Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology

by Violet Vaughn

  Jordan slowed, stopped. She wiped her mouth as she looked up at him.

  “If you want to go slow tonight,” he said hoarsely, “you have to stop that now. Otherwise I’m going to come.”

  She ran her tongue up the length of his cock. He squeezed his eyes tight-shut and growled, “Seriously. That’s not fair.”

  “Am I that good?” Jordan asked with genuine surprise. “It’s been a while…”

  Gently, he put his hand to her chin and guided her to her feet. Then he kissed her again, long and slow. When he pulled back from her lips, he said, “Then all I can say is, you’re a natural.”

  “Well, what now?” Jordan asked. She stepped back toward the bed. “Should I—”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Davis pulled the straps of her bra down swiftly and reached behind her just as fast, unhooking it, letting it fall away. Jordan managed one yelp of surprise before he bent and took her nipple in his mouth, circling her with his tongue, grazing her softly with his teeth. She threw back her head and moaned, then cried out in wordless ecstasy when his hand found her other breast, mirroring the motions of his tongue.

  Davis eased her back onto the bed and kissed his way along her stomach. The scraggly, grown-out hair on his chin tickled, but his mouth felt so delicious that Jordan didn’t care. When his mouth reached the edge of her jeans, he ran his tongue along her skin, tracing the border of denim and bare flesh.

  “My turn,” he said, unzipping her pants so slowly she almost howled with impatience. Every nerve in her body burned with longing for what would come next, but Davis seemed determined to draw it out. He pulled off her pants and underwear with unbearable slowness, then kissed her just above the trimmed triangle of her hair. He parted her thighs slowly and rubbed his cheek and chin against the inside of her leg. Jordan whimpered and arched her back, but Davis went on exploring at his leisure, without regard for what she wanted.

  “Come on,” she finally said, almost sobbing.

  He laughed softly, a sound that pooled like fire in the small of Jordan’s back. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I neglecting something?”

  “Yes! I’ll make it ‘captain’s orders’ if I have to.”

  He traced the edges of her with the lightest touch; Jordan bunched her fists in the bedsheets.

  “Captain’s orders, huh? I thought I got to call the shots in here. We haven’t changed our minds about that, have we?”

  The memory of being at his command overwhelmed Jordan. Her heart pounded harder in her chest and her breath came in rapid gasps. She realized with awe that she loved it when Davis was in control. As self-possessed as she always was, there was something undeniably hot about flipping the script in the bedroom—or in the berth, as the case may be. She didn’t think she could turn over control of her body to any other man, but Davis was a natural, so confident and commanding, so dominant. It felt right to trust herself to his care.

  Better than right—hot.

  Jordan shook her head. “No,” she whimpered. “I haven’t changed my mind.” She could barely gasp out the words.

  “Good,” Davis whispered. She could feel his words whispering against her thigh. “So, so good.”

  Finally he lowered his head and made contact. The very core of her seemed to melt in the blaze of a sudden fire. He circled her, and stroked her lightly with his tongue, over and over in a steady, unflagging rhythm.

  Jordan did want to make the night last; she tried to fight the warm, glowing pressure that built inside her, panting in resistance, then crying out against it in time to the persistent slide of his tongue.

  “Wait,” she panted. “I want to—”

  But Davis kept going, speeding his rhythm, growing more insistent with every stroke.

  He calls the shots, Jordan remembered, and with that thought her orgasm overtook her, striking through her body like lightning. She arched up off the bed, shouting in ecstasy; waves of hot and cold overlapped each other as they pulsed along her limbs. She whimpered as she came down, falling back weak and happy against the mattress.

  Davis was above her now, braced on all fours, smiling down. “God, you’re so hot when you come!”

  “Mmm?” Jordan found it impossible to speak.

  “And you taste good.”

  “Hah,” she managed.

