Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  Not actually unpleasant. But…something she hadn’t experienced in an awfully long time. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She was fifty-three! A widow! He was probably some handsome young thing, being kind to an old lady. Period.

  “Yes, it’s a nice wine. Not a real fine wine, but better than pig swill. I’m Alan. And my evening plans are not disturbed. Not at all.”

  He spoke with a nice, no, an especially yummy, deep and distinctive voice. She cleared her throat. “Oh, well, what were you about to do when the need to rescue me from vampires…?” She stopped, thought a moment. “Why make me blind? If they aren’t allowed to be out and about selecting people snacks, why bother?”

  Picking up her free hand, he patted it lightly. She wasn’t going to like what he was going to say, she knew.

  “Dear Pawes, the vampires have leave to punish those who spy on them. If I hadn’t been there, you would have wandered off, sought the dark to ease your eyes, and they would have found you after the waltz finished. It is an unspoken agreement. They won’t enter any establishments to hunt; don’t worry.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you again.” She pushed her glass away. “I feel a little sick.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, I told Jezzie that I figured the unpleasant aspects of this experience would eventually bite me good. Didn’t think I’d face being actually bitten.”

  His rough fingertips patted her hand, once more, then stroked it. “As for my evening plans, seduction and debauchery were on my agenda, anyway.”

  That drew her attention away from the thoughts of being some vampire’s snack. She grabbed for the wine and nearly knocked the glass over. Her savior must have moved quickly, since the next thing she knew, his warm hand touching hers made sure she gripped it securely. She took too big a swallow and nearly choked before managing a comeback.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you. I was at the Barmy Cock some nights ago, and there are plenty of sweet, young things to seduce there. I have the blindfold to protect my eyes, so why not see me there, and you can take your pick.” She tried to slide off the bench, but found a wooden barrier to her right. Damn.

  Oh, she liked the sound of his sudden chuckle. She liked it too much! She’d already scolded herself enough on the Quill, for staring at the young hunks who worked the lines. It didn’t make a difference to her that the rest of the crew enjoyed dallying with the boys. They were boys, and she couldn’t look at them without feeling like a dirty, old woman. Well, look at them that way!

  This Alan, well, he probably thought she possessed wealth or felt sorry for her. She’d grown accustomed to the blunt way the crew spoke of their sexual exploits. Jezzie would tease Mick while at dinner with ideas regarding their sexual play. Tink came striding out of her cabin one morning, rubbing her backside while complaining about Archer’s heavy hand the night before.

  The idea of seduction and debauchery seemed a bit tame compared to what she’d heard and seen on the ship!

  Alan turned her hand upside down and dallied with her palm, sliding his fingertips up and down the lines. She wanted to pull away, or maybe that wasn’t what she wanted. Damn! Her breasts ached, her nipples rising tighter than she’d ever known them to. Her belly clenched. Shit.

  Another chuckle set her pulse pounding. He probably knew it, too. His finger lingered at her pulse point. Damn.

  She had to be sitting in a puddle.

  “But why would I want to consider the sweet, young things, when what I want is here before me?”

  She jerked her hand away, suddenly angry. “You like teasing an old woman? Don’t try to bullshit me! You want my purse, fine! Here!” She struggled to haul the bag of coins Sam had given her free of her pack. Plopping it on the table, she pushed back, into the corner and tried to glare in his general direction. “Don’t fuck around with me! I’m not stupid. I felt your muscles, your broad chest…you don’t want me!”

  She heard nothing. Had he left?

  “You smell like apples. It’s quite intoxicating.” His voice came at her left side, close to her ears, and the hair at her jawline stirred when he exhaled. An arm settled across her shoulders. He nearly crooned, “I don’t need your purse. You’re not an old woman, and I have every intention of fucking you.” His hand cupped the back of her head as he finished the statement.

