Royally Claimed

chapter 6

JULIA PUSHED AWAY FROM THE lunch table and groaned. The café had outdone itself again with a pork stew, spiced beef and garlicky roasted potatoes. She’d allowed herself a glass of Frank’s own red wine but had sipped on it through several courses along with mineral water so she wouldn’t get a headache.

“More dessert?” He offered her a cream-filled pastry, but she shook her head.

“No. I’m so full, thanks.” She stood, enjoying the slight dizziness that came with good food and wine, not head injuries.

Frank jumped to his feet, as well. He may have been the descendant of autocratic peasant-repressers, but he did have nice manners. She gathered up her plate and he made such a dismayed sound that she nearly dropped it. “What?”

“You are my guest.” He snatched it away from her. “Guests never need to clear their own plates. I’ll take care of this.” He shooed her away and Julia realized she did need to use the facilities. Unfortunately that meant the pumpkin-pistachio powder room of horrors, but she hadn’t drunk enough that it made her physically ill. Just visually.

She finished and washed her hands as quickly as possible before returning to the kitchen. The kitchen was her favorite room in the whole villa, even before the paint fiasco. It had probably been the only room for many years judging from its size and the giant fireplace. Julia could imagine the hearth heating the space, with big tables and plenty of room for a bed tucked into the corner next to the fireplace. Even now, there was a leather sofa in front of the hearth, the substantial island and a dark rustic table that would easily seat ten. She’d seen reproductions on furniture websites but Frank’s table was the real deal, probably made from wood shipped from the mainland several hundred years ago.

Frank had turned on the radio he kept on the kitchen counter and listened to rapid-fire Portuguese. His frown deepened. Julia looked out the window and knew what was coming. She couldn’t understand the radio, but she knew weather from her life on air force bases.

She stuck her head out the back door. The sunny day had rapidly darkened, with ominous clouds blowing from the west. It had been such a warm day and a cold front was stirring up trouble when it hit the mass of warm air. Ah, life on an island.

This storm was a bad one, and they would be foolish to set off for the bigger island of São Miguel.

He turned down the volume and faced her. “Julia, the weather has turned, and there is a boating danger advisory. I can’t take you back. You’ll have to spend the night.”

Her stomach quivered. A night in the villa with Franco was laden with possibilities—and pitfalls. He stared at her and she knew he felt the same way. “I have to spend the night,” she echoed. “With you.”

“With me.” He took a step closer. “Don’t worry, meu bem. I will take care of you.”

Meu bem. That was hard to translate into English but easy to understand, basically meaning “sweetheart.”

“I trust you, Frank.” She touched his cheek and he covered her hand with his, turning his face to kiss her palm.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He dropped her hand and spun away. “I have to check on the boat.”

His steps echoed on the stone floor as he hurried out the door down to the dock. She slowly lowered her hand to her side, her palm burning where he kissed it. The rest of her burned as well.

Julia redirected her attention. A storm on a small island meant loss of utilities, so she searched in the kitchen cabinets and pantry for flashlights, candles, matches and even kerosene lanterns. After setting several of each on the center island, she filled several jugs with tap water and then ran both the downstairs and upstairs bathtubs full to use for flushing and bathing, if needed. As the tub filled upstairs, she glanced around the master suite, noting the dated overblown cabbage rose décor and baby pink bathroom, not to mention the red paint samples. No wonder Frank wanted to update the villa before his young friend’s honeymoon.

Frank’s comb and brush sat on the white spindly dressing table, complete with gilded mirror. A dark blue T-shirt hung over the gold-velvet upholstered chair. She couldn’t imagine Frank enjoyed sleeping there in that ugly bed. Poor Frank, under that dizzying bedspread. Some impulse made her test the mattress with her hand.

Frank all alone. Naked. His smooth skin catching on the worn sheets as he tossed and turned, his cock hardening in the night. He would toss the bedding away and cup himself, erect and thick. She swallowed painfully, desire thickening her blood. Her nipples tightened as she fantasized about him caressing himself from base to tip.

Juices slipping from him as they were slipping from her. She moaned, the pulsing between her thighs unbearable enough that she rubbed herself through her thin denim pants. A poor substitution for a real man, but the pull of her fantasy was too much to stop.

His fingers caressing his hard, masculine nipples. She undid a button and slipped her hand inside her blouse. Her breasts were full and heavy, their peaks aching as she tentatively brushed across them.

