RoxannesPirate Page 15
“Oh Carlos.”
He put his hands on her buttocks and turned her slightly. “My marks are on you.” His fingers traced the outline of a shape on her skin. “Poor Roxanne.” He kissed the spot. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“And inside?” He kissed the curve of each cheek.
“A little. Do you like seeing your marks on me?”
He laughed a low laugh. “Yes.” He ran his fingers up her spine and stood. He cupped her breasts in his hands and pulled her body against his. She wanted to melt into him.
“I want to see if I left my marks on you,” she said. She turned and unbuckled his belt buckle. She pulled down the zipper on his pants. He took them off along with his underwear. She moved behind him and ran her nipples down his back until she was kneeling behind him. His cheeks were marred with faint bruises.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
“Yes.” She rested her head on his thigh and touched his hard cock with light feathery strokes. She turned him so he faced her. She licked his cock. His hands rested gently on her head. She took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could and sucked him softly. He groaned. “Come on the bed. I want to taste you too.”
She released his cock from her mouth but squeezed it with her hand. Again he groaned. “Not yet,” she said.
He bent and put his hands to the base of her skull. “You forget that I lead.”
“Let me tonight. Please let me.”
He pulled her to her feet and against his body, crushing her against his chest. She felt the power in his body. He held her away and looked into her eyes, his own eyes narrowed and she saw the need to possess written in every tendon in his face.
“Please,” she said again. “Lie down. Let me lead.”
He released his grasp and took her hand and stepped backward to the bed. He sat on it and moved back until his head rested on a pillow. She came on to the bed beside him.
She took her time with him as if she were newly discovering the pleasures of his skin. She stroked him, kissed him, licked his ear, his neck, his belly, his cock. She unrolled a condom onto him and then teased him and teased herself by taking him only part way inside her and then pulling away. He let her play as she wanted, let her move against him, her gaze holding his, rocking and rocking until she cried out her pleasure, and then he let her hold his hands over his head and drive her hips against him until he stiffened and gasped his own release.
She lay on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.
“When Marit left me, I was devastated,” he said. “I felt like I’d been ripped open. I didn’t think I’d ever heal, certain I’d never love again. But I’m falling, Rox. I’m falling hard and fast.”
She kissed his neck. “I’m falling too.”
“Good.” His voice cracked. “Because it would be hell to fall alone.”
They lay quietly for a moment.
She raised her head. “I never thought when I was on the plane down to Miami that you and I would be like this.”
“See, who needs fiction? Real life has enough twists and turns.”
In a few minutes, he was asleep.
She held him and lightly stroked his forehead. She had been lonely for so long. Lonely even when she’d been with Paul. Here at last was a chance for love. What they had was so fragile, so new. She did not want to risk losing him, but she wanted to be honest with him, to eliminate the secrets, to wipe out that sadness. She sighed. She thought of her mother’s message, of her father’s sacred reputation. She saw again Murkley’s face. Her stomach knotted.
You’ve waited so long to tell anyone the truth. What harm can there be if you wait a little longer?
Chapter Sixteen
When Roxanne woke, the room was bright with sunlight. The bed beside her was empty. She heard a mechanical sound from the hall and Carlos’ voice yelling what sounded like curses in Spanish. She put on her blue robe.
He was running on the treadmill and watching a soccer game on television. Roxanne returned to the bedroom and pulled out her black leggings and her blue sports top. The last time she’d exercised was Friday morning. She smiled. That morning she’d fantasized about her pirate, and here she was two days later firmly in his clutches.
“Good morning,” she said to him. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”
“Please do,” he said. He was huffing.
She watched him for a few minutes. Admired his long, lean torso with his strong back, his chest and flat belly covered by the tracery of coarse black hair. He was wearing shorts and had a white towel at the ready to wipe the sweat from his face. He was such a sexy man, even sweaty.
She would not get any exercise done if she let desire control her. She took a mat over to the floor-to-ceiling window. She would do a set of core exercises. Concentrating on her movement and breathing would give her focus and some control over the endless ache. She bent at the waist and began with downward-facing dog. She took deep cleansing breaths and lowered herself to plank, supporting her upper body on her straight arms and her lower body on her flexed toes. Soon she lost herself in the rhythm of her routine.
When she flipped over to do some crunches, she realized Carlos had stopped running and was watching her, a grin on his face and a bulge in his shorts.
“Is that routine out of a sex manual?”
“You have a dirty mind.” She did her crunches then let her shoulders rest on the mat and lifted her hips and pelvis into bridge.
“Very nice,” Carlos said.
“Why don’t you take a shower and cool off?”
“Why don’t you join me?”
Carlos’ shower was large with spray jets on either side and a round metal railing at a little below waist height on the three marble-tiled walls. On the right was an alcove with a teak bench and several spray jets for a more intense spraying experience. It was a shower that seemed built for sex. They soaped each other. Carlos held her body to take the spray on her nipples, her belly, her ass. He then lifted her right foot and rested it on the teak bench and directed the spray between her legs until she pulled away.