  Emily’s emotions veered between the fear of being trapped and the excitement of being wanted. Oh, God! Really wanted? Her lips parted, not sure what she was going to say, and he kissed her.

  He took advantage of her open mouth. His kiss began with intense pressure, but eased after she almost jerked away. Thank God, he didn’t stop. Her mind shut down, focused on nothing but the sense of his mouth on hers. Chills danced up her spine and lingered where his fingers pushed through her hair. His tongue teased at her lips, and she opened to the request. Tentative at first, she moaned at his continued assault. Her heart hammered beneath her ribs and wanting rose, drowning the remnants of her self-control.

  When he finally pulled away, she nearly fell onto his chest. Somehow, he’d pushed the table back and moved closer, the heat of his body radiating along her torso. His free hand rested at her waist, fingers curled toward her back.

  “Uh…wow.”

  The deep tone of his throaty chuckle answered her. Then the hand at her waist slid down to her thighs, and with a real display of strength, he lifted her onto his lap. And kissed her again.

  This time she paid better attention, and a bravado she didn’t know lived inside empowered her to mimic him. When his tongue withdrew, she bravely ventured forth to explore his lips, then the hot cavern of his mouth beckoned, and again she replied. She felt him smile and couldn’t help but push forward for more. She acted like a student—she dared to act like a woman who lived in one of the romantic adventure books she read. The character she’d always dreamed of being.

  As his hands slid down her neck, his knuckles brushed at the plump tops of her breasts, causing her to be terribly aware of how tight her bodice was. Her breath caught when he tugged at the tie of the rose silk blouse. Opening it wide, he dipped a finger into the valley between.

  Emily trembled and her legs fell open, one foot hitting the toe of his boot as it slid toward the floor. She heard him moan in approval, a contented tone drifting away that communicated so much. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She knew she needed to…to do something. Object? Plead?

  He shifted again and lifted her, pulling her left leg to the other side of his lap and she was astride him. Her head fell back as he shifted her hips closer. The terrible firmness of his cock pressed against her. He took advantage of her position, his lips traveling down her neck, along her chin and back to an ear.

  “Apples,” he whispered.

  “Perfume,” she gasped. “Glad you like it.”

  “I love it.” His hands covered her breasts over the molded leather. “I want this off.”

  “Uh huh.” She whimpered, trying to get to the tie. Yes, that’s what she should do. Why wouldn’t her fingers work?

  He didn’t interfere when she finally managed to release the knot and yanked the tie back through the eyeholes. When the bustier gaped open fully, warm hands took hold of her trembling fingers and held them still. She stopped tugging her blouse from the waist of the skirt.

  “Enough,” he said.

  Damn, she’d been about to strip in a public place. She needed to get away from this man. Suddenly his lips locked on her right nipple, sucking it through the silk, and a shriek escaped her.

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and fell toward him. Get away? Oh, shit! More!

  ***

  She molded well around his cock. He’d been stiff since he’d seen her outside the ballroom. He’d listened to her babble, relishing the innocence she exhibited and loving the freedom her fortuitous blinding gave him to examine her physical attributes. Why did she trust him? It baffled him, even made him be more honest than normal.

  He hadn’t counted on laughing so often. His plans were muc
h more direct. So much for that scheme. She charmed him effortlessly with her bit of temper. It struck him as a different sort of innocence. He swept in, meaning to overpower her. Instead, he smelled apples again, and the longing for more than fast bedding filled him.

  He backed down. He’d take his time. Her lips were the same sweet bits he’d dreamed. Her level of inexperience surprised him. The majority of his encounters involved professional women; perhaps, her reaction was normal. He’d noticed the ring on her finger, but it didn’t seem like a wedding ring.

  When she initiated, shadowed his techniques, his cock grew terrifically stiff. He fought back a groan of his own. The room he’d reserved was above. For the first time that evening, he regretted the blindfold. He wanted to see her eyes. Since that wasn’t possible, he wanted to see everything else. Lifting her to his lap, he continued the kissing primer.

