Fantasies R Us, page 9
Heaven. Angel. That was it!
“Michael, the archangel,” she purred. “Protector, defender, God-like. It suits you.”
His hand moved on her hip and his smile twitched wickedly. “That’s a lot for a name to live up to.”
“I have every confidence in your ability to do so.”
He slid his hand across her belly. “Why?”
She sucked in a breath, her stomach tightening up beneath the caress of his skilled fingers…which now bumped a path up over her ribs. “Because you have already protected and defended me and only a man with the abilities of a god could make me feel the way you do.”
“And how is that?” he asked, his knuckles nudging the underside of her breast.
“Like a most satisfied fallen woman,” she purred, shifting against his knuckles, urging more from him.
His smile stretched, his eyes grew darker and he lifted one finger to the peak of her breast. “And how does a satisfied fallen woman feel?”
She glanced pointedly at the finger perched on the tip of her breast and grinned. “You tell me.”
He traced her taut nipple, circled it until it was knotted and aching—until she squirmed for more. He rolled her nipple beneath his palm, sending the ache to the juncture of her legs. He brushed his lips across her cheek, murmuring, “I don’t know how a fallen woman feels, but I know my Jayne feels like heaven to my touch.”
He kissed her earlobe and whispered, “You haven’t fallen, my angel. You’ve come alive.”
She couldn’t have asked for anything more romantic than those words…or the sensuous way he massaged her aching nipple…or the hungry way the heavenly blue eyes gazed down on her. Why then did her stomach have to growl at that very moment?
His hand stilled on her breast, his eyebrows popped up on his forehead and his gaze slid from her face to her belly. She groaned in utter mortification. He laughed.
“I think my lady is hungry.”
“For you,” she purred, grinding her bottom into his lap only to have her stomach growl again.
“Rest assured, my angel, I shall feed both your mouth and your—”
He finished by slipping his fingers into her dripping pussy.
* * * * *
He was true to his word. Not that she expected anything less from a fantasy lover. But ordering a picnic lunch for them and insisting he knew a better place to eat it—and her—than the bed in the tower seemed so take-charge for a creature designed to heed her every wish.
Then again, her wish hadn’t been to command. She hadn’t even known what kinds of sexual positions to order. Thank her lucky stars Madame Amour had been there to advise and assist her or she might have been floundering about with awkward commands instead of having a cyborg making the perfect decisions for them…and seducing her.
Jayne tossed aside the chicken leg she’d been gnawing on and lifted her face to the sunshine warming their little haven. He’d spread their picnic blanket in a small clearing carved out of the woods at the foot of a gentle waterfall. A light breeze danced across the surface of the pool, misting her cheeks. The endorphins released by the falling water hitting the rocks made her feel content. Or maybe her happiness came from being sexually satisfied for the first time in her life. She sighed. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”
“It’s a favorite of mine, too,” he sighed.
She blinked at him, pricked by the reminder that he’d no doubt come here with numerous clients before her…that he would return here again and again with others. Jealous of a cyborg lover. She was pathetic. Jayne hid her frown from her attentive cyborg lover by sucking at a greasy finger.
“Allow me,” he said and pulled her hand from her mouth.
He sucked the chicken juice from one finger, then the next and the next. Slowly, suggestively.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked breathily, the sting of jealousy fading.
“I promised this was the perfect place to eat lunch…and you.”
Desire zinged from the finger he sucked in between his lips to the clit she wanted those lips closing around, her jealousy all but forgotten now…or forgiven.
“I’m all greasy,” she said, though her protest sounded pretty lame to her own ears.
“Mmmm.” He sucked her index finger into his mouth up to the third knuckle and slowly withdrew it. “We should try a little lovemaking with a garbage bag and vegetable oil.”
“Garbage bag? Vegetable oil?”
He laughed. “I have so much I want to introduce you to, my delectable Jayne.”
“But a garbage bag and vegetable oil?”
“You take a very large garbage bag and pour in a gallon of oil,” he said sliding his hands under the hem of the day-dress Fantasies R Us had supplied her that morning. “Then you and your partner strip down.” His hand slid up her leg. “Then the two of you climb into the oil-coated bag and screw the living daylights out of each other.”
“Sounds messy,” she said, her breath catching as his fingers made their way up the inside of her thigh.
“It’s slippery,” he said, throwing back the skirt of the gown and diving for her crotch.
“Wait!’
He peered over her raised skirt at her. “What?”
“I haven’t bathed since we last—ah—er—you know.”
He grinned at her like an imp. “Did you not enjoy the flavor of us both on my cock this morning when you tasted me?”
If she were a couple decades older, she’d swear she was having a hot flash.
He dropped the skirt of her dress without moving out from between her legs, his impish grin fading. “Not quite ready for the randy stuff yet, huh?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“It’s okay, Jayne.”
She lowered her face. “No, it’s not. Here we are in this romantic setting and I want a bath when there isn’t a tub in sight.”
