Blazing Bedtime Anthology

by Leslie Kelly

  For all her ferocity, Olivia was every inch a seductive, desirable woman. From the loose, flowing blond hair, to the full, lush breasts topped with those mouthwatering, dark nipples, to the small waist, the curvy hips, and that soft womanly mound between her legs, she was every man’s sexiest fantasy.

  And she was coming right at him.

  Following his example, she dove in completely. But the water was so clear, so sparkling, he was easily able to see her swimming beneath the surface.

  He didn’t know if she had her eyes open underwater. Didn’t know if she was aware she was coming close—so damn close to him. He only knew that as her blond head reached his hip, her hair brushing against his thigh, need set his blood afire.

  He’d intended to ease into this, to seduce her, then, afterward, dare her to say she had known what she would be forsaking with her job.

  But those plans flew out the window when she slowly rose to her feet, her mouth so close to his side, it was like she kissed her way up his body as she emerged.

  Her eyes were open, water dripping from her thick lashes as she stood before him, their legs inches apart, her taut nipples brushing the hair on his chest.

  He gave up all thought, all resistance. No slow seduction, no easy lovemaking.

  He needed her. He was desperate to have her, to have this. And without a single word, he reached for her, digging his fingers into those soft hips and drawing her close.

  Then he covered her mouth with his and kissed her the way he knew she needed to be kissed. The way every woman about to experience passionate lovemaking for the first time deserved to be kissed…with every ounce of wanton hunger he felt for her.

  * * *

  THOUGH SHE WAS HOME, on her own ground, where tradition and loyalty meant everything and she had never once veered from her avowed course, Olivia wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted the one night of heat and desire and sensation she knew he could give her.

  Seeing him so hard and tall, his member swelling before her eyes as he’d turned away to enter the water, she had felt all inhibition fall away. Every part of her body had come alive and begun to tingle, hot blood sluicing through her veins, her womanly center throbbing with a need with which she had become all too familiar since she’d met him.

  There was no more awkwardness. No more simple curiosity or worry. Only this moment, this night, this man. So when he kissed her, she took his tongue greedily, tilting her head so he could come ever deeper into her mouth.

  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his thighs, she rubbed against his firm body, shocked at the sensations battering her from all sides. His kiss was devouring, every breath shared, every gasp swallowed down and each cry of delight echoed.

  One big hand remained on her bottom, firm and tight. The other he lifted to her breast, his touch more gentle, careful, even though the way he plucked her nipple between his fingers soon had her whimpering with pleasure.

  “That feels remarkable,” she admitted. He’d touched her there yesterday, but she’d been so focused on the other place she hadn’t thought as much about how good the attention to her breasts felt. Now, she could think of little else.

  At least, until he lifted her bottom, tilting her so that rigid shaft of heat fell directly against the core of her.

  Then everything changed again. She simply didn’t know what to focus on, which sensation pleased her more. “Oh, yes,” she cried, jerking, rubbing up and down and taking the pressure where it felt the best.

  Her body had reacted quickly again, like it had in his apartment. She knew the glide of his manhood against her was made easier by the slick, hot moisture oozing from her womanly parts. She could only imagine his penetration would be just as easy, just as smooth and good and sweet.

  Unlike before. Unlike ever.

  But he didn’t penetrate her, didn’t slip in and fill that empty center, as much as she wanted him to.

  Funny, she had never thought of herself as an empty vessel, needing to be filled, until she had met him. Now, it was all she could do not to reach down and grab that thick member and guide it into herself.

  “Not yet,” he whispered, as if reading her intent.

  “When?”

  “Soon. I promise. Let yourself go, enjoy it. Let your body take what I want to give you.”

  She closed her eyes, and did as he asked. Each place he touched her sizzled and she simply couldn’t imagine what intimacy could be better than the last.