His hands tightening around his dark, heavy sac, milking and stroking himself. His heels digging into the mattress as his back arched from the bed, his hands working himself into a powerful frenzy of desire. Up and down his shaft.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, shivering at the edge of orgasm. Her hand crept up toward the drawstring at her waist. One touch on her bare flesh and she would shatter.

Him crying out in pleasure. Calling her name in violent climax—Julia, Julia.

“Julia! Julia!” The call was real this time. She yelped and yanked her hands from her body.

She blindly pulled extra blankets and pillows from the linen closet next to the bathroom. She headed for the stairs and almost knocked both of them down the rest of the way.

“Careful, Julia.” He steadied her and took the pile from her. “Downstairs with these?”

“Yes.” Her face was burning and her breath was as fast as if she had just played a soccer match.

“I saw all the supplies in the kitchen and the water as well. Good thinking. The electrical power still runs through that underwater cable from São Miguel, but the lines on our island are above ground and go down sometimes. If we lose electricity, we’ll have some generator power but not enough to run the water pump very much.”

She shivered, half from desire and half because the temperature had dropped precipitously. He noticed, but she had the feeling he noticed everything about her. “Go upstairs to the master suite where I’m staying. There should be a sweater in the closet. I’ll bring these blankets downstairs.”

Back to her fantasy room. She ducked in and grabbed a yellow fleece pullover that made her look like a hazard sign, even though she was still steaming hot. At least it was on the inside, where he couldn’t see.

Frank had set the blankets on the big leather couch in front of the fireplace and was eyeing the iron firewood rack. “We don’t have much wood inside. I’ll go to the shed in back to bring more in.”

“Do you need me to help?”

He laughed. “You’re asking a Portuguese man if he wants a woman to help him with heavy lifting? Remember where you are.”

“Hmmph.” As if she could forget. “Would you like me to cook or clean something while you do all the manly work around here?”

He gave her a long look up and down her body. “You make me wish I could do even more manly work for you.” Then he disappeared out the kitchen door.

Wow. She stood for several long seconds staring after him and then shook herself and got to work. She did a quick inventory of the fridge and pantry, noting the leftovers from lunch, some eggs, sausage, bread and milk. If the power went out, she could cook the eggs over the fireplace in one of the well-seasoned cast iron skillets, maybe make some French toast or an omelet. The sausage was smoked, so no need to keep it cold. Everything would keep until breakfast tomorrow.

Julia slowly closed the refrigerator door, making sure it was snug. How long since she had shared breakfast with a man? And no, quick runs to the hospital cafeteria for leaden pancakes or stale Danishes after a hellacious night of work didn’t count.

She thought. And thought. And thought. And decided to stop thinking after she had traveled well back into the previous decade.

But before breakfast came the night together. The pile of bedding drew her gaze.

Frank thumped through the door balancing an armful of firewood. He set the logs in the wrought-iron holder and then winced and shook his hand.

“What is it?”

“Splinter.” He picked at his palm with and then winced again. “Ah, I only got part of it.”

“Let me see.” She took his hand in hers. “Look, you broke it off inside and drove it even deeper.”

“Good thing I have a trained nursing professional to treat me,” he teased her.

“I don’t know how good of a thing it is. I’m pretty rusty since I’ve been off work for several weeks,” she joked back. His hand was warm and heavy in hers, his fingertips thickened from hard work but smooth, as if he took the effort to care for them.

They would be just the right combination of rough and smooth over her skin. Her fingers tightened on his briefly and she forced herself to relax.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.”

So he thought she was nervous about taking out his splinter instead of holding his hand. “Where do you keep your first aid supplies?”

“What first aid supplies?” He looked around in confusion. “I don’t think we have any. We just usually use soap and adhesive bandages. We are hearty people and don’t need much.”

“Frank!” she scolded him. “You live on an island forty minutes by boat from the nearest hospital. You don’t need to keep blood plasma in your refrigerator, but some basic supplies could save somebody’s life.”

“Julia, Julia.” He roared with laughter and yanked her into his arms, nuzzling her hair. “Of course we have supplies. I wouldn’t let my mother and sisters and all those nieces and nephews stay out here with only soap and adhesive bandages. We even have one of those electronic heart defibrillators and were all trained to use it.”

“Hmmph,” she muttered into his chest. “You are a terrible tease, Franco Duarte.”

His laugh rumbled under her cheek. “I may be a terrible tease but you are a wonderful nurse.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll show you our first aid kit and you can tell me all the things we are missing.”

