“Do you think I care about satisfying the lustful desires of a pirate?”
“Yes.”
Gazes locked, they stared at each other.
“No,” she insisted. “I would rather have you at my mercy.”
He gave a slow, lascivious smile. “There is just one problem, mademoiselle.” He sprang lithely to his feet and stalked toward her, his magnificent shaft swaying. “You should know better than to torment a pirate.”
Raven gasped as he swept her up in his arms, letting the dagger clatter to the deck.
“My revenge will be swift,” he threatened, his warm mouth against her lips. “I intend to ravish you until you scream with pleasure.”
He carried her into the cabin then, dropping her on the satin-covered bunk and following her down, pinioning her hands on either side of her bare shoulders.
When she struggled to free herself, he gave a menacing laugh. “Fight me, vixen,” he urged, tenderly biting each of her hardened nipples in turn. “But before we’re through, you will surrender to me. You’ll give me everything I want, everything you have to give.”
He thrust himself relentlessly within her, making her cry out in pleasure. Raven arched against him, her inner muscles clutching his gloriously hard flesh, even as she fought the onslaught of rapture.
But his hot, slick strokes drove her onward, toward the excruciating bliss. He released her hands to capture her face and kiss her fiercely, his tongue plunging deep. Yielding, straining in mindless abandon, she dug her nails into the muscles of his shoulders.
Suddenly his body wrenched in a massive shudder. At his ragged groan, fire exploded through her veins. She screamed, and his mouth captured her sobs of ecstasy, just as her pirate lover might have. They clung together through the passionate storm, lost to reality, oblivious to anything but their fantasy.
Finally he collapsed against her, spent, shuddering, leaving her dazed and exhausted.
Later, much later, Raven lay in Kell’s arms as he slept, stunned by the savage pleasure he had given her, frightened by the feelings this complex, enigmatic man had incited in her.
He had become too dangerous, she reflected. Their carnal pleasure had grown too threateningly intimate, his image too irresistibly entwined with her imaginary lover.
I want everything you have to give, he had said. Dismayingly, she could envision herself giving him everything.
But she wouldn’t let that happen, she vowed. She would have to stop making love to Kell before he took over her fantasies entirely.
Three nights later Kell found himself pondering how to proceed with his wife as he watched a dozen nubile female bodies cavort upon a stage.
As Dare’s guest, he was attending a soiree held expressly for the Hellfire League at a different sin club. The entertainment, which had begun merely as an erotic ballet, was in danger of sinking into something of an orgy, for a few noble bucks in the audience had become overly aroused and had claimed several of the performers as their sexual partners.
The debauchery didn’t surprise Kell. He had attended similar gatherings in the past at various flesh houses, although never in such elite company. Dare had seen to it that his fellow Leaguers had welcomed Kell into their ranks and supported his gaming club-much to his gratitude.
Twisting his mouth wryly, Kell took another potent swallow of brandy. Two months ago he would have scoffed had someone told him he would be grateful to be taken under wing by the Marquess of Wolverton and his ilk. But he owed a great deal to Dare-and to Halford as well, he grudgingly admitted.
His club was safe now. Halford had been magnanimous indeed, bringing the Prince Regent himself to patronize the Golden Fleece last evening. Prinny had won a small sum and pronounced the play “capital.” And with the royal seal of approval, Kell’s club was assured of recovery from the destruction the duke’s slander had wrought.
The future of his marriage, however, was still wholly unsettled.
Absently Kell’s gaze wandered over the stage, but the carnal antics had no power to arouse him, nor did the thought of coupling with any of the beauties there. Upon his arrival, several of the doves had fawned over him and invited him to partake of their frolics later, but he had politely extricated himself.
There was only one woman he desired, one pair of legs he wanted coiled around his waist, one delectable beauty writhing in passion beneath him.
Averting his gaze, he stared down into his brandy, seeing a vision of soft, creamy skin and lush breasts and laughing sapphire eyes. He could still feel every soft curve against him, stirring his body…
His unsated body.
Raven hadn’t allowed him to touch her since their heated night of shared fantasy. She was regretting what had happened between them, he knew.
As he was.
Hell, it had probably even been a mistake to goad her into conjugal relations in the first place. Initially he’d had the vague, misguided notion that if he made love to her, he could satisfy his hunger and drive her from his mind. And then his male pride had gotten the better of him, spurring him to see her imaginary lover as his rival.