PerpetualPleasure (6 page)

Gradually, he slipped a finger halfway into her. Lucie’s breath
hitched. He moved in and out for long seconds, the digit rubbing her, circling
her channel before he lodged it deep inside her body.

Lucie clamped on him.

“You’re almost swollen shut. It’s gonna feel unbelievable,
baby, I promise.” He drove the message home by gliding in and out of her, every
time a little deeper, every stroke a little harder. He got a gasp for every
thrust, a moan for every time he bottomed out.

With just one finger buried inside her pussy.

For a woman who acted like a vamp, Lucie’s reactions were
almost virginal. She had begged him to take her then borderline panicked when
he’d proceeded to do her bidding.

She wasn’t panicking now. She wasn’t protesting or
resisting, acting out or ordering him around. She rode his finger, her hips rolling
to meet his hand, enjoying him as he enjoyed her in her pleasure.

Gently, he pulled out of her. The digit glistened with her
juices.

Dick or mouth? He wanted to feel her slickness on his dick.
He wanted the taste of her in his mouth.

His dick was about to OD on pleasure. His mouth won. The
silky-smooth cream brought no relief, though. If anything, the taste and scent
of her made him greedy for more. It fed the need rushing through him, taunted
him to fuck her and fuck her hard.

If he’d wanted to come in thirty seconds, it would have been
a great plan.

With how hard she’d gotten him, with how bad he wanted her,
with how long he’d waited, it was the perfect plan to end the night short.

Yeah, he needed to fuck her. But first, he needed to calm
the hell down.

Gripping her ankles, he lifted her legs up. His cock bobbed
against the back of her thighs. Lucie squirmed, trying to open her legs for
him. He opened them for her, but only to stretch them along his torso and rest
them on his shoulders.

“Shh, baby, in a minute.” He ran his hands up and down her
legs, her skin smooth and hot under his palms. He moved to caress the arches of
her feet, stroking gently, featherlight. Clawing his way back to the hedonist,
the patient lover he’d claimed being, he sprinkled kisses on her ankle, taking
his time before moving over to the other. And when he nipped on her calves,
reaching for the back of her knee, her toes curled.

“Mac?” She sounded as pained as he felt.

“I know.” How sensitive she was, all over.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

Oh god. “I know.”

He skated up and down her legs one more time then pressed
her legs firmly against him.

“Your legs stay up here unless I move them. You don’t move
them unless I ask you to. Understood, baby?”

She nodded her agreement.

“If I move them, if I move you around, just follow my lead,
okay?”

She gave another nod, her mouth slightly open, her breath a
shallow pant. Burrowing closer, Mac spread his knees to align his crotch with
the apex of her legs. Her mound was puffy, a flushed rosy pink, and so damn
slick he couldn’t resist. Cupping her rear, he pressed his thumbs into her
cheeks and spread. “This is going to feel so good.”

His shaft dipped between her legs and he pushed farther, the
wide plane gliding along her slit until the crest found her swollen clit.

Lucie jerked, her hips twitching restlessly.

“Don’t move. I’ll give it to you. All you have to do,” he
pulled back, “is take it.” He surged forward, the thick column dragging along
her pussy and hitting her clit again with a force that had her crying out in
response.

He gripped her legs firmly to keep her from moving,anchoring
Lucie to him. In control of all motion, he was free to set the pace he wanted.
He rocked his hips against her, his crotch digging into her butt. His cock
glided in a steady rhythm between her trembling thighs, a small whimper
escaping her with every nudge of his erection on the tight bud of her clit.

Lucie shuddered and moaned, mumbling something he couldn’t
quite make out.

“Told you this would feel good.” He gave her ankle a small
kiss, a deeper one on the other, never losing the smooth pace he’d set as he
pushed in and out between her legs.

Lucie’s arms were taut, her back a tight bow as she fought
not to move.

“Hold still,” he commanded. “Just hold still and relax.”

“You’re joking,” she gasped.

Accelerating his pace, he prodded her pussy, pushing between
her thighs in long, rapid strokes. Her clit rubbed the underside of his dick,
grazing the tortured flesh of his cock. He growled as he fought against the
pleasure ripping through his balls, fought not to clench at her thighs, throw
her legs open and thrust into her pussy.

A tremor raced through her body.

“Mac!”

Lucie writhed, her legs trembling then clamping on him as
she gave in, cried out and started coming all over the length of his shaft.

“That’s it, honey, let go. Hell yes,” he encouraged her, his
dick lodged between her legs, pressing tightly against her throbbing clit.

Letting her settle, trying yet again to get a handle on his
own raging need, he caressed her legs.

