A Very Ruby Christmas

by Lavinia Kent

  A light chuckle. “Now, that’s an idea. I have certainly heard some delicious stories about the things they will do that English girls, even my girls, will not. But, no, something much more simple.”

  He considered but found no answer.

  “I am a gift. I know I should wait until Boxing Day, but I find myself impatient—and time is of the essence.”

  “A gift? I must admit I like the idea, but I am not sure I understand.”

  “What is there not to understand?” She looked down, letting her eyes travel the length of her body, inviting his to follow. “I would think it was pretty clear.”

  “I suppose, and I do not wish to sound rude or ungrateful, but don’t I already have you?” And he allowed his eyes to follow, although they did seem to become rather stuck on her breasts once again.

  —

  Ruby pulled in a breath, letting her chest rise. Yes, he definitely was savoring his favorite piece of her anatomy, but still he did not move toward her. Her hands pressed upon the pillows as she rose to her elbows. “Do you want to talk now or after? I confess I had thought that the discussion would come after…”

  Now he did step forward, bending to kneel in the pile of pillows so that his weight pressed down upon them. “I wanted to be sure that I understood—”

  “What is there to understand?” Ruby licked her lips, inviting his gaze to rise to her mouth.

  “I cannot help it that I am a simple man, and you are most definitely a complicated woman.” He shifted and began to crawl toward her across the pillows.

  “Is that how you see yourself, as simple?” Ruby asked, trying to hold back the laughter that rose within her. Derek was anything but simple.

  He knelt upright, staring down at her. “And do you not see me that way?”

  “Would a simple man have been able to understand everything that I am? Would a simple man have decided to take the most illustrious madame in London to wife? Would a simple man be able to manage half the deals and cargoes and negotiated shipments that you do?”

  He sat back on his feet, his face drawn with contemplation. “I still consider myself simple. I certainly do not have complicated desires.”

  Now, that was perhaps true, although perhaps she was taking it more literally than intended. The man liked a good fuck. He had no need for anything more complex than that. He was happy to indulge her fantasies, but she sometimes wondered if he dreamed of anything beyond a firm breast and a wet cunny. “We are talking again,” she murmured.

  His eyes had fastened on her breasts once more. He reached out and drew a finger from tip to tip. “I was not the one who started to make this so complex.” He reached down and, in a single movement, pulled his shirt over his head.

  God, she loved his chest, so wide and strong, the sparse covering of hair, all man. It was her turn to reach out and caress his hard muscles, letting herself relish the feel of him beneath her hands. So, so big and broad. She always felt dainty and feminine when he held her. “Hmmm, I will have to see if I can distract us both.” She rose up and placed a wet kiss just above his navel, and then another.

  He twisted slightly and pulled back from her. She was about to protest when she heard the thud of one boot hitting the floor and then the other. His trousers followed quickly.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” he asked.

  “I was just thinking of all the men I’ve known who like to remain half dressed while their women are naked. They seem to find power in a pair of boots, but you—you always get naked as fast as possible.”

  “I wouldn’t say always. I’ve certainly done my share of fucking with my breeches still on, but I do like skin on skin best. Why risk having clothing interfere?”

  She chuckled. “That makes perfect sense to me. And I must admit I like your skin.” She reached forward again and ran a finger from the middle of his chest, down over his navel, and then let it trace the dragon, pausing just above where the hair at his groin began to thicken. She paused, staring down at his large cock, the dragon full and ready to pounce. “And other parts of you.” She let her finger wander lower, drawing a line up his length and then back again.

  His muscles tensed and released as she moved. She circled the tip and then leaned so that she could reach farther, tracing the vein down the underside to cup his balls.

  A shudder raced through his body, but then he caught her hand, stopping her play. “It seems that you are trying to make me your present. I thought you were supposed to be mine.”

  “And how would a good gift act?” she asked, forming her lips into a moue.

  “I think a good gift would lie back and wait to be opened.” He reached out and touched the bow at her neck.

  She pursed her lips further. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

  “It sounds like a great deal of fun, and I daresay that a good gift wouldn’t be worried about her own fun.”

  “But I know you like it best when I like it best.”

  His lips curled up. “You know me well, but I have a feeling I can make you like it best.”

  A long sigh. “I hate it when I am forced to agree.” She lay back on the pillows—and then, feeling a bit devilish, crossed her ankles and placed her arms over her breasts. “I am ready to be unwrapped.”

  “Oh, are you, now?”

  “I am.” She closed her eyes.

  “Then I will begin unwrapping.” He reached for the bow—and then stopped. “Or perhaps I should be like a child and explore my package first, trying to guess what is inside.” He leaned forward and placed a soft, soft kiss upon her lips. “Hmmm. It tastes sweet. Perhaps it is a bonbon or a sucking candy.” He swung one leg over her thighs so that he straddled her, then, bending forward on his hands, he kissed her again, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. “Very sweet. Perhaps I had best try sucking.” He bent farther and his tongue plunged between her lips, seeking. Her tongue came out to meet his, to play and dance. He caught it lightly with his teeth and drew it into his mouth, pulling hard. The sensation sped down her body, settling between her legs until she felt as if he were sucking directly on her clit. She had to fight the urge to press against him, to open her legs and rub herself against his strong thigh. She crossed her ankles tighter, resisting.

