The Royal's Obsession (11 page)

Then she saw that his hands, his beautiful dark hands, were shaking with the emotion of what was happening, and she knew that there was only one thing she could do. She came close to him. She leaned down to kiss him, and as she did, he rose and lifted her in his arms. All over again, she was impressed by the power in his body and the way he carried her so easily.

In the shade of some prickly olive trees, there was a marble bench, wide and solid. From the hamper, he drew a tightly wrapped foam pad that expanded to cover it, and over that, he threw a fine weaving of deepest black.

“That's the one you bought for me on Santa Olivine,” she said in surprise.

“It is,” he said. “I still have the other on the
Wild Waves
. I'll make sure you get it back.”

She started to respond, but it seemed that at that point, he was done talking. With strong sure hands, he pulled her dress from her, and after a moment he seemed to spend admiring the contrast of her black underthings against her pale skin, he removed those too. Instead of dropping them by the wayside, he set them neatly on a broken pillar nearby before turning to her.

There was nothing wild or savage about this seduction, she realized. Instead it was something gorgeously deliberate and planned. He was a man of many resources, and right now, he wanted to offer her the best of them and himself.

With a gentle touch, he pressed her back on the weaving, running his hands down her naked body as if he couldn't get enough of her. Blissfully, she closed her eyes, more aware of the world and her place in it than she had ever been before in her life. She could feel the heat of the day and the cool of the shade. She could hear the thunder of the distant waves. She was perfectly naked in a Mediterranean paradise, and she never wanted to go back to the real world.

When Augustine came in to kiss her, his mouth was soft and sweet. He explored her mouth with deliberate care until sweet waves of pleasure broke against her body. The beauty of what was happening was almost unbearable. She couldn't take how gentle he was, and how kind his hands were. Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached up to fist her hands in his clothes.

“I want these to come off,” she whispered. “Please. I need you naked too…”

He made a sound of agreement in his throat, and he stood away from her. She turned onto her side to watch him. With a few practiced motions, his clothes were dropped to the ground, and now she could see him, gloriously naked in front of her. In the pure light of the day, she could see how perfect he was, from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips, to his well-sculpted feet. His cock stood out from his body proudly, and a part of her warmed to realize that he was already aroused just from the light touching that they had done.

“I need you.” She barely knew that she had said those words until she saw the shudder go through his body.

“You have no idea how much I need you,” he responded, coming lie behind her. He spooned her body. She could feel his heavy cock pressed against the curve of her buttocks, and the warmth of his body against hers.

With one arm pillowing her head, the other was free to stroke her throat, her breasts, the tender rise of her belly and the roundness of her hips. He kept his touch light, almost teasing, but it didn't stop the tingles of pleasure that ran through her from turning to true flames. When he ran his hand along her thighs, she couldn't stop herself from propping one leg up so he had access to the sweet wet flesh between. He chuckled a little, but there was a deeper note in that sound that made her breath catch.

At first, Augustine started as slowly and as gently as he had elsewhere. His fingertips, calloused from his work at sea, stroked against her tender flesh in the gentlest way, driving her slowly but surely out of her mind. It seemed like hours before he was willing to ease a finger even partially into her, another eternity before he grazed her clit.

By then, her hips were rising and falling with the beat of her heart, restlessly pressing herself up against his touch and yearning for more. Finally, she grabbed his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against herself.

“Please!” she said, turning her head to look at him.

For a moment, he seemed torn. She could see that he intended this pleasurable torture to go on for much longer, but from the way his body was responding to hers, he must have been wondering how long he would last.

“I wanted to give you so much pleasure,” he began, but Anastasia cut him off.

“You have, you are, you will,” she promised. “And later, after we have rested, we can play again, and again if we wish. But right now, darling, everything in me is crying out for you. I need you, please…”

He looked torn for a moment, but then he nodded abruptly. He reached for a condom from the wicker hamper, but instead of putting it on himself, he handed it to her. Her own hands shaking more than she thought they would be, she tore the foil packet open and began smoothing the latex down his member. The feel of hot flesh between her hands made her shake with need, but she took more time with it than she needed to. She stroked the flesh, squeezing it a little, even reaching down to run her tongue along its length. By the time she was done and the condom was on Augustine securely, he was moving restlessly and breathing harder than he had before.

“Little witch,” he growled, dragging her up for a kiss.

“Turnabout's fair play,” she said huskily. “How are you going to get me back?”

She yelped a little when he spun her around, pressing her down to the bench again. Now she was on her knees and with another quick movement, he had her down on her elbows. His hands were heavier as he ran them down her rear, and now she could feel the blunt edge of his nails as well.

“Do it,” she whimpered, pressing her hips back against him. “Augustine…”

Before she could say another word, he came to kneel between her legs. With one quick motion, he buried himself deep inside her. He was completely still for a moment, and then he started moving. His thrusts were slow, but deep, and with every press, she felt him fill her utterly. Anastasia buried her fingers deep in the weaving underneath her, holding her position as best she could and pushing back. It was so good, and every part of her was lit up and responding to this man.

She had been so keyed up with pleasure before he entered her that every motion was a sensual torture, sending her higher and higher and winding her tighter and tighter. She was shaking with need and want, and then, finally, the pleasure overtook her. She almost bit back her shout, but now there was no reason to, not when they were on an island with no one else.

Anastasia shouted her pleasure to the clear blue sky, crying out until she was hoarse. Her hands finally loosened from the weaving, and she would have gone utterly limp if Augustine hadn't been holding her up.

His strokes gentled now, but they still thoroughly consumed her. The pleasure dulled down to something deep and sweet, and she felt her body rock against his.

