Chapter Seven

Either they were swaying, or the room had started to rock. Her weight rested on her right foot, now, her left...but neither foot kept her aloft. Alicia wasn’t sure which sensation she should heed. She remained upright only because Ashbey held her against his chest as if she were his cherished bride.

She was not his cherished bride.

Nor would this be a marital coupling done with hasty discretion beneath the proper shielding of sheets—thank heavens.

The duke restrained his masculine force, but it hung in the air like a scent, taunting. Tempting. She’d glimpsed his manhood—he was already cocked and fully primed.

He’d said something before taking her into his arms. Something that had roused her anger. Only she couldn’t remember his words. She could not remember any words, for that matter. Words were stupid and useless, a mere nothing next to the wanton anticipation thrilling her blood.

Tonight, she’d finally understand the sounds that had filled those long-ago Caribbean evenings. She’d make sense of the shadows she’d seen dancing on the walls. She’d learn passion, unrestrained.

She wanted it all—all the sighs and the groans of pleasure—and she wanted it now.

Her hands crept up his hard forearms and into the unbelievable softness of his hair. Tentatively, she stroked his neck.

He ceased swaying, and a rumbling noise tore from his core. The desperate sound unleashed a sense of power, as if he had been formed for her and her alone.

“Kiss me.” She lifted her face.

He guided her mouth to his. The slide of his lips and the exploration of his tongue combined. This was more than a kiss. The heat of his mouth promised all she needed. Greedily, she demanded more.

“Slow,” he said through a ragged breath.

She shook her head no. Desire’s waves were rollicking and fast. Why wade tentatively into the ocean when she longed to dive and submerge?

She hadn’t felt him loosen the laces of her dressing gown, but the silk slipped from her shoulders down into the crooks of her arms.

“I want to see you.” His voice was low and raw. “I want to see all of you. I want you completely bare.”

She let the dressing gown fall. Her fine linen shift may have been near-transparent, but a barrier was a barrier nonetheless. She pulled the garment over her head and dropped both her shift and her gaze.

Nothing remained between them. Nothing at all.

She might have balked if wetness had not rushed between her legs. Instead, she relished his appreciative hum.

He lifted her chin. “Lovely.”

The feminine word from his utterly masculine mouth made her smile.

“You’re lovely too,” she whispered.

With a chuckle, he hooked an arm beneath her knees and lifted her onto the bed as if she were feather light. The mattress’s softness gave way to their bodies and a downy pillow cushioned her head.

“Ah, Lady Stone...”

His voice held the tone of a suspended query, but he did not complete the question he wished to ask. Instead, he occupied his lips with a kiss that began at her ear and then trailed from her neck to her breast.

He was gentle, so gentle. She truly hadn’t had cause to fear.

His lips covered her nipple, sending waves of pleasure down her back. He sucked and kneaded and caressed until she broke free of shyness and burned all at once.

“Impossible,” she said with a laugh.

“Impossible, yes,” he murmured. “Impossibly soft—”

His rough fingers traced her abdomen, providing friction to rest her mind.

“Impossibly inviting—”

The friction dipped into the cleft between her legs.

“Impossibly,” he slipped two fingers inside her body, “tight...and wet.”

She held mortification at bay. Mortification belonged to the harsh light of day. She would welcome, instead, the darkness and the rhythm that turned her skin to heat.

Now she understood the pleas that had fallen from the brothel windows.

Yes. Please. More.

She may have even spoken them aloud.

No matter how wide she flowered, his touch asked for something beyond. Asked? No. Demanded. Indirect, her duke was not.

Her duke?

Yes, hers—hers for three nights. She claimed him with a needy groan. Placing her palms against his stubbled cheeks, she grasped his beautiful face and forced his mouth back to her nipple, exactly where he belonged.

“Yes.” She twisted. “Please.” She sighed. “More.” This time, she had begged aloud.

She did not care. Her consciousness coalesced to a single point. Ashbey.

His rhythm grew insistent; her body stretched toward his command. She could not parse the sensations that simmered. Craving spooled in her legs, her belly, and her breasts, winding and then tightening until she vibrated with lust from the inside out.

Too much. She flailed and whimpered. She might have even cried.

He didn’t listen. He refused her space to breathe. So, she broke into pieces in his arms. Cinders sparked and spun as they rushed through her veins as pure pleasure. Then, slowly, her blood thickened with exhausted satisfaction.

Everything became still, and she was at once both shattered and whole.

Now, Ash knew.

His lady’s passions were intemperate; her desire raw. She’d been uninhibited perfection as her pleasure peaked, awkward and real and trembling to her core. He’d shuddered with her—his retrained desire to her complete release.

Numb? Not at all.

Pain sung in his cock—taut, restless pain, demanding release. He did not even try to master his torment. To feel was to be alive. For once, he intended to live.