  He sucked on her tongue more lightly before finally releasing it, only to grab on to her lower lip, first nipping it with his teeth and then pulling upon it with his lips. The ache within her grew.

  She had never imagined that being a gift could be so difficult.

  His mouth moved lower and he bit upon the point of her chin. He did not bite hard. There was no pain, only sensation. She squirmed, wondering what it was about this man that affected her so strongly. What should have been the slightest of touches heated her like nothing else.

  Next he nuzzled her neck, finding every sensitive spot, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

  It was all she could do not to squirm, not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, to just where she wanted him to be.

  Beneath her arms, she could feel her nipples growing ever tighter, her breasts swollen and ready.

  He slipped lower, his tongue delving into the hollow of her neck. “Mmmm, I’ve always loved this spot. It is so feminine. Sometimes even when you are fully dressed I find myself fantasizing about this spot.”

  “And I always thought your gaze seemed fastened a little lower.”

  “Perhaps I will need to investigate that. I am finding that I quite like this gift.” His lips moved to her upper chest and then traced up and over her arm. “I think perhaps it is time I began the unwrapping.” He lifted her arm and brought her fingers to his mouth, sucking each one deeply. “Even the wrapping is tasty. I can’t say that I ever remember such wonderful wrapping when I was a boy. Oh, and look what lies underneath. A cherry.” His lips homed in on her nipple. He made no pretense of play but suckled hard.

  A cry left her lips.

  He tugged her other arm out of the way and pull
ed back for a second, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. He stopped and stared. Normally she would have protested his lack of touch, but the want and need in his eyes was a physical thing. She felt his gaze on her breasts more surely than she would have felt a pinch or a nip, and her body sang. Was there anything more powerful than being wanted?

  She’d wondered that before, but now it settled about her. He wanted her. He needed her. She was as necessary to him as food or water. The moment could have lasted forever and she would have been happy, would have been satisfied, would have been—and yet she wanted more.

  And then his eyes met hers—and she had that more. She had believed that it would take something physical, some lick or touch, but the look was enough. She’d thought of seeing his soul before, but this time she felt it and it filled her—and she hadn’t even said the words she’d prepared for this night.

  Derek saw her. He saw all of her—and he loved all of her.

  He loved Ruby. He loved Emma. He loved Andromeda. He loved the gift. He loved the French courtesan. He loved whomever she chose to be.

  The knowledge left her breathless.

  Her body ached with need, with the desire for his touch, but she didn’t want the moment to end. She’d always known that truly seeing another was more intimate than any other act, than intercourse itself, but never had she felt it to the depths of her being.

  “I am scared to move.” His voice echoed over her in waves.

  “I know,” she answered.

  “If I move, if I do all the things my body wants, will we lose this moment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They lay there frozen for another minute.

  “We can’t stay like this forever,” she said.

  “I will die if I do not move, and yet I will die if I do. I will die if we lose this.”

  And then strength filled her. “We will never lose this. I actually have a piece of mistletoe, a silly piece of magical mistletoe, that is supposed to make the bond between those who already love last forever.” She pointed to one of the pillows. “I have it tucked under that pillow, waiting for the perfect moment—and now I realize it is silly not because it is not real but because we are already forever.”

  He inclined his head and laid a single perfect kiss upon her lips. “You are right.” Then his body was all motion. His lips landed again on her breasts, even as one of his hands reached lower, settling between her legs, seeking the spots he knew all too well. “You are quite wet. Were you playing with yourself as you waited for me?”

  “All I need to do is think of you to reach this state. I can be sitting doing the accounting books and I remember the way you smiled at me and my whole body burns.”

  “When you are doing the books? I will have to remember that.” His fingers moved and her body responded, her crossed legs opening slightly.

  He eased lower through the pillows, until he could lay a kiss upon her navel. His fingers began a light stroke—and then a slightly harder one.

  —

  She was so beautiful. He didn’t know how many times he’d thought that, but each time it felt new. Could she grow more beautiful each time he saw her? He buried his face in her soft belly, breathing in the scent that was all her. He normally didn’t consider scent that powerful a sense, but as he inhaled the womanly musk and sweet smell of roses, he became lost. He closed his eyes, and for a moment there was nothing but her scent surrounding him.

  He kissed her belly, relishing its softness. His lips drifted lower, leaving a damp trail of kisses. His arms came down and pushed her legs open. Another deep breath. The scent was stronger. His cock twitched in anticipation.

  He knelt between her legs. Bending her knees up, he gazed over her, all of her—the pink wet bits, the soft creamy parts, and the golden waves of her hair. And then he came back to her face and found himself caught once again.