  Then he kissed his way down her throat, as if he would taste every inch of her skin, and she began to get an idea. Olivia wrapped her legs tighter around him, nestling his cock against her womanly lips as she fell back onto the surface of the water, floating on her back.

  “You were made for this,” he growled as he moved his mouth to her breast. When his tongue lapped at her nipple, she gasped at the utter perfection of it. And when he closed his mouth over it and suckled her, she actually cried out to the sky.

  Twining her hands in his thick, wet hair, she held him there, loving the deep pull of his mouth. She couldn’t help writhing, thrusting, wanting what she had never wanted in her entire life.

  To be utterly and completely taken by a man.

  She didn’t notice his pushing her closer to the shore, until she realized she was no longer floating, but now lying on her back in the shallows. Rafe didn’t move over her, his mouth didn’t return to her breasts or her mouth. Instead he parted her thighs and kissed his way down toward them.

  “You don’t… You’re not…”

  “Hell, yes, I am,” he growled as he nipped at her belly, then moved until his lips brushed her womanly curls. Unable to help it, she jerked toward him, warmed by his breaths, shocked and so excited she almost forgot to breathe.

  An inch more and his soft tongue was dipping into her, lapping at the very spot where he’d touched her in the shower.

  “Mercy!” she cried, amazed at both how good it felt, and by the thought that he was licking her there.

  The sensations were mind-boggling. This time, it didn’t take several long strokes to make those waves of pleasure burst through her; it happened almost right away.

  “Oh, Rafe,” she cried to the sky, gasping at the power of it—her second-ever orgasm.

  He rose over her, bending to kiss her lips again, his body on top of hers. The heat of his rigid erection pressed into her thighs, and she spread them farther, instinctively, wanting it more than she’d ever wanted anything. “Now?” she asked.

  He reached for one leg, lifting it over his hip as he tenderly kissed her again. “Yes.”

  The silky tip of his sex nestled into her and she arched up in welcome, her body somehow knowing what to do. Slowly, he eased his way in, inch by sweet hot inch.

  Olivia tried to keep her eyes open, loving the flex of muscles in his neck, watching the way his mouth parted on a guttural cry as he possessed ever more of her.

  But the sensations were too great. As he pushed inside, all thought was pushed out, there was only ecstasy. It grew and grew. “Yes, more,” she told him, “fill me up.”

  He groaned in response, thrusting up with all his might until he was buried deep inside her.

  It was magical. The most wonderful thing she’d ever felt in all her days.

  Olivia didn’t move for a second, letting herself adjust. Once her mind was clear, and she was able to think about each new feeling, she realized this was as close to complete as she had ever felt in her life.

  And she’d never even known she was missing anything.

  One thing she knew—this was nothing like what she’d experienced before. Absolutely nothing. Rather than wanting it to end, she only wanted it to go on and on.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. Is it…finished?”

  He laughed softly, but she didn’t take offense. Because she had the feeling his laughter meant this wasn’t nearly over. Which was fine with her.

  “Hang on, sweetheart,” he told her. “We�
�re just getting started.”

  CHAPTER 7

  BY THE TIME THEY REACHED the imposing stone castle at the center of the kingdom of Grand Falls, Rafe was beginning to feel pretty damn nervous. Not to mention uncomfortable.

  He was wearing one of Ruprecht’s ornate cloaks—supplied by the prissy prince—and it was too tight at the neck. While trying to control his horse, and look like he knew what he was doing, he also had to keep his nose in the air. Because as villagers came out to bow and lay flowers as he passed, Olivia told him Ruprecht made it a point to never look at his subjects. What good was being a prince if he didn’t even see his own people?

  He so wasn’t looking forward to this. What he wouldn’t give to be able to turn around, go back to that waterfall and spend a month making love to Olivia Vanderbrook.

  Every time he looked over at her and saw the tiny, satisfied smile on her face, he got the feeling she’d like that, too.

  So what the hell were they doing heading for that enormous stone monstrosity, pretending he was some prince?