“Too much water,” she said. “Not enough man.”
He unrolled a condom. “How about more of those yoga poses?”
“I have a better idea.” She pulled the bench out of the alcove. “I’ve never done anything like this, so don’t laugh if I slip.” She took his hand and tugged him into the alcove. “Lean against the wall.”
The spray jets hit the back of his head, his spine and ass. She braced her arms on the railing across from him. She put her right foot on the railing behind Carlos’ left side. Because the alcove was narrow, her leg was bent as though she were on a doctor’s examination table. She carefully raised her left foot to the railing on his right.
The spray hit her belly and breasts. “I like the view,” he said. “Are you all right like that?”
“I’d be much better with your cock inside me.”
He rubbed the head of it around her opening.
“Give it to me.”
“Don’t be greedy.”
He slid the tip into her and pulled out. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes!” She arched her back and began moving her hips up and down. “Hold on to my ankles so I don’t fall off.”
“Oh,” he said. He grasped her ankles and shut his eyes.
The water formed a halo around his head. He bent his head back. Roxanne was in control. Her hips produced the movement, her movements made the friction against his steel-hard cock.
“Do you like this?” she asked, panting.
“Oh yes.” He bent his head back farther.
“What about this?” She quickened her movement. “Or this?” She slowed her pace. “Which do you prefer?” She slowed almost to a stop. “Or do you like this better?”
He groaned. He clamped his hands tighter around her ankles. “Fast.” His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed.
She increased her movements.
“Oh God yes,” he said.
She moved still faster, loving the sensation she felt in her passage. He moved one hand to her clit and rubbed it. “I’m coming,” she gasped. “Can you feel me coming?”
She hit her peak and cried out. She slowed her movement, savoring the pleasure that radiated inside.
He squeezed her ankles. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
She loved that he had surrendered control to her. Her hips found a new momentum. Carlos’ face twisted, contorted. She held her breath and pumped harder. He roared, a wild animal sound. He let go of her ankles and grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh to hold her still and emptied inside her. He squeezed her for several seconds then let her go and sank to his knees. The water beat against him.
Roxanne dropped her feet to the floor. Her legs and arms were shaking. She sat on the bench and grinned. She had a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. “Did you like that?” she asked.
“Like it?” He still knelt on the floor. “You blew me away.”
She laughed and left him in the shower.
* * * * *
They agreed that they would spend the day at Carlos’ house. Both of them had work to do. She sat in his living room on the couch. He sat across from her in one of the egg chairs. She looked up at him several times to watch him work. His eyebrows knit together, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Once, she looked up and he was staring at her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You’re beautiful,” he answered.
Later he told her that Lisa, Eduardo’s agent, had sent an email that the bull Carlos had purchased for the resort in Costa Rica had to remain in the gallery for six weeks and would be delivered after that.
“You should have a party to welcome it,” she said.
“I will if you’ll come.”
“I’ll come if you invite me.”
He smiled. “You’re invited.” He sat up and kissed her toes. “Let’s get lunch. We can pick up steaks for dinner. I’ll dazzle you with my grilling expertise.”
They had lunch in a café. Carlos told Roxanne more about his business and the resort operations. They discussed the future of eco-tourism. He offered her advice for the Bigelow Foundation. She did not mention Dover Key or Spencer Marshall or John Murkley, nor did he. They walked through the grocery store hand in hand and bought what they needed for dinner.
When they got back to the house, Carlos marinated the steaks. Roxanne lay down in a chaise by the pool with one of his books on American policy in Latin America. “I’d like a nap,” she told him. “This is sure to put me to sleep.” She was right. She read and dozed, dozed and read.
Carlos took a seat in the chaise next to her. “I’ve opened a bottle of malbec to have with dinner. Would you like something now?”
She stretched. He looked at her with narrowed eyes.
“What are my choices?”
He untied the drawstring on her pants. “I thought we’d start with a little tongue.”
The shrill ringing that had interrupted them on Thursday night sounded from his pocket. “Someone has terrible timing,” Roxanne said.
Carlos stood up. “I have to take this.” He walked back into the house.
She waited for him for a few minutes. When he did not return, she walked down the steps to the lawn. She walked to the end where the point stuck out into the bay—the deck of her pirate’s ship. A soft breeze was blowing. It prickled the hair on her arms. She thought of the way he’d held her when they danced, his tenderness, his strength, the brutality he restrained, his passion for her, his need for love. He had promised to come to her in New York, had asked her to go with him to Costa Rica. She spun around the grass as she had done when she was a little girl on those rare days she had been overwhelmed with happiness. She glanced up at the house. He was watching her.
“Come, Roxanne.” He held his hand out to her. She ran up the steps to him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.
“I’m happy,” she said. “For the first time in forever I’m really happy.”
He did not embrace her. He took her hand. “Come inside,” he said. She could tell it was not desire that motivated him. “Hector Rivera called. He’ll be here in a few minutes. I don’t want him to see you.” He led her into the house. “I want you to stay in my bedroom until he’s gone.”
