by Connie Mason
Drago’s groan was low and guttural, his lips demanding and possessive as his hands moved determinedly over her curves. She shifted restlessly, wanting more, wanting him closer. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders.
“Your clothes, take them off,” he growled as his hands swept aside the tumbled mass of her hair to release the ties holding her blouse together.
She shrugged her shoulders and the garment fell to her waist. She wore nothing underneath. She heard him mutter a strangled oath before he lowered his mouth to claim the dusky crown of her nipple.
Lara gasped and arched into his mouth. Her fingers clutched desperately at the dark strands of his hair, and her body swayed with the sweet, drugging sensations washing over her; dark, crushing waves that inundated her with each dragging lap of his tongue. She began to shiver, stunned by the torrid rush of exquisite pleasure plowing deep in her belly and between her thighs. She wanted more; intense need weakened her knees. He must have sensed her desperation, for he swept her into his arms and lowered her to the bed in a froth of skirts.
“These will have to go,” Drago grated, grasping a handful of material and tugging.
Skirts and petticoat slid down her hips, her thighs, and he whisked them to the floor. Then he dropped down beside her and bent over her belly, his breath scorching her as his tongue dipped into her belly button. Every nerve ending screamed for something, but she had no idea what. Her breath hitched when Drago parted her legs and eased his fingers into the moist cleft between her thighs. She felt his hot, penetrating gaze upon her and stared up into his eyes, waiting breathlessly, nay, anxiously, for his next move.
The shock of his fingers sliding back and forth over her flesh, then dipping deep inside her, was devastating. She couldn’t stifle her startled cry when his mouth replaced his fingers. She shuddered and arched against him, her hands clawing into his hair.
“Drago! No!” Surely such intimacy had to be wicked.
Julian grinned up at her. “Haven’t any of your lovers done this to you?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he buried his head between her legs and feasted on her tender flesh, his tongue lashing furiously, as if she were an exotic delicacy.
“I … ahhh … please … ohhh … stop!”
Julian raised his head. “Stop?”
“ ’Tis too much.”
He sat back on his heels. “Perhaps you are right. Our passion burns too hot for this kind of foreplay. Perhaps later.”
Lara had no idea what he was talking about. She only knew that her body was thrumming with raw, wicked pleasure, but what he had been doing to her couldn’t be proper.
Suddenly he reared up from the bed and began tearing off his clothing. Lara watched in fascination as buttons went flying. Moments later he stood before her naked, his bandages starkly white against his magnificent body, now bared for her visual pleasure. Her gaze fell to his engorged staff. It rose full and thick from a nest of dark springy curls.
Lara’s mouth flew open. Something that swollen and rigid would never fit inside her. He’d rip her apart. Panic surged through her and she tried to roll away, but she was pressed back against the mattress by the weight of Drago’s body as he spread her legs and lowered himself between them. She was momentarily distracted when he kissed her, and of course she had to kiss him back. Then his tongue was grappling with hers and she lost her wits, until she felt his hardness probing between her legs. She stiffened; her eyes flew open.
The heat and heaviness of his own naked need made Julian oblivious to Lara’s apparent fear as he pressed inexorably forward and inward, taking his time, wanting to prolong the pleasure. He felt her sheath stretch to accommodate him and flexed his hips, driving himself deeper. He couldn’t ever recall being so hard, so rigid, so needy. He was too far steeped in lust to notice that her body was tense, or that fear had replaced the passion-glazed brilliance of her eyes.
She whimpered and he glanced down at her, puzzled.
“Am I hurting you? Am I larger than your other lovers?”
“There have been no other lovers.”
Julian laughed. “Don’t lie. I doubt there is a Gypsy woman past the age of thirteen still in possession of her virginity. Gypsies are notoriously promiscuous.”
“How many Gypsy women do you know?” Lara challenged.
She had him there. He knew damn little about Gypsies. Most of it was hearsay. But he’d learn the truth for himself in another moment. All he had to do was flex his hips and …
He broke through the shield of her innocence in one bold thrust. He froze, staring down at her in disbelief.
“Bloody hell! You are a virgin.” He was more angry than pleased. Seducing virgins wasn’t his style.
Her eyes were shiny bright with unshed tears. “Not anymore,” she said on a sob.
The pitiful sound tugged at his conscience and put a fine edge to his anger. He held himself rigid inside her. “ ’Tis too late for regrets. If you didn’t want this you should have told me.”
Her chin shot upward. “We’re married. ’Tis my understanding that this is what husbands and wives do.”
His voice was taut with tension, his control was slowly eroding. “Damnation! You may be married but I am not. I would not be making love to you had I known you were a virgin. I am already inside you, however, so I will carry this to a satisfying conclusion for both of us. I promised to give you pleasure and I meant it. Does it still hurt?”
“A little. You’re so big.”
“Relax.” He pressed deeper, then retreated. “Can you feel the friction?” She nodded. “Good.” He thrust again. “Concentrate on it and let the sensations build.”
