Nicole Jordan (31 page)

She raised her chin in defiance. “I will never beg.”

His smile was utterly devilish. “You will do as I say. If you are disobedient, I will give you to my men.”

“You wouldn’t,” she replied, although her tone held uncertainty.

“No,” he said, his voice husky. “I wouldn’t. I intend to keep you all to myself. I won’t share my treasure with any man. You aremine .”

Possessively, his palm covered her breast, then glided down the silken skin of her belly to her loins.

“Tell me, are you a virgin, mademoiselle?”

She hesitated before answering honestly. “No.”

“Excellent. The better for me to enjoy you. I am a man of strong appetites, and I am not easily appeased.”

He slid a probing finger between her thighs, along her wet, slippery cleft. Already it was pulsing eagerly.

“You’re very hot, mademoiselle, are you not?”

Raven arched her hips convulsively, feeling her bonds tighten in warning at her wrists.

“How easily aroused you are.”

One of his hands remained between her legs, while the other moved up to fondle her swelling, aching breasts. When he pinched her nipple, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Be silent, captive,” he ordered. “You mustn’t scream, or my men might come to watch. You don’t want them to see you naked and helpless like this, do you?”

Raven swallowed her moan, yet the thought of his lusty, rugged crew seeing her ravishment roused a shameless throbbing heat between her legs.

“Good, you know who is your master.” His indulgent, arrogant smile made her blood boil and race at the same time.

“You must remain completely still, or I won’t satisfy you.”

He was teasing her, making her wait, and the delay excited her beyond bearing. She strained against his hand, shamelessly seeking his penetration.

“I said be still! You will obey me if you want me to take you.” His fingers thrust inside her a mere inch and then stopped. “Do you want me to take you, captive?”

She drew a long shuddering breath. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Then you will beg me.”

“I won’t.”

“We shall see how long you resist when I put my mouth on you.”

Going down on one knee, he parted her thighs and pressed his lips to her sleek folds, seeking the point of feminine pleasure. Raven sucked in a sharp breath, her legs instinctively parting even more.

His long tongue lapped at her slowly, thoroughly, rasping against her sensitized flesh until she burned with frenzy.

“Are you ready to beg me yet?” he asked at length, his voice husky.

Wildly excited, she squirmed against his assault. His hands moved to clasp her buttocks and hold her still, his tongue and lips and teeth ruthlessly pleasuring her.

“Are you?” he demanded.

“Yes…please, yes! I beg you….”

She writhed in helpless rapture as, with a final hard kiss, he dredged a shattering climax from her. Wanton cries of delight rippled from her throat until the fiery waves of sensation ebbed and she sagged limply against the mast.

“Perhaps next time you will be more obedient,” he remarked, his husky murmur holding a note of triumph.

Rising, he took a step backward. Through her haze of pleasure Raven watched as he unbuttoned the straining placket of his breeches and released his phallus, already massive and darkly engorged.

“My cock is hungry for you. Are you hungry for it? Do you want to feel it sliding up inside your pretty, quivering flesh?”

A fevered longing filled her, and she licked her dry lips, anticipating that hot, hard shaft coming into her, assuaging the terrible, sweet ache that all but consumed her.

“Yes.” Her own voice sounded sultry when she added a plea. “But you should untie me, sir. I can give you more pleasure that way.”

“Very well, captive.”

He complied, reaching behind her to slice the bonds from her wrists.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she murmured. “You won’t regret it.” Looking down, she eyed the dagger. “Do you really need this wicked blade? I vow I will be obedient.”

With a provocative glance, she took the dagger from his hand. The anticipation in his smile, however, vanished when she held the blade to his throat.

Behind the pirate’s mask, his eyes flashed dangerously.

“Back away,” she ordered. “Farther!” she insisted, waiting until he had retreated three more steps. “Now it is your turn, monsieur.”

“My turn?” She could imagine him raising an eyebrow behind the mask.

“To obey. Kneel before me.”

His mouth twisting with mockery, he did as she bid, dropping to both knees.

“Now your manhood. Release it completely. I want to see it.”

