Notorious in Nice

by Jianne Carlo

  The Glory’s horn sounded, once, twice, three times, and the ship rocked into motion, the sensation soothing, slumber-inducing. Su-Lin lifted one weary eyelid and met Terry’s passion-clouded eyes, noted the fine lines bracketing his wide smile, and her lips curved.

  “Why’re you smiling? I should be the one wearing that foolish grin.”

  “Because it’s my turn now, darlin’. We both get to finish.”

  Chapter Four

  The intercom on the far wall buzzed. “Terry, we need you in the engine room.”

  “Sod it,” he snapped. A ferocious scowl replaced the grin he’d worn a second earlier. Naked, cock aching, bollocks so tight that the bedsheets scraping against them tested his control, Terry stumbled over to the white square.

  He jabbed the intercom switch and snarled, “This better be good, boyo.”

  “Warning light on the cooling system. Should we head back? Or are you going to try and fix it?”

  “Head back. Find our regular engineer, have him fix the fricking thing, and don’t, under any circumstances, bother me for the next couple of hours.”

  He lifted his finger off the wide switch and glared at the device, willing Harry’s compliance.

  “A couple of hours?”

  His gaze snapped to the exotic beauty listing on unsteady elbows. Jaysus, she epitomized the perfect sex kitten, naked, unabashed, lips curling, one eyebrow lifted.

  “And then some.” Terry shook his head and jabbed one fist into his open palm relishing the stinging impact. Focus, focus. “We have a wee problem, Su-Lin, darlin’.”

  “We do?”

  “Your hymen’s not only intact, it’s…” he said, then paused, searching for the right words. “It’s more of a barrier than I had anticipated.”

  Her jaw dropped and a fierce rosy color flushed every inch of that delectable golden skin. Terry edged onto the mattress as she sat up and hugged a pillow against a taut belly. Unable to resist touching her, he traced a forefinger along the graceful curve of her neck and fingered one soft, plump earlobe. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “For the pleasure, you bear the pain,” she whispered and crushed the pillow against her stomach, pink hues flushing high cheekbones.

  “I’m a big man, everywhere.”

  “I can see that,” she said, those green eyes taking in the length of him, and damned if his prick didn’t lengthen and preen to her gaze, leaking a thick drop onto the white comforter.

  “Will you trust me to handle this?”

  Head tilted to one side, she replied, “I thought I’d already done that. Um, how can you tell?”

  She scrunched that pert little nose. White nose, eastern complexion, he thought, a trifle disconcerted by how endearing the gesture proved.

  “I couldn’t get a finger past it. I certainly didn’t expect this, not after seeing you do that split.”

  “Oh. Can we not talk about it? Can you not just do it?”

  “Sweet darlin’, you’re such an innocent.” Through hooded lids, he studied his little aphrodisiac and wondered if it was all a ruse, her wide-eyed trusting. But he knew better, and that intact hymen proved otherwise. His self-imposed restraint slipped as the lurid fantasies of three long days danced into his mind. She’d tasted better than he could ever have imagined, and when he’d fingered her, that tight little pussy had done a clench and jerk snatch around his lucky forefinger. He stopped caressing her ear and sucked the scent of her into his mouth.

  “I liked the way you tasted,” she said.

  “Jaysus, Su-Lin. You have no idea of the barbarian I am,” he said and held up one hand, index finger and thumb almost touching. “I am this far from throwing you onto your back and pounding into you. Caveman doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now.”

  She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they seemed greener than an Irish lawn after a fresh rainfall. “Why’re we talking about it? I’ve been dreaming of this for days, wondering what you’d feel like inside of me, if you’d fill me up so I never felt empty again.”

  “Stop, stop.” His balls slammed into his groin, and he had to grab the crown of his prick and squeeze like a bloody adolescent in the last throes of lust.

  Her expression morphed, going from dream-glazed to anxious, mouth pursed in a series of quick pants.

  “I did something wrong?”

  “Not you, darlin’,” he said and shook his head. “Me.” His fingers snagged on knots when he dragged them through his hair. “Let’s turn the heat down, until I have some semblance of control.”

