Scandalous Liaisons

“No,” he ordered around her breast. “Don’t stop . . .” He ground his cock into her, moving his attentions to her other breast, and Olivia moaned loudly, her body on fire. Phoenix pulled back far enough to push the volume of her skirts out of the way. His hand brushed the damp curls of her sex, and he stilled.



His gaze moved to hers as he slid a long finger through the slickness of her desire and parted the soft folds. He circled and rubbed the tiny spot where she ached, causing her back to arch on a startled cry and moisture to flood his hand. Groaning, he eased inside her. She murmured a faint protest, but her hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into the wicked invasion.



“You’re so hot, so tight.” His finger slid in to the base. With his free hand, he lifted her leg until her slippered foot rested on the surface of the table. Then he pushed her knee outward, completely opening her to his gaze. He stared at her sex and withdrew his finger. Olivia watched, fascinated, as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked his finger inside. “Ummm,” he purred, the sound deeply sexual.



He lifted and spread her other leg as he had the first. She flushed, knowing she looked wanton, her gown ruined, her breasts exposed and damp from his mouth, her sex open and glistening with her lust for him.



Phoenix brought both hands between her legs—one spreading the sheltering lips while the other slipped the long, calloused finger back inside her. He began to pump in and out, his gaze arrested by the sight. Her hands gripped the rounded edges of the table, her lower lip caught in her teeth, as she struggled to remain silent. She wanted to cry out, to scream. It felt so wonderful she could hardly bear it. Tension built, coiling in her stomach and shooting outward in hot waves. She didn’t understand it, but her body knew, her hips lifting in counterpoint to his movements.



She was so wet, so wild, for him, Olivia could hear the sucking sounds of her body as it tried to hold the plunging finger within her. And then there was more of him inside her—two fingers, drenched in her cream, thrusting in and out. She released her lip and cried out, her body shuddering.



“Please . . .” she begged, but she didn’t know for what.



“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he growled. “The feel of me inside you. You’d like my cock, wouldn’t you, sweet? Stretching you, filling the emptiness that my fingers cannot.”



His intense blue eyes remained locked on the place where he claimed her, as he slowly slid down her body, his skilled fingers never ceasing their torment. He licked his lips, and his scandalous intent became apparent. “No,” she whispered in protest.



“You will not deny me this,” he bit out. “A small taste of heaven before I return you.”



Olivia knew propriety dictated she stop him, push him away, but she couldn’t, not when Phoenix looked at her the way he was doing now. She rose onto her elbows and watched his mouth descend, his tongue slipping like fire through the petals of her sex.



She ground her hips restlessly into the table. It was horrible and wonderful and wicked. And she loved it, loved how he made her feel, loved to watch him so totally focused on her. His expert tongue lapped her aching sex in a way that soothed and excited at the same time. Olivia spread her legs wider, arching up into his mouth, feeling empty just as he said she would, despite his rapidly stroking fingers. With frightening understanding, he seemed to know exactly what she needed, his tongue held rigid as it flicked against the source of her torment, the source of her pleasure. Phoenix dropped to his knees, concentrating the full extent of his skill on pleasuring her mindless. Higher and higher he pressed her, making erotic sounds of enjoyment against her flesh, until she couldn’t bear it any longer. His fingers moved faster, his tongue lapped harder, his growls grew louder—



Her orgasm made her scream, her entire body stretching taut across the table and shaking with sensation as she convulsed in ecstasy against his mouth.



He remained between her legs, sliding his fingers from her and replacing the loss with his tongue until she regained control of her breathing. Only then did he stand and cover her body with his.



“Phoenix . . . ”



He pulled her against him, his body rigid and damp with sweat. Olivia knew he had not felt the same pleasure he had given to her.



“Tell me what to do,” she begged against his throat. “Tell me how to please you.”



“You did,” he assured her in a gruff whisper. “To feel you come in my mouth . . . ’twas a singular experience, love.”



“I want—”



“I know what you want,” he interrupted dryly.



“Please. I want to pleasure you as well.”



“No.”



Her eyes slid closed, and her head fell to the side, away from his mouth. “You don’t want me . . . that way.”



