“Please,” she whispered. At his first slow push, her head fell back.
“Christ.” His luxurious hair brushed her cheek. “Your cunt is tight and hot. So wet. Perfect.”
Catching her leg behind the knee, he anchored it on his hip, opening her wider. He withdrew slightly, then returned in a practiced roll of his hips.
Her nails dug into his clenching buttocks. “Faster,” she urged in a voice so hoarse she scarcely knew it.
He laughed, and the arrogant maleness inherent in the sound spurred her further. She threw her hips upward, taking more of him.
“Vixen.” Raphael kissed her even as he pinned her to the settee with a firm but gentle grip on her hip. “I won’t allow you to rush me.”
Her fingers kneaded restlessly into the hard muscles of his back. “You cannot command me as you would your crew.”
“No?”
“You said you would fill me, not tease me to madness!”
All levity fled his breathtakingly handsome features. He pulled back, then pushed deeper, exhaling in a rush when she tightened greedily around him. He was hot to the touch, his skin slick with sweat, his muscles rigid. But he would not be spurred into rutting atop her as she wished. “I want something from you in return, Bella.”
Wrapping both legs around him, she tried to draw him closer. “What more can I give you?”
“This,” he purred, working his thick cock inexorably deeper. “Your passion, your need. I want to be the one you hunger for, the one who shares your bed. The only one, from this day ’til my last.”
Even in the extremity of her lust, her mind raced with the impossibility of their mutual infatuation. And yet…something more profound was between them as well.
“You know,” he went on, altering the angle of her hips to slide farther into her, “as I have known, that we are what the other needs or you would not be arching beneath me now.”
Dear god, she wanted the baron with a primitive hunger. She wanted him as she knew him to be: Bold. Dauntless. A force of tremendous will. What an adventure it would be to become the mistress of such a man… “Yes, I know.”
He stilled, staring down at her with those gloriously dissimilar eyes; one as brilliant as an emerald, the other like polished silver. “But I cannot be a kept man.”
She blinked up at him. “Beg your pardon?”
His mouth curved with wicked amusement. “Young men emulate me. I have a reputation to uphold. You must make an honest man of me.”
“Raphael.” Her chest tightened painfully. With hope. With fear. With lingering grief. “I—”
With an exaggerated sigh, he straightened his arms and began to withdraw. When she realized he intended to cease their bedsport completely, she narrowed her gaze. Two could play.
Tightening her legs around him, she caught his shoulders and wrenched to the side, rolling them both to the floor.
The drop was short, mere inches. He landed on his back. Laughing. Jaw set with determination, she reached between them to position the cock that was as impressive as the man himself, then sheathed him in her body with a swift plunge of her hips.
A soft cry escaped her. His mirth fled with a serrated groan. She set her hands palms down on his chest and gave a tentative swivel of her hips, easing the pressing fullness of his deep penetration.
“I’m conquered,” he said hoarsely. “My surrender is unconditional and absolute.”
“But I’ve yet to state my terms.”
“I concede to them all.”
Her brow arched even as she rose up on her knees, stroking her eager sex with the length of his throbbing erection. The sensation was exquisite, as was he, this legendary man who awakened a stirring emotion she’d thought forever lost to her. “Where is the strategy in that, Captain?”
Raphael caught her hips and surged upward, filling her. “One must lay claim to a territory before one can cultivate it.”
Clutching his wrists for balance, Annie began to move in earnest. Her spine arched with heated pleasure as he worked with her, lifting his lean hips to meet her downward drives. Beneath the onslaught of sensation, her body moved as a thing separate from her mind, the need to ride his pumping cock too potent for moderation. An approaching orgasm drummed through her blood, coaxing wrenching cries from her with every desperate thrust.
He pushed the low table aside with a powerful sweep of his arm, then rolled her beneath him. Fisting the thick Aubusson rug in his mechanical hand, he anchored her by the shoulder and pounded his lust into her with heavy, rhythmic lunges. Her legs fell open, inviting him deeper, her neck arching with the brutal rush of desire.
“Bella,” he growled, an instant before he jerked inside her. The first hard pulse of semen made her gasp, spurring the climax that joined with his. She tightened around his spending cock, milking his seed with rippling spasms. He groaned with every clinging grasp, circling his hips to hit the end of her.
Her arms encircled him as he lowered his chest to hers, his back slick with sweat and his muscles quivering like a stallion run hard and long. Her eyes closed on a shuddering sigh. She contemplated possessing such a lavishly splendid creature as the baron and being possessed by him in return. The endeavor, when committed to so early in their association, was not without tremendous risk. But the rewards… Already she felt like a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon.
He pulled her tighter against him and breathed her name. Turning her head, Annabelle claimed him with a kiss.
HEART OF THE DAEDALUS
Saskia Walker
Moonlight carved an eerie path through the low-lying landscape of the Romney Marshes, solidifying the patches of mist that gathered over the sodden ground. The area was riddled with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path. It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the cold night air, picking its way carefully.
