Unfortunate Miss Fortunes, The

by Crusie, Jennifer; Dreyer, Eileen; Stuart, Anne

  “No!” she said out loud, turning the water to icy cold. But even that was arousing, and she turned off the water with a curse, wrapping herself in a towel, rubbing her skin briskly, then more slowly, languorously …

  “Goddammit,” she muttered. She was standing stark naked in the middle of the bathroom, wearing nothing but red patent hooker stiletto heels, and she yanked on her clothes with shaking hands. The fresh tattoo on her ankle glowed with an almost malevolent sensuality, and she shoved open the door with a little moan.

  She headed down the stairs, careful in her hooker shoes, to find Elric in the kitchen, shirtless, a helpless expression on his face. “I can cook,” he said. “I promise you, I could cook you an absolute feast out of nothing. But right now …”

  “Right now we’ve got better things to do,” she said. “You have any problems giving in to Xan’s spell?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” And he picked her up, tossed her over his bare shoulder, and headed back into the bedroom.

  The moon shone after all. It wasn’t perfectly full. Beltane wouldn’t officially start for a few more hours. If anybody felt compelled to light bonfires, they’d have to do it the next night. Which was just fine. Dee had an idea she was going to create enough of a conflagration as it was.

  They approached the stone circle at dusk. Danny brought the whiskey and truffles. Dee brought the feather boa and pop beads. She even wore what she considered to be her ritual garments. She’d ridden up the hill covered in her long raincoat, her hair caught in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She carried two blankets and a couple of green pillows she’d pulled from her studio.

  When they reached the stone circle, though, she revealed her true colors. Laying her burdens across the grass at the foot of the Great Big Rock, she set her boa and beads alongside. Danny pulled whiskey glasses from his jacket pockets and set them up alongside the bottle of Midleton he’d managed to unearth in town. He was just turning when Dee slid out of her coat.

  “Holy Mother of God,” he breathed in awe.

  For the first time in her life, Dee O’Brien appeared outside her house wearing nothing but the long white silk slip dress she wore to paint. She pulled the band from her hair and shook it out so that it caught the breeze and whispered into lazy motion, her Irish witch’s banner flowing well past her shoulders. She slid off her sandals and stood on the sacred ground in bare feet.

  “I decided not to hide in the attic,” she said, and hated the fact that her voice sounded uncertain.

  For the first time since she’d known him, Danny James was struck dumb. He just stared, hands out, breathing hard, face frozen in a stunned kind of yearning.

  “What?” she asked, his amazement bolstering her. “You don’t think the virgin-on-the-way-to-a-sacrifice look is good for me?”

  “I think it’s about to make my eyes melt.” He unfroze, walking up to her and lifting a trembling hand to her hair. “My sweet God, Dee. You’re an earth goddess.”

  She smiled. “That’s actually what I was hoping for. Something in the Persephone line. Innocent but brazen.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better.” He kept fingering her curls. “Great dress, by the way. Do you wear it for any other guys?”

  “I wear it to paint.”

  He nodded, still looking stunned. “I bet you do. It goes great with your butterfly.”

  Dee felt the fizz of his arousal along every nerve ending. “An added bonus, just for you.”

  He nodded. Swallowed. “Um, would you like a drink? I sure think I’m gonna need one.”

  Dee wanted to laugh. She’d never felt so strong before, for once in her relationship life not the supplicant. He needed a drink. And not because he was disgusted. Okay, that might come later, but for now she was damn well going to enjoy the feverish light in his eyes.

  “I’m not used to drinking,” she said. “It makes me a little nuts.”

  Danny held out a hand, as if calling her to dance. “Oh, but this night demands a little nuts, don’t you think? And I promise. You’re going to like this.”

  “As much as the pop beads?”

  Good heavens. His eyes simply went black. “Oh, no. But it’s a close second to the feather boa.”

  Dee grinned and laid her hand in his. As tenderly as if he were escorting her to a cotillion, he guided her over to where the blankets were spread and helped her down to sit with her back against the Great Big Rock. She faced the edge of the cliff, which gave her a lovely view of the sleeping fields and the deepening twilight sky overhead. Peacock and carmine and a slash of gold where the lowered sun licked the top of low clouds.