“Look at me.” Phoenix clasped the sides of her face in his large hands and forced her to face him. His fiery blue gaze burned into hers. “It is not a question of wanting you, but a question of wanting the best for you. I am not it.”



Her eyes stung, her emotions scattered and confused. “I just want to please you.”



He sighed. “You ask for more control than I am capable of.”



She searched his face, so austerely handsome and passion-flushed. Something in his eyes—a wary softening—tugged at her heart. She brushed her fingertips across his mouth, and he pressed an urgent kiss against them. Reaching for his hair, Olivia brought it around to frame his face. “You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. I want to touch you all over, put my mouth on you, make you wild for me . . .”



“Olivia.” His voice was a pained whisper as his eyes closed on a ragged breath. “Damn you.”



Phoenix stood, and opened the placket to his trousers, moving so quickly she had no time to see him. He leaned over her, and she felt him, hot and hard, in the crease of her sex. She shivered, her body slowly coming to renewed life.



“Hold me tight.”



“Yes . . .” She held onto him like a woman drowning.



And then he rotated his hips, moving his cock easily through her slick lips. She tensed, expecting stretching and pain, but it never came. He began to move against her, a driving, urgent rhythm of his hips against hers. His cock was hot and hard as he pumped through the folds of her sex, his tight balls slapping against the damp opening to her body. But he kept away from the full consummation she craved.



“Wrap your legs around me,” he gasped. “Move with me . . . yes . . .” His skin turned hot under her hands, his breath heaving from his lungs.



The heavy weight of him moving so feverishly between her thighs renewed the ache within her. Wanting to experience the pleasure again, Olivia writhed beneath him, clawing at his back, as her body rushed for the precipice. She sobbed when the rapture hit her, and then Phoenix tensed, rock hard, against her. Burning dampness flooded across her stomach in pulsing jets.



He cried out her name as he shuddered in her arms.



Sebastian buried his face in the fragrant curve of Olivia’s neck and damned himself for being a heartless cad. His control was a source of pride to him, but he’d had none of it today. From the moment he’d seen her on the deck of the Seawitch with her chin tilted defiantly and a far too heavy sword in her hand, he’d been captivated. As the day had progressed, he’d become more and more enamored with her. Her beauty alone was impossible to resist, but the fire, the passion . . . He could no more have resisted touching her than he could have chosen to stop breathing.



She’d been trying to assist him, to tend to his wounds, as no one ever had. And he’d repaid her by staring lustily at her exposed breasts and stripping her of his shirt when she’d wished to cover herself. Olivia had been willing, eager, but he should have walked away for her own good. He could never be the husband she deserved. Despite this, he’d spread her out, a feast for a starving man, and debased her with his ravenous touch.



And damned if he didn’t want to do it again. Immediately.



Sebastian rose onto his elbows and gazed down at Olivia’s beautiful face, flushed with his passion. He almost inquired if she was well, but the dazed look in her eyes answered the unspoken question. His expression most likely mirrored hers.



Placing a swift, hard kiss against her parted lips, he untangled his limbs from hers. Olivia was all heat and desire, a fiercely passionate woman who, even in her innocence, had pleasured him almost beyond bearing. Untried and unschooled, she hadn’t the guile to hide her response or to play any games. He’d felt wanted, needed, in a way no one had ever made him feel before.



Staring at her taut belly, shiny with his seed, Sebastian was swept with an overwhelming wave of possessiveness. He wanted to mark her like this everywhere, brand her completely, so that no other man would ever touch her. Her drowsy eyes followed him with such warmth it took his breath away. The way she looked at him, her palpable panic when he’d slipped on the rigging—how long had it been since anyone had cared for his welfare? So long ago he could scarcely remember it. Only his gratefulness for her tender regard had prevented her complete ruination.



Sebastian ached at the thought of returning her to her father, wishing he could spirit her away and keep her safe from the choices of his past, choices that made it impossible for them to ever be together. Never before had he regretted anything he’d done. Now he regretted it all.



“I’d offer you the bath,” she murmured, “but the water is certainly cold by now.”