“Okay.” Somehow Julia didn’t quite feel like leaving the warmth of his embrace to inventory supplies. Frank was solid and reassuring and made her feel safe for the first time in months, despite warnings of storms and power outages. But he did have that splinter still lodged in his palm.

She forced herself to pull away. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave her an ironic half-smile, as if he knew she was running away from him. Or at least retreating strategically. “Come with me.” He took her hand in his uninjured one and walked to the foyer. Along one wall was a large dark wood bench with a turkey-red padded rectangular cushion. Frank pulled off the cushion to reveal a hinged lid in the seat.

He reached inside a cutout hole and lifted it, revealing several large boxes nestled inside the bench. “Here we are. The defibrillator—” he pointed to a bright red plastic container “—and the other supplies.” He pulled them out for her and she knelt down and eagerly opened them.

There was enough to take care of his splinter and much more. Compression bandages, regular bandages, antibiotics, painkillers, syringes, epinephrine pen injectors, even some bags of IV fluid and… “Ooh, blood clotting granules. These are wonderful! If you have a serious injury, you just sprinkle them in to stop the bleeding. That is so thoughtful of you, Frank.”

He gave her an incredulous smile. “The most surprising things impress you, Julia. Not to brag, but here I am, one of the only dukes in Portugal, pretty well-off, moderately good-looking and owner of a big estate and my own island, and what impresses you about me? The fact that I have blood clotting granules in my first aid kit. You truly amaze me.”

She shook a packet at him. “That other stuff is not life-and-death, Frank. This is.”

“You’re right. And I’ll impress you however I can.”

“You don’t need to impress me.”

“Don’t I?” He lifted a black brow.

No, he didn’t need to impress her. He always had. Even as a young man he had been kind and friendly to everyone, not at all arrogant like she had assumed a man of his position to be. Apparently after they’d first parted, he’d continued his education and learned almost every job on his estate so he could be a hands-on leader.

“Julia…” he murmured, raising his hand to cup her cheek. Fortunately she spotted the splinter before he could press it in farther.

“Geez, Frank, I have to get that out.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’s a gunshot wound, Julia.”

She froze for a second and forced herself to relax. “No, it’s not. But I know what to do with those, too.”

“Really?” He gave her a sad look, his brown eyes darkening. “I suppose you would, working in a city emergency room. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She busied herself looking for the antiseptic wash and tweezers. “We can usually fix them up.”

“Usually,” he echoed.

“Not all the time,” she allowed, standing up. “There’s better light in the kitchen.”

He realized she was trying to change the subject and followed her obediently for once. At the kitchen sink, she made quick work of the splinter and washed and bandaged the small wound. “You’ve had a tetanus booster in the past ten years?”

He nodded. “I cut myself on some rusty barbed wire a few years ago and got one then.” He rubbed his upper arm. “It made my arm hurt for three days.”

“Then you should be all set.” She let go of his hand but he stood there expectantly. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to kiss it to make it better?”

“Frank…” She started to blush.

“It really hurts.” He put on a pained look.

She doubted it. The antibiotic ointment had a small amount of numbing ingredients in it. “I don’t kiss my patients.”

He came closer and she backed up until she was practically sitting in the sink. But this time, she didn’t feel panicked or closed in. After all, it was just Frank. “I’ve been very patient with you, Julia, but I’m not one of your patients.”

“You’re rather impatient, Frank.” Just as she said that, their hips touched and she realized how impatient he was. His erection was obvious, even through his jeans, fitting perfectly into the cradle of her hips.

Her eyes widened and he nodded ruefully. “We’ve waited long enough, Julia. Won’t you kiss me and make it all better?”

“Just your hand,” she emphasized.

“For now.” He rotated slightly, rubbing against her. She exhaled shakily. To feel all of that inside her…her fantasy from upstairs came roaring back and her nipples tightened against her thin bra.

But all he was asking for was a little kiss. On his hand, even. She took his wrist and placed a kiss near his bandage.

“And here.” He wiggled his fingertips.

“What? You’re not hurt there.”

“The pain is radiating outward.”

She went along with him and kissed each fingertip, his skin catching a bit on the tender inner skin of her lips. He watched her eagerly, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost black.

She nipped at his index finger and giving into the desire she’d tried to suppress all day, sucked it into her mouth. He groaned in shock and lust. “Julia…”

She swirled her tongue around his finger, the thick skin scraping along her nerve endings. She imagined doing the same thing to his erection that pressed between them.