  He drifted to her breasts; she trembled. So soft, fleshy and hot! He wanted more. Her body shaped itself to him, shaking with desire. He knew women, and from this point on, he was in control. He felt her acknowledgement of this authority as she shifted to a new, delightful position.

  When she’d cooperated, helping to free her breasts from the leather and even signaling a readiness to strip, he’d stopped her. Time to see her upstairs. He paused, eyes locked on the taut nipple straining against the silk shirt, and he took it.

  Her reaction drove him further. He stood, her ass cupped in his hands, and set her on the table. He continued to torture her nipples, squeezing, pinching, sucking and biting. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, until the danger of losing fistfuls threatened if he didn’t ease off. He didn’t believe she was even aware of how much she urged him on.

  He slowly forced her fingers to release his head, setting her cooperative palms at her legs. “Pawes….”

  “Uh huh.” She sounded stuporous; he didn’t want her so unaware. The advantage of lethargic cooperation paled behind the shine of a fully awake partner. He glanced at the wine glass—she’d taken little of it. Too little to be intoxicated.

  “Look…blast. Pawes!”

  “What?” She shook her head, and her arms rose to protect her breasts.

  “Better.” He grinned wickedly. “I like my partners to be more alert.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s nice,” she said. “Oh, hell, what am I doing? What were you…doing?” Her palms eased her breasts, cradling them. “Ouch,” she said softly.

  “You want me to stop?” He was curious. He’d no intention of stopping.

  “Yes, no. I don’t know!” She sighed. “I’m not used to feeling like this.”

  “You are not a virgin.” He didn’t actually ask, but stated. She was a mature woman, and no nun.

  “No! I was married for over thirty years.”

  Her objection amused him. “Was?” He lightly touched her cheek. “He leave you? Divorce? Dead?”

  “Dead,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Only man I’ve ever known, Alan.”

  “Impressive.” His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, rising to push hers aside and meddle with her breasts. He didn’t betray how thoughtful her words made him. He’d be the second man to know her. “Good, not a virgin. I find inexperienced women quite annoying.”

  “Thought…thought men preferred virgins.” She whimpered, but didn’t try to block him access.

  “More trouble than they’re worth.” He closely observed her tongue, darting out to lick her lips. He knew hunger and felt her tremble under his touch. “Damn, how long have you been widowed?”

  “Almost a year.” She reached up, searching for his face. She touched his chin and wandered with her fingers. “How old are you? What do you look like?”

  “You tell me.” He enjoyed this game. Her hands, small, shaking while they wandered the topography of his face, tested his patience. He contemplated sucking a finger into his mouth. She scratched at his beard, ran a thumb about the bristles. He kept it trimmed relatively short.

  “Stiff…some gray hairs?”

  He didn’t say anything. She continued her journey. She lingered a bit on his lips before gliding her fingertips further. He kept cupping her breasts, but stopped fiddling with them. He was curious to see what she’d deduce.

  She found the deep scar at his left cheek and tilted her head. “Hard battles? Or an angry virgin?” He chuckled. She actually snickered.

  She continued along the bones of his face, lingering at the crow’s feet to the side of each eye. She danced around the tangle of his brows, swept her fingers through his hair, down to his shoulders. She slid back up to the sides of his head, to his ear. Found the earring he wore.

  “Gold?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He knew she couldn’t tell metals with touch, so he’d give her that. “Your conclusions?”

  Her arms dropped to her . Her head turned to the side. “Are we—can anyone see what you’re doing?”

  He thought of lying, but she didn’t need the scare. “No, we’re at the back, with one small entrance to the booth. Enough light for me to watch you, barely.” He rubbed at her nipples, wondering why he comforted her. He fought to balance his desire to rut against wanting to know more of her than her body. “If the blouse stains, I will buy you another.”

