He smiled his own satisfaction, and like a cornered cat, Tatiana slowly backed away from him as he advanced on her. His eyes. She couldn’t take her gaze from his—until the tautness of his thighs beneath the prisonwear caught her attention as he stealthily neared. Her breath seemed to be stuck in her throat along with the thump of her heart. As if her eyes had an agenda all their own, they moved to the bulge in his crotch…and she felt an involuntary flood of wetness in her panties. It was shameful, utterly reprehensible the way her physical body appeared to be taking over her lifelong, carefully erected scruples, and allowing them to crumble with the presence of this mesmerizing rake of a man!
“You’re the most beautiful…” he lifted a finger as he neared and drew it down her cheek, “most sexy…” he ran the tip of his finger over her trembling bottom lip as his toes met hers, “most intriguing woman this starving convict has ever seen.”
Convict. Yes, he was a convict. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she was doing standing here in front of him. His hands shot down and gripped her hips. In one strong yank, her burning core was slammed against the thickness in his thin pants. Flaming heat ignited in her blood and sent a backlash of tingly flames to her womb. His eyes, like mocking cool mists of mint, were locked on hers, looking down into her upturned face. Though his mouth was curved in a sardonic grin, she somehow longed to cover it with her own, to press her lips to his mouth and give him that kiss she’d promised him.
Snap out of it, Tania! she scolded herself silently.
But she didn’t have time to offer the kiss herself, nor to obey her own commands. His mouth swooped down on hers in one violent motion. He tasted of salt and a sweetness she couldn’t quite place. She was stunned, stunned that she felt no repulsion. When his tongue entered her mouth, assaulted her with a whole new wave that engorged her nub, she was helpless to stop the ascent of her hands as they rose up and explored the hardness of his chest. Sinewy muscles flexed with obvious restraint. She felt her knees buckle when he pressed her back against the door, and her hands shot up to stab into the silky length of his dark hair.
The moans were coming from her own throat…and she suddenly didn’t care. All she knew was she needed this man to fulfill something inside her, something that had never been consummated before, something that caused her panties to soak with a wicked wetness. He was breathing hard as he drew her tongue into his mouth, swirled his own around it until she thought she’d go mad with want.
Then his hand was between their bodies, cupping her breast. “Oh!” she sighed, tore her mouth from his. But he found her parted lips again, and simultaneously shoved his hand under her sweater and located one hardened nipple. A new route of flames took flight in her system as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Of its own accord, her hips pressed harder against his own. She bucked and strained, reached for an unknown release.
One arm held her captive to him. His free hand traveled down…down over her flat belly…down to cup her female area where her only protection was the tight denim of her skirt. He began a slow rub, a tortured dance that had her sagging against the door. The cool steel seemed to sizzle against the heat that he was stirring within her.
“You’re so horny, babe,” he whispered huskily in her ear, nipping the lobe between his teeth. She shivered as he added, “I can fix that problem real quick.”
His hand suddenly snaked down the front of her skirt and yanked the fabric upward. Tania stiffened at first, then groaned when his hand slid into her panties and found the pebble that throbbed at her apex. He flicked it back and forth under his finger, and with each movement, waves of pleasure shot through her so that she was barely able to lean against the door. As if he sensed her weakness, his arm tightened about her, and she nearly gasped out loud when he slid a finger through the sticky wetness of her slit and buried his finger inside her.
“God, you’re wet…tight,” he panted, his hardness now pressed against her hip so that he could get an angle down her panties.
“I…” she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to talk with that throbbing ache so prevalent. Her body seemed to thirst for him, to be in a state of famine. “I…yes.”
At her response, he pumped the finger in and out, faster, harder, and her legs spread further to accommodate him. Was she losing her mind? No—maybe…well, she didn’t care. Ahh, she just needed him to…to what? To help her ease the strange ache that always plagued her. Then he joined that magic finger with another and rammed it frantically inside her—and she screamed with the pain as he tore her innocence to shreds.
“You’re—” he stiffened and ceased his movements. His glazed-over eyes sobered and he looked deep into her tear-filled gaze. “You’re…” he swallowed heavily, “a virgin?”