  “You do. See?” He kissed her, long and hard, and she could taste her own spicy sweetness on his lips. His kiss went on and on until the languidness vanished from her body, replaced by a new desire for him that was even stronger than before.

  “I want to make you come again,” Davis whispered in her ear.

  “Well… you do call the shots,” Jordan said, laughing weakly in surrender.

  *.*.*

  Davis turned quickly and rummaged in his locker for a condom. This time he didn’t wait for Jordan to put it on for him—he was too eager to be inside her, to feel that tight heat surround him, to feel her body shuddering in his embrace. She was still spread on the bunk, waiting for him. Her pale body stood out clearly in the cabin’s dusky dimness, the dark hair between her legs pointing to what he most desired.

  But he didn’t position himself above her—not this time. Davis wanted to see Jordan from a different view. He lay beside her, his cock pointing up, hard and ready.

  Jordan giggled nervously. “What am I supposed to—?”

  Davis slapped his own hip. “Saddle up, cowgirl.”

  There wasn’t light enough in the cabin to see her blush, but Davis could hear the fluttery anxiety in her voice. “Oh my god! I’ve never done that before. I’m way too embarrassed!”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Davis said. He reached over and touched her gently, running his fingers along her collarbone, her chest, the small, firm swell of one breast. “I want to see you while I fuck you—see all of you. And anyway,” he added, tightening his fingers around her nipple until she gasped, “I’m in charge. Remember?”

  She giggled again, but she did as she was told, clambering up to her knees, then swinging one leg over him. He guided his cock into her with one hand, but as he slid inside his eyes closed with bliss, despite his desire to watch her ride him like her boat rode the waves. For the longest time he couldn’t force his eyes to open. She felt too good—so tight, so hot, gripping his hips with her thighs, her small hands resting on his chest. She felt so good that Davis couldn’t bear it. He breathed raggedly, trying to steady himself enough that he could finally look up at her and capture the image of Jordan—naked and messy-haired, riding him—forever in his memory.

  She began to move her hips, sliding up and down on his cock. She was as natural at this as she was at sucking him off. The steady pulse of her movement beat through his veins, coiling a delightful pressure tight in his belly. When she added her voice to the motion—panting and whimpering in short bursts, every time she slid all the way down onto him—the pressure inside Davis built at an alarming pace.

  He forced his eyes open and grabbed her hips to slow her down. God, she looked good up there. The light of the night’s first stars came through the porthole and made her soft white skin faintly luminescent. She looked like a goddess, beautiful and strong. Her breasts, her narrow waist, the flare of her hips—she was the perfect picture of femininity.

  I’ll never find a woman this amazing again, Davis knew with sudden clarity. There’s no one in the world like her.

  The thought that he could never be happy with anyone else struck a sharp pang in his chest. To have found such perfection, and to have to leave it behind… it was a loss that was nearly unbearable.

  Jordan wiggled against his grip. Then her eyes opened wide; she wiggled again, more deliberately this time, grinding herself down against him. “Ohmygod,” she babbled. “Ohmygod, that-feels-so-good.”

  “Then keep doing it,” he told her, laughing. At least this wiggling-grinding act was something he could enjoy without toppling over the edge of his own internal precipice.

  Jordan leaned forward until she
almost lay atop him. He could feel her harsh, panting breath tickling his neck as she rubbed herself against him, harder and faster. Soon her high, desperate cries returned as she worked herself closer to another orgasm.

  “Not yet,” Davis managed to say. It was a supreme effort, to slow her down, to pull her back from the brink. He wanted her to come again—but he wanted to make this night last, just like she did. And… “I still want to watch you,” he whispered. “I want to look at you while I fuck you.”

  She smiled down at him. Her hair was a dark tangle around her face. That smile, the look of warmth in her eyes—Davis’s earlier thought returned with quiet force. I’ll never find a woman like you again. He slid his hands up her body, wanting to hold onto the moment—and her—for as long as he could. He held her slender waist, brushed his hands up her sides, cupped her breasts… and couldn’t make himself let go. They felt too perfect in his hands, small and warm, her nipples rising hard against his palms. He massaged them slowly, gently, until Jordan’s head rolled back, exposing her white throat as she moaned.

