Ecstasy (Notorious 4)

“Did you have any luck?” she asked as he stretched his hard length against her.

“I have all the luck I need right here,” he murmured, his voice husky. “You’re the treasure I’d like to bury myself in.”

His wet, sleekly muscled body was cool against her overheated skin, but his mouth was hot and moist as he bent to suckle her bare breast.

A whimper of pleasure sounded from deep in Raven’s throat. Her skin felt acutely sensitive wherever he touched, and he touched her everywhere, his caresses dangerously, wildly sensual as they roamed over her body.

And then his mouth moved to that throbbing, most feminine part of her. Gasping, she arched against him and clutched at his hair. His lips felt hotter than the sun, the blistering heat searing her flesh. And his tongue…She felt it stroking, circling, sending ripples of pleasure through her aching flesh.

When she would have pulled him away, he caught her hands and held them at her sides. She gave a keening moan when his tongue stabbed deep into her, her hips writhing.

She withstood his primitive assault until she could bear no more. “Kell…Oh, God…please…”

He looked up, his eyes smoldering with barely leashed passion. His smile was knowing as he covered her body with his own. Parting her thighs wide, he slowly impaled her with his pulsing masculine flesh.

She was so aroused when he came into her that she nearly climaxed at once. With a sob, Raven rocked upward to receive him, needing him to fill her. His intense gaze burning into hers, he withdrew his slick shaft and sank forcefully into her again, thrusting completely home.

Raven nearly screamed with pleasure.

Desperate now, she wrapped her legs around his hips to hold him more tightly, meeting his powerful surges, her hunger matching his own as his mouth came down hard upon hers.

His kiss was wild and deep, his fierce intimacy driving her higher and higher toward the shattering peak.

Breathing in sobs of frantic need, Raven cleaved to him, their thundering heartbeats melding as their spirits soared. Kell not only took her, he claimed her, possessed her, enveloped her. The essence of him was fire, an irresistible fire that consumed her.

They came together, fused by the incredible heat, the delicious rapture. As their last shudders faded, Kell collapsed upon her, his gasping breath mingling with hers, their fierce hunger momentarily sated.

In the afterglow, a warm sea breeze blew across their heated bodies. Raven sighed in repletion as Kell gathered her in his arms. There had been a beautiful, animal passion to their coupling, yet it was the love between them that gave their joining such shattering bliss.

Her heart aching with love and tenderness, she reached up to cradle Kell’s scarred cheek in her palm. She belonged to this man. She needed him as she needed her next heartbeat.

Long moments later, Raven found her thoughts stirring, drifting back over the months since their arrival.

The island of Montserrat had proven a good choice for them to settle. With such a large Irish population here, Kell was welcomed rather than shunned for what the English considered his inferior blood. And while rumors of the scandals had followed them, the gentry here was far more accepting than England’s upper crust. The title helped, of course. Baron and Baroness Frayne were invited everywhere, and their invitations eagerly sought in return.

They had bought a large house with a magnificent view of the Caribbean, and it had begun to feel like home. And Kell had filled the stables so that she could ride to her heart’s content.

Kell had not been able to forget his brother or the role he’d played in Sean’s death, but he was learning to forgive himself. As for Michael O’Malley, Raven missed him dreadfully. But they had erected a small memorial for the Irishman on the grounds, and Raven took flowers there often.

She missed her other friends as well but was cheered by the letters she’d begun to receive from both Brynn and Emma and from her grandfather. Dare, they hadn’t heard from at all, possibly because he was too busy.

Raven had been astonished when Kell told her how Dare had been occupying his time: he was hunting for a traitor, a treacherous Englishman known as Caliban. It was hard for her to imagine the charming, thoroughly wicked rake known as the Prince of Pleasure immersing himself in espionage. But Dare reportedly had become involved in the search for Caliban at Lucian’s request. He’d interrupted his search to fetch Kell in Ireland, and she could only be grateful to him for helping Kell reach her in time for them to sail together.

The ocean voyage had been magical. They’d spent the long hours not only making love and indulging in passionate delights but truly coming to know each other: their secrets, their hopes, their fears, their deepest emotions. Their love had seemed to grow each day.

Raven didn’t think her cup of happiness could be much fuller.

She was not so certain about Kell, however. He loved her deeply, she had no doubt, but she worried that even love might not be enough to keep him content over the years. Already he seemed to be growing restless with a gentleman’s life of leisure.

He needed something more, she knew. Just as Dare’s new assignment had reportedly given him a purpose.

“Kell, I’ve been thinking…” she said finally.

“Mmmm?” The quiet murmur suggested he was nearly asleep.

“What would you say if I suggested you start a foundling home?”

Kell opened his eyes, suddenly awake. “For orphans?”