EscapeWithMe (10 page)

“Now open your legs. Touch yourself.”

She was strangely embarrassed all over again, even after
being fucked standing up. Bringing her feet up and planting them shoulder-width
apart, she left one hand by her head and smoothed the other down her stomach
until she met the curls of her sex.

“Wider.” His voice was so deep. She shifted her feet farther
apart, but only a few inches. Her longest finger slid between the lips of her
vagina and her cheeks burned at how wet it was. She then found her clit. It was
still super sensitive and she jumped.

Ryder climbed onto the bed and sat on his heels between her
feet. “Wider,” he repeated and pushed her knees apart until her legs flopped
open. “Now let me watch.”

She slowly rubbed her clit. Damn, it felt good. Ryder
resumed fisting his erection, his eyes all over her, especially what was
happening between her thighs. Little noises eked from her throat. She palmed
her breast with her free hand and imagined it was his hand. She plucked and
squeezed the nipple. Pleasant shocks shot straight to her sex.

He hissed again and took his hand from his erection. “Did
you like it standing up? How did it feel?”

“Vertical.” She smiled at his bark of laughter. “I felt
wild.”

“You liked it.”

“Yes,” she breathed, rubbing harder. She lifted her hips,
urging that sensation to wash over her again. A noise caught in Ryder’s throat.

She was glorious. A beautiful, virile woman. He had nearly
spent himself when she came. Her sex tightened around him and he had to pull out.

He would not think of her offer, though his mind pestered
him with all the ways in which she would prove a boon, both in his bed and out
of it. It had been many months since his last tumble with a woman and he could
not let his cock dictate his actions.

Just watching her pleasure herself though…she knew what she
liked and her fingers were tireless. She writhed and the firm mounds of her
breasts bounced. Her teeth clenched and she pressed her head into the pillow.

Ryder needed to have this woman. Now.

In a rush, he was on top of her. His body blocked some of
the light but he didn’t have the patience to move them. She groaned, tucking
her knees back and hooking her wrists behind his neck. He spread the lips of
her sex and his cock sank into her. The air caught in her throat and he
couldn’t help his own gruff sigh as he fully sheathed himself.

He slid one arm beneath her shoulders to brace his weight as
he tested the waters with slow, gentle thrusts. “Yes,” she sighed. She was
delightfully soft beneath him. Her smooth, red hair tickled his arm. Tight,
slippery muscles gripped his surging shaft.

God, he would not last much longer. He concentrated on the
push and pull of his cock, plunging it deep until his ballocks rested against
the lips of her sex. She tried to stifle the sounds of her pleasure by pinching
her full lower lip with those beautiful teeth. He palmed the supple flesh of
one of her breasts and pinched her nipple. Her lips fell open and a loud moan
echoed in the room.

“Harder,” she begged.

“When is your next monthly?” His hips rolled against her,
earning a gasp. Her arms tightened around his shoulders.

“It just ended. It’s…it’s all right.”

He snarled, pumping his hips in earnest. Her eyes slid shut
and her breasts bounced with the rocking of her body. Her knees clamped against
his sides. She made a rough noise of relief and he groaned as those slippery
muscles rippled around him. The ecstasy on her face was beautiful.

Ryder lost control. His ballocks tightened and he thrust
deep. His eyes closed though he wanted to watch her reaction. Her gasp would’ve
done him in if he weren’t already tossed. He held his hips tight against her,
grunting with each spasm of pleasure.

Her grip on his shoulders loosened. He sank onto her soft
breasts and shared a breathless kiss with her. One of her legs fell to the side
and the other lay against his bare backside. Her fingers twirled across his
back. When the pleasure died away, they lay there, utterly consumed.

He lifted his head. “Damn.”

Samantha’s lips curled in a lazy smile. “Mm-hmm.” Something
she said earlier returned to him in that moment and he found himself grinning.

“What?” she asked.

“Pray tell, what does BOGO mean?”

Her laughter echoed in the room.

Chapter Six

“At last, a lucky shot took out the ship’s mast. We boarded
our newest prize only to discover that the captain had died several weeks
previously,” Ryder said.

Sam gasped. “So it wasn’t who the captain thought it was?”

“Exactly,” he said. “All this while, Williams thought he was
facing the same French captain who had nearly sunk us seven months previous and
he was gloating over his victory, but the look on his face,” he said,
chuckling, “when he realized a new captain had—” Ryder couldn’t finish his
sentence. He was laughing too hard.

Sam smiled at his amusement and nibbled on the strawberry in
her hand. She and Ryder lay on the bed, naked and entangled in the sheets. He
had ordered “room service” and spent another chunk of change on champagne and
fruit. She was giddy from the alcohol and thoroughly charmed by her jack tar,
who had been regaling her with stories of his adventures at sea. The very
notion of exploring the oceans and discovering new land was so intoxicating to
Ryder that he infected her with his eagerness and fascination, even if she
already knew what the world map looked like.

“God bless Williams, but I’ll never forget the look on his
face,” Ryder said. He reached for the champagne bottle and poured more into her
glass.

“How long have you been a sailor?” She lifted the glass to
her lips. His eyes watched her mouth as she took a sip.