  Jordan began to rise and fall again, responding to his touch. She went slowly at first—which was good. Davis already felt on the point of bursting; he didn’t think he could last long once she picked up her speed. He tugged gently at her nipples until her breaths came fast and rough. But he wanted just a little more from her. He wanted to hear her moan.

  He reached down, ready to use his hand to help her along. But Jordan caught him by the wrist. He glanced up at her face and noted the look of humor in her eyes. She lifted Davis’s hand to her mouth and, as on their first encounter, she slid his thumb between her lips. Then she moved on to his finger, teasing it with her tongue, sucking it exactly as she had his cock. Her mouth moved in the same steady rhythm as her hips; fire flooded Davis’s guts. In another moment, this would be too much for him to resist.

  He pulled his hand out of her reach and touched her just where she wanted. As his fingers circled her, tighter, faster, she rose and fell with increasing speed. Davis groaned, trying to hold back. He had to make this last, had to hold onto this forever…

  But when Jordan’s cries of passion came tumbling from her throat, Davis knew he couldn’t wait anymore. The sound of her voice drove him relentlessly toward the edge. Her cries rose to a fever pitch, then with a high, wordless yell she fell across his body, wracked by shudders and ragged gasps. The feel of her tightening around his cock sent Davis into a haze of blissful agony. He came just moments after she did, growling with the force of his climax.

  Jordan made as if to roll off him, but Davis wrapped her tight in his arms and held her against his chest.

  “Wait,” he whispered, barely able to speak. “I want to make this last.”

  He thought she would resist him—thought she would revert to the stern, businesslike captain and jump up, already distancing herself from what they had done. But she settled at once in his embrace, sighing sweetly as she cuddled down against his neck.

  When the euphoria had drained somewhat from his body, Davis reluctantly let go of Jordan so he could attend to the condom. But as soon as he’d tossed it in the cabin’s trash can, he came back to bed and lay beside her. She stretched luxuriously, clearly in no hurry to go anywhere. Davis pulled her head against his shoulder and ran his fingers through her long, dark hair, wondering what this quiet contentment meant… and how he could leave this feeling behind when tomorrow came.

  19

  Jordan did her best to lie still beside Davis. Pressed close to his warm body, she felt him drift in and out of sleep, though she remained as wakeful as ever, musing over the changes that had come over her. She was surprised to find all her previous annoyance with Davis gone—utterly vanished, evaporating like mist on a summer morning. She didn’t know whether the fire of their passion had burned all her resentment up, or whether she had let it go sometime before, up on the deck while she listened to him talk about his life.

  It certainly seemed like a complicated life—much more than she would ever have suspected. She’d always thought of many of her clients as privileged and out-of-touch, and as such, worthy of more scorn than sympathy. Until her talk with Davis, she hadn’t realized how tangled a person’s life could become when so much money was at stake. Nor had she realized that she had something in her life worth envying—something even a person like Davis wished for: a loving, supportive family, and a job that truly made her happy, even with the wild swings of its ups and downs.

  She lightly brushed Davis’s shoulder, feeling the softness of his skin, and marveled at the strange affinity the two of them shared. Both of them stood at a crossroads with their work, neither knowing which road they should take next.

  Funny, that fate brought us together at this exact point in our lives. Jordan had never been one to believe in destiny, or even in a higher power. But as she listened to his steady breathing, Jordan wondered if there was some mysterious, greater purpose at work.

