Sun God (41 page)

She raised her head and ordered, “Kiss me.”

Luiz groaned helplessly, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her hotly, hungrily, the taste of her still on his lips and tongue. Amy tore her mouth from his and sat back on her heels. She kissed her way up the inside of his left thigh, then she nuzzled her nose and her mouth in the dense black curls of his groin. She put out her tongue and dabbed at the tight, crisp coils. She teased at his rigid burning flesh by blowing cooling breaths up and down the hard, hot length of him.

She kept it up until his breath was labored, the muscles jumping involuntarily in his hard thighs. Hoarsely he said, “Please … kiss me … kiss me.”

“Where, Captain?”

“Jesus God, you know where.”

“I don’t. Show me.”

Eyes clouded with passion, Luiz gripped himself. “Here.”

Her mouth was on him immediately, atop the long bronzed fingers wrapped around himself.

“Let it stay,” she commanded when he started to move his hand. She clutched his wrist, and just as he had done with her, she licked his squeezing fingers and forced the tip of her tongue in between to touch the rigid male flesh.

The game lasted for an even shorter time than when he had played it on her. His bare chest heaved, his heart thudded, his clutching hand trembled, and the long fingers loosened and fell away. Amy released his wrist and Luiz gripped the edge of the mattress when her soft lips pressed the gentlest of kisses to the base of his pulsating erection.

She put out the tip of her tongue and slowly, sweetly licked her way up the length of him to the smooth head. Her hands came up to gently cup him and she pressed a wet, warm open-lipped kiss to the smooth velvet tip.

Her soft hands clasping him loosely, Amy lifted her head and shook her long blond hair back off her face as her eyes met his. Holding his tortured gaze, she ran her forefinger back and forth over the glistening tip of all that awesome male power.

And felt her own power overshadow his when she said, “Tell me the truth, Captain, do you want me?”

“Jesus, yes!” He groaned in desperation and groaned again as Amy bent to him. “Ahhhh, Amy, Amy. … ” He moaned as her warm, wet lips enclosed him.

At once she began to slowly, lovingly draw him into her mouth. Luiz, watching, felt the heat of his body blaze out of control.

“Yes, yes …” He moaned and his fingers entwined in her silky golden hair. Frantically he pulled her to him, spreading his legs wider, thrusting his pelvis up and forward, feeling the unmistakable beginning of his release.

Amy felt it as well. She drew him more deeply into her throat, determined she’d give him a climax unequaled by any he’d ever known.

Knowing he was only seconds away from exploding fulfillment, Luiz tried to pull her up. But Amy refused to be dissuaded. She stayed with him and when his release came, there was no doubt in her mind that he had never before experienced anything to compare.

“Noooo … Ohhhh. … Ahhh. … Oh God, oh yes, yes … Baby, yes … Baby … babeeeeeee!”

The Sun God shuddered.

A
ND SO THEIR HEATED
sexual affair continued, just as before. But the handsome hard-faced captain never missed an opportunity to remind his naked blond beauty that no matter how hot their passions flared or how glorious their shared fulfillment, the splendor was entirely physical. It never touched his heart.
She
never touched his heart.

Amy was just as adamant.

Even as she lay naked in his arms, night after hot night, thrilling to the erotic pleasure he provided and bringing him to equal ecstasy, she looked dauntlessly into those hypnotic black eyes and firmly informed him that while he had conquered her body, he had never penetrated her heart.

Still, Amy suffered as never before. Far more disgusted with herself than with the uncaring, hardened man, she guiltily relished the hours spent in the arms of the highly sexed Captain. Their heated lovemaking was nothing like it had been when they were young.

Then they had both been innocents and they had learned together. They’d been awkward, unskilled, and unknowledgeable in the arts of offering and obtaining total fulfillment.

Not so this hard-faced man. An extremely skilled lover, El Capitán was capable of bringing her to total release in any number of ways. In their frequent sessions of love-making he had coaxed her into doing things she had never done with her husband. And she had learned, to her guilty delight, that she was not repulsed. She derived incredible pleasure from every intimate act they performed, from each shocking physical expression of carnal hunger in which they so enthusiastically indulged.