“Ten years. Altogether, I’ve spent only eighteen months on
land since joining.” He said it proudly.

“And you entered the navy when you were thirteen?” She took
another sip.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Are you attempting to
discern my age?”

“It’s hard to believe someone so young has been at war for
six years. London must seem like another world after all that.”

“Someone so young, you say. You talk as if I am younger than
you,” he said.

“You
are
younger than me,” she said. “Two years
younger, actually.” She finished her glass and sighed as the effervescent
liquid went straight to her head. It was a welcome sensation that blocked out
everything else but Ryder and his easygoing smile. She was pretty sure she’d
never been this drunk before.

“Two years, really?” He sidled closer. The champagne bottle
was still in his hand and he tipped it toward her glass, which was tucked
against her bare breasts. When he poured the last of the alcohol into her
glass, the bubbly liquid overflowed and dripped onto her skin. Ryder bent his
head to lick up the stray drops of champagne. She wasn’t sure if it was his
tongue or the chilly air that made her shiver.

“Although if calculating with a Gregorian calendar, you’re
almost two—” She paused to do the math in her head. “Two hundred thirty years
older.” She wasn’t sure what made her say it aloud—who was she kidding, the
champagne was the obvious culprit—but it sounded so ridiculous that she knew he
wouldn’t believe her.

Ryder laughed against her skin and placed one last kiss to
her breast before raising his head. “You must be quite drunk, madam. How did
you arrive at such a number?”

“I’m from the future.” She squinted and waved her fingers at
him. “I was born in the 1980s, so congratulations—you look
good
for your
age.”

Ryder collapsed onto his back in a fit of laughter. With an
unguarded smile, Sam took another swig of champagne. Her narrow, fuzzy field of
vision was weirdly comforting, and the difficulty of keeping her head in one
place made her wonder how she normally held such a heavy noggin still.

Once he had control of himself again, Ryder set the empty
champagne bottle on the floor, still grinning. “You are singularly enchanting,”
he said. “If you’re from the future, then do you know events to come?”

She knew it was dangerous to be too honest, that she should
pretend to have been joking. After all, it was still an age when accusations of
devil-worship or witchcraft could land you in prison or get you killed in any
number of horrifying Monty Python-esque ways, but something in her wanted to
impress him.

“Major historical events only,” she said into her glass
before finishing off her champagne. She rolled to her other side to set the
empty glass on the floor and nearly fell off the bed. Ryder swiftly snatched
her wrist, his reflexes belying his state of inebriation. “This bed is not
stable,” she muttered.

Ryder chuckled and pulled her back to him.

“How very convenient. What kind of fortune-teller are you?”

“Hey, I’m not an oracle. I s-studied history, but I don’t
know if it will rain tomorrow.” It was getting hard to use words that started
with an
s
. She would have to avoid those words.

“What predictions could you make regarding this year?” he
asked.

Ooh, tricky. Should she tell him? She was hesitant to say
anything. It could be like that one Bradbury novel where a minor change meant a
huge consequence.

“It is my belief, Samantha, that you are a woman of the
eighteenth century,” he said teasingly when she didn’t answer. “A
beautiful
woman to be certain, and very slightly my elder, but nonetheless a creature of
the present—”

“English and American representatives will sign an official
peace treaty in Paris.” She said it all in a rush, pulling the information from
another of her old college essays. She couldn’t remember what date the signing
happened, but she was still surprised she had remembered so much considering
how drunk she was. She might have even slurred “representatives”. Everything
was blurry and dim, and her body felt heavy.

“Preliminary treaties were already signed last year and
Paris is not a surprising choice for the meeting. That one is too easy to
predict, madam.”

“You want
more
? I’m already putting the s-space-time
continuum at stake here.” She punched his shoulder.

Ryder erupted in more laughter. “The space what?”

“William Pitt will become Prime Minister in December,” she
declared.

His eyebrows shot up and he scoffed. “What nonsense. Pitt is
far too young and the Duke of Portland assumed the title only last month.”

What the hell? Did he want some grand prophecy? Some
Nostradamus doomsday shit? Well, she’d give him one.

“This summer, all of England and Europe will be covered for
months
with a thick, foul-smelling fog.” Her finger pointed at his dubious expression.
“It’ll cause one of the hottest summers ever, and a pretty harsh winter too.”
She dared him to not be impressed with that one.

Aggravatingly, he only laughed harder than ever. “What are
you talking about?”

“Laugh now, Ryder, because it’ll be my turn later.” She
moved to roll out of bed, but Ryder was quick to stop her.

“Nay, madam, pray forgive me for my diversion.” He pulled
her back to him. “Pardon my offenses. I am both charmed and humbled by your
prescience.” His hands were all over her, gathering her closer and pushing aside
the sheets. The hard length of his arousal brushed her hip.

“
You
wanted predictions. I’m sorry if they’re not
impressive enough for you.”

“Come, let’s not quarrel.” He pushed her knees apart and
crawled over her. Her hands went to his shoulders. “I’ve a much better use for
my mouth.” His eyebrow arched as he smoothed his hand down her stomach. She
wanted to admonish him further, but he kissed her just as his fingers slid over
her clit. Her entire body jerked in reaction. She had no hope of even having a
thought, let alone voicing it.

