Ravishing Ruby

by Lavinia Kent

  He didn’t know whether to continue watching or to join in. His body knew what it wanted to do, but his mind would have been very happy to watch her subtle movements for hours.

  One more step. He could see under the water more clearly as he stared straight down, see the fingers tight between her legs, see the movement, the rub, the squeeze, the deep press. Her thighs parted further, her fingers moved deeper.

  He wanted to lift her from the tub, to spread her across the hard marble floor, to cover her with his body, to thrust hard in, to feel her softness tight around him, to…His hand came to the front of his breeches. He stroked himself through the now tight fabric, feeling himself swell further beneath his hand.

  Her fingers moved faster, his followed the pace.

  A groan left his lips, uncontrolled.

  Her eyes opened, met his, and then swept down, stopping to linger on his tented breeches, on the hand working hard. She bit down on her lip, pulled harder upon her nipple, the tip red and swollen now.

  With slow deliberation she lifted the foot that still remained in the tub and set it upon the other edge, leaving her legs spread wide and raised.

  It grew hard to swallow.

  She looked at him, looked at the empty space in the tub, looked back at him.

  He turned and glanced about the room, saw the stool. Sat. His boots hit the floor within a minute.

  Then his shirt.

  Then his breeches.

  Her gaze dropped to his belly. He could feel her glance glide over his dragon, feel her intake of breath, watched as her eyes grew hazy with desire. Her stomach quivered beneath her look. She bit down harder.

  He took his cock in hand again and stroked long and slow.

  Her tongue came out, licking along her lower lip. He could almost feel it move again across the dragon’s scales.

  He stepped into the tub, watching as the water rose to lap her breasts.

  Her hands came to rest upon her spread knees, then with slow deliberation slid up her parted thighs.

  With care he lowered himself into the water. It rose hot and steamy about him.

  His legs slid beneath hers, causing hers to rise higher. His gaze focused on that almost visible spot between them.

  Her hands slid further up her thighs, stopping just inches away, just beneath the surface of the water.

  The last time they’d been in this room they had not spoken, they’d done everything else, but not a word had passed between them.

  This time he needed words. “Am I forgiven for not telling you about Anne, then?”

  Her eyes came up and he saw clarity return to them, and for a moment he wished he could pull back the words.

  “Yes,” she said after a moment. “But forgiveness is not all. I understand why you didn’t tell me, understand your thoughts, but it does not change the reality of the situation.”

  “But…”

  “Is this really what you wish to talk of now? Morning will come too soon and I thought you might have other ideas on how to spend these last few hours.”

  Last few? Surely she didn’t mean…Only he knew she did.

  A strange bittersweetness took him. He let his head fall back, stared up at the marble tiles that lined the room, at the pale candlelight reflected off hazy glass.

  This was the end.

  It was coming sooner than he had prepared for it—but he had known it was coming.

  He brought his head back, looked into Ruby’s half-closed eyes, sapphires gleaming in the soft light. There was sadness there—and acceptance.

  He swallowed. He had not expected the pain that filled his gut.

  This had always been going to end. It was not even supposed to last that first night.

  A small, sweet smile formed upon her lips. Her arms came to the sides of the tub and she pushed forward, leaned in toward him.

  He found himself matching her gesture, moving to her.

  They stopped then, inches apart. He could feel her breath upon his lips, see the tiny, dark speckles that marked the blue of her eyes.

  It was a moment to last forever.

  It was a moment that was already over.

  They moved together. Lips met in the softest, the sweetest of kisses.

  There was no hurry, no need to go further. It was almost a first love’s kiss, that kiss that explores and wants, but never presses, that kiss where every moment, every second, is new and fresh and to be treasured.

  Full and lush, her lips moved beneath his, barely parting, but offering everything.

  He pressed tighter, feeling her give, feeling her willingness to be in this moment with him.

  —

  This was not what she’d intended. She’d intended another night of careful seduction and games, from the moment she’d sent Derek upstairs she’d pictured the moment that he’d find her in the tub, she pictured him still in his white linen, her flesh naked and damp, had imagined their coming together, the long caress, the erotic glances, hot flesh and cool marble.

  She had not dreamed of the honesty, of this vulnerability.

  There was nothing hidden in this slow kiss, in this banked passion, this sense of inevitability.

  She leaned forward, letting the tips of her breasts touch his chest. Swaying back and forth, she allowed the sensation to build, enjoyed each tiny dart of lightning that shot through her. There was no need to go faster, no sense of the frantic.

  It was as different from that earlier encounter in the parlor as anything could be.

  She puckered her lips, kissed him again and then again, tasting, savoring.

  Then it was his lips that parted, her tongue that drifted in, that pondered the slickness of tooth, the velvet of inner cheek, the sheer taste and sensation that was him.

  When his tongue met hers, stroked hers, danced with hers, there was no pressure, no sense of speed and fury.

  This moment, the next, and the one after that were all one, were all endless.

  His arms slipped around her, caressing and cradling.

  She’d never felt so cared for, so safe.