  And there, the evening star. Let us be safe. And let me not disappoint this good man.

  Sliding out of his jacket, Danny laid it on the slab of granite and took the glasses in hand. With those in one hand and the bottle in the other, he slid down to nestle right next to Dee on the thick plaid blanket. “Now, this is some of the finest whiskey the Irish make. And the Irish make great whiskey.” He poured two fingers each and handed Dee her glass.

  “Have you been to Ireland?” she asked, measuring the light that glinted off the amber liquid.

  “Often.” He carefully set the bottle over his head on the rock. “You think the fields are green here in the spring. In Ireland they’re so intense they make your eyes ache.”

  “And Paris. You said you’ve been to Paris. Have you walked Montmartre?”

  Danny laced the fingers of his free hand with hers. “It’s a flea market of a place with narrow, steep streets and quaint cafés and one of the most beautiful churches on earth. Would you let me take you there?”

  Dee held on tightly to him, both with her hand and her eyes. “I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

  “But we’ll see?”

  She opened her mouth. Shut it. Shook her head. “This isn’t a test, Danny,” she said. “It’s not passfail. I want to make love to you because I love you. But it could well prove that we’re not able to go any farther.”

  “You mean me.”

  “I know who I am. You don’t.”

  “I told you. I know enough. Did I tell you I love you?”

  Her smile was wistful. “You did.”

  “And you’ll let me show you?”

  “As long as I get to show you back.”

  He leaned down, so that he blocked the last light of afternoon and the breeze, so that he brought the stillness of night with him, and he kissed her. Hot and wet and openmouthed, but with unspeakable gentleness. Heat swept through Dee. Longing such as she’d never known. Terror.

  She denied the terror its root, and leaned into the kiss with every ounce of passion she’d stored up for twenty-six years.

  This time it was Danny who pulled back, panting. “You haven’t had your drink yet.”

  Dee ran her tongue over her lips to capture the rest of his taste. “You want to take the time?”

  He scowled at her, flicking the end of her nose with his finger. “This is a seduction,” he informed her archly. “Not a blitzkrieg. Proprieties will be observed at all times.”

  “Oh, good God,” she said with a scowl. “Another movie quote. Are you sure you shouldn’t be dating Mare?”

  He laughed. “Another reason to love you. You recognize The Quiet Man. A classic in film.”

  “You aren’t a John Wayne fan, are you?”

  “John Wayne is God. It’s tattooed on my left buttock. Wanna see?”

  “It is not. I already have.”

  He looked astonished. “You’ve been peeking?”

  Dee lifted her glass and grinned at him over its rim. “Twee. Twee.”

  Danny spun around on her. “Good God. It wasn’t stuffed.”

  “Not the owl. And yes,” she said. “She did like you. Especially that star birthmark on the inside of your right thigh.”

  “Wanna see it again?”

  She grinned, giddy. “Birthmarks make me hot.”

  He drew a finger down the hollow o
f her throat. “That can be arranged.”

  Dee took another sip of the whiskey. Danny was right. It was smoky and smooth and the perfect accompaniment for a tryst in the middle of a stone circle. It settled into her stomach and sent tendrils of warmth spreading through her. Good. A few more of these and she might relax enough to avoid disaster.

  Danny finished his drink in a gulp and set both glasses aside. Dee damn near gulped herself.

  “There is one thing you should probably know,” she said.

  “You shift. I heard.”

  He reached both hands out to her. Dee shied back. “Uh, no. This is something else. A direct result, if you will, of the shifting.”

  Danny lowered his arms. “I’m doing the best I can here, Dee. But my patience is not what it usually is tonight.”

  “The libido spell,” she said with a nod. “I know. It’s affecting me, too. Do you know you smell like the sea and the air right before a storm?”

  “I hope you like those things.”

  “Hugely. I’m a virgin.”

  She’d done it again. What had happened to her tact? She squeezed her eyes closed in humiliation, knowing damn well Danny would be appalled.