  Saving her life.

  It seemed incredibly far-fetched. He couldn’t see any queen blaming someone else because her pain-in-the-butt son didn’t want to stop playing and come home. At least not blaming her enough to kill over it.

  Saving her job.

  Huh. That wasn’t much of an incentive, since he didn’t much care for her stupid job. Not the kicking-ass part; she was well-equipped for that, from what he’d seen. But the no sex, no love, no family, no home life part. It sucked. Royally.

  Saving her family, then.

  Okay. There was that. Olivia seemed close to her parents and siblings, possibly because she had accepted she would never have a family of her own. They meant a lot to her, and so did their security.

  Saving yourself.

  That was definitely part of it. He didn’t want to lose her and was saving himself from a life without her, at least for the time being. When it came right down to it, he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. Not merely indulging in a wild, secret sexual affair, but also battering at her defenses, showing her how good an adult relationship could be. She had a lot to learn about that, and he wanted to be the one to teach her.

  That wasn’t his internal white knight talking; she didn’t need rescuing. Yeah, he’d saved her from a life completely devoid of sexual pleasure. But she didn’t need him to save her in any other way. They could go into this as equals, on the same level.

  Just not from the same world.

  Damn the luck.

  “Are you all right?” she asked as they neared what looked like a real freaking moat, all green and slimy, probably full of creatures he’d imagined were lurking under his bed as a kid.

  “Peachy.”

  She didn’t say we can turn around. They both knew it was too late—they’d been spotted, his arrival had been trumpeted, and he suspected Ruprecht’s nasty mother, the queen, was probably right inside the castle, waiting for him to show up, as jowly, suspicious and PMS-y as the prince had portrayed her to be.

  He kinda wished he’d brought the purple Sharpie.

  “You’ll be fine,” she insisted.

  “I’m sure I will. But if this all goes south…”

  “Goes where?”

  “If it goes wrong,” he told her, “what’s the penalty for impersonating a prince? Would I get fed to a hungry dragon or something?”

  “We’re not living in ancient times,” she told him, her voice prim. “Drawing and quartering is much more the standard.”

  Seeing a twinkle in her eye, he realized she was actually teasing him. Something he would never have even imagined her capable of a few days ago when they’d first met.

  “Got it.”

  The twinkle faded and she looked serious as she said, “It would never come to that, of course. If the moment comes when I feel you are truly in danger, Rafe, I will get you out.”

  “I know. But let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that, and I play my part well.” Seeing more people rushing out from their homes to bow, he asked, “Speaking of my part, is there anything else I should know? This bowing, am I expected to do that?”

  The idea obviously horrified her. “Ruprecht bows to nobody.”

  “Not even the queen?”

  She shook her head. “You should kiss her on the cheek as you greet her, and call her Mummy.”

  Mummy. His own mother would whack him in the head with a spoon if he ever called her such a thing.

  “Otherwise, you’ve met Ruprecht, just behave as he does.”

  His hands tightened on the reins and the horse stopped. Because behaving as Ruprecht does was not on his to-do list.

  “What?” he growled.

  “I said, just act like Ruprecht.”

  As if he could. “Uh, in case you didn’t notice, I met him when he was in drag, impersonating his mother. You telling me that’s how he acts around here?”

  She nibbled her lip. “Oh, dear. I didn’t consider that.”

  “Yeah, I thought not. What’s he usually like?”

  “Uh, well, he’s, um, not terribly manly, I suppose.”

  “No kidding.”

  “He doesn’t like to hunt or joust or things of that nature.”

  “Yeah, I coulda guessed he’s not into NASCAR and Penthouse. What is he into?”

  “Into?”

  “What does he like to do for fun.”

  Please don’t say other princes.

  “He’s a good dancer.”

  “Uh-huh.” He loved music, but only when singing.

  “He loves nice clothes and enjoys modeling his new robes.”

