Ravishing Rose (3 page)

She wanted so much more she was astounded. Where had such raging desire struck from? For the years she’d lived in her parents’ house she’d led a quiet and reasonably circumspect life—no longer a virgin after twenty, but not madly impressed with sex.

Now she was ravenous! Yes, she wanted more. More of
him.

She groaned agreement, grabbed his jacket fronts, and yanked them apart. He loosened his grip on her waist so she could slide the sleeves down his arms. Backlit by moonlight, his big shoulders bunched with muscle, shockingly masculine. He stood broad and strong, his chest and forearms dark with hair, taut with sinew.

His eyes held hers, hot and demanding. She wanted to see his whole face but knew their masks were what made this possible. Was it the anonymity that pushed their passion to such heights, or had she missed something amazing for years?

He draped the jacket around her shoulders.

“Against the wall. But I don’t want it scratching your gorgeous skin.”

He pushed her by simply crowding so close she had to move back. One step. Two. Then she hit the old bricks, still warm from the long sunny day.

“And I’ll just finish what I started here,” he added, rapidly unlacing more of her velvet bodice.

Frankie stood trembling as he slid his hands over her breasts and around to the back of her ribs, tilting her up toward the moon—and his hungry mouth.

Sensation poured through her. Intense. Pulsing. As he sucked and nibbled at her breasts, the ache between her thighs became more and more urgent. She ground against him, not hearing her own desperate whispers of “Please, please, please...”
 

The Captain raised his head and stared down at her.

“Hold your skirt up, Rose.”

He bent and dropped a line of soft kisses down the centre of her ribcage.
 

Heart slamming behind his kisses, Frankie reached down and slowly lifted the sides of her skirt.
 
Above the long boots the evening breeze whispered by.

He sank to his knees. “The
front
of your skirt.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

Her hands moved of their own volition. The golden petals lifted to display the tiny chocolate thong.

She heard his very male grunt of satisfaction as he leaned toward her and slid his tongue right into the diamante edged cut-out.

CHAPTER THREE

The words ‘a bitch on heat’ swam through her brain as he laved her with slow slippery deliberation. The sounds she made were animal, and very far removed from any past murmurs of pleasure. The sensation that accompanied them caused her toes to curl down hard, her fingers to grab for his hair, and her hips to tilt forward in helpless demand.

His tongue stroked and retreated, over and over, and every sliding caress drove her higher and made her more incoherent.

He drew back and she moaned at the loss.

“Off,” he rasped, and his big hands smoothed further up her thighs, his thumbs hooked into the sides of the thong, and he drew it down, following it with small hot kisses until he reached the top of Bella’s long boots. “You taste like chocolate,” he murmured as he sat back on his heels and devoted himself to the more difficult task of working lace and elastic past suede.

Frankie lifted each foot in turn, hoping he’d soon resume his luscious torture, because she felt so...so...desirous and desperate and overheated and astounded.

She saw more of him now his hat was gone. Those wonderful shoulders. Glossy dark hair, cut short. But his face remained in total darkness as he looked down, concentrating on stripping her bare. Trembling, she lifted the front of her skirt again in invitation, and he glanced up, a white smile visible against his darker skin.

Now his tongue could wander at will, could sweep and flick and tease. Now there was room for his fingers to roam and stroke, and hold her exactly as he wanted her.

Frankie sighed, and panted, and groaned as he pleasured her acutely aroused body and carried her ever closer to release.

“Legs further apart,” he said roughly, and she thrilled at the husky demand and slight hint of desperation. He wanted this as much as she did! Sounded just as turned on by the decadent atmosphere and the tacit ‘permission’ their concealed identities granted.

She obeyed, and heard again that sexy grunt of masculine intent as he grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, and pushed it up until he’d totally exposed her.

She flung the opposite arm out against the wall for balance, and squeezed her eyes shut, knowing his face was close because his breath fanned hot against her skin as he spoke.

“Time to get serious, Rose.”