Tania’s breath was coming in ragged gulps. “Was…sort of.” The pain was quickly subsiding. The wicked, delicious ache was back, and she felt a new wave of dampness saturate his fingers. She gripped his wrist, stilling his withdrawal. “Please,” she said it softly, pleadingly, even as her gaze shifted to the thick wall of his chest. “Don’t stop.”
He stared at her for a long moment, so long that she feared he’d cease and pull away from her in disgust. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed it with a gentleness that took her breath away. While his tongue traced her quivering lips, while one hand came up to wipe away a lone tear that escaped her eye, his magic hand resumed its fire. Tenderly at first, he stroked her dampness, outlining her swollen lips from engorged clit to soaked cavern. Then, as his mouth began a wild, voracious devouring of hers, so did his fingers of her sex. With an increased rhythm, he pumped two fingers expertly in and out, simultaneously rubbing her hard nub with his thumb.
Tania felt the delicious waves building, reaching out for her. Her panties were completely soaked, and she reveled in the nasty, naughty feel of it. Sensing bliss on the horizon, she lifted one leg and wrapped it instinctively around his hip. Her own hips rocked and shoved against the man’s hand. Deeper. She needed him deeper. She needed it way further inside her. As if in answer, he inserted a third finger and buried them all to the hilt.
“Oh!” Her head fell back against the door and she heard her own cry linger with his breathy gasps as it echoed in the room. Wave upon wave of utter ecstasy washed over her, and she felt the walls of her womanhood clamping involuntarily against his fingers.
Before she had time to ascertain just what had happened, to accept that she’d just had a very shameful conjugal visit with a hardened criminal, there was a rap on the door behind her. A jingle of keys resounded as the guard started to open the door for the reverend to begin the wedding ceremony.
***
Drawing out a certificate of marriage and instructing them to sign at the bottom of the document, the minister began the proceedings. Without further delay, he barreled into the ceremony, touched on “becoming one” and “till death do us part.”
Tania glanced up at the inmate at her side, studied the handsome profile, felt the powerful presence of his bulk. Yes, he was a different kind of man, a man who, despite his unknown sordid past, had given her a wonderful wedding gift: final sexual release that had been taunting her for over a decade. He’d shown her how to reach that pinnacle that she’d never been able to bring herself to. She supposed, for that, she was grateful to him, no matter what criminal activity those hands had been engaged in before they’d brought her to paradise.
And she never, ever wanted to know the details of this man’s life. Didn’t need to know, didn’t want to know.
But, as the vows stated, death would part them—in two short weeks. She would get back to her life of ranching, of solitude, of security. She would remember what he’d taught her and she’d use it to pleasure herself. No, she didn’t need any man, not now, not ever, and leastwise, not this one. He’d educated her on all she needed to know for her own private fulfillment…and the thought, even now, standing before the pastor, was bringing that delicious ache and wetne
ss back to her crotch.
She shook her head and inhaled deeply to try and focus on the ceremony. She would get through this and forever forget what had happened in this dismal room—except for the masturbation tutoring.
It was the words, “you may now kiss your bride,” that jolted her from her thoughts.
Bracing herself, she watched in horror as the prisoner reached for her yet again, watched, as if from afar, as he enfolded her in his arms. Before she could resist, he’d swooped down and captured her mouth with his own. He pressed her full-body against the length of him. It was a kiss of pure carnal energy right from the get-go, and she knew immediately that she was lost once again. His lips slanted over hers, demanded, yet waited patiently for her surrender. She felt her legs go weak, her body buckle, and the core of her womanhood flame into a full-blown traitorous inferno. For sheer support, her arms slid up and clung to the man’s neck, and somehow, her mouth opened in shameful abandon yet again. He held her against him, and she felt the unmistakable hardness of his desire pressed into her stomach. In response, her disloyal body went into primate mode. Against her will, she experienced a renewed rush of wetness soak her panties. The tingling sensation, the firmness of her own sex, took over. She had to have him. She needed to press her juncture into him…and she did, like an itch needing to be scratched. She inhaled the rugged scent of him, tasted the sweet flavor of him, rejoiced in the strength and hardness that held her captive. Tania listened to the sound of his breathing, delighted in the ragged, uncontrolled tune of it as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and drank of him. His hands were branded into her lower back, pressed her ever closer, and the heat from his touch slammed through to her very soul.