Nonetheless she constantly told herself she hated the cruel Captain. Hated sharing his bed because it was unforgivably sinful to do the things they did when neither cared one whit for the other. Hated him for making her the wanton she had become. Hated the steamy nights she behaved so shamefully.

But, if there was one thing Amy hated more than the nights Luiz made love to her, it was the nights when he did not. A master at meting out torment as well as pleasure, El Capitán kept her constantly off balance. As if he could look right into her tormented soul, he sensed the times when she most desired his touch.

And he withheld it.

On long, hot, sleepless nights when she most wanted him—needed him—Luiz did not come to her bedroom. Knowing she was watching, waiting, he strolled leisurely about the hacienda grounds, his lighted cigar like a beacon in the darkness.

Other nights he did come to their room. To strip and sleep naked beside her. To stretch and sigh and make her want him.

And never touch her. Knowing she was in agony, burning for his body. Then, when she least expected it, when the fever in her blood had cooled a little, he would commandingly seize her and take her to sexual paradise again.

It was on such a night that El Capitán, brushing a kiss to the sole of Amy’s bare foot, rose from the bed, stepped into his trousers, and said, “Stay right where you are. I’ll be back.”

He left the room. When he returned he was carrying a tall stack of large boxes, which he placed on the bed before her. Amy, sitting up against the headboard, gave him a quizzical look.

“For you,” he said, and placed one of the boxes across her naked knees.

As curious as a child, Amy lifted the lid, handed it to him, pushed back the folds of tissue paper, and withdrew the most stunningly beautiful evening gown she had ever seen in her life.

A shimmering creation of champagne taffeta, the tight bodice was cut low off the shoulder with a row of bias folds. The waistline was raised—in the very latest fashion—and the skirts were the new, narrower kind, flared out in the back.

Amy could not hide her delight. Her blue eyes shone with wonder as she held the lovely gown up before her, admiring it.

To herself, more than to him, she murmured, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It’s been … I don’t recall the last new gown I—”

Luiz reached out and took the gown from her. “Get up and try it on.”

Amy immediately bounded off the bed. “I suppose I’ll need a corset and a chemise and petticoats and—”

“Tonight you need wear nothing under it.” He took her arm and turned her about, then raised the dress up over her head and lowered it. He smoothed it down over her curves and deftly hooked up the low, tight bodice, then ordered, “Turn around.”

Her hands reverently skimming down over the taffeta skirts, Amy turned to face him. Eyes aglow, she said, “It fits perfectly. As if it had been made especially for me.”

Luiz said, “It was made especially for you.”

“It was? But how did you …?”

“I met your friend, Diana Clayton, in Sundown late one afternoon. She was dressed handsomely. The way I wanted to see you dressed. She gave me the name of her couturier in San Antonio. I sent one of my men with your measurements to San Antonio with orders for a dozen frocks.”

Temporarily forgetting the true nature of their relationship, Amy said, “You mean you went to the hotel with Diana and all you did was …”

“What else?” he said, and she caught a definite hint of smugness as he surmised she had been jealous. He added, “How did
you
know I was in the hotel with Miss Clayton?”

“Ah … never mind that … May I look at the rest?” she asked, stepping away from him and lifting the lid on another large box.

A gorgeous apricot silk with a daring horizontal neckline. Next an ice-blue faille with pagoda sleeves and delicate lace around the deep V neck. A high-throated yellow satin with long tight sleeves, tight bodice, and a back that was open almost to the waistline.

Luiz stood with a muscular shoulder against the bedpost, his black eyes hooded, watching as Amy excitedly examined the new gowns. She was, he thought indulgently, totally, endlessly female. She made no fraudulent, halfhearted attempt to conceal her joy at having these pretty new clothes to wear.

Standing barefoot in her champagne satin gown with her tousled blond hair falling into her face, she looked very much like a child. Like a thrilled little girl who had just come down to see what Santa had left under the tree.

All at once his heart squeezed painfully in his chest and he remembered too well when she was a little girl. A curious, pigtailed little girl who had followed him around, asking a million questions, tagging after him constantly, always wanting to know what he thought about this, what he thought about that.