  “Gag me.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Sighing deeply, he admitted, “All right, so far it’s not so bad. I can work with most of this—fake an injury or something so I can’t dance. And say I’ve decided I don’t really want people watching me prance around in new clothes. But let me confirm one thing—you seemed shocked when you saw him, so can I assume he’s not out of the closet?”

  Because that was one impersonation he definitely could not pull off.

  “Out of what closet?”

  “Nobody here knows he’s gay. That he likes men.”

  She still looked confused, having no idea what he meant. That was answer enough. Obviously Ruprecht had kept his true self secret even from the royal bodyguards. “Never mind. I got it.”

  Though she still looked puzzled, they began to trot again, side by side. They hadn’t gone ten feet, or whatever they used to measure distance here, when Olivia jerked the reins and stopped short. Her mouth rounding into a perfect O, she stared at him.

  He suspected she’d figured out what “in the closet” meant.

  “You think Ruprecht has romantic feelings for a man?” she asked in a loud whisper.

  “Pretty sure about it, honey. Is it that unusual here?”

  “It’s certainly not unheard of,” she admitted, “but I never imagined it of the prince.”

  Honestly, Rafe had a hard time imagining anyone thinking the guy was straight.

  “He’s so vain. He loves being around women. So when he said he had finally fallen in love…?”

  “Yeah. I’d say Jess is a dude.”

  He wondered how she would feel about that, sensing this Elatyria place was a little backward when it came to social issues. But when her lips suddenly curved into a huge, genuine smile, he figured Olivia wasn’t too shocked.

  “The queen will be furious!”

  “You think?”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Oh, this explains so much—like why even the most powerful fairy godmother in the land was unable to find him a love match. It all makes sense now. Poor Ruprecht! No wonder he is so anxious to stay over there where he can be who he ‘really is.’”

  Interesting. The hard-ass warrior sympathizing with somebody who wanted to be free to love who he wanted. He wondered if she even recognized the way she’d changed. Because, hone
stly, he didn’t see the Olivia who’d jumped him in that alley coming to such a conclusion.

  Still chuckling over the whole thing, Olivia resumed her steady trot. But as they drew ever closer to Alcatraz—er, the castle—and more people came out to greet him, her humor faded away and was replaced by obvious tension. He thought at first it was because she dreaded seeing the queen, then he realized she was on guard. Doing her job.

  Protecting him.

  Soon she was actually leaning forward in the saddle, one hand on the reins, one resting lightly on the sheathed knife at her hip. Her eyes constantly scanned the crowd, and she scowled at everyone, as if she expected someone to pull out a dagger and go all “Et tu, Bruté” on his ass.

  The idea that she’d leap off the horse and fight a would-be assassin was enough to make his own good mood disappear. But he didn’t really worry about it happening. Ruprecht seemed as easygoing as a bunny, as worrisome as a butterfly. Could somebody like that have any enemies? Who would possibly want to hurt him?

  Judging by the smiles and flowers being tossed at him by the villagers…nobody.

  “Would you relax?” he told her as he drew up beside her. Wanting her to loosen up, needing to see that brilliant smile again, he murmured, “Think about something else. Like how much you owe me.”

  “Owe you?”

  “For doing all this,” he said, waving a hand around him. “You owe me big time, Captain Vanderbrook.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. Then whispered, “I know, Your Majesty. And I will repay this debt.”

  He maintained an innocent, pleasant expression. “On your back, I presume.”

  She didn’t even glance over, but he’d swear a tiny grin quirked her lips. Then, just before she urged her stallion into a gallop, she answered with a saucy comeback of her own.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it’ll be on yours.”

  * * *

  BY ALL RIGHTS, Olivia should have been well pleased.

  Everything had worked perfectly. In the two days since their arrival in Grand Falls, Rafe had not only fooled Queen Verona and the whole court—having them all hanging on his every word and falling over themselves to please him—but had managed to act more princely than Prince Ruprecht while doing it.