“What are you doing?
“Not another word,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. Goose pimples broke out across her arms at the vibration of his deep voice within her.
“Kiss me.”
With that, he thrust his hands into her wind-tangled hair and claimed her mouth.
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Shelley Bradley
Chapter Ten
Christina tore her lips away and scanned the beach for someone, anyone who could help her. Not because she was afraid he would hurt her. Because, despite how much he infuriated her at times, the captain roused dangerous yearnings inside her.
Only the surf and its gentle crash against the distant rocks surrounded her.
“Looking for help?” he mocked. “You won’t find it here.” He lowered his mouth gently, ever so slowly, daring her to resist, before he laid a blistering kiss on her lips. “This beach belongs with the house.” He nodded to the white structure on the hill above. “Both very private.”
“Hancock,” she reminded him, breath shallow.
She knew she should find the strength to twist away—but she couldn’t.
Somehow, whenever the man touched her, common sense melted away and left only an ache, an odd need, for his touch.
He laughed against her mouth, his tones low. “He’s no doubt had the presence of mind to occupy himself elsewhere.”
The Black Dragon leaned forward, pulled her closer. Christina felt her will to resist ebbing away. He cinched her surrender with a drugging kiss. She tried to resist, to wield her anger to ward off desire’s rush. But they both knew she wanted this.
At once, his kiss chastised and absolved her, persuaded, worshiped, and demanded more. Her anger receded into the haze of memory under the insistent temptation of his mouth. She found herself straining toward him, eager for his touch. He burned fire against her lips, singeing her inside and out. Every muscle in his body grew taut, affirmed his want, from the clench of
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his arms about her waist, to the heavy rasp of his breathing. And the unmistakable erection pressing into her belly.
Need shook her. She clung to him, shocked at the ache he evoked—low and between her legs. The want spiraled her into sighs and husky murmurs of urging between the sensual assaults on her mouth.
He drew his lips over hers again in a possessive kiss. Intimate. Explicit. No longer gentle or cautious or patient. He took, commanded that she give. For once in her life, Christina obeyed.
She opened for him. His unrelenting invasion robbed her of breath, of the ability to think. Clinging to him, she melted as his tongue made a full sweep through her mouth, his arms crushing against every inch of his work-hardened body, pressing his erection against her again.
Before she caught her breath, his lips descended in a blaze to the sensitive hollow of her neck. He breathed against her damp skin, sending shivers of pleasure racing across her skin. She answered with a ragged exhalation, clutching at his arms, his neck.
As he spread kisses down her shoulders, over the swells of her breasts, the fire within erupted to an inferno. Her fingers brushed the silk of his mask, then tangled into the soft length of his hair. The scents of salt, earth and man seduced her.
He reached for her breast, his fingers lifting her flesh from the snug confines of her dress. An instant later, he fit his mouth over the aching tip, sucking, licking, then giving her a shocking nip with his teeth. An arrow of need flashed straight down, converging between her thighs. She gasped and arched into him. If the end of the world felt this good, she’d follow him to its fiery finish.
“God, you taste so sweet,” he rasped.
His tongue circled and teased her rigid nipple before he shoved the dress further down, then devoured the tip of her other breast. Her breathing grew fast and harsh. She threaded her fingers into his hair and drew him closer to her.
“Yes… Touch me,” she whispered before she could stop the words.
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Shelley Bradley
He inhaled quickly, the demand in his touch conveying his desire. His gaze raked her, lingering on her breasts, now bared to the moonlight.
Christina lifted her shaking fingers to the buttons of his shirt. One button slid free from its confines, followed by another. Finally, a third. She pulled the garment from his breeches and reached for its hem.
He jerked his shirt from her grasp. “God, this is insane. But I want you.”
His whisper played like a confession. He closed his eyes. Her heart leapt as she reached out and caressed the rippling slab of his chest.
At her touch, he sucked in a breath. “I can’t stop wanting you.”
Before she could respond, the captain yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it into the sand below.
Without another word, he grabbed her face, bringing her mouth up to meet the onslaught of his ravenous kiss again. Desire flashed like lightning in her body. She reached for him, her fingers meeting the heat of his solid chest, so warm, so male, need evident in its rapid rise and fall, its pounding heart beneath. She matched the urgency of his kiss with the sweep of her tongue.
The captain slid his insistent fingers down the curve of her neck and shoulders, leaving a track of tingles. His hands met at the small of her back and pulled her into him. Suddenly, she had a first-hand feel of the unyielding staff as he pressed tight against her.
Christina knew exactly what he would do with that cock, as Aunt Mary had called it. But the thought of the Black Dragon parting her folds, filling her with his flesh and moving within her, didn’t inspire revulsion, as her aunt’s description had. Instead, the knowledge burned her, made her greedy, gleeful.
She could scarcely wait for every touch he would give her. Every touch she could give him in return.
She moaned as he bent and stroked his erection directly between her legs, against that secret spot her aunt had called her quim and told her would grow damp as she desired a man. Damp didn’t begin to describe the flood of need she felt.
Breathing harsh, he clutched at the waist of her dress with a desperate grip. Then he gave a single yank. Buttons flew, fabric ripped. The garment fell away, revealing the thin lawn chemise beneath.
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Christina gasped and glanced up into the rough-hewn angles of his face, anticipation dancing in her veins. Heat ten times the blaze of Hades roared from his eyes, branding her as his own in a way buying her never could.
Smoothing her tongue across her bottom lip, she pushed the dress down the length of her legs and removed her shoes. Cool sand infiltrated the soft stockings, tickling her feet. She looked at him with a hot, steady gaze.
Palm leaves directly above swayed with the wind as the captain drew her chemise above her head with an impatient yank. The thin garment joined his shirt, castaways to their passion.
She stood, clad in no more than her stockings. A cool breeze rippled against her heated flesh. His gaze followed, a tangible touch, caressing her breasts, stroking the curve of her waist, fondling the pale, damp thatch between her thighs.
Christina reached for him, to somehow affect him as he had her. Every instinct within her wanted to return the depth of pleasure she felt.
He groaned. “I’m dying to taste every inch of you.”
Christina hesitated, watching him. Under the moon’s pale glow, he devoured her with his gaze, waiting…waiting for her next move.
Smiling, she dragged her fingertips across the heated skin of his chest, traced the rigid planes of his abdomen, brushing lower against the hard length of his cock.
The captain shot her a gaze that sparked with silent promise. He was going to make her scream in pleasure, and Christina shivered just thinking about it.