Love Storm (11 page)

"Your eyes are beautiful," the prince murmured faintly.

"Quite beautiful," he amended thoughtfully. The compliment was without design—simply a spontaneous reaction, involuntarily uttered. In the dim, lamplit room, the
mademoiselles
luminous deep blue eyes radiated a glowing, seductive allure.

Lord, what eyes! he thought, enticing, intriguing, tantalizing, breathless. The prince knew he would not long be proof against those melting dark blue eyes that were gazing up at him, but he made a herculean effort of restraint and said urbanely, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "I was worried about you,
mademoiselle.
You hadn't returned and Bobby's been sleeping for somewhat more than twenty minutes. Nothing's wrong, is it?" he inquired pleasantly, and it took all his elf-control to keep from touching her.

"No, no, my lord," Zena stammered. "It's just so comfortably warm, and saunas always make me drowsy. I . . . I . . . just lay down to rest and the time slipped by. You needn't have worried. Really, my lord, you've been more than kind to Bobby and me." Zena lifted her gaze once again to the warm, golden eyes so firmly fixed on her, and she flushed at the message she read in their heated depths.

"As your host it's my duty to be helpful,
mademoiselle,"
he replied with a frank and unaffected simplicity designed to calm the young woman's obvious trepidation, but his composed disclaimer belied the transparent sensual message in his eyes. "A duty, let me assure you,
mademoiselle,"
he added with a warm smile, "I find exceedingly agreeable."

The close proximity of the prince, the ardent message in his eyes, and the sense of lithe, coiled tensile strength emanating from him caused Zena's floundering senses to flutter desperately. He casually held his hand out. Zena nervously moved back a step. An amused smile played across his fine features as he pointed languidly and said, "The brush,
mademoiselle.
I'll help with the tangles in your hair."

"Oh!" Zena squeaked skittishly. "The .-. . the . . . brush," she quavered.

"Yes,
mademoiselle,
the brush if you please," Alex soothingly replied. "I promise not to hurt." The double entendre further stiffened his erection. He lost a little of his sangfroid and shifted unobtrusively.

Why had he ever been so rash as to promise not to touch her? Given her desperate circumstance, he could have struck any bargain he pleased with her. What a fool he'd been to be so charitable; such careless impetuosity was the result of being exceedingly drunk. Had he been sober, he would have been considerably more hardhearted. Christ, she was penniless and homeless, prey to any adventurer and blackguard, and what did he do?—made some goddamn noble gesture that necessitated this charade. Devil take it! Five minutes, he fulminated silently. I'll give her five minutes more, and if she hasn't fallen into my arms, integrity be damned! I'll rape her. He was amazed and disconcerted with the attendant consequences of his careless generosity on the train. Normally it wasn't his way to disturb himself over anything. His principles had always been lax, and now he was envisioning rape. Whimsically he considered the absurdity of noble gestures.

Zena handed the hairbrush over compliantly. Grasping her gently by the shoulders, Alex turned the young woman around so that her back was presented to him. He lightly brushed the long waves, stopping occasionally to undo some knotted curls.

Zena was quite sure it wasn't altogether appropriate that the prince be here brushing her hair when she was in such a state of dishabille, but he seemed to have come out of concern for her long absence. Maybe St. Petersburg's country manners were more relaxed, allowing casual encounters like this without the censure of impropriety. In any event his fingers were very gentle, and the long, slow brush strokes were soothingly pleasurable. She shut her eyes contendedly and smiled happily.

The prince noted the long, dark lashes lower with felicitous gratification. "Pardon,
mademoiselle,"
Alex murmured. "This may pull a bit; a very stubborn tangle." Bending near, his warm breath touched her cheek, sending shocks down her spine as he pushed her long curls aside. His brown fingers lightly touched the back of her neck to untangle the snarl. At his touch Zena shivered as a hot glow began to spread. The prince's smile deepened. The tension of the long day in his presence, the soothing warmth of the sauna, and the delicate feel of those long, lean fingers served to kindle Zena's desire. Her slowly awakening senses made her want to touch the powerful, masculine body as she had wished to do a hundred times that day. Every quivering sensation in her body yearned for the seductively magnetic nobleman while he blandly and coolly, with a civil cordiality, resumed brushing her hair. This piqued and provoked her. With a woman's perversity she wanted him to desire her. Did he feel no attraction to her? Was she less appealing then
mon ange
of the previous evening? Had he found her wanting in their encounter on the train to Moscow? His eyes minutes ago had seemed to speak an ardent message, or in her own confusion was she misreading the expression.

