The Black Sheep and the English Rose

by Donna Kauffman

  He grunted with the need to free himself, constrained as he was now to the point of serious discomfort, but unwilling to leave her long enough to take care of it. Instead, he dragged his mouth from hers, biting her chin, harder this time, then sliding his fingers between her lips to continue that wet invasion, his cock jerking as she immediately continued sucking on his fingers while he slid down to take a silk-covered nipple into his mouth.

  She moaned and arched into him, sucking his fingers deeper into her mouth. He flipped open the front clasp of the bra, needing to taste her like a man starved for food. Sweet, so damn sweet. He pushed both silky cups aside, rolling one nipple between his fingers while teasing the other with his tongue. She groaned and moved against him, her hips pressing up, pushing at him, demanding he push back.

  This, they knew how to do, this almost mindless need to mate, to join, to give and take pleasure. This they could give themselves over to completely. Actually, it was as if they almost didn’t have a choice in the matter. She pushed at him, and he moved downward, trailing his tongue along the delicate line of her abdomen as he slid his wet fingers out of her mouth and used them to continue teasing her nipples. He dipped his tongue into her navel, then along the lacy edge of her panty line. He could already breathe in the sweet scent of her and knew she’d be wet and wanting when he finally worked his way there.

  He slid his hands along her waist, lifting her hips so he could press his mouth against the damp silk covering her. She sucked in her breath on a little gasp, then moved beneath him. He knew just how wet she would be, just what it would feel like to sink into her, to feel her take him all the way in, holding him so tightly, so perfectly. He thought he might burst behind the zipper of his pants, but he wasn’t about to leave her now. He knew that if he pleasured her this way, brought her screaming right to the edge, then pushed her over, let her tumble, fall, regroup, then pushed her over again, even when she thought she couldn’t, when he climbed up over her body and thrust himself into her, she’d keep coming, and the way her body would grip and convulse around him in an almost constant roll of aftershocks would jerk him so hard and fast over the edge he’d see stars.

  Mindless. Primal. Basic. Essential. That was what this was.

  And yet he wanted so much more.

  And he planned to push and push plenty hard. But right now, the only thing he was going to push hard was his tongue. Right into the wet, hot center of her.

  He slid his hands down, taking her panties with him, all the way down and off, trailing his tongue along the inside of her thigh, the back of her knee, the sensitive spot below her ankle. He yanked off his shirt and, finally, blessedly freed himself of his pants, while nipping the side of her toe, biting her arch, making her squeal and laugh. Then he teased his way back up the inside of her other leg, making her gasp and moan. She was twisting now, writhing as he drew closer, and closer still, panting, knowing what was coming. He wondered if it made it twice as good for her, already knowing how fantastic, how deeply, insanely pleasurable it was going to be. It did for him.

  And it was the knowing, the wanting, that made it possible for him to take his time, when all he wanted was to climb over her and slide back into the one place he’d wanted to be since the moment he’d left her two years ago.

  If this was the only way to get to her, to get to any part of her, then he was going to get to all of it that he could. And that meant taking his sweet time. Knowing the reward that awaited them both made that an easy decision to make. He pressed the throbbing length of his erection into the bedspread, accepting what little friction he could get there as a means to assuage the ache, at least a little. Then he focused his attention on her, and only her.

  He nudged her legs a bit farther apart, then dropped the softest of kisses along the inside of each thigh, so close, but not brushing against where she wanted him most. He felt her fingers twine into his hair, playing with it, toying with the ends, sending little skitters of pleasure through him, but not directing him or pushing him, trusting that he’d take care of her. He pressed a kiss against her soft curls, then slowly, gently drew the tip of his tongue downward. Her hands dropped away, clutching instead at the bedspread on either side of her body as he continued to play, teasing her with his tongue until she was twisting beneath him, then finally sliding one finger inside of her as he suckled and toyed some more. He pushed her to the edge with long, slippery strokes, both with his finger and his tongue, until she finally couldn’t hold back any longer and went shuddering and moaning over the edge.