  Her feelings for Davis were so strong they verged on the terrifying. The intensity with which she had formerly hated his guts was still there, and still just as strong. But she certainly didn’t feel anything approaching hatred now. Davis was kind. He was respectful, even while he took her breath away in bed with that smooth, perfectly natural domination. He was thoughtful, friendly to her crew, and the sensitivity he’d revealed through his music—the hurt and vulnerability she heard in his voice and in the notes of his guitar—made a striking counterpoint to his habitual cockiness.

  Now that she had seen the person inside the rock-star shell, Jordan realized she liked Davis. A lot.

  No… she more than liked him.

  The realization nearly choked her. She gave a ragged gasp, and Davis shifted and murmured in his sleep. Jordan held her breath until he settled again, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm.

  But her heart still pounded. Was it true? Could she love a man like Davis, who was so much her opposite, in every way?

  I can’t love him, she insisted, her practical side rearing up to blot out her spontaneity. Because tomorrow he’ll be gone. I’ll never see him again. And if I fall in love with him, what will that do to me?

  But Jordan’s stomach sank. She had a feeling it was no longer a matter of if. The damage was done. Davis had carved out a permanent place in her heart—a place she was afraid no one else could ever occupy.

  The thought upset her. She needed fresh air. Even though leaving him was agony—especially when she knew their time together was so short—Jordan dressed quietly and slipped up to the deck.

  The night was chilly, but the stars were astoundingly bright and clear, and reflected in the smooth expanse of dark water between the faint shapes of the islands. She huddled in her sweatshirt and looked up at the stars, tormenting herself with a hundred desperate questions.

  Why would you do this to yourself?

  What were you thinking?

  How can you love a man like him?

  How can you not love him, now that you know who he really is?

  And the hardest question of all—Now that you know how good you can feel, in your body and your heart, how can you get through life without him?

  The questions tumbled through Jordan’s head over and over, but neither the moon nor the islands offered any answers. Tears flooded her eyes until the stars melted into one blur of silver streaked across the sky.

  The Coriolis rocked gently. Jordan knew that Davis had risen from his bed. A few moments later he came up onto the deck; she dried her eyes quickly on the sleeve of her sweatshirt so he wouldn’t know she had been crying. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her body. She melted into his warmth, loving the tingle that raced over her skin everywhere their bodies met, and hating the tangle of emotions that swelled in her throat.

  “Hey,” he whispered in her ear. “I missed you down there.”

  “Sorry. I just had to think.”

  “About what?”

  Jordan couldn’t come up with a simple answer to th
at question, any more than she could answer the painful queries in her own mind. She turned in his embrace and stared up at him, bereft of words. But his eyes widened when he saw the pain in her face. Jordan could tell he was startled by how completely her pain mirrored his own soul-deep ache.

  “You’re thinking about tomorrow,” Davis said.

  “Yes.”

  She hid her face against his chest, breathing in his smell, taking in so much of it she thought her lungs would burst. But it still wasn’t enough.

  Jordan laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to say good-bye to you. If anybody had told me this morning that I’d feel this way, that I’d say these things tonight, I never would have believed them.”

  “But you do feel this way.” Davis lifted her face with one hand beneath her chin. His blue eyes held her with a long, searching stare. Finally he said. “So do I.”

  Jordan’s heart soared. And a long knife of pain in her middle, too. “I shouldn’t feel this way. Neither should you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re so different—so opposite. We’re from totally different worlds. You’re a huge rock star—”

  “Maybe not so huge anymore,” he said lightly.

  “And I’m just some girl from a podunk island in the middle of nowhere.”

  Davis laughed. “You are not just some girl. You’re so much more.”

  “But we’re from different worlds,” Jordan insisted. “We should feel like strangers, not… not like this.”

  Davis shrugged. “This all makes perfect sense to me. The worlds we’re from don’t matter. It’s the way we make each other feel that counts.”

  Jordan swallowed hard and rested her head on his chest again. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she asked her next question. She was too afraid she would see something less in his eyes than what she felt—and just as afraid that she’d see exactly what she felt. “So… how do I make you feel, then?”