He yanked his hand free and pulled her close. Just then, a huge clap of thunder startled them apart and a repetitive thumping noise came from outside. He bit out a Portuguese oath and craned his head toward the kitchen door. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He bent down and gave her a fierce, fast kiss before tossing on a rain slicker.

She clutched the countertop, her heart pounding. What had possessed her to be so bold? She hadn’t made up her mind to make love with Frank—had she?

Julia slumped onto a stool. Maybe she had. She’d seen the clouds coming from the west, had seen the waves starting to rise as they’d boated to Frank’s island. Her psychology class wasn’t much more than a distant memory, but even she could remember the pesky subconscious part of the mind that knew a person’s hidden wishes and cheerfully shoved her along toward attaining them.

Stupid Freud. Stupid subconscious. She’d known the weather would likely go bad and she’d be stranded on the island in the middle of a storm.

How very gothic of her. All she had to do was run screaming into the night with the Duke of Aguas Santas chasing her and they’d be reenacting one of those novels her mother had devoured when Julia was a kid. Except Julia had never grown up to be as buxom as those heroines.

On the other hand, Frank apparently still thought she was fine in the buxom department. And she was pretty sure he had absolutely no interest in running around his island in a thunderstorm in the dark, given how he’d cursed before going outside to fix whatever was thumping.

He was obviously interested in staying indoors with a nice fire, a bottle of wine and a heaping helping of soft bedding.

Her eyes strayed to the pile of blankets. It did make sense to stay downstairs since their only heat source was the fireplace.

She snorted. Oh, yes, that wouldn’t be their only heat source.

The lights went off and a dark figure stood in the door, silhouetted by lightning. Julia let out a piercing shriek that surprised even herself.

“Ay, caramba! Julia?”

“Frank?”

“Who else would it be?” He came into the kitchen and she shrunk back until she could see his face lit up by the next lightning bolt.

“Oh. Hi, Frank.”

“Hi, Frank?” he echoed. “You scared the life out of me. Meu Deus, oh, my God. My heart is pounding.”

“Good thing we have the defibrillator.”

“Very funny.” He shucked his jacket and hung it up on a hook near the door. “As I was planning to tell you before we started our little horror movie reenactment—”

Julia couldn’t help giggling.

“What’s so funny?” He came closer, flipping the wet hair out of his eyes.

“While you were out, I was thinking that we were reenacting a gothic novel.”

“Eh?”

“Dark, stormy nights, vulnerable maidens being chased by the lord of the manor.”

“That does sound more fun than my idea,” he admitted. “What does the lord of the manor do to the vulnerable maiden when he catches her?”

“Frank!” She was happy he couldn’t see her blushing.

He sighed. “Well, if you’ve ruled out the chase scene, let’s light some candles.” He pulled out some matches from next to the fireplace and lit several candles as well as a lantern. With the additional light, she saw it wasn’t just his hair that was wet.

“That raincoat didn’t do you much good—you’re wet down to the skin.”

He shrugged. “The door on the outbuilding blew open and broke a pane of glass when it hit. I was standing right under the gutter overflow trying to fix the latch and the water ran down my back. I’ll dry out soon, especially once I get this fire going.” He knelt at the hearth and patiently coaxed the kindling and smaller logs to full flame.

“That looks great. Now will you go change?”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, snagging a lantern to take upstairs. “Don’t go anywhere. I don’t feel like chasing you across the yard, however literary it would be.”

He went upstairs and she frantically patted her hair down, but the humidity was wreaking its vengeance on her for daring to try to straighten it. She gave up and finger-curled a few strands around her face.

And anyway, they were using candles and firelight, and didn’t every woman look better in that light? She looked down at her ruffled blouse, which was as droopy as her hair was puffy.

Was she keeping it on or taking it off? She realized Frank hadn’t brought her to his island specifically for making love, but it seemed as if the opportunity was presenting itself.

He reappeared in the doorway from the hall. She nearly swallowed her tongue at the sight. He wore old gray sweatpants riding low on his hips, a white towel slung around his neck—and nothing else. The firelight turned his skin to molten gold, the dark hair on his chest narrowing into a delicious line pointing south. All that separated her from him was a tug of the elastic. She had the sneaking suspicion he was flying solo underneath his pants, so to speak.

“Are you comfortable now?” she managed, reaching for her glass of wine to moisten her mouth.