  He’d intended to lick and lave her until she cried for mercy, but suddenly that most intimate of acts felt anything but. He wanted to see her face as she came—and he wanted to take that journey with her.

  Leaning forward, he braced himself on one arm and positioned himself with the other. His eyes held hers, never leaving, never wavering, even as he pushed into her, pushed oh so slowly into her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever demonstrated the restraint that he did now as he eased forward and then stopped, and then eased forward again.

  Inch by inch, each movement forward a movement closer, a joining of more than flesh. He saw her growing pleasure and saw her hold it back, saw each small emotion that crossed her face. When he was finally sheathed to the hilt, he stopped and held there. His body screamed to move, but he waited. She clenched about him, her body as impatient as his own, but said nothing. For a moment, only a moment, they stayed there, connected as they had never been before.

  He eased out as slowly as he had entered, halting again, before repeating.

  Again.

  And then again.

  He’d always thought that fast and hard brought him the most satisfaction, but never had he felt anything as exquisite as the feelings that filled him now, each slow careful movement a cascade of pleasure. Her eyes grew softer, blurring with the desire that filled her—and yet she did not lose focus, did not withdraw into that world of separate pleasure that often took one at such a time. She stayed with him, every narrowing of eye and dilating of pupil telling a story of its own.

  He could feel the need rising, feel the desire to let go, to welcome that moment of completion, but still he held on, still he focused on her eyes, on her, waiting, waiting, for them to become lost in the storm together.

  He didn’t know what was different now, what wall had fallen between them, but something had changed. There was a oneness he had never felt, never expected to feel.

  He sank to his full length again. Pulled out a little faster. Felt the clench of her inner muscles. Saw the sweat that formed upon her brow. He plunged in deep and hard.

  Her body rose to meet his, squeezing him tight, welcoming him home.

  Too much.

  Too much.

  Her face reflected the same.

  He pressed deep again, felt her clench and then clench again.

  Knew it was here.

  And he let go, let it come—come over both of them.

  The bliss, the agony, the little death—but all with her, with her, with her.

  —

  Was she still alive? Ruby felt her body melt into the pile of pillows, even as Derek’s weight came down upon her. She forced a deep breath into her lungs, waiting for her world to return to normal and yet knowing it never would. Something within her had reformed in these last minutes, changed permanently.

  Derek rolled to the side and then to his back, taking her with him so that she lay splayed across his chest. With care she raised her head so that she could see his face again, although she felt so connected to him that it almost didn’t seem necessary.

  “You wanted to talk?” he said flatly.

  Even though her body felt like honey on a summer day, she let the chuckle rise within her. Talk? Who could talk at a moment like this? Their bodies had done all the communicating that was necessary. Somehow she had told him everything without saying a word, and yet she knew the words were necessary.

  “I am not selling Madame Rouge’s,” she said.

  He tensed beneath her but said nothing, waiting.

  “I am giving it away.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I am giving it to Jasmine and her daughter—along with enough funds to keep it.”

  He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the thoughts whirling in his head.

  She continued, “Madame Noir said that I would know when it was right, and I did. When I looked at Jasmine after her daughter was born, when I saw her love and strength, I suddenly knew that there was no choice. I will give her Madame Rouge’s and what security comes with it. It may not be the life she planned for, may not even be a life she wants, but it will be a life,
a life she can choose, a life she can control.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, shifting up on the pillows and pulling her along.

  “You will not try to dissuade me?”

  “Madame Rouge’s has always been yours to do with as you wished, but…”

  “But you believed I needed the security of knowing that I could take care of myself, of knowing that I could support myself without you, without anyone?”

  He nodded once but did not speak, waiting for her to continue.

  “I thought I did. I always planned to keep enough funds secure that no matter what happened I could take care of myself. I was ready to go with you, to care for you,—to let you care for me—but I was not ready to risk depending on you. Yes, I knew that with marriage I would lose much of the freedom I have come to depend on, but I thought that I could still keep enough pieces of my life separate that I could always go back if things didn’t work.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you not trust me?”

  “I think rather I didn’t trust myself. I never realized how much my father’s abandonment had left me wondering if I was worthy of love—until this very moment I had never put that sentiment into even direct thought. It was only seeing Jasmine, seeing how strong she is, that made me understand that it was never about me. I do not know why my father is who he is, how he can just cast a child away, but that doesn’t matter. I will be who I am, and who I am is a woman who chooses to love you and to make a life with you—and part of that is trusting that you will always care for me, always provide for me.”

  “I will, Emma. I promise you with all my heart and with all my being that I will never desert you, never fail you.”

  She drew in another deep breath, feeling as if she were drawing his words, his promise, into her body. “I believe you. And that is what my being a gift was all about. I give you myself to care for. I trust that I can depend on you.”

  Holding her eyes, he lifted his head and kissed her, one of his arms stretching to the side to slip a hand under the pillow.

  Her eyes followed as it moved upward, and then she saw that silly twig of mistletoe above their heads.