“What does he want?”
“His settlement money.”
“Aren’t the attorneys handling that?” Roxanne paused in the living room, but Carlos tugged her down the hall.
“He doesn’t want to wait. He’s in a hurry for his money. He’s gotten himself into some trouble. He’s agreed to cut the settlement amount if I pay him now. I don’t want him to know you’re here. It would raise all kinds of awkward questions.”
“All right.”
“You’ll stay in my bedroom. It won’t take long. When he leaves, we’ll have dinner. Please, Roxanne.” He opened the bedroom door.
“Yes of course. I’ll wait in here. Do you want to lock me in?” She tried to make it sound like a jest. He was acting so strangely.
“If I could, I would.” He gave her a slight push into the room. “Give me your word. Promise me you won’t come out until after he’s gone.”
“I promise. I won’t come out until he’s gone.”
He shut the door.
Roxanne lay on the unmade bed. She pulled Carlos’ pillow to her nose and caught a whiff of his scent. As usual, it stirred her. What had happened to change his mood so abruptly? She had been the one worried about the ethics of getting involved with a man her firm’s client was suing. And certainly, her boss Bardon Collins would be furious—and titillated—to hear she’d been sharing Carlos’ bed. Understandably, Carlos was trying to protect her. But she had the feeling his anxiety went deeper than that. He had told her repeatedly he did not want to seek revenge for the damage Rivera had inflicted on the Dover Key project, had told her repeatedly that nothing he did could bring his partner Spencer Marshall back to life. Could it be he was feeling guilty about letting Rivera off the hook?
Roxanne sighed. He’s not the one feeling guilty—you are. Some things could not be escaped.
She looked out the window. A tall group of shrubs obscured her view of the front of the house. She heard a car drive into the driveway, heard the tires squeal when the driver slammed on the brakes. Footsteps hurried up the path to the front door.
Carlos must have been waiting at the front door. She heard muffled conversation. She caught only a few words. “Where’s the release?” That was Carlos. “The money?” That was Rivera. Footsteps faded away. They seemed to head toward the kitchen. For a few minutes she heard nothing. The footsteps returned. She opened the bedroom door. She had promised to stay inside, but there was no reason she could not hear what the men said.
“I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, Hector. I only hope we never meet again.”
“You think I’m a fool.” Rivera sounded shaken. “You think I don’t know what’s going on. But I do. You used Ines to push me out.”
“Did Ines tell you that? You can’t believe a word she says.”
“How much has he promised you? Millions? Estupido! You think you can ride the tiger? He’ll eat you alive.”
“If you want to keep that money, I suggest you leave now, before I change my mind.”
“You’re an arrogant bastard. The kind he loves destroying. El Buitre va a limpiar tus huesos.”
“Adios, Hector.”
The door slammed. Hurried footsteps sounded on the path to the driveway. A car door shut, an engine started, tires squealed as the car was gunned out of the driveway.
Roxanne stepped into the hall. Carlos was standing staring at the front door. His hands were at his hips, like a gunslinger before a shootout. Roxanne called his name. He blinked and looked up at her as though he was surprised to see her there. “I have some calls to make,” he said. “Dinner will have to wait.�
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He was not gone long, but when he returned to her, he was preoccupied. He lit the grill and poured a glass of wine for her and one for him.
He raised his wineglass. “Here’s to the end of Hector Rivera.”
“You mean to the end of his lawsuit.”
“Of course that’s what I meant.” He clinked his glass against hers.
“Rivera sounded upset. I heard him when he was leaving.”
“Ines left him for Murkley. Rivera is jealous.”
“He said something about the tiger devouring you.”
“He thinks I stole a business opportunity from him.”
“Did you?”
He sipped his wine and looked out at the bay.
“Carlos?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s a buitre? Hector said something about a buitre.”
“He said ‘the vulture will pick your bones’. I’m sure he meant it kindly.” Carlos put down his glass. “I’m sorry, I’m not being very good company. I have a lot on my mind.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll have to drop you off at the airport early in the morning. Your flight is at nine. It will be weeks before I can see you again.” His gaze searched her face.
“I’ll wait for you.”
He kissed her cheek.
“Let’s have those steaks.”
He was subdued during dinner. There was a difference in the air between them, like a thick chill fog had rolled in and blocked out the sun. Roxanne wondered if Marit, the woman Carlos had loved and lost, had felt that chill and left Carlos as a result. Roxanne’s own dark sadness had sent her fiancé Paul scurrying off to find someone sunnier, but her sadness had a concrete cause—her adored and idolized father had proved to be a moral failure, and she in turn had refused to honor his deathbed demand for revenge. What was behind Carlos’ retreat? Who was the tiger Rivera thought would devour him? Why had Rivera threatened him with the image of a vulture picking his bones? Was it simple jealousy over Ines or was there some other deeper, darker secret behind Carlos’ chill? She tilted her wineglass and watched the liquid slosh against the sides of the glass. The happiness she’d felt that afternoon seemed far away.