  Terry tugged away the pillow, and she averted her eyes, focusing on his stubbled chin.

  Unable to resist holding her, feeling that soft, warm skin against him, he settled against the headboard and drew her into his lap. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

  She cupped a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t quite silence the startled gasp, and every muscle in contact with his body stiffened.

  “I don’t see why that matters.”

  Tracing the outline of her downturned mouth, he paused a second before responding. “You didn’t even know how to kiss. Was the last hour and that night at the cocktail reception the sum total of your sexual experience?”

  “Like I said, I don’t see why it matters, unless…” She nibbled a finger, and those jade eyes flicked in the general direction of his face. “You didn’t like it? I know you’re still like that and that must mean something.” Pointing at his erection, she continued, “But you fell asleep that other time on the boat. I’m not good at this, is that it?”

  He laughed so hard his lungs burned, and he had to swipe the tears off his cheeks with the back of one hand. Humor, the only way to tame his raging libido; who’d have figured? He never had fun in bed. Sex was a serious pursuit, a fevered, concentrated, mind-blowing pleasure.

  Once women saw the size of his cock, they knew what they were in for, bone-kindling penetration and earth-shattering orgasms. His stepmother had taught him well; the woman always comes first, second, third. She’d liked to be ridden for hours, wouldn’t let him come until he begged.

  Su-Lin tried to squirm off his thighs, but he squeezed her closer, one arm snug around her narrow waist. The scent of her pussy still lingered on his finger, and some of her honey creamed his thighs as her hips slid back and forth. He hadn’t gone down on a woman since his stepmother, hadn’t wanted to, not until he’d sighted Su-Lin’s pussy in the steam room. He fought the desire to bury his face between her thighs.

  “We’re talking about, as you sweetly said, ‘it,’ to calm me down. I’m randier than a fricking stallion. All I’ve thought about is burying myself inside this tight little glove.”

  Her breath hitched when his thumb circled said sheath, and she creamed, dew coating his finger.

  “You’re so damned responsive. See?”

  Rubbing the wet thumb over her small mouth, he ordered, “Open, taste yourself. Smell your little pussy. You did everything fricking right, darlin’, and you taste like nectar.”

  Pupils dilating, heated breath panting over his palm, gaze manacled to his, she touched the tip of that delectable tongue to the pad of his thumb.

  “You have me riding a thin wire. I don’t dare take you now.” Cupping his palms under her thighs, he lifted her and shifted onto his side, spooning her firm backside. “Bend your leg, that’s it. Christ, your pussy’s pretty. I’m going to ride your pussy lips, get you used to the feel of me. I want to make those pouty nipples bigger, pinker. Put your right arm around my neck, you’re going to need something to cling to.”

  Separating her folds, he eased his cock between her slickness and angled his thrusts so the head impacted her hooded nub. Suckling on one breast, he moistened the whole areola with long, rough licks and then softly grazed the wet button point.

  Her breath grew shallower, and she gasped, “Please, harder. Everything burns. Put it in, just a little, just enough.”

  “Jaysus,” he roared as his testicles contracted. “
Fricking come with me, darlin’.” His fingers found her clit and he worked it, rubbing, pinching until she clamped her thighs together, squeezing his cock, and he exploded and nipped the curve of her shoulder.

  Black-and-white stars dancing along his glazed pupils, Terry rested his forehead against her neck, lamenting the invisible force that had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, forcing him to gasp loud breaths. When his lungs settled from heaving to panting, he inhaled. Nothing perfumed a room sweeter than the pungent mixture of semen and pussy honey.

  Collapsing onto his back, Terry curved one arm over her shoulder and lifted her leg across his pelvis, caressing the firm curves of athletic thighs. Su-Lin’s long, silky hair streamed across his chest, and he twined the black locks between his fingers, combing through one section.

  “Terrence?”

  “Terry, darlin’.” Only his sodding father called him Terrence.

  “How far away is my aunt and uncle’s cabin? You were a bit noisy.”

  Her attempt to be diplomatic startled a guffaw out of him. “Every cabin on the Glory’s soundproof. I’m vocal when I come.”