“We don’t need a tub,” he said, rolling out from between her legs and tugging off his boots. “Not when we’ve got that.”
He nodded toward the deep pool below the gently cascading waterfall. By the time she looked back at him, he was on his feet buck naked…and looking every inch the rutting stag.
“Strip, my shy temptress, or you’re going in, clothes and all.”
Jayne eyed the dark forest surrounding them. “But what if someone is watching?”
“Watching us like the couple we watched in the garden the night of the ball? What was the harm in it?”
“None, because they knew we were watching them.”
“And now we know there’s a possibility of our being watched.” He lowered his chin at her. “You have five seconds to get out of that dress or it gets wet.”
She scrambled to her feet. “You wouldn’t.”
“Four,” he said.
She toed off her slippers.
“Three.”
She darted looks into the dark shadows of the forest.
“Two.”
Her fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons straining across her lust-swollen breasts.
“One.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” she squealed as he picked her up.
“Too slow,” he said. The next thing she knew she was being swallowed up by cool dark water. Fortunately, a pair of strong arms lifted her back to the surface.
“You don’t even know if I can swim,” she sputtered as soon as she got breath enough back into her lungs.
“We’re not here to swim,” he said, paddling them to the bank where the water was barely waist-deep.
Feet planted on solid ground, he dispensed with the row of buttons that had thwarted her fingers with one mighty rip. Buttons skipped across the water and plinked off the rocky shore.
“Those were perfectly good buttons,” she protested.
“You’re far too practical Jayne,” he said, looking every bit the warrior angel with his blond locks dripping about his head.
“There was no need to toss me fully clothed into the water,” she howled as he peeled the gown off over her head. “I was taking the dress off.”
He tossed the garment onto the rocky bank. “It’ll dry there while we have our fun.”
“Fun,” she all but shrieked. “You think I’m up for fun after your boorish behavior.”
“I’m up for something,” he said, dipping his chin.
She glanced down to find his cock bobbing from the water at her.
She groaned and fisted her hands on her hips, declaring, “Well, I’m not.”
“Could have fooled me,” he said, tweaking her nipples, which were already standing at attention.
She slapped his hands away, even though the dual pinches had acted like an on switch. Damn but didn’t she tingle between her legs.
“I knew there was a temper beneath all that sweetness,” he teased. “Good for you.”
“No, it’s not. Anger is not good.”
“Only if you don’t vent it,” he said, fingering one of her achingly turgid nipples.
She swung at him, but he was faster, diving into the depths of the pool. When his head broke water, he shouted, “Come vent on me.”
“Go to hell.”
He treaded water a moment before replying. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Either come after me and make me pay for the errors of my way. Or climb up on those rocks with that plain-Jane dress and wait for me to finish having my fun.”
He turned with one sweeping reach of his arm and sliced through the water away from her. It would serve him right if she didn’t come after him. Though that comment about sitting on the shore with her plain-Jane dress stung. Folding her arms across her aching nipples didn’t help any, either. In fact, it just reminded her how much she wanted him to touch her.
She cursed and dove in after him, catching up to him just short of the wall of water. She grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him under. His breath bubbled from his mouth and she released him, letting him resurface.
“By the goddess, you’re a fast swimmer,” he sputtered.
She paddled a circle around him. “I went to university on a swim scholarship. I was captain of my swim team. I was intramural champ two years running.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“You’re going to be more than that by the time I’m through with you,” she chirped, knowing just how to get even with him.
Taking a couple deep breaths, she dove for his crotch. In a singular motion, she clamped her hands onto his hips and her mouth onto his erection. He jerked, his legs flailing the water around her, his hands beating the surface.
She sucked at him and he swelled in her mouth. She slid her lips to the tip of his shaft then back down it again. He bucked against her. She hummed with her triumph, relaxed her throat and took him deep. His groan vibrated clear to the tip of his cock. Oh yes, she was in charge now. She was trying to think how next to torment him when he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to the surface.
“What are you trying to do?” he demanded, “drown yourself?”
“Huh?”
“You need air to breathe, Jayne. Just when were you coming up for some?”
She grinned at him. “One of the keys to my swimming success was the fact that I could hold my breath inordinately long.”
“And just how did you develop that little talent?”
“My parents were anthropologists in Sector Twelve.”
“The old world.”
“Yes and I grew up among a tribe of island people untouched by technology—people who used the old ways. They were sponge divers.”
“Who had to learn how to prolong their oxygen usage in order to dive for sponges,” he said with understanding.
“You got it.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting.”
“That I grew up with sponge divers?”
“No. That you hide a fascinating woman behind that shy façade of yours.”
Is that what she did? Distracted by her thoughts, she didn’t see him move for her until it was too late. In an instant, his fingers were inside her. She gasped in surprise and arousal.
Effortlessly, he lifted her through the water and back against the cool stone wall worn smooth by the steady cascade of water. He held her there, just above the pool’s surface, with those mere two digits. And, oh, what those flexing, stroking digits did to her insides.