Taking exception to the prince's disinterest with a deep-seated womanly umbrage, Zena in a thoroughly feminine
volte-face
lifted limpid, deep blue eyes and, staring straight at the prince's face in the mirror before her, said in a lightly teasing way, "Is it only a host's duty, my lord, that prompts your kindness?"

Bestowing an extremely penetrating stare on the young damsel, the prince murmured, "Would you have it otherwise?"

"A soft blush followed by a delightful confusion struck the flustered
mademoiselle,
telling him quite clearly they understood each other. He expelled a soft sigh of relief. Zena had made the first move. Thank God, for his composure had been near to cracking. Standing a hairbreadth away from an all but nude beauty in the privacy of a dimly lit sauna without grasping the ripe, opulent fruit was as near to torture as he had ever come.

The prince dropped the hairbrush and followed through with consummate skill; reaching out to hold Zena gently by both shoulders, he turned her slowly around, took her unresisting hands in his, lifted them around his neck, and locked his mouth on hers. Burying his fingers in her silky hair, he delicately kissed the warm parted lips. His voice dropped to a dulcet whisper as he caressed her rosy mouth.

"Would you have it otherwise, sweet
dushka!"
he repealed as his hands slipped down her slender back, molding her pliant, thinly raped body to his hard frame. He groaned as his manhood swelled. His mouth traced a path down Zena's silken throat, lightly caressing the slender column. Practiced fingers untied the robe. His hands moved up her arms until they reached her shoulders, pushing the fabric back and down her arms until the garment fell to the floor; his warm, broad hands set her blood burning. He parted the folds of draped towel, and it too fell unheeded to the carpet. Alex's hand cupped her bare breast, lifting the firm flesh lightly until his lips tasted a rosebud pink nipple. Zena's eyes closed as a frisson of pleasure coursed through her heated, tingling body.

The prince's dark head remained bent as he nibbled and softly sucked both rosy peaks now hardened under his lips. Zena caught her breath and melted back against the strong arm that held her firmly, luxuriating in each new wave of sensuous warmth racing through her veins. She looked down at the black, wavy hair and lifted her hands hesitantly to caress the dark head. The poised hands fluttered.

Then Alex's hand, previously employed stroking her breasts as he nibbled at their tips, glided down her belly and slipped between her thighs. Zena moaned in soft surrender and clasped his beautiful head to her breasts. Slender, bronzed fingers toyed with the moist and dewy entrance to her inner warmth, caressing the silken tissue, pulsating and damp with desire.

The prince lifted his head slowly and looked into blue eyes hot with passion. "Tell me you want me." His voice was low.

Zena's lips parted. She could hear her own labored breathing. A pink, rosy blush suffused her ivory skin. Uttering small soft sounds of building rapture, she clung to Alex with breathless urgency.

"Tell me," he repeated firmly, needing the sop to his honor.

Zena hesitated, her emotions in turmoil, passion overwhelming every rational thought.

Alex's lips closed over hers; his tongue licked tantaliz-ingly, then plunged into the velvety depths of her tremulous mouth. Zena's fingers convulsively tightened their grip, digging her nails into his powerful shoulders. He shifted his body to hold her closer, pulling her against them. The prince's warm, demanding lips forced an ardent moan. Lifting his head, Alex waited for her reply. Zena searched for his mouth, but he drew back.
"Tell me!"

Her mouth inches from his, Zena breathed softly, "Love me."

Ah—the needed words! Since when did he have so much principle?