  “How kind.” She covered her tits “I’m not…sure—”

  He wouldn’t allow her to finish. Sweeping down, he kissed her again, with fierce need, hauling her back to his body and pressing his stiff cock against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Answer enough. He swept her into his arms and headed for the stairs.

  “Sissie! Get her pack and purse and bring them up,” he called to one of the serving girls.

  He kicked the door open, spied the bed tucked up against a wall and strode to it. He lay Pawes down and sat on the edge. She turned toward him and set a hand on his thigh. He removed his coat and tossed it on a nearby chair. Sissie trotted in, dropped her pack and quickly backed out, shutting the door.

  He unbuckled his belt and it followed the coat.

  She sat up, reaching for him.

  “How old are you, Alan? I’m not good at this. I can’t tell from what I touch.” She blew out a fast breath. “I don’t want to have sex with a total stranger.”

  He bent to remove his boots. “What do you want to know? Other than my age.”

  “Are you younger than me?”

  “No.” One boot fell to the floor with a loud clunk. “I am somewhat grizzled, though still quite fit and spry. And I want you, Pawes.” His second boot hit the floor.

  She pulled her legs to her chest. “I’ll be honest. I want you. I want you so much it frightens me. I don’t know why I’m here or if I’ll stay.”

  He laughed. “A sailor’s dream woman!”

  “You work on a ship? I thought so, from the lines on your face. And you smell of the sea.”

  “I captain a ship.” He stepped off the bed and stripped away his breeches. Taking his cock in hand, he stroked it, eyeing her. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “Oh.” She removed her bodice, reached behind to touch the headboard, and folded the leather over it. Swallowing nervously, she pulled her blouse out from beneath an impressive, black belt and slowly shimmied out of it before setting it near the bodice.

  His breath caught at the sight of her bare breasts. He fought to keep his hands still.

  When she leaned back and went through some fancy back and forth to unbuckle her belt, he nearly leaped at her. He swallowed, holding himself steady

  She sat back up and carefully removed the strip of leather. She kept a few items hanging from it. He took it from her. “Let me.”

  “Thanks.”

  He draped the belt, after making certain her dangles were safe, near her other pieces. No more waiting. He lay down next to her, though she still wore her skirt. He settled down against the wall, brushing against her to reach that place. She scooted closer to the edge. He pulled her back.

  Reaching to her chin, he tilte
d her head to his. He took her mouth with the same explosive force he’d held back the first time. One hand seized her breast as she arched toward him. Her left hand gripped his hipbone, shaking.

  He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his life. There was no reason for it, but it was the truth.

  CHAPTER 6

  She was out of her mind. She’d met him only a few hours ago. And now she sat on a bed, blindfolded—sure, to protect her eyes—but if she wasn’t nuts, she’d wait until they were better to have her first fling since becoming a widow.

  Her mind raced ahead of her body, thinking about what it would feel like, what he was like. At least he said he wasn’t younger. Her drooping boobs, loose skin, belly wouldn’t matter. Right?

  What would this be like? Only the second man ever to touch her.

  The fire between her legs screamed, overriding the remaining aspects of the situation. No self-consciousness, no worry there. It didn’t care if he found her body repulsive, only that he found it. Quickly with his cock.

  He slid over her, his hair touching her face. She fought back the urge to whimper. Guess he liked the wall. The kiss pushed her down into the soft mattress like a battering ram, and his hand at her breast started a combustion like she’d never known.

  He was ruthless, manhandling her nipple, bruising her lips. She tried to peel his fingers off her breast; the grip was too much. He growled, snatched her hand away and held it above her head. His mouth took the place of his hand. That provided relief. Though relentless, he did seem to gain a modicum of control, sliding and pinching instead of biting and squeezing. He moved down her body with his lips, removing his grip from near the headboard.

  “Don’t move that,” he demanded.

  “Uh huh.” Damn, she had no language skills! But she obeyed him. She was taking no chances on giving him a reason to stop.