  “You always roar?”

  “You screamed.”

  “I didn’t,” she squealed and shoved off his chest.

  “Oh, no.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Terrence. One looong scream. Very flattering.”

  “I’ll just die if my aunt or uncle heard.”

  “Not to worry, darlin’, they didn’t.”

  “The ship’s stopped moving,” she said and stretched one leg up to the ceiling. Pointing the toes, she curled long fingers around the ankle and brought the foot to her ear.

  His jaw dropped to China, and his eyes crisscrossed. A one-second-ago sated cock reared and began a pounding Riverdance against his belly.

  “Jaysus. Can you do that with both feet? At the same time?” Vivid, juicy images replaced lucid thought.

  “I’m very flexible,” she said and flashed him a glance from the corner of her eye, almost purring the words. “You saw me practice my routine on the beach.”

  “Show me. Christ, no. Don’t,” he growled and held up one hand. “Put your leg down and don’t do that again. Not until you can take me all the way at least three times a day. At that angle. Fricking hell, I’m hard again just thinking about it.”

  “Three times a day,” she repeated, obeying his command. She sat on her haunches, curled her toes into the mattress, rested her palms against the sheets, lifted her body, and hovered a couple of inches over the bed.

  “Show-off,” he muttered, eyeing those strong forearms. “One day, you have to do your routine for me, buck nekkid, darlin’.”

  “Terry.” The intercom buzzed again and Harry slurred the word a tad. “Dinner’s in half an hour. The aunt and uncle are headed down to Su-Lin’s cabin. Maybe you should warn her.”

  “Frick, well, there’s naught for it. Unless you want them knowing what we just did, you’d better get dressed, darlin’.” He hopped off the bed, stalked over to a floor-length narrow drape, and pulled it back to reveal a door. A quick twist of the handle opened the door to the adjacent room: hers. He sprinted across the cabin and twisted the lock shut.

  As he reentered the captain’s master, his little Asian bent over at the waist and picked up a garment. Terry paused, overcome with lust. Raking her sleek thighs and firm, contoured ass, he decided to find a way to extend their three-week cruise. Even if they went at it like rabbits, stealing every spare moment, Terry knew twenty-one days wouldn’t cut his hunger.

  Minutes later, he had Su-Lin ensconced in her cabin with mere seconds to spare. Mugging a grimace at the soiled comforter, he shook his head, more disconcerted than he cared to admit about his adolescent performance.

  What was it about this woman-child that had him shooting off at the slightest provocation?

  Mulling it over as he showered and dressed, Terry could come to only one conclusion: the virgin thing appealed, being first, being the only. Jaysus. He halted in midstride, the last thought too dangerous, too permanent for consideration.

  First things first: get rid of his father and brother. He hurried to the soundproofed media room he had designed, secured the door, and sat in the swivel leather chair custom-made for his large form. Using Skype, he dialed Geoff Stanford, his best friend, now the worst traitor on the face of the earth.

  “Why’d you do it?” he barked before Geoff could even speak. “Why’d you go along with the sodding bastard?”

  “Your twin’s sick, Terry. Thomas has a brain tumor, and the operation to remove it could kill him.”

  Nausea welled up his gullet, and he had to swallow a few times before his clogged throat cleared. Cancer. Thom. Sweat peppered his forehead.

  “Shite. Are you sure?”

  “I did a living will for him. You’re the one who decides when to turn off the machines, if he’s left brain dead.”

  Brain dead. The two words thrummed like Notre Dame’s bells in his ears.

  “Terry, you there?”

  He couldn’t focus. The moisture misting his eyes blurred the LCD screen.

  “I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure? It’s not a ruse?”

  “Not bloody likely, Terry. Get a grip. Would Thomas do that to you?”

  “He wouldn’t, but our prick of a father would.”

  “Your father doesn’t know about the tumor.”

  “What’s Thom’s prognosis, Geoff? Give it to me straight.”

  “As far as I know, the tumor’s operable, but he could lose some motor coordination and/or some brain functioning.”