Looking at the small hip bath, he smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”



He retrieved a towel from the washstand and dipped it in the cold water. Then he went to her and cleansed his lust from her body, his cock hardening again as her nipples puckered under his touch. Olivia was so small compared to him, such tiny, sweetly curved perfection. And he’d rutted upon her like an animal.



Cursing silently, Sebastian turned from the arousing sight of her and quickly stripped from his breeches. With a soft hiss, he sank into the chilled water. He glanced at his wife, biting back a grin as she slid from the tabletop and looked modestly at the wall.



“Aren’t you curious to see the part of me that you so recently pleasured?” he asked.



She blushed. Keeping her eyes averted, Olivia moved to her trunks, holding the ruined gown against her swollen nipples. She was a ravishing vision, and his body was already eager for a repeat performance. Sebastian scrunched down in the too-small tub and concentrated on the chilly temperature of the water to cool his blood. It was a testament of paternal love that fresh water was set aside for this purpose.



He frowned when she pressed a bar of fine, French-milled soap into his hand. Scented of musk and bergamot, it was definitely a masculine toilet item.



“Why do you have a man’s soap?” he asked sharply.



Damnation. He was jealous!



Some of the afterglow faded from her eyes. “’Tis my father’s favorite. One more or less will not be missed.” She turned away, but not before he caught the hurt evident on her delicate features.



Sebastian almost apologized, and then reconsidered. It was best if Olivia did not come to care for him, a circumstance made more likely by the intense passion they’d just shared. Distance had to be created between them—for both their sakes. Apparently, he had a fondness for this woman—his wife—that was too threatening to even consider.



Rushing the rest of his bath, Sebastian dressed in silence, eager to flee the intense feelings Olivia engendered. On his way out, he paused in the doorway. “A few of the crewmen will be down shortly to dump the tub water. I’ll order more to be heated for you. For God’s sake, don’t shoot anyone. It will take some time . . .”



“I understand. Thank you.” She remained intensely focused on straightening the already orderly contents of her trunk.



He stared at her stiffened spine and couldn’t hold back the feelings that twisted and writhed inside him. He clenched his jaw, forcibly withholding the reassurances she obviously wanted, and deserved, to hear. Only minutes ago they’d shared a blinding closeness, and now they were no more than awkward strangers. Instead of bringing ease from his restless agitation, the gulf between them ripped him deeply.



Miserable, he left without a word, the door shutting behind him with an unmistakable click of finality.



Olivia woke to the feel of a steady breeze. From the rolling view outside the windows, she knew they’d raised sail. She looked around the room and found herself alone. Phoenix had not returned the evening before, nor, it appeared, after she’d retired for the night.



There was a knock at the door, and her heart leapt as she rushed to answer it, eager to see Phoenix again. Instead it was Maggie who stood there. The abigail entered with a bright smile, unaware of her mistress’s disappointment.



Olivia tried to hold her tongue, but her curiosity won out. “Have you seen Captain Phoenix about today?”



“Aye,” Maggie said with a cheerful lilt. “Early this morning, before he went with the Seawitch. We’re on our way, milady. The crew said we should put into port in Barbados within a few days.”



The Seawitch. Olivia’s heart plummeted into her stomach. Phoenix had moved to her father’s ship to get away from her, that was painfully obvious. Her face heated with embarrassment. He most likely thought her the worst sort of wanton. And hadn’t she been?



Wretched, she shook her head. She’d been mindless with desire, but the pirate certainly had not felt the same. He’d had the presence of mind to keep her maidenhead intact, a circumstance that said clearly he did not desire to take her as his wife. He would escort her to England, obtain his annulment, and sail off without looking back. She, on the other hand, would spend her days pining for the husband she hadn’t wanted, only to discover he was all she wanted.



Olivia spent the three days it took to reach Barbados ensconced in Phoenix’s cabin. Bored and crying miserably every time she remembered her abandoned behavior, she resorted to snooping to distract herself. Rifling through his drawers, desk, and cupboards, she found ribbon-bound letters from the Marquess of Dunsmore addressed to Sebastian Blake. She found legal documents that bore his seal and wanted posters displaying his alias. She’d strongly suspected, of course, or she would never have given her favors so freely. But by the end of the three days, she had no doubt.