Opening his breeches farther, he drew up his shirt to expose his flat, hard belly and powerful loins. His erect member jutted proudly toward her, Raven saw with fascination.

“Now pleasure yourself.”

“Mademoiselle?”

“You heard me! I want to see you stroke yourself, to torment yourself as you did me.”

Obediently he reached down, but when his palm brushed the smooth tip of his phallus, the shaft jerked hungrily. Raven saw him clench his teeth.

“I am waiting, pirate.”

Sitting back on his heels then, he cupped the velvety pouch of his heavy testicles with one hand, gripping the thick stem with the other.

“Like this, mademoiselle?” he said, slowly stroking from base to head.

Raven barely stifled a moan, overwhelmed with longing to feel that hard flesh driving deep, deep inside her.

The pirate clearly had the same goal in mind, for his black eyes were fastened on the juicy folds of flesh between her thighs.

“This will satisfy neither of us,” he scoffed, yet raw desire darkened his voice.

“Do you think I care about satisfying the lustful desires of a pirate?”

“Yes.”

Gazes locked, they stared at each other.

“No,” she insisted. “I would rather have you at my mercy.”

He gave a slow, lascivious smile. “There is just one problem, mademoiselle.” He sprang lithely to his feet and stalked toward her, his magnificent shaft swaying. “You should know better than to torment a pirate.”

Raven gasped as he swept her up in his arms, letting the dagger clatter to the deck.

“My revenge will be swift,” he threatened, his warm mouth against her lips. “I intend to ravish you until you scream with pleasure.”

He carried her into the cabin then, dropping her on the satin-covered bunk and following her down, pinioning her hands on either side of her bare shoulders.

When she struggled to free herself, he gave a menacing laugh. “Fight me, vixen,” he urged, tenderly biting each of her hardened nipples in turn. “But before we’re through, you will surrender to me. You’ll give me everything I want, everything you have to give.”

He thrust himself relentlessly within her, making her cry out in pleasure. Raven arched against him, her inner muscles clutching his gloriously hard flesh, even as she fought the onslaught of rapture.

But his hot, slick strokes drove her onward, toward the excruciating bliss. He released her hands to capture her face and kiss her fiercely, his tongue plunging deep. Yielding, straining in mindless abandon, she dug her nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Suddenly his body wrenched in a massive shudder. At his ragged groan, fire exploded through her veins. She screamed, and his mouth captured her sobs of ecstasy, just as her pirate lover might have. They clung together through the passionate storm, lost to reality, oblivious to anything but their fantasy.

Finally he collapsed against her, spent, shuddering, leaving her dazed and exhausted.

Later, much later, Raven lay in Kell’s arms as he slept, stunned by the savage pleasure he had given her, frightened by the feelings this complex, enigmatic man had incited in her.

He had become too dangerous, she reflected. Their carnal pleasure had grown too threateningly intimate, his image too irresistibly entwined with her imaginary lover.

I want everything you have to give,he had said. Dismayingly, she could envision herself giving him everything.

But she wouldn’t let that happen, she vowed. She would have to stop making love to Kell before he took over her fantasies entirely.

Three nights later Kell found himself pondering how to proceed with his wife as he watched a dozen nubile female bodies cavort upon a stage.

As Dare’s guest, he was attending a soiree held expressly for the Hellfire League at a different sin club. The entertainment, which had begun merely as an erotic ballet, was in danger of sinking into something of an orgy, for a few noble bucks in the audience had become overly aroused and had claimed several of the performers as their sexual partners.

The debauchery didn’t surprise Kell. He had attended similar gatherings in the past at various flesh houses, although never in such elite company. Dare had seen to it that his fellow Leaguers had welcomed Kell into their ranks and supported his gaming club—much to his gratitude.

Twisting his mouth wryly, Kell took another potent swallow of brandy. Two months ago he would have scoffed had someone told him he would be grateful to be taken under wing by the Marquess of Wolverton and his ilk. But he owed a great deal to Dare—and to Halford as well, he grudgingly admitted.