He shoved more of himself inside her, moving in and out, once, twice, again. He heard her drag in a shuddering breath and felt her body lose some of its rigidity. Sweat dotted his brow as he gradually increased the movement of his hips. He felt her first tentative response and thanked God, for he was quickly losing what little remained of his control. Then suddenly she caught fire, rising up eagerly to meet his rhythm as he thrust and withdrew forcefully inside her.
Lara felt the pain dissolving, replaced by a far more pleasant sensation as Drago moved inside her. He was huge. Yet somehow she was able to stretch to fit him, to take more of him. She concentrated on the splendid friction he was creating inside her, on the building tension, on the dazzling sensations spearing through her body. She heard someone moan, and was startled to recognize the voice as her own. She glanced up to see if Drago had heard her, and found him frowning at her.
He paused in mid-stroke. “Are you … all right?”
“You are … very … big,” she admitted on a whisper.
Drago closed his eyes and muttered an oath.
“Am I hurting you?” Lara asked. “You sound like you’re in pain.”
“Hurting me? Bloody hell, you’re killing me! I don’t know how much longer I can hang on.”
Her innocent question must have been too much for Julian, for his groans grew louder and deeper as he slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted her, breaching her hard and fast. A tremor passed through her, then another, until her entire body was trembling uncontrollably, but he only held her closer and buried himself deeper until there was nothing between them but hot, damp skin.
She heard him whisper words against her mouth, praising her sweetness, her passion: words of encouragement and reassurance. She felt heat and a rising sense of urgency as their bodies meshed, as he went deeper, thrust faster, harder. Her cries couldn’t be stifled now, nor did she try to suppress them. Her body was no longer her own. Drago owned her soul, her will, taking her to places she’d only dreamed about as she shuddered and melted around him.
The contractions came unexpectedly, rushing along her body in a river of pleasure-drenched heat. Her grip on him tightened, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders as she adjusted to his increasing size and thickness. Pleasure coiled around her. Her body burned. She tilted her hips higher in an
effort to ease the grinding, demanding pressure building inside her.
“Drago, please! Do something.” She had no idea what she was begging for, but she knew intuitively that Drago could provide it. And if she didn’t get it soon, she’d die.
“Aye, my wanton Gypsy spitfire,” Julian gasped against her lips. “Come to me now.” He thrust deeper. “You’ve got all of me.”
Her head slashing from side to side, her ragged breaths coming hard and fast, Lara was aware of nothing but the wet, sucking slide of his hardness into her softness. He surged forward, she pushed herself feverishly into each rhythmic thrust. Suddenly her eyes widened; a scream vibrated in her throat. Her body exploded, white-hot and brilliant. For a breathless moment her soul left her body as something intensely satisfying, something transcending the greatest pleasure she had ever known, charged through her.
Gritting his teeth against the need to spew forth his seed, Julian couldn’t recall when he’d been so carried away by the sexual act. Hot blood sang through his veins and pounded against his temples. Lara was everything he’d expected and more. Her virginal body had caught fire beneath him and responded with matching passion.
Every instinct warned him that taking Lara hadn’t been honorable. Finding an untouched maiden residing in Lara’s passionate little body had been the last thing he’d expected. He had thought her just another Gypsy whore. He shouldn’t have relaxed his strict morals, he realized. He was doing exactly what he’d preached against to Sinjun. But it was too late now. He was so swollen with lust, so bloody ready to explode, that nothing mattered except finding his own pleasure.
Another stroke or two … He flexed his hips and drove himself to the hilt. A second stroke wasn’t necessary. He responded with a tremendous shudder as his own climax roared through him. He lifted his head and shouted, shattering the silence as he poured his seed into her.
“Are you all right, sweeting?” he asked when he finally found his voice.
“More than all right,” Lara answered dreamily. “That was … I never suspected …”
He eased back but remained firmly entrenched inside her. “And I didn’t expect to find a virgin. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken things this far.”
Lara went still. “You’re sorry?”
“We both know I must leave soon, and that I can’t take you with me. You don’t belong in my world and I don’t belong in yours. I have responsibilities in England and you have your family here. I was engaged to be married once, and she died. I cared a great deal for her. After her death, I swore off marriage for good.”
His words hurt. “I expect no commitment from you.” She shifted her hips beneath him, easing the weight of him inside her.
Julian sucked in a breath. “Bloody hell, don’t move.” He was still hard inside her and growing harder and thicker by the minute.
Lara gave him a startled glance, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“You’re still … that is … how can it be?”
“I still want you.” He flexed his hips and went deeper. “Can you take me again?”
Again and as many times as he wanted, Lara thought, moving unashamedly against him. Having Drago inside her, around her, over her, felt right. This time she knew what to expect and eagerly embraced it as she rushed recklessly toward another explosive climax.
Her body was still vibrating with pleasure when Drago reached his own zenith and withdrew from her. She was utterly depleted, awash in the wonderful feeling of well-being and too exhausted to protest when he dampened a cloth and cleansed the blood and semen from between her thighs. When he returned to bed, she sighed happily and turned into his embrace.
Dawn was hovering over the horizon when a pleasant tingling sensation brought Lara abruptly awake. She opened her eyes and stared down on Drago’s dark head. She felt a tug on her nipple and realized Drago was suckling her. She moaned and arched her back, pushing herself deeper into the hot cavern of his mouth. He seemed to know when she had awakened for he nipped gently, then soothed the hurt with the rough pad of his tongue.