Lucie gave him a tight squeeze with her inner thighs. She
didn’t look as if she had the strength for it, but she did it again. His hands
flew to her hips on a hiss, his fingers clamping.

“Holding back on me?” she asked.

“Was I?” He breathed in sharply as she gave his shaft
another pinch. “I made you come, honey.”

“That you did,” she consented. “And you loved making me
suffer, admit it.”

“I loved satisfying you, that’s all I’m admitting to.”

Smiling, she started pumping his dick in a steady rhythm.

Christ. “I thought I told you not to move unless I tell you
to.”

Unrelenting, she kept it up. “And I said I’m really bad at
taking orders.”

“Good thing I’ve got you tied up and under my command then,
isn’t it?”

Backing up, he threw her legs open wide. He positioned
himself between them and gently spread her pussy lips with his fingers.

“I’m going to come into you now, honey.”

Pressing the crest on her entrance, he pushed in. Lucie drew
a sharp breath as the thick head popped inside and lodged just beyond the
opening.

She gave him a tentative tug with her inner muscles that had
his eyes closing on a harsh groan.

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Just…don’t.”

“Please,” she begged him. She pumped the tip of his cock in
a series of sensuous little clinches, his cock jerking in response, twitching
at her entrance.

He pushed farther, slowly, gradually, making himself crazy
in the process.

And clearly frustrating Lucie to no end. She tried lifting
her hips to meet him, her channel contracting on his cock.

He stopped moving. “Don’t. Just feel me, okay?” he grated,
the pleasure so incredible, so intense, he fucking hurt with it.

He got moving again, rode her gently, feeding her his cock
in smooth, barely there glides deep inside her pussy.

“Feel free to put some chest hair into this, anytime,” she
said.

He gave a low laugh but rewarded her with a harder thrust.
Her head fell back, her back arching as she ground her hips to his as if she
was trying to take him deeper still.

“Too much chest hair? You good?”

“So good,” she wailed.

He drew back slowly only to slide inside in one swift
thrust, filling her pussy to the brim.

“Don’t stop. It’s so damn good, don’t you dare stop.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could. Do you have any idea how
unbelievable this feels?”

It was a vague comprehension dimming by the minute as he
pushed into her with more force. His hips rolled against her, ground to her,
his balls banging her butt every time she took him to the hilt.

He pulled out and plunged back into her, deep and hard.

“Tight. Wet. Hot.”

He pumped her pussy, gliding in and out of her slick heat,
impaling her with every thrust of his hips inside her creamy cunt.

“Perfect.”

She bucked to meet him, tried moving in rhythm with his
strokes.

“It’s okay, baby. Let me give it to you, Lucie. I want you.
I want you so…damn…much.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, let him slam into
her, fuck her with the demented hunger he’d built up all week. Her pussy was
sweet perfection, a tight ring tugging at his cock each time he pulled back,
sucking his dick each time he thrust back in to fill her up.

She writhed, moaned. Desperate. Reaching.

“I know,” he whispered hoarsely.

Craving more contact, more skin, the feel of her, he slid
against her body. He smashed his mouth to hers and kissed her, brief, fierce.

“I know.” He gripped the back of her neck and cradled her
head, the touch tender when the rest of him rocked her hard, his whole being
quivering with the need to come.

“That’s it, that’s it…keep going…just like that.” Her words
and breaths were erratic gasps, his no more than a shuddered, “Oh god” as the
first warning pulses of release had his cock swelling and throbbing as
violently as her pussy was.

She arched her hips, her body open for his taking, her pussy
convulsing around him.

“That’s it, honey, yeah,” he growled.

He fucked her hard through her orgasm, dragging sensation
from her thrashing body with each violent thrust of his hips to hers. He drank
in each breathless sound she made as she spasmed under him, shaking head to
toe. He pumped deep, almost brutal in his need, moaning into her cries until
the ripples in her channel became too much.

Enough.

Pleasure, white-hot and agonizing swept through MacCale as
he let go. A strangled cry tore from his lips as he shuddered against her,
coming hard, blasting into the condom, wishing he were spilling into her pussy
instead.

“Oh god, Lucie. Oh god, baby.”

He pressed his face into her neck, his cock still buried
deep inside her body as he gave a low, satisfied growl. “So good, honey. So
fucking good I can’t believe this.”

He pressed his mouth on hers, panted into her, the heat of
her breaths on his lips as he tried to kiss her, neither one managing anything
other than tiny pecks. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to leave her body
or her side. Forcing himself into action he pushed himself up and slid out of
her gently. Swiftly he removed the pillow from underneath her hips and released
her hands. MacCale removed the blindfold. She blinked at the light coming from
the bedside lamp.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Taking hold of her wrists, he
massaged them gently.

