Skandalis told her how to dress. She was following his orders.
The sway of that pretty pink ass, which flared delightfully from her narrow waist, made Rio realize precisely what he’d started here. He’d told her to shed her inhibitions, and he had to admit Lola’d taken his request to the limit. He shifted to relieve the pressure where the seam of his pants cut across his cock.
It was time. Katya was gone, and Lola would be, too, unless he took what she was offering. Skandalis could go screw himself.
God, the way she moved…letting the deep green dress slither down her skin to bare her body in a slow striptease. Very hot. His damn tux was cut with little room to spare even when he was sane, but all hell would break loose if he let it out of his pants. There’d be no stopping.
And that’s what Lola wanted.
So he’d do his best to please her and sate her and drive her out of her mind. Rio wanted her—too long it’d been since he’d indulged in a woman—but he also believed in savoring the finer things, rather than gulping and guzzling them. Lola deserved nothing less.
The gown puddled around her ankles. She balanced herself with an elegant arm outstretched on the balcony railing, leaning forward as she stepped out of the dress. Graceful, like a dancer in slow motion. Knowing he watched her. Knowing he wanted her. Establishing her power over him in this simplest act of undressing while she looked the other way.
He gripped the two glasses. Jittery as he felt, he could ruin this mood in a hundred little ways—or just one. It only took one.
“Lola,” he murmured from the open doorway.
“Yes?”
Little vixen was playing hard to get, standing with her back to him—as though she cared what the ocean looked like! Her reply drifted back to him on the breeze, low and sweet and oh-so-hungry.
And what did she do then, but reach up to unfasten her hair. She fumbled with the topknot—for a moment he thought about assisting her—but then that lush auburn hair fell like a rumpled curtain, wavy where the band had held it. Loose tendrils drifted with the breeze—tendrils he suddenly had to feel blowing across his face.
“Lola, I’d like to toast this moment,” he offered, hoping she didn’t hear that adolescent catch in his voice. “It’s a special joy for me, when I please a woman for the first time, and I want to make it special for you, too. No rushing. No groping and fumbling in our haste to couple. I—I want you.”
She turned, ever so slowly. First the tip of her breast became visible, siren red alongside her pale, shapely arm, Then the turn of her thigh revealed her sex to him, arrayed in a vee of tight auburn curls.
His zipper lurched. He’d figured her for the type who’d wax everything, so he was ecstatic at her natural beauty down there. The slightest bulge below her navel enthralled him; her ribcage led his eye higher, to those pert, lush breasts. She probably felt they were too small, but he found them delightful. Those jaded nipples glistened like cinnamon disk candies, suggesting an inner child who loved to play naughty big-girl games.
It was her expression that didn’t fit.
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?” She could see the nobility fighting its way into his eyes. She’d hoped for something less…respectable.
“Why do you say that?”
She shook her head, which made those waves drift in the breeze—which was turning her nipples into rigid peaks of red.
“You have that look about you, like the white knight who sweeps the princess off her feet but not into his bed. Dammit, Rio,” she finished with a sigh. “I’ve been naked today for two other men—and women—I just met, and all they wanted was a piece of me.”
Rio flinched. He’d disappointed her, and he hadn’t even dropped his pants yet. “I prefer to take my time with a woman, out of respect for—”
“Please don’t tell me you’re gay.”
A laugh escaped him. Instead of taking that bait, Rio set down one of the champagne flutes and stepped toward a wide-eyed Lola, who now leaned back against the balcony with her arms resting along the railing.
He’d never seen such a sight, such an offering on the altar of the gods. For him.
He’d never knowingly provoked a woman’s wrath, either, but he wanted to see what Lola was made of. So he pitched the champagne, splattering her breasts with it.
Her cry rang out in the night. “You son of a—”
He was on her then. He held her beneath her arms while his mouth worked feverishly to keep any of that bubbly from going to waste.
