by Gayle Eden
Laughing, she looked up when he settled between her legs. “You didn’t let me finish.”
Surging into her, he growled sexily, “I’m too hungry to be teased.”
Her smile was replaced by a gasp of pleasure. She lifted her legs high on his hips, holding on as he thrust deeply, over and over. “Yes, Trevon…”
“Yes,” he husked back, losing himself in the drive of his blood and the soft silk of her sex. Time and again, he stroked and moved, his muscles shifting, buttocks flexing, until he rose to his knees, holding her thighs and slamming in amid her feverish whispering of his name.
Exploding with a climax that raced over his skin, Rotherham rolled with her, holding her atop him while his heart slowed.
Alina kissed his chest and neck.
“I love this feeling, that feeling— when I’m cocooned by your dark skin and brawn. When you are unleashing that intensity inside me.” She lifted her head looking into his hooded eyes. “I love it when you look at me with dangerous passion in your gaze.” Alina sat up and started to the bathing room.
Rotherham caught her hand as she took a step, delaying her. Eyeing his dark hair against the light pillow, she declared, “I’m going to make you smile, Rotherham. I am going to hear you laugh aloud before the week is out. Before it’s all said and done, you’re going to—”
“I love you, Alina.”
She burst out crying.
“Bloody hell.” Rotherham jumped up and gathered her in his arms. “Alina, for God sakes...” He soothed her hair, and pat her shoulder.
She hiccupped, “I’m fine.” then she bawled a good hour.
Finally, Rotherham carried her to the bath and got in with her. He washed the both of them, and then sat with her wrapped in a blanket, looking out into the night.
Chin on her head, he murmured, “I’ll never say that again.”
She started laughing, loudly, and arched her head to look at him. “You had better, my lord. At least once a day.”
He rolled his eyes.
She laughed.
He became aroused and turned her on his lap, joining their bodies.
Sometime near dawn, Alina yawned and sat up, her body certainly feeling the activities of the night before. She bathed again, dressed in a summer gown, and padded down to have coffee. Afterwards—she went to her old chambers to prepare.
* * * *
It was noon. Rotherham opened his eyes, swatting at whatever it was irritating his nape. Finally shoving the covers down, he rolled over, ready to swat the fly—only to sit straight up, blinking. He thought himself still asleep.
Lowering his cane, she had used to tickle him with a tied tassel on the end— Alina swaggered over in her buccaneer boots, mustache drawn on, curled ends and all, and with a hoop in her ear— she had several of her teeth darkened when she smiled.
Raising a boot to prop the sole on the bed, she drawled, “It’s about time you rolled your arse out of bed, mate.” Her brows wiggled, “Thought I was goin' to aft to keep all the booty for meself.”
White teeth sinking into his lip, over a snort, Rotherham drawled, “What booty would that be?”
She backed up. “Whatta' ya think, mate?” She grinned displaying her teeth, rubbing her hand on her crotch.
Struggling to speak now, Rotherham eased out the bed, pretending to consider her as he sat down on the edge, ignoring his nudity and sitting a bit wide legged. “I’m a man of risk, to be sure, but I’ll have to see a bit more to judge the value myself.”
Alina dropped the cane, and tore open the vest.
Rotherham stared at her pert breast, but fell back in hysterics at the curly hair she had drawn between them.
Chuckling, she walked up to his laughing and gasping figure, “I say, Mate. Every one can’t be perfect. It is a rare thing ‘tis, to see beauties like these—”
He was holding up his hand as if to ward off more, the room vibrated with his loud guffaws.
Not done, and her eyes shining with joy, she skimmed her hand up his nude thigh and caressed his sack. “Gor, yerlordship, what say we make an even trade? Got a full sack you do, and—”
“—St…stop.” He was wheezing as he sat up covering his balls and trying to stop laughing.
Alina widened her eyes and blinked at him. “But ye ain’t seen it all yet.” She whined and turned her back to him, dragging down her breeches—showing a pert backside that sported the Jolly Roger. “Ow, bout that, Rotherham?”
By now, he was nearly in the floor. She pulled her trousers up, standing a moment just watching, just listening, as he laughed and held his sides, wheezed and wiped tears out of his eyes.
Finally, he was sitting in the floor; head against the bed, his white smile full bloomed. Laughter trailed and his eyes went over her.
“I love you, Trevon,” Alina held his gaze and grinned softly. “I love you.”
He half raised and grabbed her hand, pulling her down on his lap, holding her to him.
“I love you,” she repeated.