The clear sky was in her favor, which was some mercy, but her attire was not. She’d come straight from a formal supper and hadn’t had time to change out of her best gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and she’d grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her cloak, she’d paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved elsewhere. The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the machine had enormous wealth at his disposal. He could easily toy with it, then cast it aside. The knot in her chest tightened as she thought on it, but this only served to strengthen her resolve. She had to see her beloved creation, now. Pursing her lips, she pressed on determinedly.
Up ahead she spied her quarry, a smuggler’s den—a long and low shelter in a dugout pit, built from old planks covered over with slabs of peat and tufts of grass to conceal the moorings and storage space within. It was here that she’d been told the prototype had been hidden. The machine had been engineered and built elsewhere, so why was it here? The question went unanswered as the lure of the Daedalus drew her on. A steady plume of smoke rose from the rear of the shelter, making her wary. Her informant, an old friend, had told her no guards had been employed. Apparently it had been deemed unnecessary in this lonely, barren place. However she approached with caution. Dismounting, she secured her horse beneath a cluster of trees and edged closer to the ramshackle building by foot.
At the entrance she peered inside the gloomy interior. Somewhere a light shone. As she became accustomed to the limited light she realized it was coming from inside the huge metal construction. Her breath caught as her chin lifted to take in the outline of the immense machine. Mine. Her pride swelled. How she had pored over drawings of this creation, this beautiful machine. Inspired by her research on insects, she had imagined a machine that would emulate their ability to react, to leap, to
track and to hunt. And here it was—part spider, part praying mantis, engineered in metal and powered by combustion engine.
The pod-like body was designed to rise from the ground on eight legs, strong but spindly, each leg made invincible by internal springs that provided enormous flexibility. She wrapped her hand around one of the legs, her emotions running high. It had been a fanciful artistic creation, but seeing it constructed in solid metal took her breath away. Awestruck, she made her way around the machine. At the side she heard the low throb of the combustion engine. She ran her hand along the underbelly and felt its heat. Smiling fondly, she felt as if she had been reunited with long-lost kin. She’d come there angry, possessive and thwarted, and yet seeing her design realized as a complete construction made her hands tremble with excitement.
At the rear she found a metal ladder that dropped from the vessel to the ground. She hitched her skirts and clambered up. Cautiously, she opened the hatch. Inside it was gloomy but toward the front of the pod an oil lamp stood on a brass surface, giving out a warm, inviting light. She paused, still wary, but heard no sound other than the low rumble of the combustion engine in dormant mode. Unable to resist, she climbed inside.
Nothing could have prepared her for the beauty of the interior. Where solid sheets of sturdy welded metal characterized the exterior, inside it was all gleaming brass dials and copper pipes. The construction was immaculate and finished to a high standard. She stepped over to the control panel and ran her fingers along the casement. She was so fascinated that she did not sense the human presence behind her until it was too late. When she did she tensed and turned on her heel.
The man rose from a seat in the darkness beyond the hatch.
Her hand went to the pommel of her sword.
“What have we here,” the man drawled, “a thief in the night who dares to touch my precious creation?”
The statement was meant to provoke, she knew that. Nevertheless her anger flared. “I am no thief.” She drew her sword, pointing it around the gleaming interior of the Daedalus. “What is this, if not theft of my design?”
He laughed softly.
She assumed an en garde position, challenging him.
He stepped into the fall of light. Built tall and large, he towered over her. She cast an eye over his greatcoat and polished knee-length boots, taking in the fitted breeches and open necked shirt beneath. His dark hair fell loosely to his shoulders and his eyes were shadowed under drawn-down brows. Stubble marked his jaw. The rugged build of his features looked starker still in the half-light. The sight of him made her will strong and her legs weak.
“Thief!” she declared.
He moved swiftly, his sword out and clashing against hers. “And you?” he responded, with amusement. “Lurking on the marshes in the midnight hours, like a common smuggler.” With consummate skill he traded thrusts and parries with her, his blade ringing against hers.
Her heart raced wildly, but gritty determination to equal him drove her on.
He nodded approvingly at her maneuvers. “I have to admit your fencing has improved somewhat since our last meeting, my dear.”
Nina smiled. She had been taking lessons. However his compliment distracted her and before she could draw breath he knocked the sword from her hand. Cursing, she glared at him. His blade flashed again, slicing the fabric of her bodice between her breasts.
Furious, she backed away and clutched her hands to the polished brass panel behind her. “Dishonorable as ever, I see, Dominic Bartleby.”
“Particularly where you are concerned, my beauty.” He ran the tip of his finely crafted blade into the torn fabric at her cleavage, as if daring her to move.
In an attempt to stifle the rise and fall of her chest, she bit into her lower lip. When the blade skimmed over the surface of her corset, a quiet moan escaped her.
Dominic raised an eyebrow, his mouth lifting in a faint smile.
“You never did play fair,” she stated. Smarting, she pushed his blade aside and covered her torn gown with her cloak. “The least you can do is allow me to experience the Daedalus now that it has been built.”