  Seconds crawled by, and the words didn’t sink in but hovered like a thick veil obscuring any pretense at reason. “He’s come to say good-bye, hasn’t he?”

  “It’s what I would do. He asked me not to tell you, Terry.”

  “I can’t pretend not to fricking know.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever Thom wants. This is his call,” he replied, knuckling his throbbing temple. “I wish to hell my father wasn’t along for the fricking ride. Who is Thom’s doctor?”

  “A New York surgeon referred to by his UK consultant. As far as I know the operation’s in six weeks’ time.”

  “I punched him. I haven’t seen my brother in years. He comes to make peace. And what do I do? I deck him.” Remorse and disgust twisted his intestines into a daggered series of cramps. Terry gulped back bile.

  “Snap out of it. Thom doesn’t need you wallowing in self-pity.”

  “Too right. Let me call you back, Geoff. I’m sure I’ll have questions, but I need to digest this first.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  What a dysfunctional family he had, Terry thought, lips twisting into a sneer. Up until his thirteenth Christmas, life had been perfect. Unlike most aristocratic parents, his father and mother were deeply in love, and liberal with their affections. His mother followed Princess Diana’s creed believing children needed waterfalls of hugs and kisses.

  That fateful year, two days before Christmas, his mother developed a migraine headache and took to her bed. She died in her sleep on Christmas Eve. A brain tumor, they later discovered.

  He punched Redial.

  “That was quick.”

  “My mother died of a brain tumor. Is Thom’s condition hereditary?”

  “Haven’t got a clue. You’ll have to ask him. Are you worried for yourself?”

  “Fricking hell, no. It’s the good who die young. I’ll live to a ripe old age.”

  “You’re wallowing, Terry. Stop. You’re not the evil twin. There’s only one person to blame for your situation, and we both know who that is.”

  “And I’m the untarnished one in all this? No, Geoff, that won’t cut it. I’m as much to blame as my sick stepmother. We’ve had this argument one too many times. Later.”

  Terry clicked the mouse and clamped his lips together, fighting the urge to bellow and howl at
God, at fate, at himself. He thought of all the letters he’d started over the years during drunken bouts of self-pitying melancholy. Abject, apologetic missives to his twin that never saw a postmark.

  Thomas could die.

  And they’d spent more than a decade apart. Wasted years. He slapped the hard wooden desk, caught the sharp edge of it, and welcomed the pain. Once, he and Thomas had been so close, they could sit in silence in the same room for hours, and when one spoke, the other knew exactly what he would say. He wanted that intimacy back, wanted Thomas’s forgiveness, wanted to shed the self-loathing he’d worn for so long.

  What if Thom died?

  He clamped his eyelids shut, but moisture pooled out the corners anyway. Not going to happen, not if he had any say. His jaw working, Terry stabbed a brass letter opener into a fat Post-it pad, splitting it down the middle. For long moments, he stared at the yellow vulgarity, gathering self-control. He clicked the Call icon on the screen.

  “Can you forward the surgeon’s contact data?”

  “Already in your in-box. What are you going to do?”

  “Have him checked out. If Thom’ll let me.”

  “I ran him through our system. He’s clean, no security risks, no bad habits. Excellent reputation. I also sent you all the research I did after I met with Thom.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one. Out of curiosity, where is my dear stepmother?”

  “Tooling around the Far East. Last I heard she was in Singapore shopping.”

  “That bitch will outlive us all. Put a watch on her, Geoff. I don’t want her showing up and disturbing Thom at a crucial time. Too bad we can’t arrange a fatal accident.”

  “Don’t be an ass and don’t do anything rash. There’s a lot of room for a lifetime of regret with this situation.”

  “Too right.” Terry clicked off and ran the autoerase function, wiping out any trace of either call.

  Glancing at the LCD monitor, he noticed the time on the PC clock. Dinnertime. Tonight’s meal had been prepared by Monaco’s Hotel de Paris’s Grill Room restaurant and Austen, the bosun, had arranged for a buffet-style presentation. Terry heaved a hefty sigh, slid out of the chair, and headed toward the main deck.