Sweetness and agony. Satisfaction and surrender.

Beauty personified.

He tuned to her, aware of every movement, no matter how small. His gaze searched her face for some clue as to why this woman possessed the key to unlock his life force. She remained a consummate mystery.

She inhaled and lifted her lids, her wild eyes coming to rest on his.

“Ashbey,” she whispered.

He tried not to peacock at the wonder in her voice. He tried, and he failed.

“I’d say the lady is thoroughly pleasured.”

Her lids drooped. She touched a finger to his chest, trailing it softly up his neck to his lips. He tasted his sweat on its tip, and then took her finger fully into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Providing you with ideas,” he smiled a suggestive smile, “for later.”

Her eyes clouded with confusion, then widened as her confusion cleared. She returned his smile with a glint of wicked promise. Giddy gratitude filled his mind.

She stretched, arching her back and spreading her arms. Settling back into the pillows, she subjected him to a thorough visual exam.

He rolled to his side, adjusting his still-stiff member with his hand.

“Do you approve?” he asked.

“Shush,” she teased. “I am deciding how I wish to proceed.”

“By all means,” he stroked his length, “do what you will.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to unleash with those words, but he did not expect to be hit in the chest with voluptuous force. In one swift movement, she forced him onto his back, rendering him physically vulnerable in ways that might have roused fury if shock had not left him tingling.

Willfully, he stilled his body’s power—the same power he wielded against other lovers to restrain, and to ultimately pleasure. He had never—ever—allowed anyone the upper hand. Yet years of consummate control had earned him no reward.

She threw her legs astride his hips. Her weight, a mere nothing, was not what held him in place. What kept him pinned was his vision. She was radiant—her skin, lightly coated with a fine sheen of sweat; her nipples, dark pink and pointed. Her lids dipped over sultry eyes, drunk on pleasure and desire. She was intoxicated...with him. She’d come to him trembling in cold and fear, but now she was in command.

Rising onto her knees like an Amazon claiming her prize, she arched over him, took his face into her hands, and teased his lips with a tantalizing kiss.

Again, his muscles demanded control. Again, he denied their demand. Not tonight. Tonight, he would allow his lady to set the pace.

He concentrated on the pressure of her lips. Hers was a perfect mouth. Soft. Inviting. Tasting of sweetness, and promise, and light. Her lips traced a path to his chest. There she paused, pressing her ear against his heart.

A small gesture. Artless and honest and painfully poignant. It was all he could do not to clasp her there.

“What do you hear?” he asked.

“Strength.”

He did not deserve this angel. If he’d been a better man, he never would have coaxed her to come. If he were a good man now, he would set her free.

“I’m not good,” he said aloud.

“I know.” She rose onto her knees with a sinful smile. “That is precisely why I came.”

He drew her long blonde hair over her shoulder and then traced the undercurve of her still-swinging breasts. He relished that smile. That knowing, indulgent smile.

How much could a man resist? How much could he possibly take? Evil he may be, but he’d been taken captive by a Dionysian priestess who was ready to perform cultic rites.

“Take me inside you.”

Her brow furrowed. “On top? Like this?”

“Definitely like this.”

He would die if she did not. Expire. Right there.

His hands climbed up her thighs, guiding her into position. Then, he held his cock at the base, readying himself with an agonizing squeeze.

She lowered herself over his tip, and gasped. Uncertain, with a mild tremor, she looked to him to approve.

He grabbed her delicious ass, and drove up, achingly slow. Inch by inch her body sheathed his member. Wet heat seeped pleasure into his skin. Flashes shot through his sack straight to his toes.

In that moment, he would have sworn he’d never been with another woman. And he would swear to be loyal to her alone. He wanted only this woman.

His fingers branded her soft flesh. If he held tightly enough, perhaps he could defy time. But no, the ancient drive won out.

Take. Her. Now.

He could not deny another demand, though he took nothing. She was the one who thieved. He kneaded her breasts, clutched her ass, met every drive with an upward thrust, but she remained in control. She rode him fast—conquering and triumphant; soft, yet hot; powerful yet pliant. She found her rhythm, using it to push him through a messy froth of pleasure, pain, and lust.

Then, she threw back her head and sighed.

Swept up in an irresistible tide, he surrendered. One squeeze of her thighs and he was cast into primordial darkness. The covetous serpent slithered up his legs, wrapping tight around his core. Then, he erupted into her body. In the sudden, blinding explosion, he was fully consumed by heat.

Silence. Darkness. Peace.

Only the feel of her heartbeat guided him back from the deep.

It took far more effort than he expected to lift his head from the bed. But the kiss seemed terribly important, and her sigh was every answer he’d sought.

Nothing this night had gone as planned, yet he fell into a grateful slumber knowing he’d received infinitely more than he had asked. Forgetting he deserved none of it at all.