Ryder knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers, which
rubbed and swirled until her thighs shook. When he wasn’t kissing her, he was
pressing his lips along her jaw and down her neck.

“I would live forever between these thighs.” His cock slid
inside her. His groan almost drowned out the catch in her breath. He
straight-armed away from her, a noise tumbling out of his throat like an animal
triumphant over its prey. She fisted her hands in the pillows around her, letting
him tuck her knees against his flanks as he leisurely thrust his hips. The feel
of him was addicting.

How had she ever thought to deny him? Even if she did help
him and his brother smuggle their contraband, she couldn’t fool herself into
thinking that Ryder wouldn’t still want her in his bed—that he wouldn’t demand
it and get it despite her resistance.

“Ah God.” He bent his head to watch his cock pumping in and
out of her. He pressed deep in long, careful strokes that made her moan louder
and louder. It felt so good but it wasn’t enough. She was greedy for more.

Her ankles crossed behind him and pulled him in to hasten
the pace. He needed no further encouragement. He growled, ramming his cock into
her with a mounting frenzy that shook the bed.

She tensed as an orgasm rose within her. “Ryder,
yes
,”
she cried. He drew a sharp gasp from her and then they were both still, both
braced against the waves of pleasure. He then crumpled onto her.

His passion was overwhelming. Even when he wasn’t engaged in
foreplay, he stroked her skin, kissed the curves of her shoulders and studied
her naked form like a sculptor memorizing a model. Had he been at sea too long?
He had said it was his first homecoming in well over two years, but he had to
have slaked his lust upon some other woman, perhaps someone in America.

Was that why he had agreed to buy her time from Mrs. Hayes?
Was he thinking about some other American woman? Did it matter?

Once Ryder rolled off her, though, it was clear that they
were both spent for the night, so Sam rose from the bed to clean herself up and
put on her chemise. She then blew out the candles. When she crawled back in
bed, her lover was on his stomach, already asleep. She lay on her back next to
him, too drunk to be anxious, and was soon asleep herself.

* * * * *

She was startled awake when someone grabbed her. She
shrieked as she was dragged from the bed, unable to see her attacker.

“What the devil?” Ryder growled. Sam could barely see the
outline of two other men on Ryder’s side of the bed. One held him down while
the other wrapped him in the bedclothes, and together they lifted him off the
mattress.

“What’s going on?” she gasped. “Mrs. Hayes!” Her attacker
kept her in a simple bear hug, not letting her interfere as his two accomplices
trundled Ryder out of the room. Ryder roared with rage from inside the blanket.

“I’m here,
mademoiselle
,” a calm voice said from the
hallway. The one holding her lifted her up and set her down in the bedroom
doorway. Mrs. Hayes stood there with a single candle. Behind her, the two men
were just going out of sight down the stairs with their struggling bundle. “Mr.
Hull was kind enough to enlist two of his acquaintances to assist me. Mr. West
is no longer welcome in our establishment.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked with no small amount of terror.

“I have decided to end our business relationship. No further
explanation is needed.” Mrs. Hayes looked much older than when Sam had first
met her. She wore no powder. Lines of hate bracketed her mouth. All she needed
was a mole on her nose and a broomstick. “Mary, get the lieutenant’s things.”

The frightened maid emerged from a dark corner of the
hallway where Sam hadn’t even seen her. Mary ducked into the bedroom and
quickly collected Ryder’s clothes.

“So he was more trouble than he was worth?” Sam asked
bitterly.

“He would have taken you away and that I cannot allow. We
need the money.”

“Next chance I get, I’m scratching out your eyes.”

Mrs. Hayes was unruffled. She nodded to Mr. Hull. “Return
her to her room.”

Mr. Hull tossed her behind him. She landed on her hip and
yelped with pain. Before he left the room, he took her chair with him, and then
her bedroom door slammed shut, leaving her in complete darkness. Even as the
lock to her door clicked into place, she got to her feet and limped to the
window. She pushed aside the musty curtains.

A couple of street lights were lit at the end of the block
and a handful more were lit above the doors of a few houses, but the street was
otherwise very dark. Sam could only make out a few shapes quickly walking along
the street. The door of the brothel opened below and she pressed her forehead
to the glass, watching the two men holding Ryder emerge from the house.

She gasped as he was unceremoniously dumped naked onto the
dirty street. He quickly sprang to his feet. “You damned curs!” He threw a
punch at one of the men that connected but the other man landed a punch in
Ryder’s stomach. Ryder was doubled over for a second but then swiftly
backhanded the one who hit him. That earned him another punch, this time in the
groin. Ryder barely managed to keep his feet. Blows rained down upon him until
he was on his knees and blood gushed from his nose. She could hear the two men
laughing.

One of the men then turned to someone behind him. It was
Mary. The man grabbed the clothes from her and tossed them at Ryder. He caught
some of them, and just before the men came back inside, he looked up at her.
She couldn’t make out his expression, and she didn’t know if he could even see
her.

The front door shut and the street below became completely
dark. Ryder was gone.