He stepped back and bowed, but his pleasured smile didn’t escape her notice. He wanted this—he wanted her to be needy and grateful for the chance to see it and touch her own creation. How infuriating it was to have been caught here. Even so, her body responded as it always did to his proximity and attitude, as if his very presence infected her blood with a fever of longing that she could neither deny nor ignore. Damn him. Bracing herself for his mockery and cheek, she took another look at the control area of the vessel, studiously avoiding the place where he stood. “Why did you do it? Why did you build it?”
He took an age before he responded. “Because it was a superlative design.”
She shot him a glance. He’d teased her about her designs, calling them impossible frippery. She’d always known that his engineering skills could make them solid and true, but he’d not taken her seriously when they’d been together. “The real reason.”
He nodded, deferring to her skepticism. “Your design was outrageous…wild, and seemingly unattainable.” His gaze roved over her. “It was perfect in every other way.”
He met her stare. She scowled at him.
“The Crimean War raised many issues,” he continued in a more serious tone. “The world is changing. Britain may be an empire and an island but our coastline is still vulnerable. I presented your design to Parliament and offered to build a prototype from my own funds. I suggested it could be used to guard shallow waters and low-lying areas such as the Romney Marshes, places that would be our frontline if invasion should threaten.” He gave a sardonic grin. “Given the problem we already have with smugglers here on the marshes, Parliament practically snatched the contract from my fingertips.”
Nina’s fury built. The way he so blatantly told her what he’d done with her design was utterly galling.
“Now that the minister of defense has seen it,” Dominic continued, “he wants more of your beautiful machines.” He paused, observing her reaction. “Imagine it, Nina, a frontline of Daedalus spiders, cunning workers observing our coastline, able to march through any terrain and confront the enemy.”
Her emotions twisted and turned. Pride flared in her chest, but at the very same moment the sense of injustice she felt bit deep into her. If she had taken the project to Parliament she would have been cast out as a foolish woman. “I suppose you expect me to be grateful that you took charge of it?”
“Of course not. You are far too contrary and stubborn to be grateful for anything.”
The tone of his comment irked her even more.
Then he licked his lips as if he was relishing his power over her. “I’ve engineered your design successfully, improved on it, made it solid and real and useful, but all you can do is glare at me.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m disappointed. Frankly, my dear, I expected more fire.” His handsome mouth lifted at one corner, as if he was daring her to lash out at him. He knew her rebellious spirit far too well.
“I always knew it could be done,” she retorted. “What annoys me is that you stole my designs and you ruined my reputation, and now you expect me to be pleased because you’ve sold it to Parliament, the very establishment I detest?”
“What better way to mutiny Parliament than from within?” He was quite serious, and she loved that. The suggestion was there in his eyes: bright, devilish and promising her many an adventure. Her body responded, aching for him. “Besides,” he continued, “as I recall you were quite willing to have your reputation ruined, eager in fact.” He looked her over with undisguised appraisal, as if recalling their more intimate encounters.
Nina bristled. “Heat of the moment, nothing more.”
“Is that so? And there was me thinking it was so much more than that.”
He was right of course. Studying together meant that their mutual attraction had built steadily, until it could not be denied. And how well matched they had turned out t
o be in matters of sexual congress. Her body throbbed with arousal as treasured memories flitted through her mind. But that was behind them now, and that’s where it had to stay.
Dominic strolled closer. He parted her cloak and gazed at her chest, then trailed the back of his knuckles along her jaw, his touch inflaming her. “In fact, being a vicar’s daughter only seemed to make you more rebellious in matters of morals.”
Fury bit into her. She slapped him.
With lightning reactions he gripped her around the upper arms and kissed her, his mouth hungry and possessive on hers.
Stunned, she froze, then melted. Her lips parted under his, her fisted hands pressed to his chest. His wicked charms always had made her weak.
“I want you,” he demanded as he drew back, “right here and now, at the heart of the Daedalus.” Bending her back over the area for map reading that was stationed next to the controls, he pinned her down to the flat surface with his hands on her shoulders.
“No!” Nina gasped, torn between fighting him and submitting. She hated the way he affected her so, but heat gathered between her thighs with startling speed. “Not until we discuss my rights.”
Dominic’s eyes glinted, as if that was the very thing he wanted her to say. He undid her cloak where it was latched at her collarbone then his hands moved to her skirt. He moved it in his hands, pausing to speak. “You have no rights whatsoever, but that is not because I took them from you.”
Oh, how she reviled that fact, and he knew it. She’d ranted about it often enough, much to his amusement. It felt far too much as if he was making her face the paltry existence her sex was fated to, something she balked against as a woman who could outthink most men.
“The patent in your name,” he offered, “in exchange for something I want.”
Her lips parted, objection hovering there, but need put its own spin on her reaction, making her moan with longing instead. Without further ado he tugged her skirts and petticoats up, handling them roughly, until the material was bunched at her waist.
Steamlust Page 3
