My Faire Lord: A Renaissance Flair - Book 1

by C. A. Storm

  She soon found herself in the middle of the very appropriately named line dance known as the Tush Push, trying not to cackle like a hyena high on laughing gas, with Athena and Raven flanking her and likewise wiggling their asses. Considering Athena was a toothpick, and had a flat ass, she was the source of much ribbing.

  “Come on, girl,” Sam crowed, “Shake that money-maker!”

  “Want some ass, sweetie? I’ve got plenty,” Raven laughed and butt-bumped Sam, “Here, Sam, pass it down!”

  Giggling, Sam made to do just that when her butt was suddenly intercepted. She gasped as a large, warm hand curled around her waist and splayed over her stomach as a tall, muscular body molded itself against her back, falling into step with her smoothly. Just as she was about to elbow the jerk, a husky voice murmured warmly against her ear, “Bon nuit, Mademoiselle Kelly. May I have this dance?”

  About damn time! Sam thought as her body instinctively curled into Rik’s larger one. Ducking her head to hide her sudden grin, Sam replied in a haughty tone, “Well, Mr. Leon, it’s a line dance. That sort of implies we’re supposed to be dancing on our own.”

  Rik’s other hand curled around her waist, nestling her rounded ass into his groin, where it felt like a lead pipe was digging into her body. Oh my, she thought as a flutter thrummed in her stomach, and the mark that curved around her breast seemed to spark with static. Feeling her nipples harden against her bra, Sam inhaled sharply as she leaned her head back against his shoulder and let him guide her.

  Rik guided her through the movements of the line dance, matching her step-for-step so that she ground her rear into his groin with every thrust of her hips, and turning the fun-loving dance into a more intimate bump-and-grind. It was nearly pornographic, and Sam had to clench her inner thighs when she heard his husky groan against the top of her head.

  When the dance ended, Rik spun her in her arms so he could look down at her, keeping her curvy frame flush against his athletic one. With his white Stetson shadowing his gold-flecked jade eye and a wicked grin curving his lips, he leaned forward and whispered, “Sorry, ma petite flamme, but if you would grace me with another dance, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  Fucker, he’s using the French! That’s cheating! Sam thought, even as her hands came to rest on his rather impressive biceps. She totally now understood just why Morticia Addams went weak whenever Gomez got all linguistic. Looking into those gleaming eyes of his, Sam caught the glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her shoulder while his other large hand wrapped around hers.

  “Two-stepping is easy,” Rik promised, “Just follow my lead. It’s two steps with your right, then a single step with your left.” He showed her, using his arms to gently lead her, giving her some space so she could look down and watch their feet.

  Risking a glance up at him over the rim of her glasses, Sam caught her breath. He was breath-taking, a gentle smile curving his lips, his eyes fairly glowing with warmth and a healthy dose of lust as they traveled over her body. Even his aura seemed to wrap around her, the golden mist stroking tenderly over her flesh, a second embrace.

  When she accidentally trod on his foot—they were huge fucking gunboats…totally not her fault—Sam tore her eyes away from him as he laughed softly, a low, deep sound. “You’re getting it,” he said huskily. “Here, let me make it a little easier.”

  His large hand slid down her spine, curling around the small of her back as he nestled her against his chest. Sam bit back a moan as she felt her breasts press against the hard, hot body contained within the silk shirt, and the scent of his faint cologne—woodsy, citrusy, with a faint sweet musk that made her want to lick him—curled up inside of her senses. With a powerful thigh wedged between her legs, he half-carried her as he pulled her up against him, holding her not insignificant weight up as if she were as light as air, as he guided her around the floor.

  With Sam’s cheek resting against his chest, she could hear his thunderous heartbeat racing, feel the swell of his solid pecs with every deep breath he took, and when he softly began crooning along to Brett Young’s “In Case You Didn’t Know,” she could hear the words thrumming through him and into her.

  Okay, maybe country music isn’t so bad, Sam thought wistfully as she closed her eyes and swayed along with the music. Held firmly in his warm embrace, with one hand hooked on the waistband of his jeans and the other held against his heart, Sam relaxed. Her body went languid, her heartbeat synching with his as the warmth of his body seeped into hers, she lost herself in a world with just the two of them. No concerns, no worries, just two hearts melding into a single, sweet melody.

