Revealing Ruby (6 page)

Turning her head she trailed her tongue about the shell of his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth.

His whole body grew taut. It was almost like she’d licked him someplace else, someplace more interesting. She nipped again, enjoying his response.

And then, somehow, he turned, taking her with him. Before she could even begin to understand how a tangle of limbs and skin could move at such speed they were at the other end of the tub, with him below and her above. Another minor adjustment and suddenly she felt his cock in the cleft of her behind, rubbing, seeking. The ache that had lessened grew and grew.

She wanted to rub back against him, to lift herself and sink down on that tantalizing fullness. She started to move, to rise and position herself, but his hands caught her again, holding her still. And just as she would have protested, she felt the warm stroke of rough fingers on her inner thighs as he pushed her wet chemise high, baring her ass to him.

A deep purr of masculine satisfaction. His hands moved to her backside, cupping and lifting, separating.

Her breath caught as she waited, half-lifted to her knees.

His fingers delved between her cheeks, brushing over the pucker of her ass before drifting lower. He pulled lightly at her curls. Lightning shot through her.

God, it had been too long.

One single finger ran forward, tracing her length, before stopping with the slightest pause at that sacred bundle of pleasure. The finger ran back and then forward again, circling, playing, but refusing her the pressure she needed. She tried to sink down upon him, but his hand stilled and then lifted her back to position.

She forced herself to be patient even as her knees threatened to buckle.

His free hand moved to her front, flattening across her belly, bracing her just as he wanted.

And then the hand between her legs moved upward, seeking entrance. One finger, two, filled her, first a little and then more. He pulled back and then surged up again.

Her hands shot forward to brace on the rim of the tub as sensations curled deep within her, fires burning hot.

She could feel her own slickness as his fingers moved, deeper, farther. She bit down on her lip to hold back the moan that wanted to rise.

She felt him press against the front wall of her channel, his fingers sure and strong. The hand on her belly pushed back.

And then he found it, a spot, a place she’d heard of, but never found.

Her whole being curled toward that spot as he stroked, an ache of unbelievable intensity growing and spreading.

He stroked again, hard and firm, his calloused fingers causing sensations such as she’d never dreamed.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and met his eyes, dark and stormy and watching her every move, her every shiver.

It was more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. He saw her, saw through her.

It was too much. Far too much.

Turning her head away, she closed her eyes, concentrated. Tried to breathe. Tried to calm herself.

But it was too late.

He rubbed hard—and then again, both from within and without.

The cry tore from her as she felt her muscles bear down upon him, squeezing and releasing, again and again.

It was good, better than good, better than better.

Her whole body shook one last time. Her knees collapsing, pushing his fingers deeper into her as she screamed her release until only whimpers remained.

As if knowing her sudden sensitivity his fingers withdrew, his hands moving to rest on her hips, holding her still as her whole body longed to collapse.

Keeping her eyes shut she took a moment to calm herself. She thought she’d known what sex was about, but that had been something else, something she wasn’t sure she entirely liked—although it had been the most wondrous thing she’d ever experienced.

She could feel each breath leave her mouth and rebound on the edge of the tub. Focusing on those gentle puffs of air, she carefully opened her eyes and turned, meeting his gaze and holding it.

For a moment she’d given up her power, but he was a man and she knew just how to take it back.

An easy smile settled about her lips. Yes, she knew just what to do, but first she would enjoy, soak up this moment and all it had given her.

That had been beautiful. Derek didn’t know how else to describe it. He wasn’t a man for poetry or words. He’d been well educated before taking to the seas, but he’d never cared for book learning. His heart yearned for wind and sky.

Derek leaned back in the tub and considered. He’d never spent time on playing with his women. Oh, he’d learned the tricks—it was important that a man learned to please his partner—but he’d never really cared for the process. A man stroked a woman to make sure she was wet and ready. It was not an activity he’d ever found particularly enjoyable. His eye had always been on the prize, on the fuck itself. That was what mattered.

But this time, with Ruby, something had changed. He could have been in her within seconds of changing their position. He’d felt her desire, felt her need. Hell, if he hadn’t stopped her she’d have done it for him, impaled herself on his very willing shaft.

So why had he stopped her? Why had he felt the need to give her pleasure before pursuing his own? His cock certainly wasn’t sure that it had been a good idea.

But he’d felt the need to feel her, to stroke her, to know her pleasure, to watch as the muscles of her back grew taut and then rippled with pleasure. He’d never imagined that you could see a woman’s pleasure in the small movements of her back. And he’d certainly never imagined that he would want to.

He only wished he could have seen her face. There was something about watching a woman’s eyes as she found her joy. Next time. And that would not be long. If he wasn’t careful he’d be coming against her thigh and that was not what he wanted. This time he intended to be buried deep within her when he came.

He leaned forward, laying a gentle kiss upon her back. That was something else he never did. Kisses were a necessity, but not something he enjoyed or needed. But now he needed to kiss her, to taste her, to see her. It had been far too long since he’d seen her breasts, seen those rosy peaks.