  He pulled her closer, her legs slipped down, and then she felt herself lifted, turned, until she was seated on his lap. She could feel his erection between her buttocks, but it, too, lacked urgency. It was there. It was part of him, part of this whole thing, but there was no need to worry, to hurry.

  She kissed him again, pouring all her caring, all her wanting, all her dreams into that single meeting of lips.

  He pulled back a second, his eyes open and watching. It seemed he could see all the wishes she’d ever had, all the fantasies, that he could see Emma dreaming of her prince and respectability and young love, see Ruby working to be independent, to be her own woman, to take what she wanted from life and relish it—and even Afya, born only a few nights ago, born with only one goal: to please her master, her sultan, her man. They were all her and in that second she believed he saw them, understood them, cherished them.

  “I wish the world was a different place.” His words were quiet, not a whisper and yet still barely heard.

  “A place where we could meet and love and be together and know no judgment.”

  “You know I do not judge you, Ruby. You are a woman and nothing more.”

  She let her lids close then, considered his words and how to reply. “I do know—now. I cannot say that I have always felt that way. Your recent actions have sometimes told a different story, and yet I do believe that if we could stay in this moment there would be nothing but the two of us, and you would want for nothing more, for no one more.”

  She felt his hand upon her face, the stroke of his thumb down her cheek. “I never want for more than this, Ruby. But it is not my own wants that determine my life. I am no longer a child who thinks the Earth revolves around me.”

  Had she ever thought that way? Perhaps once, secure in her father’s love, before she understood that even love had limits, limits that could not be crossed. That what one wanted, what one believed in, and what one could h
ave were not the same thing.

  She kissed him again. There was nothing else to do, nothing that words could answer.

  They had tonight, and only tonight. It was not choice; it was simply what was.

  The world would never let them be together in any way but this—and this would never be enough, not for her. She could not live only in the shadows. Madame Rouge might be a creature of night, but she was not of the shadows. She stood fully in the light. It might be candlelight and not sunlight, but she refused to be hidden.

  And Derek would need her to hide, to take only those pieces that he had left over.

  That would never be enough.

  And she would never settle for too little.

  She had seen what happened when women did not demand what they needed, did not take it as their due.

  She would never be like that, never.

  She kissed him again. This moment was honest. This moment was real.

  His arms tightened, holding her closer, one hand sliding down to cup beneath ass.

  And then he stood, one single, elegant movement, lifting her high—the strength of those thighs, those arms. They left her breathless.

  He stepped over the edge of the tub, grabbed a linen towel and placed it over her, and headed for the stairs to his chamber.

  She put a hand up, stopping him. “No, the other stair.”

  “What?”

  “The stair to my room.”

  “I…Fine.” He turned and taking the steps in great strides, two at a time, strode up to her chamber.

  He paused at the door; she could feel his question, but she reached out and grabbed the handle, pushing it open.

  He stepped through.

  She could feel his pause.

  Only a single candle lit the room. The one high window hidden behind closed drapes. The bed high and plush, but not wide. She’d never had a man here, and she did not require space to spread and sprawl. The bedding was rich, but simple. Thick white brocade with only the barest tint of blue. In this light she doubted he could even tell that it was not simply white.

  He stepped forward, set her upon the bed, came to rest beside her. He asked no questions, but took her lips again—and she let herself go, let herself melt.

  He lay back upon the bed and she spread herself atop, damp flesh on damp flesh. His lips left her lips and moved to her cheek, then to her chin, her neck. He paused and nibbled, not quick and playful, but dawdling and discovering. His teeth nipped. His tongue soothed. And he tasted her flesh, her skin, but something more. Could you tell a person, tell their character, from a taste? She would have thought not, but in that moment all seemed possible. She lifted her head from him, arching her neck, slid up his body, brought her breasts within reach of his mouth.

  He lifted his head, flicked the tip with his tongue. She rewarded him with a low sound of pleasure.

  He repeated, then moved to the other nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth.

  He suckled hard and then gentle and then hard again. A hand stroked her other breast, large circles covering the full globe. So slow. So careful.

  This was so different than every other time they had come together. There was nothing frenetic, nothing hurried.

  She lifted her head and lay a soft kiss upon the top of Derek’s head, wrapping her arms tight around him, holding him to her bosom. If only she could stay like this, keep him here forever.

  Another kiss, and then she opened her arms, released him.

  He raised his head, stared up into her eyes, his face still and searching.

  There were no answers to be had. She leaned forward again, placed her lips against his own, and held them there, relishing the feel of him against her, the satin of his skin against her own.

  He moved slightly, catching her lower lip between his teeth and pulling.

  A jolt of anticipation ran through her, pausing at all the crucial bits.

  This was the moment that he would crush her to him, take command, and then passion would take over.

  Only, he didn’t. He nipped hard at her lip, but then pulled back and pressed a butterfly’s wing upon it. And then another. And then he was covering her face in the smallest of flickering kisses.

  One for each eyelid. The tip of her nose, of her chin. One high on her forehead, just at her hairline. One on each cheek. She caught his head, held him still, and looked, just looked.