And she experienced one fleeting moment of regret. Regret that there was only two weeks left before his life would end, and kisses such as this one would die with him.
***
Sam groaned as her little tongue flicked against his lips. Jesus, but she was a passionate one! Later, he thought, breaking the seal on their kiss. Later, he’d be able to pursue that path at length. Looking down into the stunned face of an angel, he suddenly regretted that the preacher stood nearby averting his gaze, and that it would be some time before he would see the passion in those dazzling eyes again.
But he was a patient man. “You pay your debts well,” he taunted, reluctantly untangling her arms from around his neck.
He watched her shake her head, as if to clear the heat from her scalded mind, and reached for her arm as she swayed. When his insolent words and their meaning finally seemed to come to her, her hand trembled just before she lifted it to slap him. But he caught it immediately before it made contact with his cheek.
Playing the part well, Sam growled, “I already have death to look forward to, woman. Don’t add to the insult.”
Inhaling raggedly, Tania wrenched her wrist from his grip and snatched up the wedding certificate. She shoved the document into the pocket of her blazer. “I won’t waste another minute on you, husband. Enjoy your cigarette money,” she snarled. Spinning on her heel, she called out, “Guard!”
As she reached the door, Sam halted her with his next words. “Don’t forget your vows, Tatiana. Especially the part about you and your luscious body being mine ‘til death do us part…’”
Tania didn’t turn to face him. With teeth ground, she said crisply, “Dead men don’t screw.”
When the pastor cringed, then nodded to Sam as he backed away, Sam raised an amused brow. He watched as his new wife exited the room with the guard and pastor, and he simply fell into his chair, shocked that he had just married a total stranger.
Never mind that she’d just rocked his soul in a matter of minutes.
***
It was a bright, cloudless Texas day. Birds set sail to seek out their new habitats while a warm breeze stirred in the oak and sycamore trees. Spring had flourished on the ranch, with freshly formed buds upon proud limbs. Vivid green sprouts of tulips and marigolds shoved their way through the surface of the rich soil, reaching for the sun, for life. The buzz of bees and the hum of plows could be heard in the distance. Armadillos scurried about in the far-off brush, while white-tailed deer rooted quietly in the forest for a fresh patch of meadow. The pleasing scent of bluebonnets and cedar drifted over the small wooden deck where Tania sat before her easel, canvas tilted toward the warm afternoon sun.
Choosing a butterscotch yellow, she draped the tip of the brush over the canvas and formed a woman’s dress. Blending and merging it with the pale yellow strokes already fashioned, the flowing garment appeared to billow on the breeze she’d expertly depicted. Setting her paint board aside, Tania dropped the brush in the water jar and selected a small-tipped, soft brush, dipping it into the pastel, robin-egg blue. Next, she carefully filled in the eyes, so like her grandfather’s…so like her own.
With a sigh, she tossed aside the brush and removed her smock, revealing a snug white tank top under an open plaid shirt. Tied at the waist, the button-up shirt was set above a huge gold and silver belt buckle. She smoothed her jeans and stepped back to examine her work. Yes, the eyes were so very much like her grandfather’s, so calculating, and yet, so extremely mysterious. But it was the blurred vision of her mother expertly transferred to canvas that came to life, like an animated cartoon. Her mother dressed as Tania had never seen her before, in clean, fine clothes, carefree, happy.
Disposing of the wistful dream, Tania climbed onto the picnic table. Her mother had been gone for over sixteen years. It was time to let go. And now that her future was secured, she could get on with her life, set things into the past where they belonged.
Lying back, she breathed deeply of Texas, of freedom, of independence and security. Mik had been pleasantly surprised when, two weeks ago, she’d strode into his mansion and defiantly presented him with a signed wedding contract.
“There,” she’d said, as if she’d been sticking her tongue out at him in mutiny. “You’ve got your damn grandson-in-law.”