  When the song drew to an end, Sam reluctantly pulled herself away from Rik’s warmth, instantly feeling a sense of loss that drove deep into her chest. Resisting the urge to shiver, she instead looked up and met his heated eyes. “Thank you…for the dance lesson.” Curse it, she could feel the blush creeping up from her breasts all the way up to her cheeks. Damn genetics!

  Rik’s grip on her hand kept her from drawing away. “Please,” he whispered, “would you…” Suddenly, the arrogant prick, the billionaire known as the Big Bad Boss Man, looked uncertain, almost afraid. Of her. He cleared his throat, giving his head a quick shake, before he managed a sheepish grin. “Uh, would you sit with me for a while?” he clarified, his eyes widening and looking panicked, “And talk, just talk. I want to get to know you better, Ms. Kelly.”

  Okay, she had gotten all the mileage out of that she was going to get, Sam thought ruefully as she considered his handsome face. With his white cowboy shirt, his white Stetson, his golden hair and brilliant eyes, he was the epitome of the White Knight some little girls dreamed of. Alas, she had been one of those! Finally, feeling she had tortured him enough, Sam relented, barely able to hold back a full grin as she said, “Sure, Mr. Leon. And please, call me Sam.”

  Chapter 18

  Rik had his anam cara in his arms. Finally. With her cheek resting against his chest, he clutched her right hand over his heart while his rested at the small of her back. The feel of her full, heavy breasts riding up against his abdomen had him biting back a pleased growl, and he was quite glad her body and flowing skirt hid what was sure to be a rather obvious erection.

  Never in his long life had his dick been so engorged, so heavy and aching with the need to bury itself within someone and mark them with his very essence. He could feel the weeping soaking into his boxer briefs, and he was half-afraid he was going to soak through even the thick denim of his jeans. He was rather glad of the low light in here, and for the crowd, since it would mask the scent of his arousal from the heightened senses of the Uncanny.

  When Sam had hooked her fingers in the tight waistband of his jeans, at the base of his spine, Rik stiffened, a shiver racing up his body from the contact. Fuck, he thought, I’m about to embarrass myself like a teenager at this rate. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the song, and began crooning to his cara, a love song written not by him, but one more heartfelt than she probably realized.

  As the song came to an end, and he felt Sam slowly pull back from him, Rik muffled a growl of disappointment. When she smiled up at him with a shy tilt to her head and a faint blush staining her cheeks, he wanted to lean in and kiss every one of those freckles that dusted her face.

  “Thank you…for the dance lesson,” she said in that low, husky voice that went straight to his dick.

  Rik kept his hold on Sam’s hand, preventing her from pulling away. Reaching out, he tilted her head up with a finger gently tracing her jaw. “Please,” he whispered, “would you…” he suddenly stammered, feeling unsure. It was definitely too soon to drag her back to his room and have his wicked way with her, right? Right! “Uh, would you sit with me for a while? And talk, just talk. I want to get to know you better, Ms. Kelly.”

  His heart was lodged in his throat as Sam stared up at him with a cool, considering expression. Finally, after an eternity, she nodded and gave him a half-smile,
“Sure, Mr. Leon. And please, call me Sam.”

  Rik grinned. He couldn’t stop himself. He was sure he looked demented, because his cheeks certainly hurt from the ear-to-ear grin on his face. Giving her hand a warm squeeze, he tucked it into the crook of his right arm before he swept a grand bow, “Then, m’lady Sam, shall we?”

  Leading her off the dance floor, Rik ignored greetings from familiar faces, ignored the smirks he caught from his youngest sister and her friends, he even ignored the glower that Bertie was sending his way, although he made a mental note of it—and was glad that Bertie was rather firmly gay, and had been for longer than even Rik had been alive, otherwise they’d have to have a little discussion about him hanging around Rik’s anam cara.