She writhed but couldn’t move. Was too astounded at this man’s response—and too surprised by the champagne’s chilly tingle against her skin. Rio’s lips were roving over her breasts, his tongue lapping and licking. When that pencil-thin mustache brushed her painted nipple, Lola laughed out loud, not giving a damn that anyone standing outside would know where that laugh came from.
It came from that place between her legs, which was driving this whole show.
The railing cut into her back as she arched against it, but she could only hold on for dear life, letting her head fall back as he devoured her. DeSilva’s mouth was covering every inch of her bare skin, and now that his initial affront had proven his point, he was gentler…downright worshipful as he wiggled his tongue in her navel.
Lola’s laughter was like the cry of a wild bird above him. Her hips wriggled, and she tried to escape his mouth as he sucked and licked the wine from her skin.
But she didn’t try very hard.
He was circling her navel now, relishing the swell of flesh beneath it before going lower. The top of her thigh quivered beneath his lips. He teased her by running his tongue above her mound, following the line of the coarse hair there.
“Wait—Rio, please—”
That made him laugh! This woman was begging for it now! Never again would she question his sexual preferences!
And damned if she didn’t shift her weight to one foot, so she could drape the other leg over the back of the wicker chair next to her. Opening herself to him.
Rio knelt. Would there ever be a more alluring sight than those dusky lips rimmed in fur scented with her essence?
“I think the lady needs more champagne,” he murmured. He was distracting himself so he wouldn’t devour the delicacy before him.
“I think the lady needs a tongue job.”
Lola gazed down at DeSilva, into eyes that reflected the moon’s glow and the love within him.
At least that’s what she told herself. Never had a man approached her from that angle with such a…prayerful expression. Yet his eyebrows had just enough slant in them to appear jaded with desire, and that mustache—that wicked thing that slashed downward from his nose, in such direct contrast to the soft lips beneath it—
“Whatever Lola wants,” he whispered.
And damned if he didn’t snatch the other glass of champagne from the table and wet his fingers, to coat her slit with a cool effervescence that sent shock waves through her. This time she nipped her lip to keep from wailing like a bitch in heat. She could only watch, mesmerized, as his fingertips dipped into the glass and then into her again, circling up inside her.
The fizz make her giggle. Lola couldn’t hold still and she loved it!
The scent and heat of her arousal drove him wild. Rio poured more bubbly into his palm and then cupped her with it, pressing the wetness into her coarse curls…smearing it on the insides of her thighs.
“C-cold!” she yelped when the breeze kicked up. But she didn’t move that suspended leg or the hands that gripped the railing.
He flashed her a grin. Then Rio parted her lower lips with his fingers and wiggled the tip of his tongue all over her damp, luscious flesh, lapping the champagne like a dog at a water bowl. Going for the overt and the outrageous, to show her he knew a few tricks, too.
Lola was quivering now, wiggling all over, which made it hard for him to hold his place. So he stuck his tongue up her. Closed his eyes and resonated with her low cries, urging her into a ste
ady rhythm with his thrusts.
She glanced down and thought, My God, if there was ever a more gorgeous sight, I hope I never see it.
His face caught the moon’s glow, and his closed eyes revealed long lashes that fluttered at the tops of those high cheekbones. His lips and tongue were in constant motion, tasting her and then creating suction against the tender, sensitive flesh there.
Rio felt the spasms beginning, deep inside her. He went after them, first with overt thrusts of his tongue flattened against her clit and then with a light flicking that avoided it.
“Please—Rio—just give it to me—”
Whatever Lola wants, he thought with a wicked grin. But how soon she got it was up to him, wasn’t it?
DeSilva sat back on his heels. Looked up at her as he lapped her honey from his mustache.
He was a cat licking his whiskers. A wildcat with eyes that glowed in the night, as they would glow in her dreams for months to come. So damned proud of himself for catching her off-guard this way—taking advantage of her naked state while not baring his own body. Just teasing her—bringing her to the edge and then backing away!