Her arms went around him, pulling him up and over her body. “Drago! Please.”
“I love the way you respond,” he whispered raggedly. “You were made for loving. I’ve always heard Gypsy women were hot-blooded creatures.”
Her reply was muffled by his kiss. Then she caught fire. He loved her again, then they slept until the sun was high in the sky.
Drago was gone when Lara awoke. Her body ached in places she never knew existed. She was struggling out of bed when Ramona knocked once and entered. She walked to the bed and stared down at Lara, her eyes dark with concern.
“Are you all right, little one?”
“Oh, Grandmother, what have I done?” Lara wailed. “What will Papa think? He has such high hopes for me. What can I tell him? That I married a man whose name I don’t even know? A man so secretive he will tell me nothing about himself? What am I to do?”
“Drago lives a life of intrigue, granddaughter.”
“Is that all you can tell me? I know we must each go our own way, but will we meet again?”
“Give me your palm, little one.”
Lara extended her hand, palm up, surprised by Ramona’s willingness to read her fortune. She had been reluctant to do so in the past. “What do you see?”
Ramona’s frown deepened as she stared intently at Lara’s palm. “Danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
She clutched Lara’s palm tightly, her eyes glazing over. “You will become deeply involved with a man you care about.”
Lara knew Ramona wasn’t simply reading her palm; she was delving deeply into her psychic powers to foretell Lara’s future.
“Is Drago that man? Will we meet in London?”
“You will meet no man named Drago in London.”
Chapter 6
You will meet no man named Drago in London. Ramona’s words left a deep hole in Lara’s heart. How could she continue to exist in a world without Drago? Making love with him had been the most exhilarating, the most exciting thing she’d ever done. There was an element of mystery about Drago. Who was he? Was he loved by another woman? Would he forget her after he left? She had married him while he was too ill to know what he had done, and she was foolish to hope for something more between them.
Lara knew she had no legal hold on Drago. The best thing she could do for him was to cease asking questions about his past and savor whatever time they had left together. Her father would never allow her to marry a man with a violent past and no future, nor would he acknowledge her Rom marriage.
Lara sighed heavily, her heart all but broken. What a silly goose she was. If Drago really cared for her, he would want her with him. But he had admitted quite frankly that their parting would be final.
So be it. When the time came, Lara vowed to let him go without revealing her heartbreak. Pride was all she had left.
Julian washed quickly at the pool, then returned to camp and helped himself to the porridge simmering in Ramona’s cooking pot. Lara hadn’t come out of the wagon yet, and neither Ramona nor Pietro was anywhere in sight. After last night’s celebration, there were few early risers.
Julian ate, then wandered over to the corral to help Rondo curry the horses. They would leave for the fair tomorrow, and he knew Pietro would want the horses to show well.
Rondo barely acknowledged Julian’s presence, and Julian couldn’t help but wonder if Rondo was jealous. Julian’s thoughts returned to the previous night, recalling how he and Lara had made love endlessly. He freely admitted he had been somewhat foxed, but he knew what he was doing, and remembered how very much he had enjoyed making love to Lara. He had been shocked to find her untouched, and he couldn’t stop himself from contemplating who would be her next lover.
That thought produced a fierce scowl. He really shouldn’t care, but the thought of Lara lying beneath another man was definitely unpalatable, and even more distasteful when he realized Lara’s new lover would most like
ly be Rondo. Not that Julian had anything against the young Rom, who seemed to genuinely care for Lara.
“Damnation,” he muttered beneath his breath. All this speculation was making him crazy. He had a mission; find a killer and break the smuggling ring that was depriving the government of much needed funds. Nowhere in this assignment was there room for a bewitching little Gypsy wench.
Julian intercepted a fierce glare from Rondo and decided to ignore it. He had troubles enough without tangling with a jealous would-be-lover. He owed these people too much to let hostile feelings damage his relationship with them.
Julian didn’t return to the camp until suppertime. He joined the others and was handed a plate of food. Moments later Lara sat down beside him.
“Where have you been all day?” she asked.
“Working with the horses.”
He studied her face beneath lowered lids, entranced by the sweet curve of her mouth, the exotic slant of her eyes. He shifted, easing his swollen shaft. Just looking at her made him hard. Merely thinking about her made him hard. Her full, lush lips, her rounded little body, her passion. Most of all her passion. Last night he had unleashed something wild and wanton inside her.
He leaned forward and whispered, “Are you all right? I was rather hard on you last night.”
Her cheeks bloomed a dusty rose beneath the smooth, golden texture of her skin. “I’m fine,” she said in a hushed tone. “You’re a gentle man, Drago. A woman couldn’t ask for a better lover her first time.”
Julian suddenly lost his appetite. His mouth went dust dry, and the swelling in his trousers grew more pronounced. Carefully, he set his plate down.
“Shall we retire to our wagon?”
Lara stared at him through luminous eyes. Her slight hesitation gave him pause. Would she refuse him?