  Finding a small, semi-private table, Rik held out the chair for Sam and got her settled before he took the seat across from her. Needing to maintain some kind of contact with her, Rik held out his hand, holding his breath as she eyed the proffered limb. When she placed her pale, small hand in his, he curled his fingers around hers as he released his breath on a smile.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Rik asked quietly, just loud enough for her to hear over the music, thankful the table he had found was partially screened by a wall that helped cut the music to an acceptable buzz.

  Flashing him a grin, Sam shrugged, “I was just having a few pints, but should probably switch over to water.”

  With a chuckle, Rik nodded, “Sounds good.” He waved over one of the bar’s serving staff, a cute, perky waitress wearing the saloon’s t-shirt and a pair of jeans. When she left to go grab them a couple of waters, Rik gently rubbed his thumb in small circles along the palm of Sam’s hand.

  Attention once more turned back toward Sam, Rik offered a small half-grin. “First, and I know it’s late, I need to apologize for our first meeting. You didn’t catch me at my best, but that’s no excuse. It was unprofessional.”

  Smirking, Sam gave him a look over her glasses, once more very much the school teacher scolding a student, as she replied, “You’re only sorry that you got caught.”

  Rik shrugged his broad shoulders and tilted his head, “Partially, and partially it’s the fact that you’re a beautiful woman and not the smarmy conman I thought you’d be.” He held up a finger, halting Sam’s retort as the waitress returned with their bottles of water. Opening one for Sam, he offered it to her before he took his own and took a deep gulp.

  Rik bit back a grin, seeing the growing urge to retort building in Sam, even as she took her own sip of water—a bit more dainty about it than he was. While she was drinking, he continued, “But regardless of the reasons, I am sorry about it. I’d say let’s pretend it never happened and start over, but something tells me that I need to let you make that decision.”

  “You’re damn right,” Sam muttered as she twisted the lid back on her water. She glared at him for a few moments before she angrily waved her hand between them. “Stop giving me that look!”

  “What look?” Rik asked innocently, his eyes wide, his lower lip pouting.

  Pointing, Sam growled, “That look! That’s cheating!”

  Unable to hold back the laughter, Rik caught her pointing finger and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the tip of her index finger. “I’ll be honest,” he whispered in a low, purposefully husky tone, “When it comes to you, I cannot promise to play fair.”

  Clearing her throat, Sam nodded, “That sounds fair.” Damn, that voice of hers drove him crazy. Naturally low and husky, when she felt a bit flustered or aroused, it gained the slightest hint of vibrato. He wondered what she’d sound like first thing in the morning, after she had screamed his name when he made her come on his tongue. Fuck, there goes my dick again.

  Giving the tip of her finger a quick flick with the tip of his tongue, he grinned and lowered her hand back to the table, still keeping it trapped within his grip. “Then you’ll forgive me?”

  “Yes.” Sam blinked, then scowled, “Tricksy bastard!”

  “I did warn you,” Rik laughed, tilting the brim of his hat back as he ducked his head in a nod of acknowledgement. “But merci, thank you, sweet Samantha, for your kindness.”

  Tugging her hand free, Rik reluctantly released his grip, as Sam slumped back in her chair and pouted. He would die before he told her that crossing her arms beneath her breasts was an acceptable alternative to holding her hand, especially when it gave him the chance to ogle those beautiful orbs, presented so lovingly by the cut of her dress.

  Catching the faint hint of what looked to be a tattoo beneath the black sweater she wore over her dress, Rik narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully as he tilted his head to try and get a better glimpse. Perhaps a bit too obviously, however, as Sam huffed and jerked her sweater closed as she tossed him a withering glare.

  “Obvious much?”

  “Cherie, even dead, I would not be able to resist looking at you,” Rik replied with utmost honesty.

  “You are such a guy!” she muttered, though Rik caught the twitch of her lips as she glanced away, picking up her water to take another drink.

  “Yes, I am,” Rik said smugly, “Would you want me any other way?”

  Glancing at him through the corner of her eye, Sam pursed her lips and sighed heavily. “No, probably not. Despite the fact you’re a big prick, you can be rather charming.”

  He wouldn’t touch that big prick comment. Really, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That would be wrong. “Ah cherie, I hope you’ll be happy with just how big it really is.” Okay, so he did go there.