  His hands rose to her breasts, cupping their fullness, while his thumbs strummed over her nipples, slow, so slow. She wanted more, but she didn’t want anything to change; she wanted to be always in the moment, always caught just as desire began to thrum in earnest through her body.

  Her hips shifted, her legs sliding to rest on each side of him. She could feel his cock, heavy and seeking, resting just behind her. And still there was no hurry, no frenzy.

  Another kiss on the lips, mouths parted together, tongues tasted. She braced her hands upon his shoulders and slowly moved her hips back, not pushing him into her body, but rather moving over him, letting her body glide along his length, slicking him with her juices and relishing the hardness against her sensitivity.

  He pulled in a single deep gasp of air, but made no other move. She pulled forward again, lining up her clit to take full advantage. Slow. Easy. Again and again.

  Positioning herself upright, she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. His hands rose again, came to her breasts just as before, the thumbs brushing over her nipples in that same easy pattern, matching the movement of her hips.

  Desire grew. She could feel the fires building, but she paid them no mind. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  So good. So easy.

  Her eyes remained locked with his, watching for every shift of expression, each nuance of pleasure.

  She saw his strain, his need, saw the demons that wished to break free, but he made no move other than that soft rub of thumb. Her nipples strained against him now, growing full and swollen. She didn’t look down, but she imagined they were nearly as dark as when he pinched them tight.

  Back and forth. Back and forth.

  She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up. A fire was burning deep in her belly, the need for more growing and expanding.

  Back and forth.

  Derek’s hand clenched upon her breast, a muscle jumped in his jaw. He, too, was near the end.

  She lifted her hips and reached down to grasp his length.

  That muscle jumped again.

  With care, she positioned him and then eased herself down. She moved slow and easy, but without a hint of tease.

  This was no game, if it had ever truly been one.

  The cords of his neck pulled tight as she picked up the rhythm again, but this time her movements rose and fell.

  “I am sorry, but I need more,” he said, before he grasped her hips, lifting her and turning them both until she lay splayed upon her back and he rose above.

  He pressed in deeper. She writhed beneath him, wanting.

  He pulled out—and then just when she was ready, when she knew it was all about to happen, he slid back in slowly, so slowly. No thrust. No pound. Just easy and slow. She’d never felt her body respond fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch. She was aware of every bit of him, could feel the throbbing vein, the ridge around the head. Deeper. Deeper. She’d never felt anything like this.

  “God, you are beautiful,” he said, his words whispering about her.

  Looking deep into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, she lifted her hips to meet him, tilting them forward to bring him even closer.

  Chapter 14

  Derek had never known a moment like this. Normally, after assuring his partner’s pleasure, he was ready for his own as quickly as it would come. But now he savored every second.

  It felt so good to be inside her, the warmth, the heat. It was a wonder his eyes did not roll back within his skull.

  Not that he could have borne to stop looking at her.
Had a woman more beautiful ever existed? The light flush on those pale cheeks, the brilliant blue eyes that saw right into him, the flecks of dark playing about the edges of the irises, the lips, so swollen with his kisses, so welcoming. And the hair, those blond curls, so light and free that they wrapped around him of their own accord.

  He eased in again, feeling her clench all around him.

  So good. So sweet.

  His toes curled with the effort to keep it slow, to not let this moment pass.

  He pulled back, eased himself at an unhurried pace, the strain beginning to tell. His balls were so tight, so ready. If he didn’t give in soon, he might explode whether he willed it or not.

  She groaned beneath him as he lowered his hips again, felt her body draw at him, wanting more.

  Out again. In deeper.

  He could hold out no longer. He thrust hard and deep, burying himself to the hilt.

  Ruby arched up from the bed. “Now,” she whispered.

  And he gave in to it, gave in to the need, let it break upon them in a storm.

  Her hips rose, tilted. God, he was in deep. He withdrew. Pushed back, felt his balls slap against her.

  Harder. Faster. More. More.

  He felt her rise, felt the spasm, and then the next.

  Her head thrashed against the pillows, and then, eyes wide, her gaze met his and he saw the pleasure take her, saw her lose herself in the climax.

  And he followed. His body jerking and thrusting, filling her, giving his all to her.

  And then it was over. So very over.

  He fell beside her on the bed, their sweat blending as their bodies just had.

  Over.

  He turned on his side to stare at her, felt her do the same.

  She reached toward him, her lips pressed out until they met his own.

  One soft kiss.

  One lovers’ kiss.

  One passionate kiss.

  And then she pulled back, turned away. “You should go,” she said.

  And he knew she was right. It did not mean the words did not sting, did not cut, but he knew they were right.

  He slid from the bed, picked up the linen towel from the floor and draped it about his hips.

  Taking one last look at her, at the lush curves spread across the surprisingly narrow bed, at the moonlight hair spilling about her—and at those eyes, those eyes that had shared his soul for the briefest of endless moments, he turned and left, slowly taking the steps down to the bath chamber. He grabbed his clothing from where it had fallen and pulled it on.