“Never better.” Lucie smiled at him reassuringly.

He kissed both her palms, laid down her hand, stretched
beside her and pulled her to him. He needed to get rid of the condom but he
couldn’t seem to let go of Lucie.

“Do I want to know what’s for dessert?” she asked.

“Clean up, cuddle, nap, and if you’re up to it, encore. In
that order.” He kissed her forehead. He could have spent the rest of the night
kissing her all over. “But first a warning.”

She scoffed, trying to pull back. He drew her right back
against him.

“
Now
a warning? And you tied me up for what exactly?”

MacCale chuckled against her hair. “Oh, I hope it was as
good for you as it was for me, but I meant what I said earlier. No games,
Lucie. Just you and me. Try playing me again and you’ll end up on your knees.”

She wriggled in his arms and MacCale let her lean back to
look up at him. “You love it with a touch of kinky. Admit it, MacCale,” she
said, her blue eyes sparkling.

MacCale wondered how many men floated adrift after getting
lost in those eyes. He for one never wanted to find a way out.

Trying to sound all serious while wanting to kiss her silly
once more, MacCale went for a stern look.

“Once again, that’s not what I meant, Lucie. Try to pull a
fast one on me and I’ll be forced to take you from behind for the rest of the
night, and I’d so much rather see those eyes go wide with pleasure as I push
into you. Then close because you can’t help it when I start to move inside you.
I want to see how you respond, and I want you to see what you do to me when we
fuck. What you have already done to me, you witch.”

“Witch?”

He gave her another quick kiss. “Witch.”

The oddest expression flitted across her face only to
disappear behind a small smile. The strangest need to possess and protect
washed over him with that one tiny quirk of her lips.

Lucie.
His
Lucie, the queen of Savannah.

And he was the man who would be king.

Chapter Four

MacCale woke up to the rays that seeped in through the heavy
curtains, the light hailing dawn. Lucie lay beside him on her belly, sleeping
peacefully, her slender back and curvy bottom bare.

He could get used to waking up to such a lovely sight,
MacCale decided, and pulled the covers over her to keep his dream sprite warm
and comfortable. What he saw as he leaned closer made him stop dead in his
tracks.

Her body, her beautiful body…

He had hoped to mark her, to leave an indelible expression.
Someone had beaten him to it. A crisscross of faint but visible slashes and
prick marks scarred her back, here and there. Everywhere.

He hadn’t seen them in the dimly lit room. He hadn’t felt
them as he had held her, but with how thick the skin on his palms was, he
didn’t wonder.

What the hell had happened to her? The rapists she had
hinted at that night at Boyd’s?

A cold sweat of guilt and horror gripped MacCale.
Remembering what he had done made his skin crawl. He had made her feel
helpless, he had made her beg and plead. Lucie hadn’t moaned in lust when he
had first taken hold of her hands to tie her up, she had borderline panicked.
She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t told him to stop. But he had hardly listened to
her either, only taken what he believed she wanted too.

Idiot. You fucking bastard.
He wanted to wake her up
that instant to explain, apologize and assure her the last thing he intended
was to make her feel unsafe, in her own home, in her own bed, dammit.

Swallowing down a groan, MacCale closed his eyes. He felt
sick to his stomach, to his soul. Had she played along hoping he wouldn’t take
the light bondage any further?

Pulling on his boxers and pants and leaving his shirt
behind, he picked up the belt, rolled it up and shoved it into his pocket. He
would shred it to pieces. He would never again be able to wear it without
thinking what he had used it for last.

He searched for the missing pillowcase and slipped it back
in place then headed for the door. He needed a moment alone without having to
look at Lucie. And in the same room with her, how could he not stare?

* * * * *

Lucie woke up to a lusciously exhausted sensation that
appeared to have taken over her entire body.

The room was quiet, the bed cool and except for her, empty.

MacCale was gone.

Okay. Good. One thing less to worry about. She had always
been the one who sneaked out before dawn. Deciding to take him home for the
night, she hadn’t given a thought to what she’d say or do if he lay beside her
when she woke.

The scent of him lingered in the bed, bringing back flashes
from the night before. How mouth-watering his skin tasted. How low and gruff
his voice could be one moment and how calm and soothing the next. How the feel
of his hands all over her body had taken the fight and the flight out of her,
made her forget her resolve or why she should have resisted.

Mac had taken over and promised she would love it. She had.
So very much.