Then his mouth settled against her again, his questing tongue located her swollen clit, his lips surrounded it, and he sucked.

Her shuddering scream apparently pleased him greatly because he laughed—lips vibrating against her flesh.

Somewhere during the pleasure overload, he slung her leg over his shoulder. As she climbed and climbed toward her shattering climax his long fingers slid inside her and pressed upward, forward...and she started to spasm and clench, lost to everything except his insistent demands and the pulsing waves of ecstasy threatening to steal her very consciousness.

Reality trickled back as he gentled her down.

She once again heard the rock music thumping and soaring from the big white marquee. Felt a gust of breeze blow by, stealing leaves from the overhanging trees and scattering them across the courtyard, and over her exposed arms and breasts.

She smelled leaf mould, and the salty water of the inlet, and the distinctive acrid scent of gunpowder from the skyrockets rushing into the blackness and releasing their starbursts of incandescence. And by their light she saw the Captain rise to his feet and extend his arms to pull her into his embrace.

“Good girl, Rose,” he teased, close against her ear. “You needed that, didn’t you? Feeling better now?”

Frankie gave a strangled groan of objection but his mouth took hers, and in seconds she was lost again. She tasted herself in his kiss. Salt and chocolate and sexy female flavors. An instant later she fell through the sky as he pushed her down onto the rustic dining table in the secret courtyard.

“And what do you need?” she stammered, looking up at him. He stood right in front of her, hips wedged into the notch of her thighs, long hard cock pressing against her wetness.

Duh, Frankie! There’s no doubt about what he needs!

But his reply surprised her. “To watch you come again. To
feel
you come again.”

“Oh God, no...it’s your turn.”

“Oh God—yes.” And he lifted her and swiveled, until she found herself kneeling astride him as he lay back on the heavy old table instead. One arm pulled her down to his mouth again, and his other hand cupped her slippery sex, fingers instantly pushing inside. And it felt so good.

He released her breast and moved toward its twin. Again the deep waves of wanting tingled low in her belly.

“These pretty things were what I noticed first about you,” he said, opening his mouth wide and sucking her in. He scraped his teeth lightly over her skin, releasing her in stages until he reached the tight pucker of her nipple. His teeth fastened around it, nipping and worrying at the sensitized peak before he suckled hard. A quicksilver flood of sensation shimmered through Frankie’s whole breast.

Lightning flickered deep in her belly again.

Even lower, his unseen fingers circled and teased.

The moon slid behind a bank of cloud, and in the denser darkness the messages along her nerves and over her skin became doubly electric.

She was way out of her depth. This man treated sex as a game; something light and enjoyable. Well, not exactly light, if the heavy duty sensations rolling through her were any indication. She lurched with surprise as new tremors threatened to explode into another full-blown orgasm.

“Feeling nice again, Rose?” he asked, deserting her nipple and nuzzling slowly across to the other.
 

“I’m okay.”

“I want you better than okay.”

She trembled as his lips slid over her tingling skin. How was she going to find some cool to even the stakes a little?

“You’re very good at this, aren’t you Captain?” she asked in the primmest tone she could manage.

“And you’re very responsive. I’m pleased to be of service to a lady in such need.”

Frankie clenched her teeth for a few moments as his finger continued to tease and slide. “Then perhaps I’d better offer my services in return to a gentleman who’s also—very obviously—in great need,” she murmured once she felt more in control.
 
She reached for the first of his brass fly buttons and popped it undone with difficulty. Damn but the pants were tight now...

His breath hitched and she gloried in the sound. No way did she want this to be a one way deal.

She felt around for another button, exploring the shape of him through the fabric. Thin fabric, thick man. Enjoyed the low groan that he couldn’t hold back.

This time there was no way two fingers could force the button through the hole. She wrestled with both hands until it gave in.

Her fingers reached lower. His finger rubbed faster. A new surge of slickness engulfed her as she released his final two buttons. Why had her body never found sex exciting until now? This felt
very
exciting—the single most riveting hour in her whole twenty-six years.