Grasping the crown of his head, Lola pressed his face to her flesh again. “Finish what you started, DeSilva. I’ll make you do this again and again, till you get it right.”
He needed a lesson, and she was just the one to teach him.
Rio moaned. Grabbing the halves of her ass, he thrust his tongue up her again, running it around her rim until he felt her quiver.
Her hand was still on his head but she’d speared her fingers into his hair. She sprawled back against the railing to open herself farther…to fully take what he was giving, like a cat stretched languidly to enjoy a belly rub. Lola’s moans told him she was well on her way, but in no hurry.
So he pressed upward, hard, covering her sensitive flesh with the flat of his tongue.
When he sucked her in, Lola convulsed. She was suddenly surging forward, crying out with the most exquisite, excruciating climax. It throbbed inside her like a beast trying to break free, banging and aching until—
She fell forward, so limp Rio had to catch her. She was vaguely aware that he lifted her up on his shoulder—slung her over his back like a caveman’s conquest—and she would’ve giggled if she’d had the strength. He lowered her onto the bed—that huge, beautiful, soft bed she sank into so blissfully—and then lowered himself for a kiss.
“DeSilva!” his walkie-talkie squawked from the living room. “Get yourself down here! Got footage you have to see!”
Rio grimaced. Being ordered away from this female by another one got on his nerves—especially since he was off duty. Lola wound her sweet arms around his neck, cooing contentedly, her eyes still unfocused.
“Goodnight, Lola mia,” he whispered.
He slipped out of her grasp, putting his finger to her lips when he saw the protest in her eyes. God, how he wanted to stay here right now!
Backing, backing—he fetched his walkie-talkie from the coffee table to squelch it, before the message came through any louder or clearer.
Then Rio leaned in to blow her another kiss, but Lola was sprawled loosely on the sheets where he’d left her. She was already asleep.
10
Lola felt giddy when she awoke, like a girl who’d crashed after an all-night prom date and the biggest night of her life. Still muzzy from sleep, but fully awake in her head, she began reliving Rio.
When had a man ever lavished such thorough attention on her, knowing exactly how she wanted to be kissed and caressed? And sucked. Oh Lord, how that man could suck! Knew exactly where and how, and with how much pressure.
And what a picture he’d made, on his knees, gazing up into her eyes, with her muff where his mustache should be. Rio Benito DeSilva had worshipped her with his hands and mouth and those golden eyes!
Lola knew now that she had to have that Spaniard. Had to make love—completely next time—to the most strikingly sensual man she’d ever met. Captain Scandalous be damned! Who needed an arrogant Greek sailor bossing her around? Telling her she could look but not touch. Could get all dressed up but have no place to go with him.
Far better just to loll in this soft, pillowy bed and let her mind drift back to the man who’d pleasured her so masterfully last night…and let her body drift back, too.
She awakened in all those places Rio had aroused. Usually finicky about feeling clean, Lola ignored the stickiness between her legs, postponing her shower to go over and over her balcony encounter, replaying all the best parts. The intense fizzzzzz of chilled champagne on her sensitive flesh…the urgency of Rio’s tongue as he guzzled and nuzzled her…the way he set aside his own pleasure to concentrate on hers.
When had that ever happened with a man?
She shifted, needy again. Too lazy and happy and rubber-muscled to get up for one of her toys—which, now that she thought about it, had been unpacked and put away somewhere by a total stranger, when she got moved to this room.
What an embarrassing—but kinky—thought! Which found her fingers riffling through the hair between her legs. That’s why God made arms exactly the right length, wasn’t it?
She let her thighs fall open, warming to fresh sensations. Rising to meet Rio’s needs in her fantasy, because this time he was naked and she was sucking—
“Sorry to interrupt, Priestess, but official business calls. Seems we have information about your runaway roommate.”
Yipping, Lola yanked her hand away. She whipped the sheet over herself, glaring at Aric. “You could’ve at least knocked, dammit!”
He shrugged, chuckling smugly.