  He had to press his hips firmly into the mattress to keep his twitching cock still, gritting his teeth as he slid his thumb over her and kept her vibrating, fighting against the need to climb up and take her now, while she was still quaking. Instead, he started all over again, kissing softly, teasing gently, even more so now as she was twitchy and pulsing. She didn’t push him away, but steeled herself against his touch, so ultrasensitive now that the slightest brush of any part of him against her was almost too much. But he took his time, and she slowly relaxed and began to climb again. When he slid his finger inside her this time, he had to swallow a groan of need, so badly did he want to be there right now. He thrust gently into her, pushing up just enough to hit that other spot inside her, so sensitive, all the while kissing, teasing, tasting, until she cried out as her hips jerked almost violently off the bed. He stayed with her until she was just past the peak, then finally, almost shakily, climbed over her and pulled her calves around his waist, lifting her hips completely off the bed, then thrusting into her so hard it drove them both half a foot up the mattress.

  She cried out, and he grunted as she took him, held him, moved beneath him, matching him stroke for stroke as she continued to pulsate and shudder around him. He had no recourse, no way to stop the climax rushing to overtake him, and didn’t even try. She sank her nails into his back, her heels digging into his lower back as he came with a long, jerking groan. It was as if he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t pour enough of himself into her. It was beyond seeking physical pleasure and well into some sort of primal mating ritual. Earthy, essential, basic. With her.

  He idly thought about the bag. He’d actually thought to buy condoms. Just in case. In Bogota, they’d taken care to protect each other, as they had in Prague. At first anyway. But their joinings had been so fierce and so frequent, they’d eventually found any barrier between them to be too much. They’d shared so little of themselves except the physical, but they’d talked then, and he’d learned that she was protected, and healthy, as was he, so they’d decided to trust each other enough to continue without any barrier between them. As he lay almost trembling on top of her now, so thoroughly spent he couldn’t imagine lifting much more than his head at the moment, he could only hope nothing had changed in the past two years, or that she’d have warned him otherwise.

  He shifted off of her, rolling to his side and pulling her with him. Cuddling wasn’t something they’d done much of—any of, really. They’d usually just lain there gasping. Then one of them would get up to use the bathroom, and things would usually commence again in the shower, and on it went until they collapsed and slept. There had been laughter among the gasps and moans, and they’d been by turns playful and forceful, animal and reverent, but at the core of it was pleasure seeking. And only that.

  This time it was different. For him, anyway.

  She shifted a bit, and he thought she was pulling away, but realized she was simply shrugging out of her open bra and dress. Still, once she was done, she didn’t seem to have a really clear idea of how to move into his arms.

  So he rolled to his back and tugged her to his side, pulling her arm across his chest, nudging her leg over his. She tentatively laid her head on his shoulder, which made him laugh. So confident a lover, and yet so unsure of herself as a partner in other ways. She propped her chin on his chest and looked at him. “What’s funny?” she asked, only partly able to hide her dismay.

  He smoothed the damp tendr
ils of hair from her temple, then traced his fingers over her cheekbones and along the side of her chin, ending by drawing his fingertip across her bottom lip, pressing slightly in the center. “Not funny, endearing. There’s a difference.”

  She nipped at his fingertip. “Endearing, am I?”

  She started to pull away, but he held her tightly against him. “Immensely.”

  She didn’t struggle, but didn’t relax entirely against him, either. It was as if she was prepared to spring into action, if necessary, at any moment. So, she was already back at work, or at least part of her was. He supposed he shouldn’t let it bother him, as it was a bit selfish of him to expect her to give all of herself instantly, but it did, a little bit, anyway. He was on a mission, as well, but at that very moment, there was nothing either of them could do, and it was the last thing on his mind. He supposed she might be thinking of him as part of her mission, which bothered him even more. He didn’t think she had that in her. As femme fatale as she was in bed with him, and as confident as she was in handling herself in pretty much any situation—dinner with Reese came to mind—it wasn’t such a stretch to think she could.