He leaned back, and kissed her rather wildly. Alina pulled away remembering the kohl on her face, seeing the mustache now smeared on his face. Of course, it was on hers too.
She wiped at it—grinning. “I just had this image of me with my bum in the air, flying the Jolly Roger —and you—”
He started laughing again, finally covering her mouth with his hand, and chuckling, “My God, you’re too good at this.”
She lay on his chest. “If you smile more, and laugh with me sometimes, I won’t have to go to plan B.”
He smoothed back her hair. “What’s plan B?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got to learn to juggle better, else I’ll be the only jester with black eyes.”
He grinned, and then kissed her, rolling her under him on the floor.
Elbows by her head, Rotherham rubbed himself between her legs and murmured, “I think I know where the treasure is buried.”
“Takes a special key—” She groaned and then moaned when his hand went down and started tugging her trousers over her backside.
Sherry eyes glowing, lids half-mast, he let the head of his cock tease her wet entry, “You’re right, it may not fit.”
Legs trembling, she arched to get more of him inside her while he held her hands beside her head. “It’ll fit, Rotherham, for God sakes….”
“Let’s see.” He inched in and stopped.
Alina panted, staring at him. “Please, my love.”
In a thrust deeply inside her. After several of those, Rotherham growled in her ear, “You’re a hot blooded woman, Countess.”
“Only for you.” She arched and matched his strokes.
“Alina.” He felt her hands caressing his back, her body moving to meet the hunger in his own. “Christ.”
Lying sprawled on the floor later, bodies covered in smears of kohl and half the Jolly Roger stamped on the new Turkish rug, Alina lay over his lower half on her stomach, while he eyed the remaining depiction.
“So what is it?” She propped her chin on her hands, eyeing dust motes under his bed.
“Looks a bit like a landscape I once saw… painted by a monkey.”
She laughed and slapped his hand as he traced it. Sighing, she pushed up and mumbled, “We’d better bathe, and dress, your valet, and the servants are likely worried you’ve cracked after all that laughing.”
They did bathe and dress, very nicely in fact, sitting in the dining hall later. Alina ,elegantly gowned in silver, and Rotherham in his black jacket, trousers, boots, and white ruffled shirt.
Sipping his wine, he eyed her hair and elegant throat where diamonds sparkled, watching her lave a bit of butter off her lips.
Rotherham thought of the night before, of the morning spent at play, and passion, of how the sound of his own laugher almost startled him. As he watched her, he replayed their time in Paris, and the nights in London, the clandestine sex—those erotic moments at the Walsh’s.
She turned, cup to her lips and sipped, look
ing stunning with her lashes darkened, those lips salved, and her green eyes shimmering.
She lowered the glass, winked at him and went back to her food.
Christ, he mused, mentally shaking his head, he’d taken the biggest gamble of his life getting a bride—bringing a woman into such a dark and dangerous world as his had been. It was amazing to him how it paid off—stunning—that once he had begun to really see her, Alina was more than he could have guessed, strength, humor, passion, her care of him.
When he realized he loved her—and yes, he had realized it the moment that ball slammed into his chest—he spent those hazy feverish hours clawing out of a dark hell, hoping he lived long enough to show her, to tell her. Trevon kept hearing in his head, (but my soul is only satisfied hour by hour.) Christ, yes. Somewhere in some hour when he found himself thinking of her— instead of gambling. Wanting to be with her—instead of where he was—wanting to touch her in a way he had not touched others before. Wanting her—to touch him—as he did not ever think would arouse him again.
She had become his hunger and thirst, and she satisfied his long buried soul….
Finished with her meal, Alina wiped her mouth and sat back, studying him silently before asking, “What are you thinking about so intensely?”
“How much I love you,” his voice was deep and husky.
“I thought I saw something dangerous there.”
He smiled sensually and raised his brow slightly, “Dangerous passion perhaps.”
Alina leaned her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand and gave her own under the lashes look. “Lord Dangerous, I believe you quite fit that title, Rotherham.”
He stood and came to slide out her chair.
As she arose, he whispered in her ear, “I’ll take my dessert in half an hour. Skin only. That small bench in the side garden, I believe.”
Alina shivered and watched him stride toward the study.
Shaking herself out of the stupor when the door clicked, she took herself to her chambers, stripped and put on only a black silk hooded cape.
Half-hour later she looked up at Rotherham from that bench, dropping the garment back off her nude body and opening her shapely legs to him. He floated down. His mouth and tongue touched her. She arched her neck and closed her eyes. Yes, he certainly was her dangerously passionate Lord.
THE END
