Wanton Angel (Blackthorne Trilogy) (10 page)

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They took his curricle back to the apartments he had let on the Via Roma. The view from his sixth-story window commanded the full sweep of the bay from the Castel Dell’Ovo directly below to Vesuvius smoldering on the southern horizon. A full moon bathed the city in soft white light and silvered the tips of the waves on the water.

      
“It is quite remarkable. I can see why you love it here,” he murmured in her ear, looking over her shoulder as they gazed out the octagonal window in the main salon.

      
Beth had always admired the handsome old building but never seen the interior of it. The main salon was furnished with spartan elegance, a sofa and Savonarola chairs, a few eclectic occasional tables and a large Venetian tapestry on one wall, but she was far too nervous and excited to take note. Instead she remained by the window,staring out at the bay as he poured them each a brandy from a cut-crystal decanter.

      
When he handed her a glass she willed her hand to remain steady and took a sip before replying, ”I felt as if it were my home within days of arriving. I think I shall never leave...except perhaps to visit my family one day.”

      
“But you would return?”

      
“Naples calls to me. How could I not answer?” she replied.

      
“You called to me...that first morning on the shore...like a siren of the sea conjured by my imagination.” He punctuated his words with soft, brandy-sweet kisses on her neck and shoulder, moving her heavy plait away for better access to the sensitive nape.

      
She shivered, growing increasingly uncertain of what she should do next. Heated kisses exchanged in a garden she had experienced with numerous men since coming to Italy, but she had never allowed matters to progress further than that. Never had she wanted to...until now.
Remember what Vittoria taught you,
she repeated to herself as he turned her into his arms.

      
She took a sip from her glass, then offered it to him, turning the rim so he could drink from where her lips had touched. His eyes never left hers as he accepted the brandy, cupping his larger hands around her smaller one, guiding the rim to his lips. He kissed the edge of the glass before he drank deeply. When he returned it to her, Beth, too, kissed the rim where his lips had been, then drained the last sip, her other hand massaging his.

      
They stood swaying to the sound of a distant mandolin strummed by some lover serenading his lady on the streets below. He took the glass from her and threw it against the stone fireplace, murmuring, “No one else will ever share what we have this night.”

      
With that, he swept her into his arms and carried her
 

from the salon down a narrow hallway lit by flickering wall sconces into the large bedroom at the end. Moonlight spilled in from a set of small windows overlooking the large round bed, which sat on a dais elevated by three steps. Pillows were piled in front of the ornately carved walnut headboard. He sent them bouncing every which way as he pulled down the coverlet with one hand, holding her tightly against his body with the other arm.

      
“Lie back,” he commanded, easing her onto the snowy softness of sheer linen. Then he moved about the room, lighting dozens of creamy white candles, arranging them in a semicircle around the bed until the room glowed with rich warm light. If she had hoped her inexperience would be obscured in the dimness of moonlight, she now realized he would be able to see every inch of her naked body. Of course, she could see every inch of his as well. The thought sent fire singing through her veins.

      
Beth watched light and shadow play across the chiseled planes and angles of his face;he was strikingly beautiful in a completely masculine, virile way. Derrick's deep-set eyes were rimmed with long black lashes and punctuated by heavy slashes of eyebrow, his mouth firm and wide, his jawline bold and faintly darkened by his heavy beard.

      
When he bent over to remove his boots, that errant lock of black hair tumbled onto his forehead. Moving with pantherish grace, he approached the bed, pausing at the first step. One bare foot rested on the top of the dais as his hungry eyes swept over her. Although Beth had posed as a nude model, she felt self-conscious lying back on a mound of pillows, still fully clothed. Did he expect her to disrobe in front of him? As if in answer to her question, he stepped onto the platform in one swift stride and sat down beside her, reaching for her foot.

      
Raising it slowly, he slid her buckskin skirt up her leg, then unlaced the thongs on her high moccasin, sliding it off her foot and tossing it to the floor. His hand curved around the arch of her bare foot, massaging it. “I feel like purring,” she breathed softly.

      
He chuckled, repeating the process on her other foot. “Oh, I intend to make you purr, puss.” His fingers caressed the delicate flesh of her inner thighs until she gasped in pleasure. “Such a responsive pussycat,” he murmured, taking her hand and pulling her up into his arms for a soft series of kisses across her face and neck. Then he leaned back and whispered, “Unplait your hair for me.”

      
Trembling with excitement, she reached up and tugged the fat braid over her shoulder, unfastening the beaded thong and working her fingers through the heavy silken mane until it blanketed her shoulders. She could feel his hot eyes burning her even though she did not look up until she had completed the task. “Is this what you wish?” she asked softly, daring to raise her eyes to his once more.

      
“God, yes,” he said hoarsely, then knelt on the bed and pulled her up against him, his arm holding her tightly as his mouth claimed hers in a deep, hungry kiss.

      
Beth was dimly aware of her belt being removed and the shoulder ties of her gown being unfastened, but when he slipped the top of the heavy buckskin down her arms, baring her breasts to the cool night air, her lethargy evaporated. Once before she had felt the heat of his mouth on a nipple. In anticipation, both globes tingled, their tips hardening into nubs that ached for his touch. Ever so lightly, he cupped one in each hand, lifting, running his thumbs over the incredibly sensitive nipples until she cried out incoherently, arching against his caresses, desperate for more.
 

      
“Your mouth...I want your mouth...” she said with a boldness she never imagined she could muster.

      
“And I will taste; but you as an artist understand that first my eyes must feast,” he murmured before lowering his head to take one deep pink bud into his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, suckling deeply until she moaned and dug her fingers into his hair, pressing him closer. He moved between her breasts, murmuring praise for their perfection.