"My pleasure to oblige,
mademoiselle."
The hushed whisper tickled her ear, and his mouth met hers in pleasurable response. He pulled her down on the fur-carpeted floor of the dressing room. He was smiling again as he commenced to oblige the sweet young miss. He kissed her throat, her breasts, her belly, and the insides of her thighs. He stroked her leisurely, delighting in each nuance of emotion he provoked. Under his sensitive, skillful mouth and hands waves of spreading desire inundated Zena's senses. Dextrous fingers brought her to a feverish pitch, his hands slid under her hips, and his mouth followed where his adroit fingers had toyed. Zena felt warm breath and a lightly teasing tongue on the very sear of her desire, and she shuddered convulsively, writhing slowly under the soft, flicking tongue as searing waves washed her to the very edges of ecstasy.

Zena pressed greedily against him, pleading with rapturous eyes, "Please, please don't make me wait."

Lifting his head, Alex chuckled indulgently. "Patience, my pet," he said as he covered her with his body but withheld his prize. Moving off her, he commanded, "Undress me."

Zena's eyes snapped open at the terse request. She shuddered slightly, shivering in exquisite torment, bringing herself back to full consciousness from the depths of her hot, flaming ardor. Sitting up slowly, she obediently reached out, still only half aware, to unbutton the prince's silk shirt and slip it from his muscular shoulders. She ran her fingertips over his broad chest, sliding delicately over the muscles of his torso.

An ache spread over Alex's body, and he caught his breath.

"Very dutiful, my little puss," he murmured huskily. Alex ran his fingers over her honeyed wet lips. Zena shuddered in ecstasy.

"Now my boots," and he stretched out his long legs.

Zena submissively knelt to remove Alex's brown riding boots. She was hungry for him. Just to touch him caused heated, pulsing waves to throb through her body. The sight of her full, swollen breasts bobbing and bouncing as she tugged and pulled on the tight-fitting footwear stirred Alex's penis to new dimensions. Finally the task was accomplished.

"My buckskins now, but first a reward for your efforts." Alex reached out and inserted two long fingers deep into her sweet passage. Zena groaned as small explosions began building, and the exquisite sensations ran through every screaming nerve.

"Almost there, my ho
t
little piece?" Alex murmured triumphantly. "The buckskins now, love, and I'll be happy, as a dutiful host, to soon satisfy that yearning of yours."

Zena hastened to unfasten the buttons of his leather breeches and after some difficulty managed to slide the formfitting trousers off. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and the fever in his veins seemed to be closing her throat. Alex's maleness sprang free, large, pulsing, and rigid, the erect phallus lying thick, arched, and hot-looking against his stomach.

Trembling in anticipation, Zena ran her hands lightly over Alex's hard body. "Love me, please, my lord, please."

"So bold now?" he teased.

Her hand slipped down and closed around his swollen manhood. He groaned. The teasing light was gone from his eyes, and twin flames glowed in their golden depths. Rolling Zena under him, his knee quickly spread her thighs, and in one economical gesture he plunged in boldly. The first powerful thrust sank in to its utmost length, and Zena screamed a piercing cry deep in her throat as Alex held himself firmly against her womb while her climax broke in crashing waves of blazing-hot passion from his inflamed, rigid shaft. When he could feel the convulsions subside, he shifted lightly inside her.

"Greedy little puss, haven't you ever heard of the delights of anticipation?" he whispered. "Hold me," he ordered as Zena's clinging grip had slackened on his back. "Hold me, little one, and you'll soon be screaming again." He smiled mildly as he slowly deepened his penetration. The prince was proud of his proficiency at pleasing women.

Slowly and with extreme care he restrained himself, driving in with long, slow movements, for he had learned at a very young age that the surest way to excite a woman's passion was with long, gentle thrusts and slow withdrawals. Zena's breath began to shorten, and she held Alex in a fierce embrace. She panted against his shoulder as every nerve thrilled and quivered. She melted against him, small and delicate in his arms, and his desire grew, grew in a different, more tender way—intense still, but gentle—and he moved inside her like a penetrating caress. His penis rose larger still as she became infinitely desirable to him. She felt the urgent force like a burning fire, and Zena opened herself to him, helpless before his powerful, assertive passion. He plunged deeper and deeper, touching the very center of her, and she clung to him, meeting his hunger. She clung with a terrible, consuming love for this unknown man until suddenly in a shuddering consummation they both blindly felt the blazing potency of bliss.