His club was safe now. Halford had been magnanimous indeed, bringing the Prince Regent himself to patronize the Golden Fleece last evening. Prinny had won a small sum and pronounced the play “capital.” And with the royal seal of approval, Kell’s club was assured of recovery from the destruction the duke’s slander had wrought.

The future of his marriage, however, was still wholly unsettled.

Absently Kell’s gaze wandered over the stage, but the carnal antics had no power to arouse him, nor did the thought of coupling with any of the beauties there. Upon his arrival, several of the doves had fawned over him and invited him to partake of their frolics later, but he had politely extricated himself.

There was only one woman he desired, one pair of legs he wanted coiled around his waist, one delectable beauty writhing in passion beneath him.

Averting his gaze, he stared down into his brandy, seeing a vision of soft, creamy skin and lush breasts and laughing sapphire eyes. He could still feel every soft curve against him, stirring his body….

His unsated body.

Raven hadn’t allowed him to touch her since their heated night of shared fantasy. She was regretting what had happened between them, he knew.

As he was.

Hell, it had probably even been a mistake to goad her into conjugal relations in the first place. Initially he’d had the vague, misguided notion that if he made love to her, he could satisfy his hunger and drive her from his mind. And then his male pride had gotten the better of him, spurring him to see her imaginary lover as his rival.

He had fooled himself, though. The deep ache of desire hadn’t eased even after their nights of passion. Raven’s allure was as potent at ever. And her fantasy lover still claimed her allegiance.

Cursing, Kell tossed back the rest of his brandy.

Just then he saw Dare making his way toward him and felt another involuntary twinge of jealousy. He was jealous of the marquess and his easy relationship with Raven, for Dare shared her confidence and trust. Even Halford had a stronger claim to her affection than he himself did.

He would have preferred Raven to associate less with both men, but he could hardly order her to cut the connections. He didn’t have that right. Whatever his feelings of male possessiveness, he would have to control them. Their marriage was merely one of convenience. It would be lunacy to develop any deeper emotions toward Raven, for she wouldn’t allow herself to reciprocate.

He schooled his features into impassivity as Dare sat beside him.

“I must apologize for the spectacle,” Dare said with an elegant grimace. “Such juvenile deportment can be so tiresome. I suspect it interests you no more than it does me.”

“I prefer a more private performance, I admit.”

“Shall we depart, then? The sport is far better at your club.”

Agreeing, Kell accompanied the marquess downstairs, but they spoke of inconsequential matters until they were seated in Dare’s carriage.

“I haven’t thanked you adequately for your intervention on my behalf,” Kell said then.

Dare waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. I would have acted for Raven’s sake, even if I had not come to like you. I very much want her to be happy.” He gave Kell a studied glance in the dimness of the carriage. “You needn’t be concerned about my relationship with your wife,” he added pointedly. “I think of Raven as a beloved younger sister.”

“You relieve my mind,” Kell remarked, his tone lightly mocking although inwardly he was quite serious.

Dare hesitated. “To be frank, I am glad for the opportunity to speak to you alone.”

Kell felt himself stiffen, uncertain where this conversation would lead.

“I confess,” Dare said, “I wasn’t entirely displeased when Raven was compelled to wed you. She and Halford were completely ill-suited. In the long run, I believe you will be a far better choice for her.”

Kell eyed the marquess skeptically. “You think me a better choice than a lofty duke?”

“Without question. You are much more likely to appreciate Raven’s unique qualities. She has more spirit than any dozen other women combined, even if she’s endeavored to repress it since coming to England.”

She did indeed have more spirit, Kell agreed silently. A bright spirit that was irresistible.

“She has worked quite hard at attempting to fit in, trying to mold herself into what her mother wished her to be.”

“And what was that?”

“A milk-and-water miss who’s ruled entirely by propriety,” Dare said with an edge of derision.

“You seem to know Raven well.”

“I am privy to some of her secrets.”

“Her secrets?”

“She would probably have my head for telling you this, but I think you should know about her past. Her half brother Nicholas informed me so I would be better prepared to look after her.”

Dare proceeded to tell about Raven’s mother and her passionate love for a married man, about Elizabeth conceiving a child out of wedlock and being forced to wed a younger son she disliked.