  “It hasn’t just been a long time,” she babbled. “It’s been never. Not because I didn’t try. I did. But … so far there isn’t a guy who’s lasted past the point where I shift. At least one wasn’t heard to speak again for four solid months.”

  “Never?” he asked, his voice oddly small. “Not even in college?”

  “By then I’d given up. Besides, I was too busy. Mare was going through puberty, and it was spectacular.” She shrugged and rested her head against his chest. “I hope you’re not allergic to dust bunnies. I really want to do this.”

  She surprised a laugh out of him, which got her eyes open fast. “I’m sure it amuses you. It’s not quite so fun from here.”

  He wouldn’t let her pull away this time. Reaching out, he slid his hands into her hair and pulled her toward him. “I promise,” he said, his face no more than inches from hers so she couldn’t miss his sincerity. “You will not leave this mountain a virgin. I think you can trust me to make it past the dust bunnies and lost socks. And I further promise you’re going to enjoy it.”

  Dee couldn’t help smiling. “Did I tell you I love you?”

  Danny smiled back, and it was incandescent. “You did.”

  And then he kissed her. His hands still tangled in her hair, his body warm and strong, his breath a whisper of enticement.

  “Did I tell you I’ve been to Peru?” he said against her mouth.

  She did her own kissing. She could survive on nothing but his mouth. She explored, savoring every curve, every secret recess that carried the taste of him. She nibbled and licked and teased her tongue against the nascent whiskers that lined the edge of his lip. She dipped her tongue into a dimple and traced his lips with her own. Then she closed her eyes and traced them all with her fingers.

  “I’d love to go to Peru,” she said, stroking her thumb over his upper lip, sliding it up to measure the slight crook in the bridge of his nose.

  Danny took her hand in his own and kissed it. Then he took his turn, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. He kissed her eyes closed and then paid tribute to the shells of her ears.

  Dee gasped, shuddering with the startling pleasure of having someone lave her ear with his tongue. Who knew? No one else had ever taken the time. Then he sipped lower, along her pulse point, which she knew was erratic and bounding. She felt as if she had a hummingbird trapped in her chest, her heart beat so fast. She was sure that was why she couldn’t catch her breath. Not the fact that when she finally got the chance to give in to temptation and explore the lovely contours of his chest with her hands, she met rock-hard muscles and the surprise spring of hair. Oh, and she knew the line that lovely mahogany hair followed. She wanted to trace it down. She wanted to yank his shirt off and discover the texture of his skin with her hands and lips and tongue.

  “Would you like to go to Giverny?” he asked, sliding her straps off her shoulders. “I could take you to Giverny.”

  Dee arched a bit to give him better access. It seemed as if her breasts anticipated him, already tingling and taut and heavy. Please, she thought in desperation. Take them in your hands. Take them in your mouth and suckle so hard I feel it in my toes.

  He must have heard her again. He set his mouth to her and feasted.

  “I’d love to … oh … ah, go to Giverny. What about … oh, yes … Tahiti? If I’m following great painters I should … go …”

  Her gown was at her waist, and his mouth was on her breast. She couldn’t keep her eyes open or her hands still. She measured his back, his strong, lean back, and traced those lovely biceps. She fought that ember when it sparked. But then Danny nipped at her breasts with his teeth, and she forgot control.

  “Tahiti,” he said, taking her breast into his hand, “would be lovely. As long as you dress like a native. I want to be able to see these magnificent breasts every day.”

  He licked her throat, inciting fierce chills.

  “My breasts are too small.”

  “Shut up. Your breasts are perfect.”

  And to prove it, he devoured them all over again. Dee didn’t mind losing that argument. She was melting, the wicked witch in water. Sliding down to lie on the blanket with Danny following her as he traced her arms, her hips, her legs with his wonderfully callused hands. As he slid the dress completely off.

  “Not fair,” she gasped, arching with the pressure of his palm against her belly. “You’re the only one in clothes here.”

  “Easily remedied.”

  Immediately remedied. She’d thought he’d looked impressive before. It was nothing to Danny James rampant.

  “Dear Mother of God,” Dee breathed, unconsciously mimicking his earlier words. “Do you think you’re appropriate for a virgin? I mean, shouldn’t I start out on something smaller and work my way up?”