  But he’d seen glimpses of the other part of her. The part that had a hard time simply laying her head down on her lover’s shoulder. An accomplished seductress wouldn’t have blinked at that sort of intimacy, knowing it for what it was, using it to get closer at a time when her partner would be his most vulnerable.

  Perhaps she was worried he was trying to do the same. That this whole thing had been a ruse on his part.

  Instinctively reacting to that notion, he lifted his head and tugged hers closer, so he could kiss her. And not for a reassuring peck on the lips. He kissed her once, gently, but firmly, then again, more slowly, softly, until she finally unbent enough to relax against him slightly. “I know you have no reason to trust me,” he murmured against the side of her cheek, keeping her nestled closely, “but my intentions are sincere in this. I’m not playing you. I couldn’t.”

  She shifted, so that their noses bumped, before pulling back just enough to look at him, but not enough, he noticed, so that she wasn’t still tucked under the crook of his arm, leg casually hooked over his. “Isn’t that precisely what someone trying to play me would say?”

  There was amusement in her tone, and in her eyes, but along with that humor was trepidation, whether she thought he could see it or not.

  “You could have a point.” He rolled to his side, tipping her to her back, but keeping their legs entwined as he propped his head on his hand. “So, how do I prove to you that I mean what I say?”

  “You don’t,” she said. “I simply have to decide to trust you, or not. Then, time, I suppose, would tell, which is a commodity we don’t really have.”

  “Felicity—”

  She pressed a finger across his lips. “I do believe you mean what you say. It’s just…the rest of the situation we find ourselves in isn’t exactly conducive to trust or foundation building.” She pressed her finger harder against his lips when he tried to interrupt. “Allow me to have my say.” He smiled against her finger, then pulled the tip between his teeth for a gentle nip. She slipped her finger free, but was smiling even as she admonished him. “Play fair.”

  “I always do. But that doesn’t mean I won’t press my advantage when and where I can. I go after what I want, Felicity Jane.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek, pushed at the hair on her forehead.

  Her eyes darkened, and he noted the light quiver of her chin as she took a steadying breath. “As do I,” she said, somewhat shakily. “What bothers me is how your sense of fair play is going to work once we’re in San Francisco, when what we both want is a certain priceless gemstone. What do you do when presented with one want versus another?”

  He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him, making her squeal in surprise. He laughed, and kissed her soundly, then rolled her to her back and kissed her again. She was pushing at his shoulders, but she was laughing. And she was kissing him back. “Off me, beast,” she said, still laughing as he finally pulled away from her. “I call not fair using distraction techniques to avoid answering difficult questions.”

  “You’re right. All I can do is ask you to trust me. And to think, perhaps, a bit more broadly where solutions to problems are concerned.”

  “We’re hardly going to cut the gemstone in half.”

  “Hardly,” he said, in a good imitation of her accent.

  She swatted at him, but he was happy to see that humor was still the basis of her actions. Not that she wasn’t still wary, but she was relaxed, playful, and willing to tackle the subject rather than simply pass judgment.

  “Come here,” he said, pulling her back into his arms.

  “You think I’ll give it to you, don’t you?” she asked, allowing him to tuck her under his arm again. He noted she settled far more naturally against him, her head resting easily on his shoulder this time. He wondered if she even realized it.

  “I think no such thing. But I do think there is a possibility for an outcome to this that would satisfy us both.”

  “You do, do you?”

  He tipped up her chin and kissed her, gently but firmly, all playfulness gone. “Yes,” he said, lifting his head and looking into her eyes. “I do.”

  “And what, pray tell, is your grand scheme?”