When his thrusts quickened, she felt a reflection of her earlier pleasure start up again. This time, she only smiled, murmuring sweet words to him as he spilled inside her. They froze for a moment, but then he pulled away. Before stepping aside to deal with the condom, he rested her gently on her side, squeezing her hand gently.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, coming back to sit next to her. She purred as she felt his hand stroking her hair.

“You're amazing,” she whispered. “This is perfect, and I never want anything else.”

“Want and will do are two very different things, my dear,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

Before she could question him or protest, he leaned down to kiss her. Almost against her will, she leaned into the kiss, twining her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to lie down next to her.

She had said that they could tease and play later, but now they simply lay in each other's arms. In the perfect timelessness of the ancient shrine, it felt as if they were in a protected circle where nothing could threaten them.

Anastasia knew the truth, however, and when he started kissing her deeply again, a part of her was already in mourning.

The yacht came back for them at sundown. They were silent as Augustine rowed them back out to its dark bulk set against the brilliant orange and blue sky. Lights shone from the deck and a few cabin windows. Anastasia listened to the way the waves slapped against the ship, the mews of the evening gulls, the calls of the yacht’s crew from above.

After all of the sensations that she had felt that day, everything that she and Augustine had done to each other, she felt spent and empty. Something echoed hollowly inside her. Somewhere, she was shouting, but she couldn't hear herself.

***

The next day, Anastasia woke from her bed as groggy as if she had not slept at all. She felt as if she were full of sand, and when she turned on her phone, she could see why. It was their last day out at sea. Around sunset, they would be pulling into the
Wild Waves
' private dock at Porto Rafti. The day after that, they would be in Athens, and the morning after
that,
she was due on a first class flight back to New York.

A dozen messages had collected on her phone, some from her mother, some from her father, others from friends and acquaintances who wanted to make sure that she stopped by to tell them about her adventures in the Aegean. Though she knew that all of the messages came from a kind place, a place of warmth and care, she couldn't help but feel worn. The messages felt as if there were a dozen hands plucking at her clothing, demanding her attention until she thought that she was going to go mad.

Taking a deep breath, she set her phone aside. She would get up and shower. She would pack. She might go find Trinity and have breakfast with her. She would deliberately not find Augustine.

The rest of the day played out like a dream that she could never quite remember afterward. She wandered the
Wild Waves
, feeling like a ghost. This was the world that she had come to love, the one sailing high in the water, the crisp sea air salting her skin and her hair. The fact that after today, she would never come back struck her heart dully, like a tired fist.

Sunset found her at the prow, gazing towards the lights of Porto Rafti. Her fingertips dug into the railing, as if by doing just that, she could cling to what she had felt here.

Almost as if she had summoned him, Augustine appeared at her side. Dressed simply in dark trousers and a light sweater, he looked every inch a sailor, one who was putting into port just long enough to get supplies and move on.

“You are always welcome back on the
Wild Waves
,” he said quietly. “You are welcome wherever I go.”

She couldn't answer. There was too much in her heart, far too much for her to truly answer him.

When Anastasia finally turned to him, he was gone, and she wondered if it had all been an illusion after all.

She was just getting settled into her hotel suite in Porto Rafti when a new message came through. For a moment, she thought about not answering it, but then she opened it anyway. As she read the brief lines, she frowned, and then she dialed the number indicated.

“Hi, is this Paul Short?”

“Anastasia!” said the warm voice on the other end. “It is. Did I time it right? Are you actually at Porto, and not still playing pirate off the coast?'

She laughed a little at his fanciful words. She had always liked Paul, who had attended her high school. He had gone on to make his fortune in Boston industry, but they had kept in touch. Her mother mentioned him frequently as a possible husband.

“You did, as a matter of fact, but what's going on? Are you in Greece?”

“As a matter of fact I am,” he responded. “I'm actually just getting dinner at the Golden Heron restaurant here in downtown. Everyone tells me it’s amazing, but now that I'm here, I find that I'm a little short on dining companions. Care to come and see what there is to see?”

Anastasia hesitated. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to order room service then crawl into bed in a nightgown. Then she stood a little straighter. After all, she would be back in New York in just a few days. If she didn't get used to making the social rounds now, she would be a wreck when she got back.

“I can't stay out too long,” she hedged. “I'm pretty tired, and there's going to be a lot of traveling tomorrow…”

“Just fine. I would treasure even a few moments to say hello,” said Paul warmly.

In her luggage was a black cocktail dress of black silk crepe, gorgeous and far too formal for anything on the
Wild Waves
. She shook it out, slipped it over her head, and applied just enough makeup that she didn't look half dead. Putting on the tall heels and pulling out her black clutch felt as if she were putting on armor, but she supposed that that wasn't too far wrong.

In the lobby, however, she had an unexpected surprise. The elevator opened, and she nearly walked straight into Augustine's chest. He was still dressed in his sailor's garb. She knew that he had been seeing to the docking after everyone else had disembarked. For a moment, she breathed in the salty sea-air scent of him before her instinct of self-preservation kicked in and she stepped back.

“You look lovely,” he said, his voice hard. “Where are you going?”

“An old friend told me that he was going to be at the Golden Heron,” she said. “I'm stopping by for a drink.”

For a moment, Augustine looked absolutely incensed. There was something dark and furious in his eyes, and Anastasia felt that same fury rise up in her. She stepped forward, ready to fight, but just as quickly, the fire in his expression died down and he stepped back.

“May you enjoy your evening,” he said curtly and rang for the elevator.

Deprived of her target, she stalked through the hotel lobby, walking straight to the door where a car was waiting for her.

By the time she got to the Golden Heron, her anger had died down to a simmer, but it was far from cooled. Somehow she managed to greet Paul warmly, and after a few minutes, she even settled into a comfortable conversation with him.