His hand slid over the long black curls at her nape and dislodged her helmet. She heard it clatter onto the paving as he dragged her mouth down to his. A cruel kiss. Hard and desperate. Possessive, and just what she wanted.

Because under his busy finger she now jerked and jolted, flying with the skyrockets, muscles grabbing and releasing, needing, needing.

Oh yes, needing
that.
Needing that long hard cock to grip around, and slide against, and thank God he’d seen sense and finally pushed it all the way home so she could ride out the shattering sensations that were probably going to kill her with their intensity.

She collapsed onto his chest, thighs turned to water, heart thumping double speed, him deep inside her. With no apparent effort he rolled her over and pinned her to the table top.

“Turn the volume down, Rose,” he said with a huge grin.
 

He stared into her exotic eyes. This strange unknown princess had made him behave very badly. Even now she wasn’t quite finished. Tiny spasms still racked her—and buried inside her, he felt every delicious twitch and tremor. For sure she wasn’t faking it.

He’d been carried away during the last few minutes, rough and so ready; forgotten how much stronger and larger he was than her; taken instead of given.

The ravishing Rose deserved thanks.

He kissed her gently, although he would have preferred to almost devour her.

She responded with a soft sigh and raised her legs to clamp them around his waist. Hot skin cradled his hips. Cool suede whispered across his back.

Fire and ice. He relished both.

She squeezed her pelvic muscles to encourage him. Encouragement he hardly needed.

“Not like this or we’ll get your back full of splinters,” he growled.

He kissed her again—a long luscious glide of lips and tongues. She still tasted faintly of chocolate, and he smelled light spicy perfume when he buried his face against her neck.

“Hold on for the ride,” he whispered.

He backed off the table, lifting her with him until her no-doubt-gorgeous butt rested on its edge, and his feet were planted firmly on the paving.

The angle was magic. His cock felt as tight as a cork in a bottle. She still had her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands gripping his shoulders.

He withdrew a little and then thrust home.

“Yes..!” she gasped.

He braced an arm on the table, pulled back, and buried himself again.

“More...”
 

He plunged repeatedly into her welcoming heat. God, she was good—long enough to take all of him, tight enough he could almost believe he was up her ass. Her teeth scraped his earlobe, her tongue slid slick against his as he rained ravenous kisses on her beautiful mouth. Then all her internal muscles began to quiver, and he barely registered her nails digging into his flesh as he gathered her close, hauled her right up into his arms, and pumped the last few deep desperate strokes—beyond thought, beyond stopping, beyond sense.

He swam back to reality to hear his own hoarse breath rasping through the suddenly silent air. Then applause rang out from the marquee. He reared up, disoriented.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for you,” Rose mumbled from underneath him. “They’ve just played ‘Yellow Brick Road’ and it was damn good.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Hell, she’d been more interested in the music than the magic! While he’d been lost in a dark world of scents and sensation and sensual surrender, she’d been bopping along with bloody Elton John.

That was some impression you made, Jake.

“So will three times do you?” he asked. He hated the sneer in his voice but she had some sort of weird power over him, and with everything else going on in his life, letting a woman get under his skin right now just wasn’t an option.

Even if she felt damned good under his body.

“Three? Was it?”

That set his teeth even further on edge.

“Definitely three.” He’d enjoyed every single flutter and tremor and squeeze...reveled in every gasp and squeal...felt totally male and powerful because of it. And she acted as though it was nothing out of the ordinary?

When he’d finally let go it was like the Starship Enterprise hitting warp speed—a burst of heaven, a furious rush, and potent power that propelled him halfway across the universe.

Now he’d landed back in the secluded courtyard with one hell of a thump.

He eased away from her, and flinched as the shocking smash of breaking glass echoed across from the old mansion. Jubilant yells and yahoos and another huge crash followed.

“Sounds like fun,” he said. “But not as much fun as you were, lovely Rose. Are you planning to join us back in the house?”