Too much.

Why the hell had she let him tie her up like that? Lick her
pussy? Jesus, her belly clenched just thinking about his mouth on her, lapping
at her lips, flicking her clit, tonguing her until she had thought she’d pass
out from the pleasure. No, she’d come all over his mouth instead.

To start with.

How the hell had she let herself be hypnotized like that?
She had let him clean her up afterward. Cuddled with him. Cuddled! Let him hold
her. After sex!

Stupid.
Stupid.

Gathering the covers, Lucie drew them over her head.

His scent returned with a vengeance. Scrambling up, she
flicked on the bedside lamp and inspected her lap. She was holding his shirt.

Oh.

Peeking around, she found his shoes and socks lying by the
bed.

Oh no.

“Mac?”

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, the lights out.

Okay.

He wasn’t in the room. But he was still in her house. A
house with several rooms she would have locked down had she been thinking about
something else besides getting laid.

Stupid!

Scuttling off the bed, Lucie picked up the shirt and pulled
it on in haste. The cool and several-sizes-too-big garment fell in voluptuous
folds over her, smelling headily like her lover as she padded to the door and
stepped out into the corridor.

“MacCale?” The hall echoed with her voice amplifying it.

“In here, honey,” he hollered.

Swallowing down the sour taste of dread, Lucie started down
the hallway. MacCale might have been heading for the stairs, but he hadn’t made
it that far.

Lucie stopped by the open door and drew a deep, calming
breath before entering her private study. The most private and personal of them
all. She never let anyone inside the most sacred of her sanctuaries, but
MacCale had already proven himself to be an unstoppable force.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me about it,” MacCale muttered.

He didn’t turn to look at her. He stood enthralled before a
wall featuring dozens of portraits and photographs. Decades, fashions and
continents gone by, her life captured by artists and photographers.

“I thought I’d seen you somewhere,” he said. “I went through
some of Boyd’s photos and I found a picture of a woman with your face with Boyd
and that flying ace, Frank Hunter at some air show. I thought it might be your
grandmother, that you looked exactly like her. It was you, wasn’t it? These
aren’t your aunts and great-aunts. These are not your sisters, your mother, or
your grandmothers. These are all you. Each and every one of them, back to what?
The Revolution?”

MacCale turned to her, his expression dauntless and
demanding.

Lucie drew another calming breath, then several more that
did nothing to quell the rabid gallop of her heart as she stared at the epitome
of male perfection quietly staring back at her.

She couldn’t think of anything that would steal away his
attention from what he had uncovered.

Here goes, with everything.
He would peg her as stark
raving mad and take his leave.

“I was born the year Savannah became the colonial capital,
in 1751. Twenty-six years later I was born again, so to speak, and I never
celebrated another birthday.”

“Wow.” MacCale flashed her a smile that only managed to
emphasize the understatement of the century.

Wow?
Wow?
She gave him the truth along with a free
pass to a funny farm should he ever try to recount her story and the man goes
Wow
?

“So it is true,” he said. “Some women stay twenty-something
for life.”

He had to be kidding. No, he was kidding, Lucie decided. He
could dish it out, but could he take it?

“You had sex with an antiquity, buster. Imagine that.”

MacCale propped his hands on his hips. It was a distinctly
male stand, his bare shoulders and chest widening in challenge. “I say bring it
on. You were absolutely phenomenal for a two-hundred-and-sixty-year-old. Not
that I have a comparison.”

“You’re not…disgusted?” Lucie blurted.

“No.” He sounded insulted. It couldn’t be. How could it be?

“Horrified?”

His smile was back with a vengeance, sexy and seductive. “I
don’t scare easily. Besides, I’ve had to imagine far more fantastic things over
the years.”

Really? He met immortals on a daily basis?

“You must have a thousand questions.”

“I have all the answers I need for now right here on this
wall. The rest will keep,” he said, then motioned back to the portraits and
photographs. “May I?”

“It seems you already have. Knock yourself out.” Lucie
plopped into her office chair, a comforting mammoth of a Chippendale, and
watched him go back to her life, all of them, in rapture.

MacCale smiled at some of the pictures, frowned before
others, and didn’t say another word until he got to the late twentieth
century shots.

“Just one question. No, two.”

Lucie straightened in her seat. “Shoot.”

“Have you ever met someone like you?”

“No. But it’s not something I advertise. ‘Oh. There’s
something you should know. I’m immortal. I hope that’s okay’.”

“It’s fine by me,” he said. His smile wavered and then
burned out. “You have led an extraordinary existence. It opens up so many
possibilities it boggles the mind but you’re also sentenced to solitude.”