Amy grabbed up the yellow satin and said, “I believe I’ll try this one next. What do you think?”

She turned questioning eyes on him and for a second he was Tonatiuh, twelve years old and worshipped by this eleven-year-old blond girl. A muscle danced in his jaw and he shook his head.

His eyes fell on the ivory swell of her full breasts above the satin gown’s low bodice. She was no child, nor was he. He took the yellow gown from her and tossed it aside.

“Try them on tomorrow,” he said, moving closer. His hand settled on her bare shoulder, then slowly moved down to cup her right breast. He released her and swiftly stepped from his trousers. Naked, he leaned down, kissed her open lips, and said, “Let’s make love.”

“You’ll have to unhook me” was her reply.

“No,” he told her, “leave the dress on.”

“No! We’ll crush it!”

He sat down on the bed, pulled her to him, pushed the front of her full taffeta skirts up around her waist, and drew her down astride his lap. The taffeta rustled as he guided himself into her. Knowing they were wrinkling her beautiful new gown, Amy frowned.

But not for long.

In minutes the sound of the rustling taffeta competed with her soft sighs of pleasure and she found that making love in an expensive evening gown was great, decadent fun.

Theirs remained the strangest of relationships as the hot Texas summer wore on. Each long, blistering day they went about in front of the servants and the soldiers as polite strangers. Each evening they dressed for dinner, Amy in her fine new gowns, El Capitán in his dress military uniforms. Seated stiffly at opposite ends of the long dining table, their nerves grew ever more taut and raw.

And when the sweltering nights came, they exploded in a blaze of passion, both resolved that their hearts and souls would not be offered along with their willing flesh.

Luiz continued to behave as if Amy meant nothing to him. But that was not entirely true. The more he held her in his arms, the more he cared. And the more he cared, the more distant he became. His aloof manner was met with determined coldness from Amy.

Except in his bed.

There she could not keep the protective cloak of ice around her. On the hot summer nights, she continued to give in to greedy pleasure, just as he did. But despite those unforgettable nights, Amy was certain she actually despised him.

Until one blistering August day when a lone, pale rider came cantering up the long graveled drive of Orilla.

I
T WAS THE HOTTEST
part of the day.

The old hacienda was silent. The servants were asleep in their quarters. Siesta time at Orilla. No one was awake in the big adobe mansion. Except Amy.

The heat had kept her from sleeping. Even with the shutters and drapes closed against the harsh August sun, it was stifling hot in her darkened bedroom. It hadn’t bothered her while she and the Captain spent the first part of siesta time making love.

She’d hardly noticed the discomfort, despite the fact that they were both covered with perspiration after the first few kisses. In truth, that had added to their pleasure. It was somehow very sensual for their bare entwined bodies to be slippery wet.

With sweat glistening on his powerful bronzed arms, Luiz had held her. When his release came, beads of sweat flew and his raven curls shook.

But, afterward, when he had fallen asleep, Amy had lain there beside him, bothered by the stuffiness of the room, the stickiness of her body. Silently she had stolen from the bed, sponged her heated flesh, dressed, slipped from the room and down the stairs.

Now she stood on the stone porch, watering her thirsty, withered oleander bushes.

She saw the cloud of dust on the horizon and set the spouted pail aside. Curious, she crossed the big porch, lifted a hand to shade her eyes, and watched as a lone rider cantered toward the hacienda.

He rode right in out of the glare of the sun, pulled up on his steed at the edge of the yard, dismounted, and stood for a long moment, looking thoughtfully at the hacienda. Then he swept the hat from his head and Amy’s hand flew up to her heart.

Tall and slim, the man strolled up the front walk toward her, his pale golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, his smile as bright and as counterfeit as ever.

“Baron.” Amy’s lips formed the name, though no sound came. The selfish, villainous brother she had not seen for years was coming up the walk, and her first and only thought was of Luiz Quintano, asleep upstairs in her bedroom. What would happen when he awakened? When Baron learned he was there?

“Baron,” she said, finding her voice. “I can’t believe it.” She stepped forward to greet him, her mind racing. “You should have let us know.”