Mik stared at her in awe, for he’d fully expected her to defy him as her mother had over twenty-six years ago. Lifting the document from the table, he examined it, disbelieving that she’d finally obeyed him. Without another word, he tucked it away in his file cabinet.
“So, where is he? When can I meet him? Is he moving to the ranch?” Excited, Mik had tons of questions for her. He swirled his wheelchair about to coax her further into the house.
Without a thought, Tania followed him into the elegant salon with it’s high sculptured ceiling and richly upholstered furniture arranged around a cozy fireplace. It was beautiful, Tania thought reluctantly, but so very distant from where she’d grown up in her early years.
Resisting the urge to sit upon the wing-backed chair, Tania evaded, “Oh, he’ll be along soon. He had some previous responsibilities to tie up.”
Mikhail was clearly pleased. He wheeled himself to the low bar and mixed a martini. “You could have gone with him, you know, on a honeymoon, and returned to the ranch later,” he commented, alternating drawing on the oxygen mask and sipping his cocktail.
Tania now recalled how she’d inched her way back toward the arched doorway that led into the foyer. Forcefully, she’d shoved the thought of a honeymoon with the darkly handsome man aside—along with the rush of excitement that had flooded her jeans at the mere thought of being abed with Powers. “I have my own work to do. We’ll be together soon enough.”
Strangely, Mikhail hadn’t said a word, hadn’t thrown out demands. He’d simply sat there beaming with pride as she’d slipped out the front door.
Tania closed her eyes and drew in the warm breeze, glad the meeting with Mik was now over. But soon, she would have to stage the 'death' of her husband, and make a show to her grandfather about how devastating it was to have become a widow so soon. Ironically, her husband was already dead. Just yesterday, she’d caught the tail end of the news flash about Royce Powers dying by lethal injection at midnight at San Cuero Texas State Penitentiary.<
br />
Drawing her knees up, Tania studied the crystal-clear sky. She recalled the dark slash of brows, the penetrating green eyes and the sardonic grin. The massive body, like a menacing bear, came into view in her mind, and she sighed at the terrible waste. Why would such a handsome man with great potential, ruin his life and get himself on death row? What had he done to seal his fate in such a shameful way?
Well, it was no longer her concern.
She grinned wickedly. After all, his life hadn’t been all that much of a waste. She’d used his tutoring techniques on herself over and over since then. Even now, she felt the throb spring to life between her legs, and reached down to cup her crotch. The sensation of it, coupled with the scent of wildflowers around her, the warm sun soaking her skin, and the distant song of bluebirds, enflamed her. She closed her eyes and imagined him sauntering across the meadow toward her. He was tall and wide at the shoulders, slim at the hips. His jeans tapered down over muscular thighs to worn cowboy boots. He had his shirt off, his Stetson in hand as he ambled closer, and a look of carnal sensuality suffused his emerald eyes. Sweat beaded across his firm chest and dribbled down over his tight abdomen. She felt her breath quicken as she imagined the moisture trailing down into his pants, his sex now full and engorged, the tip of him rising above the line of his Levis as he neared.
She undid her jeans and her hand slid into her panties, straight to the spot that, together with another finger sunk into her wetness, could now bring her to sweet ecstasy time and again.
She arched her back and lifted it away from the picnic table as her heart pounded, the ache intensified. She closed her eyes and imagined him cupping her breast as she did so, her hand slipping up into her shirt until she found the gem she sought. His mouth was on her nipple now, his tongue flicking over it so that the pull from her womb brought another gush of stickiness between her legs. He was towering over her, shedding his jeans. His manhood sprang free and he moved to the end of the table so that he was between her uplifted knees. She played with her breasts as the tip of his manhood teased her own hardness. As he leaned over her, she looked into the glazed expression in the sea-green of his eyes, the thick brows drawn down in strained ecstasy as he gathered her to him and guided his rod to her soft folds. Her free hand joined the other and slid into her panties. She swiftly fucked herself with three fingers, just as he had, and just precisely at the very moment that she imagined him entering her.
Carnal Games Page 3