  He started to tell her, when the plane hit an air pocket and quite suddenly dropped and jerked hard to the side. They clutched at each other and did their best not to roll to the floor. Before they could do much more than regroup and resettle, they hit another pocket, then another.

  “Well,” Finn said, holding her tightly against him and trying to brace them both in the center of the bed, “this could have been really interesting if it had come about twenty minutes earlier.”

  “Indeed,” she said, then clung to him again when the plane shook once more.

  Captain Steve’s voice came over the intercom next to the door. “I suppose it goes without saying that we’ve run into a bit of turbulence. Might be a good idea to strap yourselves back into your seats. I’ll give you an all clear as soon as I can get us out of this. Shouldn’t be longer than fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  Finn looked at Felicity, then scanned the small bedroom to where their clothes were scattered literally everywhere. “I’m not sure which is more dangerous, staying here and holding on for dear life, or trying to get dressed so we can go out to our seats in the main cabin.”

  The plane dipped again, and her nails dug into his arms. “You have a point.”

  He pinned her to the bed, grinning. “Well, I could, if we had a little bit more time.”

  “Very amusing,” she said, but didn’t push him off of her. Probably because the weight of him would keep her in place. “What do we do?”

  “We could wrap ourselves in the sheets, toga style.”

  “I’m not going toga style in front of Captain Steve, regardless that I’m quite certain he didn’t think we were back here playing gin rummy. I don’t care which team he plays for.”

  “Okay, okay. Follow me,” he said as another idea formed. He slid from the bed to the floor, then shifted around so his back was to the wall by the door and braced his feet against the bolted frame of the bed. He reached out his hand to her. “Come on.”

  She was lying flat on her stomach, clutching at the bedspread. “I’m afraid my legs won’t reach from there to—”

  He wiggled his fingers. “Grab a hold.”

  She did, just as the plane rocked again, sending her off the bed and sprawled across his lap with a bit more force than he’d expected.

  “Sorry,” she said as he grunted on impact.

  “Don’t,” he said as she tried to scramble off of him. “Come here. Turn around.”

  “Finn, this is hardly the time for some kinky new position—”

  “I know, but keep it in mind, will you?” He gripped her hips and turned her so she straddled his lap, facing away from him. “I’ll hold you,
and you lean over and drag our clothes over here. I’ll brace you while you dress. I can stay braced between the wall and the frame of the bed.”

  “What about you?”

  He grinned. “I’ll be okay. Just—” He groaned a little as she leaned forward to reach for her dress and bra, which had the unfortunate—at least at the moment—result of pressing her backside snugly against his belly, and the rest of her…He tried not to think about it, or he’d never get his pants on again. “Grab it,” he managed, sighing in relief when she snagged her dress. The bra remained out of reach.

  “This will do for now,” she assured him. “But how do I get from here to the main cabin? Crawl?”

  The plane jerked and dipped again, making him clutch her tightly against his chest. “You know,” he whispered in her ear, “if there was even a little predictability to this, it could be fun.”

  She snorted at that, but didn’t refute it, then dragged her dress on and began buttoning it as fast as she could, before the plane took yet another short drop. But she also wiggled her hips a little on purpose as she slid it down over her body, and he heard the little laugh when he bucked instinctively against her.

  “You just wait,” he warned her. “Keep playing.”

  “And you’ll what?” she tossed back over her shoulder.

  The plane rocked. He held her against his chest and cupped her breasts with his palms, through her dress. “I’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

  She gasped, and swayed just a little, and he wished like hell Steve would call the all clear. They didn’t have much time, and he knew he still needed to check in to see what Rafe might have dug up, as well as form a more specific plan for after they landed. He wondered what would have happened if he’d been able to keep Felicity here longer, if they could just fly in circles, where there was no chance of her leaving in the middle of the night, where she’d have to confront what was developing between them. And though it had been explosive sex, just as it had been before, there were nuances now, complexities, things that hadn’t colored their time together in the past. And he was quite certain he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.