      
Beth's head dropped back, her eyes closed as she arched into his caresses. At length he slid his hands over her ribs to span her waist, pushing the buckskin gown lower. His mouth followed, the tip of his tongue swirling and teasing her navel as he worked the soft leather over the flair of her hips. As the gown pooled around her legs, they knelt facing each other on the bed. He cupped her buttocks in his hands, kneading their firmness, murmuring, “Is it an American custom for ladies to wear no undergarments—if so, I heartily approve.”

      
“Only the Indian women,” she gasped as he buried his fist in her hair and tugged gently, nuzzling her throat.

      
“Then I heartily approve of your red kinswomen,” he replied between kisses.

      
She could feel the crisp abrasion of his chest hair against her bare breasts, and lower where his hips rocked hers in gentle rhythm, she could feel the pressure of his erection. That male mystery she had studied in art anatomy books but had never seen in an aroused state, although Vittoria had described it in considerable detail. Some primal instinct led her to rub her pelvis against the protuberance until he growled a low oath.

      
“I think we're finished with seduction, or I'll not be able to contain myself for your pleasure, love,” he whispered as he laid her back on the bed, then stood up and began to disrobe.

      
She watched as he tore off his shirt, and the muscles of his upper arms and chest flexed and rippled. A light dusting of black hair covered his forearms and a heavier pattern of it veed down from his chest to vanish beneath the waistband of his pants. Her eyes followed avidly as he unfastened the buttons of his fly and started to tug off the tight breeches.
 

      
The sun had bronzed his upper body as darkly as the olive-skinned men of the Mediterranean, but his lower parts were much paler. Every inch of him was lean, powerful and graceful. He was utterly magnificent. Her eyes traveled to his engorged staff, jutting proudly from the thick black hair at the base of his pelvis. He reached down and stroked it lightly, murmuring, ”A poor thing, but mine own.”

      
She could see one pearly drop of semen glistening on the tip. Licking her lips, she replied in a raspy whisper, “Not poor...beautiful...oh my, yes.”

      
Derrick grinned, looking into her heavy-lidded eyes. The candlelight brought out the golden flecks in their depths. Her mouth was slightly parted and her breath erratic, her body writhing on the sheets, eager for him to join her. He placed one knee on the edge of the mattress and then leaned over her, arms straight, bearing his weight as he gazed intently into her face. “This is going to last all night,” he vowed.

Chapter Six

      
His weight bore her into the soft mattress as his mouth claimed hers. This time the kisses were not gentle but deep, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth, a harbinger of that other more intimate penetration to come. Beth felt his knee press between her thighs. Vittoria had explained to her that the first time could hurt a woman a bit, especially if her lover were not careful to make her fully ready to receive him. After his long seduction she could not imagine how she could be made to want this coming together more.
      
“Now, Derrick, now...”

      
“Your every wish...” he murmured, rising up, trembling with his own long-suppressed need. She opened her legs, clamping them instinctively around his hips as he pressed the head of his shaft at her portal, rotating it to spread the creamy moisture on her nether lips. She was so hot and ready.

      
Slow. He had promised it would take all night. Well, perhaps the first time might go quickly, but the night was long and he would not leave her. He plunged inside of her with one smooth, slick glide, feeling her incredible tightness...and just the faintest hint of a barrier being breached. Did he imagine her body recoiling the slightest bit? But when her arms and legs clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs pressed against his hips, all thought ceased. Pure animal instinct took over. He began to stroke deep and strong, holding an even pace to prolong the exquisite pleasure of their joining.

      
The first penetration did hurt. But it was little more than a swift pinch, instantly forgotten in the wonder of being stretched and filled with his hard hot flesh.
So this is the mystery of men and women, the two becoming one, an end to the ache caused by desire.
Beth gloried in his powerful body laboring over hers, hard against soft, dark against pale, hairy against smooth. She sought his mouth for another kiss, this time catching the rhythm of his thrusts above and below, kissing him back even as her hips began to arch and rotate in the dance as old as nature itself.

      
What began as pure wonder over new sensation, joy in intimacy, soon changed as the heat of slick flesh gliding over slick flesh created a growing pleasure that defied any description, was unlike anything she had ever before experienced in her life. Slowly, gradually, it built—and built. Had he not said it would last all night? As the ecstasy grew stronger, she became uncertain if she could sustain such a surfeit of pleasure without dying of it. Yet there was something...just out of her reach...something she strained toward, worked for, craved with every fiber of mind and body.

      
Derrick crooned, growled, groaned low words of love and sex, praise for her beauty and the pleasure she was giving him, all the while holding off, waiting for her to reach culmination. Then at last he felt the first faint tremors quivering through her body and with a lusty sigh gave in to his own release.

      
The craving intensified until Beth was certain she would go mad, and then the contractions began, wrenching her with their incredible sweetness, searing her with their intensity. Her whole body shook and bucked. She cried out his name and dug her nails into the bunched muscles of his back, suddenly aware that his body was shaking, too. His spine stiffened as his staff swelled even more tightly within her, releasing life deep against her womb, intensifying her pleasure a thousandfold.

      
They lay, spent and panting, their skin slick with perspiration despite the night's coolness. He rolled to his side, carrying her with him. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the strong, swift beating of his heart gradually slow.

      
“That was...wonderful.” She had started to say,
even more wonderful than I had imagined it could be
, but caught herself. Perhaps he would not notice that she had been a virgin. Beth certainly did not want any offers to “do the honorable thing.” She had entered into this seduction with no expectations of anything more than learning the pleasures of coupling, having a brief liaison before returning to the isolation and discipline of her work.