She laid there with her pulse pumping, waiting for some sort of apology.
But it wasn’t coming. Cabana Boy stood lounging against the door jamb with that insolent, low-lidded smirk that reminded her why she’d never chased after younger men.
“The sooner you get ready, the sooner you see DeSilva again.”
Lola sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
“That’s what I figured.” Aric smiled slyly. “You might think about how much my silence is worth to you, Priestess. The captain won’t be happy if he finds out Rio’s getting a piece of you.”
She grabbed for the nearest thing—hurled the two wrapped truffles at him—but he dodged them and slithered away, his laughter lingering to taunt her. Bare-chested and slim-hipped, her keeper was way too cute—and cutthroat—for his own good.
When she finished showering and dressing, Lola found him stretched like a cat on her couch, catching a Playboy movie. He was wearing a loose tee-shirt and shorts now, nursing a bottle of imported beer as he polished off her truffles. Considering the crisp uniforms the rest of the staff wore, she found it odd that Aric got away with beach bum attire.
“I have special privileges,” was his only explanation as he escorted her into the elevator. “It’s not what you know, but who you know. You know?”
Lola rolled her eyes. This conversation was going nowhere she wanted to be. “So where are we? I noticed the ship wasn’t moving.”
Aric checked his watch, his movements unhurried as the elevator began its descent. “It’s Wednesday, November 9th, so this must be Caracas. Great place to catch some culture, they say.”
Culture. She’d planned to do a tour of some nobleman’s historic home here—until Fletch took his own little tour. She scowled at the thought of him, and how many fun things she’d forfeited for his foray in Aruba.
The steel door slid open and Lola stepped out first. The hallways down on this level were painted plain white—a stark contrast to the Caribbean colors and patterns up in the passenger areas.
When Aric gestured into a small office where security monitors lined one wall, she forgot about details of decor, however. Rio DeSilva sat at the desk, shrouded in the room’s dimness, his face alight with the unnatural glow of the monitors.
His expression was anything but overjoyed when he looked up at her. It was like they’d never met.
/> “Please have a seat,” he said, pulling up another chair. “We’ve put together some evidence that might help us with our case against Dennis Fletcher, and I thought you should see it. So you can make informed decisions, or press charges, or whatever.”
Lola’s spirits sank like the cushion when she sat down. Here she was with the man who’d had her screaming for it last night, alluding to pretty promises he might make—but reality was now about to smack her in the face. Rio DeSilva was the chief security agent, after all, and his cool demeanor and starched whites told her he was all about business now.
He dismissed Aric with a pointed look.
“Later, Priestess,” her warden murmured. “Keep me hot in your thoughts, got it? Oh—and don’t forget I still have your ring. Bet you’re real glad you left the real stone at home, considering all the other stuff Fletcher snatched.”
Her jaw dropped. “What do you mean—?”
Rio rose to close the door, scowling. What he didn’t need was that smart-aleck stirring up more hornets than they already had swarming right now.
“What was that about?” he asked when they were alone. He all too aware of how intimate this setting was—and that other staff members would think so, too.
Lola swallowed. And swallowed again. That queasy, nervous need for a cigarette was roiling her stomach. “Seems Stud Muffin feels it’s worth something, if he keeps quiet about what you and I did last night.”
“Yeah, he says that to all of Skorpio’s girls.” DeSilva dropped his weak attempt at humor to choose his words more carefully. “What’d he mean about your ring? That was an impressive diamond, as I recall.”
The tug-of-war on her face nipped at him. Lola was doing her damnedest to keep a stiff upper lip, her eyes distracted by the flickering images on the six security monitors.
“It slid around on my hand while we were dancing, so I stuffed it in his tux pocket,” she replied. “I don’t have a clue about leaving a stone at home, but if Aric thinks for one minute—”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, really sorry this new issue had come up. “Some wealthy ladies have fakes made of their valuable gemstones, to wear when they travel. That way if somebody steals—”
All Night Long Page 8
