erection.
"Longer," he murmured with a wolfish grin, "if we have to elude the privateers."
"That sounds nice. Is there any food left?"
He laughed. "Some dessert, but I'll need a kiss to get up and fetch it."
Her response was immediate, luscious, and decidedly heated.
And he gave her something she wanted more.
"Now," Serena murmured a pleasurable time later, tracing a languid finger over Beau's mouth as he rested lightly over her, "I'm going to eat."
"Food?" A boyish grin flashed white against his tanned skin.
"Yes, my glory boy," she whispered, "but don't go away."
"Not likely, darling." His velvety voice licked at her senses. "But I was thinking . . ." he whispered, gently stroking the full curve of her breast. "Perhaps you'd lik e —"
"No," she murmured, placing a restraining hand on his muscled chest. "You have to wait."
"What if I don't want to?" He dipped his head to lightly kiss the slender bridge of her nose. "And you're so easy to please."
"Only now in my novice stage," she said with a seductive lif t of one brow. "By the end of three weeks I'll be salaciously demanding."
"U mm ," he murmured, smiling faintly, "promises, promises ..."
"Only if I'm still alive, darling." She pushed against his weight. "I'm starving."
She was serious, he realized. "I'll call Re m y," he said, instantly obliging, aware of the recent privations in her past, "and you can tell him what you want."
"No, please don't. . . . There's some food left on the table." A pink flush colored her cheeks. "I mean"— h er gaze drifted down his bare ches t —"look at us. We're not dressed and the bed's a shambles an d —"
"He's not judgmental, darling." His voice was soothing, dégagé.
Her eyes went shuttered. "And he's seen this often."
For a brief moment he considered lying, her tone suddenly moody, but then he didn't wish to deceive her about either the style of his life or her position in it. "Often enough," he quietly replied.
She gazed at him for a speculative moment, a multitude of implications in that short phrase, his answer perhaps more frank than she might have wished. "I could get dressed and sit in that chair over there."
"If you like," he politely said. "But Re m y won't care if you're dressed or not."
"So I shouldn't be concerned with appearances."
He tried not to smile at the concept of appearances, considering their recent intimacies and the warmth of her body currently resting beneath his. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said, repressing his grin.
And then she suddenly laughe d — a t her absurd notion of propriety, at his gallant attempt to suppress his smile, and reaching up, she took his face in her hands and drew his mouth down to hers. "You're very sweet," she whispered.
"Not as sweet at you, lollipop."
Stretching slightly upward, she licked his lower lip, a sensuous, lingering caress.
"Anywhere . . ." he murmured, his smile cheeky, ". . . anytime."
"Because you're always ready," she purred, feeling him rise against her belly.
"I've been in training."
"While I've been waiting for you."
"Lucky me," he whispered, gently nudging her legs apart.
"Do women ever say no to you?"
His hesitation was minute. "Of course," he lied.
"Good," she asserted, looking up at him with artless innocence. "Because if you don't feed me right now," she softly added, "I'll never fuck you again."
"Re m y!" he bellowed, and rolling off her, he swiftly rose from the bed.
"You really like me," she teased, from the disordered jumble of the bedclothes, all pink-cheeked, tousled, delectable.
"Oh, yes . . . you're vastly pleasing, Miss Blythe." Gazing down on her, his dark eyes heated, his libido on full alert, he wondered for a moment whether all virgins were so tantalizing or whether Serena Blythe's naively tempting allure was unique.
The perfection of his muscled body gleamed in the golden rays of the rising sun, his broad-shouldered frame dwarfing the confines of the small stateroom, his dark beauty breathtaking in the
"Longer," he murmured with a wolfish grin, "if we have to elude the privateers."
"That sounds nice. Is there any food left?"
He laughed. "Some dessert, but I'll need a kiss to get up and fetch it."
Her response was immediate, luscious, and decidedly heated.
And he gave her something she wanted more.
"Now," Serena murmured a pleasurable time later, tracing a languid finger over Beau's mouth as he rested lightly over her, "I'm going to eat."
"Food?" A boyish grin flashed white against his tanned skin.
"Yes, my glory boy," she whispered, "but don't go away."
"Not likely, darling." His velvety voice licked at her senses. "But I was thinking . . ." he whispered, gently stroking the full curve of her breast. "Perhaps you'd lik e —"
"No," she murmured, placing a restraining hand on his muscled chest. "You have to wait."
"What if I don't want to?" He dipped his head to lightly kiss the slender bridge of her nose. "And you're so easy to please."
"Only now in my novice stage," she said with a seductive lif t of one brow. "By the end of three weeks I'll be salaciously demanding."
"U mm ," he murmured, smiling faintly, "promises, promises ..."
"Only if I'm still alive, darling." She pushed against his weight. "I'm starving."
She was serious, he realized. "I'll call Re m y," he said, instantly obliging, aware of the recent privations in her past, "and you can tell him what you want."
"No, please don't. . . . There's some food left on the table." A pink flush colored her cheeks. "I mean"— h er gaze drifted down his bare ches t —"look at us. We're not dressed and the bed's a shambles an d —"
"He's not judgmental, darling." His voice was soothing, dégagé.
Her eyes went shuttered. "And he's seen this often."
For a brief moment he considered lying, her tone suddenly moody, but then he didn't wish to deceive her about either the style of his life or her position in it. "Often enough," he quietly replied.
She gazed at him for a speculative moment, a multitude of implications in that short phrase, his answer perhaps more frank than she might have wished. "I could get dressed and sit in that chair over there."
"If you like," he politely said. "But Re m y won't care if you're dressed or not."
"So I shouldn't be concerned with appearances."
He tried not to smile at the concept of appearances, considering their recent intimacies and the warmth of her body currently resting beneath his. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said, repressing his grin.
And then she suddenly laughe d — a t her absurd notion of propriety, at his gallant attempt to suppress his smile, and reaching up, she took his face in her hands and drew his mouth down to hers. "You're very sweet," she whispered.
"Not as sweet at you, lollipop."
Stretching slightly upward, she licked his lower lip, a sensuous, lingering caress.
"Anywhere . . ." he murmured, his smile cheeky, ". . . anytime."
"Because you're always ready," she purred, feeling him rise against her belly.
"I've been in training."
"While I've been waiting for you."
"Lucky me," he whispered, gently nudging her legs apart.
"Do women ever say no to you?"
His hesitation was minute. "Of course," he lied.
"Good," she asserted, looking up at him with artless innocence. "Because if you don't feed me right now," she softly added, "I'll never fuck you again."
"Re m y!" he bellowed, and rolling off her, he swiftly rose from the bed.
"You really like me," she teased, from the disordered jumble of the bedclothes, all pink-cheeked, tousled, delectable.
"Oh, yes . . . you're vastly pleasing, Miss Blythe." Gazing down on her, his dark eyes heated, his libido on full alert, he wondered for a moment whether all virgins were so tantalizing or whether Serena Blythe's naively tempting allure was unique.
The perfection of his muscled body gleamed in the golden rays of the rising sun, his broad-shouldered frame dwarfing the confines of the small stateroom, his dark beauty breathtaking in the
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