became
tighter and tighter until at last he used only the tips of his
forefingers to follow the outline of her areolas.

He watched as her nipples elongated and knew that her
passion had been reborn, as had his own.

On her knees in the cool, clear water, her hands were above
her head. Every nerve in her body was tingling, wait
ing for the ecstatic moment when Phantom would once again
touch her nipples in ways she found
so exquisite she could hardly breathe. Any second now,
she told herself.
Any second now
. And even though she had very little experience in these matters, she knew in her heart he could make sweet love to her once again and that she could receive his passion.

The sound of loose rocks disturbed at the water’s edge
jarred them from the moment.

Instantly, Phantom was on his feet, high-stepping it to shore where his Colt rested in its black holster. He drew
the weapon and pulled back the hammer, his eyes search
ing the darkness for the enemy he was certain was upon them.

When Pamela had heard the rocks moving, scraping against stone, she had not reacted as swiftly. To her left,
she saw what had caused the sound—a jackrabbit, having
come to get a drink from the oasis, had become on evening
meal for a fox. The struggle was short, and the fox quickly carried her meal off into the darkness of the night
with nothing more than a backward glance at the two unusually large creatures in the water.

Sadness struck Pamela at the jackrabbit’s fate. Though she
knew that tonight the fox and her babies would eat well, the laws of nature could be tragic.

Why was it impossible for all living things to have what
they needed? wondered Pamela.

Phantom turned toward her after realizing what had caused the brief commotion.

“I guess I don’t need this,” he said, presenting his Colt as an object of humor. He tucked the pistol back into the black, form-fitting holster. He seemed oblivious to the enormous erection jutting out from his loins.

Even when he is embarrassed, his movements are so
smooth, so graceful,
Pamela thought, watching him.

She loved looking at his body, with all its dormant power. Only the mask marred this picture of the American male at his finest. She never could ignore its significance.

Did he trust her? And where exactly in Phantom’s life
would Pamela Bragg fit? She tried to elude the question, but
it hung with her.

It was time to get out of the water. Pamela took a deep breath for courage, silently cursing herself for being a prude because she wished Phantom was not watching her. Then she straightened up.

He had seen her body before, of course. He’d seen her,
touched her, tasted her, but that didn’t stop him from
staring at her as though he’d never before viewed a naked woman.
Though she was uncom
fortable with her nudity, he could not oblige her modesty
by taking his gaze from her.