He grinned up at her, his words barely audible above the rush of falling water. “No more shyness, my Jayne.”
Then he braced his free arm against a ridge not yet completely worn away by the falls and buried his head between her legs.
The water cascaded down over her like the fingers of a thousand lovers. It stroked through her hair and over her shoulders. It pelted her nipples. It caressed her stomach and her thighs. It swirled around her toes. And all the while his mouth suckled and his tongue probed.
She felt like the skin on a drum, stretched taut and vibrating with the rhythms nature and man played upon her. She raised her arms against the smooth stone, becoming one with the rock wall being eroded by the relentless cascade of water. Though, for her, it was the last remnants of her shyness being worn away.
In the middle of a clearing in the woods, plastered against the stone façade of a waterfall like some sacrificial virgin, she came. Not a millimeter of skin was spared by the orgasm. It rocked through her, from his artful fingers and talented mouth to her curling toes and wide-reaching fingers. She became one with the drumbeat of the water. And the beat went on for what seemed an eternity. The orgasm drummed through her until every muscle in her body was drained of energy. She collapsed and she slid from the wall of water.
She was vaguely aware of arms catching her, firm, lightly furred arms and of the silky slip of water sliding over her body. Cool air touched her nipples, making them sting in the most delicious of ways, air whispered against her wet skin and licked at her toes as the strong arms lifted her from the water. She could feel every thread weaving through the blanket on which he laid her and the coolness of a blade of grass that had poked its way through the blanket’s weave.
The sun, warm against her skin—through her skin, penetrated deep into her spent muscles. Even when he passed between the sun and her, she felt its heat.
“That was incredible,” she murmured.
“You are incredible,” he said, dropping to his knees beside her.
Languidly, she looked at his semi-inflated cock. “We need to finish.”
He stroked wet strands of hair from her cheek. “You look pretty finished to me.”
“But we didn’t—not together.”
“You really have no idea how incredible you are to watch as you come.”
If she’d had the energy, she’d have blushed. But it took all she had to drag her gaze from his cock to his eyes.
He smiled down on her. “Just watching you took me over the edge. There’s nothing to finish.”
“Oh,” she said, though she wasn’t sure the word made it off her lips.
He stretched out beside her, gathered her into his arms and pressed his lips to her brow.
Jayne didn’t remember falling asleep. But waking was memorable.
Forming a semicircle around the blanket on which she and Michael lay naked were a dozen men in tights and tunics holding longbows.
Chapter Eight
At least the bows the twelve men held weren’t fitted with arrows pointed at them. But Jayne had the sinking feeling that whatever bulged at the crotch of their tights would point straight at her should they be released.
She grabbed one corner of the blanket on which she and Michael lay and pulled it over herself as far as it would go…which wasn’t very far. But her frantic tugging woke Michael who blinked sleepily at her.
“Are you chilled, my beautiful Jayne? Let me warm you.”
His arms tightened around her. She gave a little squeak of fright and blinked from him to the men crowded into the clearing between them and the woods. He followed her glance and was instantly on his feet in a defensive pose between her and the band of men while she tucked the blanket around herself.
“Well, now look at ‘im,” chirped a weasel-like, little man. “Thinks he can take on the whole lot of us by his puny self.”
“Yer a fine one to talk about puny, Much,” a giant of a man rumbled.
The slight Much snorted. “Weren’t talkin’ about the height or breadth of the man, Little John.”
Little John? Jayne scanned the motley bunch, her gaze pausing on a rotund fellow with a shaved pate and wearing a monk’s robe…or rather, a friar’s. Jane groaned. Friar Tuck and Little John. She should have recognized them right off.
“—which as you well know,” continued the smallest of the men, “ain’t no evidence of the size of a man’s—”
“Shut yer mouth,” roared the hulking Little John, taking a threatening step toward the smaller man.
The band of men turned particularly merry at that moment guffawing and hooting. The big man with the less than impressive bulge to his tights glared at the little man while Jayne, who’d managed to get to her knees, took a quick inventory of everything at her eye level. She didn’t agree with the weasel-like man’s assessment of puny either, at least not in regards to her Michael. Granted he wasn’t presently hard, but then what naked man would be when facing down a dozen thugs.
Correction. Not thugs. Merry Men, as in the legendary Robin Hood and His Merry Men. So which one was Robin Hood and what did he want with her?
A set of startling blue eyes framed by a mane of black hair met her scan. He gave her a slight nod. Oh yeah. This guy was handsome enough to fit her fairytale idea of the steal-from -the –rich-and-give-to-the-poor Robin Hood.
But he wasn’t quite the gentleman she expected. His well-defined lips slanted an amused smile within the frame of a dark goatee and mustache and his bright blue eyes traveled over her like he considered her the riches he intended to steal and himself the poor man to whom he would give those riches. Still, to be the object of desire by a handsome rogue pleased her…even though Michael was the man with whom she’d planned to spend her remaining fantasy hours.