Even as he had that thought, he found himself lifting her, turning her, until she straddled him again, but this time eye to eye.

And that stopped him. Her eyes were sleepy and full of wonder. He’d thought them the color of the sea at sunset, but now they were the blue of snow. He’d never considered snow blue, but as he stared into her eyes, he saw the deep shadows of snow reflecting on a sunny day, deep dark blue with a haze of endless color.

She smiled slightly, her gaze still dreamy and hazy.

It was better than watching her pleasure. She was so relaxed and so real, unguarded.

And so unbearably sweet. He’d thought he was getting the practiced madame and instead found himself with—hell, he didn’t even have a word for it. That seemed to be a theme of this encounter. A lack of words.

And then his gaze shifted lower—he was, after all, a man—settling on her pert breasts, the soft pink tips seeking freedom from the damp linen. Freedom he was inclined to give them, although perhaps not yet. There was something intriguing about the sight of her barely covered breasts. He’d never thought anything could be better than naked, but this just might be, the added hint of intrigue in not quite seeing the creamy flesh.

He slid his hands up from her hips over her ribs, amazed at how slender she was. Dressed, she gave the impression of being lush and full. Here, half-naked, she was still lush, but so much more delicate. He could almost span her with his hands. He moved his hands up further, settling them beneath the full curves of her breasts. Now these were not smaller than expected. There were no pads in her corset.

He cupped upward, raising her breasts and bringing them together, forming a deep V of cleavage. He leaned forward burying his face there. A man could happily die in such a position.

Although he had no intention of dying—unless it was from blood loss to the brain. It seemed every drop of his was flowing downward. His prick strained upward, longing to find a home. Shifting in the water, he attempted to bring it under control.

Soon.

Very soon.

But not yet. There were things to do first.

He inhaled deeply. Lavender. Soap. Woman. Did it get better than this?

He turned his face to the side, feeling the velvet of her skin beneath his cheek. He nuzzled her damp flesh before parting his lips to taste. Delicious. Salty and sweet. Honey and sweat.

Turning his face farther, he licked, laved, sucked. He wanted more, needed more.

His lips found her right nipple through the damp linen. He moved, pulling her closer, flicking his tongue across the turgid peak, dragging the rough cloth along her tender flesh. She cried out softly, her chest arching toward him. He licked again, increasing the pressure.

Another moan.

And another.

He brought his lips about the peak, circling her, sucking deep before bringing his lips tight. His hand rose to move over the other breast, flicking at the tip, and then pinching, drawing it long.

Her noises grew jumbled, incoherent, soft moans and murmurs that made his cock jump.

He needed to be in her.

Now.

He pulled his head back. She groaned in protest. He pinched her other nipple hard in answer.

Then he slid both hands to her waist, drawing up her chemise as he went, until it hovered above the joining of her legs, her golden curls peeking out below.

The image before him caught him, held him. Blue eyes blurred with passion beneath damp blond ringlets. Long slender neck, leading to delicate collarbones. The thin straps of lace-edged linen holding her chemise over those breasts. The turgid nipples pressing forward, inviting. The pink aureolas hidden and revealed in the same moment. The slight indent of navel in the middle of that gently curved stomach. The lower edge of lace on the chemise above her parted thighs, the water lapping about them, the damp pink of her folds, glinting through pale curls, just visible between. And his cock rising hard and firm at the center of it all, reaching, lusting.

He didn’t normally admire himself, but as part of this picture, it was right, so right.

He slid his fingers lower, while taking care to hold the linen up. He wanted to see. Everything. His thumbs slid forward until he could spread her lips, revealing her womanly core. His cock stretched high, seeking her warmth.

She was so beautiful, everything a man could want.

He swallowed hard.

She shifted in his hands and he raised his eyes to hers. Her eyes were steady now, thought and reason had returned, although her pupils were still dark with desire. Her gaze shifted down, staring at his swollen shaft. Her small teeth bit down upon a lush lower lip. With clear determination she angled her hips forward and then slowly began to lower herself, to impale herself upon him.

As the tip of his cock grazed her curls, she bit down harder upon her lip, her brow tensed in concentration.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she sank down, surrounding him, so hot, so moist. He could feel her stretch, her inner muscles straining to accept him, as she sank lower and lower.

And then she rose, still slowly, a soft tease, her quim sucking at him, refusing to let him go.

Then down again. His hands moved to her hips, urging her to increase the pace.

He was in heaven and yet he needed more.

She resisted for a moment and then gave in, her head falling back.

Keeping one hand on her hip, he raised the other to her breasts, caressing the soft curves and firm nipples. Her whole body shivered as he suddenly pinched tight, her cuny contracting about him.

He thought his eyes would roll back in his head it felt so good.

God, she’d thought to find control and power by taking over, and instead she was lost again. The feel of him inside was exquisite and the added feel of his hands on her breasts…every time he pinched it shot straight to her clit. It was rare for her to come twice in a night and now she might twice within five minutes.

What was it about this man?