  Danny burst out laughing. “You do know how to make a man happy.” He lay down next to her, nestling skin to skin, just as she’d dreamed. “Now, relax. It’s a man’s work I have before me this day.”

  She groaned. Another John Wayne … oooooohhhhhh …

  He kissed her, slowly and sweetly and absolutely sinfully. He fitted himself against her, shoulders to toes, so she couldn’t be confused about how happy he was to be there. He let his hand drift from breast to belly to mons.

  “Open for me, Dee. Let me give you as much pleasure as you give me.”

  Dee wasn’t sure her legs worked properly, but she did her best to oblige. And gasped again when she felt his hand on her inner thigh. When he slipped his fingers into her.

  “God,” he moaned. “You’re so beautiful. You’re so wet for me. Feel it?”

  Feel it? She was writhing with it, stunned with the sudden shaft of pure, sweet pleasure his fingers unleashed. It consumed her, sweeping away every other thought or action. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, and he was still tormenting her with the most cunning fingers ever attached to a hand. He slid a finger inside, then two. Pleasure speared through her, igniting unquenchable holocausts, freezing and burning her at once, confusing her body, her power, so she didn’t know how to gauge her danger. So she couldn’t care.

  But oh, his hands. His mouth. His sweet, hot breath fanning across breasts dampened by his tongue. His words, raw words of need and want, promising, pleading, propelling her to new agonies.

  “Danny … please …”

  She was scrabbling at him, sobbing and cursing, fighting the inevitable explosion. It was coming, and he wouldn’t allow her to rest, to hide from it. She was going to change. God, her body had to be glowing with the building power. She had to be too close to stop it.

  “Close your eyes …” she begged. “Oh, close your … ooooooh … my … . God … !”

  Cataclysms, catastrophes, colors that simply didn’t exist in the universe spun within her, gathering, intensify
ing until she couldn’t stop moving, until she couldn’t stop begging, until, suddenly, she disintegrated into shards of light and color and sound, gasping and weeping and bucking hard against Danny’s touch, convulsing into the night sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  She was panting like a long distance runner, and she knew tears ran down her cheeks. “Never,” she admitted, “this has never …”

  “Well, it will again,” he promised, still stroking her. “And there’s even better.”

  “There can’t be. I’d never survive it.” She opened her eyes and almost came right off the blanket. “Oh, no! I told you to close your eyes.”

  Danny easily held her to him. “Why should I, and miss the most beautiful sight ever?” His smile was so bright, so wicked. “You in the throes of orgasm.”

  He was acting as if nothing had happened that wasn’t natural.

  Dee frowned, still struggling with the aftershocks that shuddered along her limbs. “But I’ve shifted.”

  “Shifted? Into what?”

  Dee caught her breath. The idea was inconceivable. “Who do I look like?”

  Danny brushed her hair away from her damp forehead. “Persephone.”

  Suddenly she was sobbing, and she couldn’t stop. “I’m me?” she demanded. “I’m really me?”

  He looked so confused, so concerned. He kept stroking her, soothing her sobs. “There’s nobody else I’d be making love to.”

  “Oh, Danny.” She laughed and cried at once. “Make love to me.” She took his face in her hands. “Banish the dust bunnies. Please.”

  “With pleasure.”

  He kissed her, mouth and breast and the tender, sleek skin he’d just been torturing with his fingers. He stoked those terrible fires all over again until Dee couldn’t breathe well enough to beg. And then he lifted himself over her and nudged her legs open and kissed her hard, plunging his tongue deep in her mouth, stroking her to incandescence, and then he slid into her, tight into her, impossibly large for her, and he gentled her and incited her and brought her right back to a shattering, gasping climax at the very moment he plunged home, past the slight resistance that didn’t matter after all, so deep into her that she thought she’d die, that she thought she had died, and he pumped into her, slowly at first, but gathering speed, murmuring delight to her, murmuring encouragement and gratitude and love as she felt the pleasure spiral yet again to impossible heights, matching him move for move, murmur for murmur until she convulsed, screaming, and he emptied himself into her, emptied the last of him into her, and fell into her arms, spent and struggling for breath.