Catherine licked her fingers slowly like a cat savoring sweet milk. “Dates. Cook brought me some. They’re delicious. Want one? She asked, scooping a fat date out of the small bowl resting beside her and offering the fruit to him.
“No,” he snapped, and snatched away the chart that lay in her lap.
“I wasn’t finished tracing the lines,” she complained, annoyed since she had determined that the chart outlined a specific Spanish route and wanting to investigate further.”
“It’s the chart or the date,” he ordered.
Not wanting to appear anxious about viewing the chart and having secured his permission to do so anytime she wished, she took a bite of the date.
Catherine found chewing difficult and felt certain she’d never swallow the piece. Not after Lucian turned his back to her and she once again viewed his scarred flesh. The scars had healed, leaving long, thin lash marks. The sun had darkened his skin hiding a few, but some couldn’t be hidden. They stood as a testimony to his endurance.
He turned back around and she quickly popped the date into her mouth, holding onto the
end and sucking on it like a licorice stick. She didn’t want him to know she had been staring at his back so she purposefully concentrated on the date, sucking it slowly, succulently, insatiably.
Lucian focused on her mouth and the date. Her small tongue rode up the sides of the plump date skillfully. He could almost feel her pink flesh slither sensuously along the meaty fruit. His skin quivered and he hardened in an instant.
“Are you sure you don’t want a taste?” she offered, the juice sticky on her lips.
Lucian, don’t, his inner voice warned.
He smiled recalling the name his crew had bestowed on him. Lucifer. He could handle the results of a sampling of the forbidden fruit. Could Catherine?
“I’ll have a taste,” he said, walking over to the bed, dropping down over her and forcing her to scramble out of her awkward position as he descended upon her and feasted directly on her mouth.
Chapter Eleven
She tasted sticky and sweet and his tongue eagerly sought to sample all of her. He roamed her mouth slowly, savoring her unique flavor, drinking his full of her.
Her tongue danced with his, initiating their pace. She picked up the tempo, darting, fencing, hiding, making him pursue her. She moved beneath him with the same gusto, pushing up against him, obviously anxious and impatient for him to touch her.
He pressed against her, running his hand behind her neck and forcing her head up. He drank deeply of her rich taste and the urge to sample more of her overwhelmed him and sent his hand roaming.
Catherine’s head dropped back on the pillow and she moaned, her breath short and rapid.
“Delicious, but I want more,” he said firmly rising up over her and bringing his legs to rest on either side of her belly, straddling her.
Catherine bit at her bottom lip and shook her head slowly.
“Much more,” he emphasized, “my tongue is going to taste every delectable inch of you.”
Her eyes flew open as though she had been pricked by a pin. Surely he was jesting with her. She had strained against him trying not to fight him, but fearful none the less. She ran her tongue across her puffy lips attempting to control her nervous tremors before speaking.
He misread her actions. “Tonight I feast on you. Perhaps I shall allow you to feast on me another night.”
Catherine’s eyes couldn’t have grown any wider, and they didn’t. They slammed tightly shut against his sinful remark. She felt his hands at her shoulders, felt him free the fastenings of her dress, felt him ease the silk down along her shoulders slowly inch by inch, exposing her breasts to him.
“You are lovely,” he whispered, “but then I suppose you’ve been told that often enough.” He took the strand of pearls in his hand and ran the cool beads over her breasts and across her nipples.
Catherine focused on his words, fighting against the tingling sensations racing over her flesh. Fighting the heat that raged inside her. Fighting the thought that she could conceivably enjoy the captain’ touch. She had to concentrate on the seriousness of the situation and find a solution, a way out.
His fingers brushed her nipple, skimmed the tip, circled the rosy bud before he took the hard peak between his fingers and teased it unmercifully.
“Damn, but you feel good,” he said, his voice a deep husky whisper. “Let’s see how you taste.”
Her eyes popped open again as his head descended to her breast. She gasped and sighed, so unexpected was the jolt of pleasure that shot through her when he took her nipple into his warm wet mouth and gently suckled the hard tip.
Catherine think, she warned herself. Think of a way to stop him before it’s too late. But all her thoughts could center on was his mouth and the magic it worked on her.