How right he was. How very dead-on he was every time he
tried to pin her down.

It annoyed her. More than that, it frightened her.

Get him out of here. Now!

“Is there a question hidden in there somewhere?” she
snapped.

He never even blinked. “Do you consider yourself blessed or
cursed?”

She raised her brows, but decided to tackle that one for
him. “I know immortality is something many people dream of. I wouldn’t
recommend it to anyone.”

“Because you’re destined to loneliness,” he stated. “Because
at the end of day one hundred thousand and one, it all seemed old no matter
what the latest fad happened to be. Because there’s no one to share your life
with.”

He was an intuitivist all right, the best she had ever
encountered.

Throw him out. Do it!

“That is more than the two questions I already answered.
Now, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to.” Lucie stood to send him
a message of dismissal.

“Please, don’t let me keep you.” MacCale turned back to the
wall and the portraits, at his leisure. “Brunch at one?” he quipped without
looking at her.

What? “I want you gone by one o’clock.”

“Brunch at noon then?”

Unbelievable. Did he ever run out of words or steam?

“I need to shower. There’s this event in town this weekend.
The Scottish Games. And I’m a part of it and I still have a lot to do.” Lucie ran
through the explanation not caring if it sounded like an excuse. It was the
truth, and he was the main reason she was running behind schedule.

MacCale turned around as if moving in slow motion. “The
Scottish Games?”

He’d never heard about it? Definitely not a local. “Yes.
It’s like—”

He raised his hand. “I get it. Men in skirts.”

“Kilts. Considering your name, there may have been plenty in
your family at one time.”

“Screw my family. I want to hear about yours. What happened
to you, Lucie?” His voice was soft, those tigerish amber eyes staring at her.
Calm. Kind. So beautiful.

Snap out of it.

She would never see him again. If he told someone in town,
they would shrug it off with a smile. No one else would believe him, so what
did it matter if she told him or not?

Nothing like a sad little secret to make a man lose any
further interest.

“My father came from France a widely traveled man. He was
the quintessential explorer, and among the multitude of things he brought over
was a box I was warned against touching, ever. Maybe Papa knew what powers it
held. At least he suspected, because one day it was gone.

“My parents’ and nannies’ watchful eyes protected me as a
child but there was nothing to stop me when I came across the box as an adult.
I was my father’s daughter, devil-may-care and too inquisitive for my own good.
And what I expected to find was some artifact or other. Never in a million
years did I think it might be an…entity.”

Her voice was calm, but her hands shook. They always did
when she thought about that day, of the mistake she’d made and could never
undo.

“I peeked inside, and instantly it came at me. I managed to
close the lid but it was already entering me through every orifice. It blinded
me, made me deaf and dumb. I suffocated until I passed out. When I came to on
the floor I remembered what had happened. I was fine but waited for some deadly
disease to strike. Thought I’d been impregnated by a demon spirit. Something.
Anything. Nothing happened. I felt fine, always healthy of body. Absolutely unbreakable.

“It took me a couple of years to understand that’s what I
would be, indefinitely, and that’s when I had to tell my mother. That’s when
the isolation began. Travel, exile… I periodically return back home as an heir
to this estate, never aging, never changing.

“It seemed like a miracle at first because I felt
invincible. I went beyond what women were expected to behave like. I took on
the world as my father once had knowing I could survive anything. It got me
into trouble, big trouble, the hurtful kind, as all kinds of…misunderstandings
ensued. So I took great pains to learn to defend myself.”

Lucie lifted her eyes to look at MacCale and saw something
had shifted in him. His passion was breaking through the cool collectedness as
he swallowed hard, his eyes boring into hers.

“I saw the scars on your back, Lucie. What happened?”

“Three men with cigars and a horse whip in Marseilles.”

Naked horror and fury emanated from him as she watched him
put two and two together.

“It’s ancient history, MacCale. Literally.”

He shook his head, his mouth opening as if he wanted to
speak. For the longest moment, he couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Lucie,” he finally whispered. “Oh god. You
tried telling me, didn’t you? You said you couldn’t. Oh god.”

“MacCale, it’s okay, really.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into two massive
rocks.

“
No. It’s. Not.
That’s why you panicked when I
restrained you, isn’t it?” His calm demeanor was definitely gone, leaving in
its wake a rattled man brimming with ill-contained aggression and anger.

And it was all centered on MacCale himself.

He was a minute away from shouting, a few words shy of
getting physical and smashing something but Lucie could not bring herself to
fear him.

She knew without a shadow of a doubt he would never hurt
her.