  Sam exploded in laughter. Great, heaving peals that drew a laugh from him as he watched her. Rik could spend the rest of his life making her laugh like that, and he’d consider it a life well lived. He finally understood the bond between his grandparents, and even his parents with their less traditional arrangement, even if he still refused to ever think of any of them having sex. Ever.

  Suppressing a shudder, Rik said to his amused cara, “Okay, that was inappropriate.”

  Waving her hand, Sam nodded as she giggled, “Especially if you’re going to be my employer.”

  Nope, not tonight! Not discussing that tonight, at all! Rik thought as he desperately changed the subject, trying to sound casual as he asked, “So, Sam…ignoring all things business related, since that only seems to ever get me in trouble with you…” If she only knew. “I want to get to know you better. Please, tell me the Story of Sam. I want to hear everything.” He paused, thoughtful for a moment, before he held up a finger, “But I reserve the right to hunt down any men you may or may not have been intimate with.”

  With another laugh and shrug, Sam relaxed back in her chair and said, “Sure, why not. But I reserve the right to provide you with addresses and video evidence of any possible hunting that may ensue.”

  Rik’s grin was downright feral as he nodded, “Deal.” Signed, sealed, and soon to be delivered, he thought smugly.

  Chapter 19

  Sam had no idea how long the two of them sat there and just talked. It was surprisingly easy to talk to Rik, to tell him about her family. She told him about her parents, Seamus, a retired Marine who now worked as a Forest Ranger, and her mother, Rebecca, who currently taught Botany at UW. She told him about her brothers: Brian, the eldest and currently a Navy SEAL; Dillon, a Seattle cop; and Patrick, the artist. She even explained how she had dodged having a more traditional Irish name because Sam had been named after her mother’s best friend, who had introduced Becky and Seamus in high school, but who had died tragically young due to a drunk driver.

  She had even regaled Rik with some of her glorious, and not-so-glorious, moments of dealing with three rambunctious older brothers, who both tormented her mercilessly and spoiled her rotten as she had grown up in their shadow. By the time her father had retired from the Marines, she had been the only one still at home with both her parents, and had been the only one to truly inherit their mutual love of the outdoors.

  The story of her first crush—a friend of
her oldest brother, a jock who had gone on to play professional football—earned her a raised eyebrow, but Sam reassured Rik that between her very Roman Catholic mother, a Marine Drill Sergeant of a father, and three older brothers, her virtue had remained intact well until she had gone to college at Oregon State. She admitted to dating a few guys while at OSU, but refused to divulge just who she had lost her virginity to, simply stating that it had been “pleasant.”

  “Pleasant?” Rik had snorted, shaking his head in bemusement as his thumb continued to trace small circles along her hand, which he had reclaimed while she had been distracted talking. Sneaky. “Cherie, pleasant is just a polite way of saying boring.”

  His smirk had faded when Sam pointedly commented that her love life had gotten much less boring after college, but she once more glossed over the details. She definitely didn’t want to hear any about his love life. She could imagine, given some of the things she’d heard from Gen and Clara, and the thought of him with another woman brought out the Irish in her.

  Finally, Sam said, “During my senior year, I interned with Wylde Industries, where I met 'The Bastard,' fell in love, got hired, enjoyed a few years of working my way to the Director of Projects, then got shafted in the not-happy-fun way last year.” She shrugged, slipping her hand from Rik’s as she glanced away. “You pretty much know the rest. Now I’m here.”

  “Tell me about 'The Bastard,'” Rik sounded perfectly calm when he asked that, but from the corner of her eye, Sam caught sight of his aura. Normally, it was sunlight on steel, warm and inviting, but now it glinted dangerously, as if forged into blades of raw light that danced around him in a dizzying display of beautiful but violent flashes.

  Taking her glasses off, Sam rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “No,” she said finally, settling her glasses back on and turning to look into Rik’s preternaturally calm face. Yeah, she wasn’t buying that. “He’s in the past, and I plan on keeping him firmly entrenched there. Buried. Deep. He betrayed me, and I’ll never forget that.” Sam shrugged and gave a small smile, “You know how the Irish are. We’ll carry a grudge for generations.”