And then thought was lost as she gave in to the rhythm. His hand on her hip guided her up and down, up and down. Down. Up. Up and down. The beat changed and changed again, teasing her until her belly tightened and the feelings grew so intense that she would explode—but then not. A change of pace, a change of pattern, and she was back at the beginning, only not, because she never loosened, it just grew and grew.

Damn. She was not going to give in this easily.

Locking her legs tight, she brought her head up again until she was eye to eye with him, or at least eye to chin. She glanced up and caught his hooded gaze, looked deep into those dark orbs. No, he was not in control either.

She held herself just at the tip of his arousal, seeing lines of need strain his face.

Lowering herself an inch, she watched the play of pleasure upon his face, the spread of lips, the inhale of breath, the dilation of pupils. She lowered herself slightly, clenching her inner muscles until they gripped him hard. She slid farther, eased up. Clenched again. Shifting her hips slightly she angled forward until he rubbed against that magic spot he’d hit with his finger. There. Just there. How had she never found that before?

She tightened again, pressing him hard against the front of her channel.

God, that was good. She slid up and down, finding her own pattern, her own music, but watching his face for every nuance of desire. Yes, he liked that. She sped up. He liked that even more. Fast. Tight. Fast. Tight. Stop. Hold. Hold. God, it was hard, when all she wanted was to sink down hard, again and again, until she couldn’t take it a moment more.

She saw him swallow, watched his breath catch. He was fighting it too, now. She picked up the pace again, slammed herself hard against him, feeling every nerve in her body alight.

And then one of his hands pinched tight at her nipple as the other slipped from her hip to between her legs, his fingers seeking and finding that other bundle of pleasure.

He rubbed against her clit and then circled, rubbed again, trapping it between his thumb and forefinger.

She could feel the pinch coming, knew he meant to take her over first.

She pressed down again, then drew up, tightening herself with everything she had, feeling the ridge outlining the head of his penis press against her muscles. She loosened and then clenched again tight, again and again.

She felt his indrawn breath, saw his eyes grow wide.

And then the pinch, hard tight, but so, so good.

It was impossible to hold back. It rose within her, contracting muscles of its own volition. She was lost.

But then, so was he.

His hips lifted from the tub, his back arched. A roar left his lips, filling the small chamber.

Her own cry, higher, shriller, matched his, as her body arched and every muscle in her convulsed about her core—and him.

With one last cry she collapsed against him, cocooned against his strength.

The water was getting cold. They would have to move soon, but perhaps not quite yet. Tepid, perhaps he could pretend it was only tepid. He’d washed with plenty of tepid water onboard ship. Hell, he’d washed with water that still had ice floating in it, but on those occasions he hadn’t had a warm female body pressed against him, a body that made him all too aware of the growing chill of the water.

He should move. He really should.

A soft purr sounded against his chest as Ruby snuggled closer. Her full lips brushed against the scattering of hairs, sending shivers through him. He could have pretended it was the water, but he knew the truth.

It was the woman, the little madame, who affected him so strongly.

This was not how it was supposed to be. A quick fuck or two and he was gone. That was how he lived.

He certainly did not spend time with women cuddling against his chest. If that was what he wanted he’d find a wife—something he had no intention of doing.

With some effort—he didn’t have a muscle that wanted to move—he reached out and stroked one of her damp, curling strands. So soft, so smooth. He twined it about his finger. He could hold her like this forever.

Blast. He shoved his legs against the end of the tub, taking her with him.

Then, bending his knees, he pushed to standing, lifting her along.

Her legs stretched down to the floor and her slick body slid against his. She groaned in protest.

“The water’s cold. Don’t want you to catch something. Come, let’s get you dried.”

Another moan, but she stood still as he turned to grab a couple of towels from the pile. He’d dry her off, then send her back to wherever she’d come from. A good night’s rest and he’d be ready to ride north in the morning.

Towels in hand, he turned—and stopped.

His mouth suddenly dry.

Ruby stood just where he’d left her a moment ago, but the chemise now lay in a pile at her feet.

God, he’d never seen anything so delicious.

He’d thought that having seen her almost naked he knew what she looked like.

He’d been wrong. Shit, he’d been wrong.

Her breasts rose high, despite their lush size, the delicate pink nipples hardly darker than a baby’s cheek. Her waist curved sleekly inward beneath delicate ribs and above swelling hips. Her navel was deeply indented—a gentleman could sip champagne from such a cup. His mouth grew drier still.

He let his gaze slip lower, to the golden nest of curls, soft as down, the long sleek legs slightly crossed to hide her innermost secrets from him. He knew those secrets well, but still in this moment they were a complete mystery.

And her skin. Her skin was pale as cream, but still flushed with desire. Perfect. Smooth. No silk or satin had ever been as fine, or looked as untouched.

He brought his gaze back up and met her eyes. Was she nervous, unsure of herself? It seemed unlike both the confident Madame Rouge he’d met upstairs and the seductive angel who had followed him here, but there was no mistaking the slight hesitation that marked her eyes and the slight wrinkle that formed between them.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that no woman had ever been so lovely, that she was Venus come to life, but though the words flowed with ease through his mind his dry lips could not form them.