“No, I am not, Julia.” As she stared at him, his waistband started to shift and pull with his arousal, making it very obvious how she affected him. Her jaw fell.

She dragged her gaze up to his face.

He shrugged ruefully. “I cannot help it. I could put on different clothing to hide my desire for you, but we would both know the truth. I am not ashamed that I want you, and I believe you want me, as well.”

Her jaw dropped the rest of the way at his blunt speaking. “I…uh, well, uh…” She couldn’t stop sneaking looks at his perfectly sculpted body. His body that was walking toward her. No, make that stalking toward her.

“You feel it, too, don’t you? Even stronger than before.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then I am yours tonight.” He tossed the towel aside. “Do with me what you will.” He stopped in front of her, heat and maleness radiating off him.

But that was all he did, despite how his pants were buckling under the strain. She understood that the choice was entirely hers. Yes, she was stranded on his island and totally under his physical control. He could do anything he wanted to her and she would be helpless to resist. Helpless to resist his touch, his mouth, his seduction. She let out a little groan at the images that conjured up. Maybe her fantasy of being chased and captured wasn’t just an idle one.

But she understood why he was making her decide. He had always left the choice up to her. Even when he should have chased after her.

Julia didn’t want any more lost opportunities. She reached out to touch his cheek. “I want you, too, Franco.”

He closed his eyes in what looked almost like relief. He cupped her wrist and nuzzled her palm. “Then what are we waiting for?”

He sat on the leather couch and guided her to sit on his lap. He was full and hard against her bottom, but contented himself with kissing her cheek and jaw. “So soft, so smooth.” He rested his forehead on hers. “Julia, it’s been so long.”

She put her finger on his lips. “Let’s leave the past in the past. Tonight, everything is new. We are new.”

“Agreed.” She thought she saw relief in his eyes. He didn’t want to get into the mess they’d made in the past any more than she did.

Tonight it was easier to think of him as a sexy Portuguese guy she’d met while on a fun Azores vacation. Kind of like the first time they’d met. Why didn’t she have any more sense now? Shouldn’t she be the sadder but wiser girl at this point?

But Julia mentally put the brakes on that line of thinking. She might not be any wiser, but tonight would sure make her happier, as evidenced by Frank’s clever fingers delicately undoing her buttons.

Her gaze locked with his as he finished opening her blouse and pulled it open. She sat quietly as he pushed it off her shoulders. No hurrying for them tonight.

Frank stroked her cheek and slid his fingers into her hair, gently bringing her mouth to his. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers.

Pure heaven. Tears pricked her eyelids, and she hoped they didn’t fall and earn his notice. She took a deep breath and fell into his kiss, warm and tender.

He moved his mouth over hers, nipping and sucking at her lips, kissing her cheeks as he cupped her face. She rested her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscles under his silky skin. He had definitely gained strength and power since she had last held him in her arms, but of course, that was to be expected. Eleven years had developed him from a young kid just leaving his teens to a mature, powerful man.

And she had missed all of it. Someone else had witnessed the fulfillment of his manhood. If things had turned out badly for her when she was injured, she never would have seen him again.

He stopped abruptly.

“What?” She opened her eyes hazily and realized he was wiping tears off her face. “Oh, um…” Her throat closed up. “Julia, amor meu.” He shook his head. “We do not have to do this if you are not ready.”

The floodgates opened and she buried her face in his neck. He leaned back into the sofa and wrapped his arms around her, murmuring soothing things in Portuguese.

She cried for all the lost years and all the stupid dates she had been on with losers and nice guys whose only problem was that they weren’t Francisco Duarte. Cried for all the time she’d spent grieving over losing him and kicking herself for not being brave enough to drive a couple hours to New York to see him.

He sat patiently under her until she ran out of tears, handing her a tissue from a box next to the couch. “Julia, you are breaking my heart.” He was telling the truth; she could hear the pain in his voice. “Tell me, my princess, what makes you cry so?”

She debated what to tell him. “Being here with you is very emotional.”

“Tell me about it,” he murmured, his dark eyes looking a bit wet themselves.

“When I got hurt at work, a patient in the emergency room was giving us trouble and I got caught in the middle. He shoved me into the countertop and I hit my head—pretty good concussion.”

“A head injury? My God, why didn’t you tell me?” He examined her scalp with his fingers and she pointed to the area that had been injured. “Does it still hurt?”

She shook her head. “No more headaches, but I feel almost…raw. Like when you have a healing scar and the skin is new and pink and tender. Concussions can make people moody.”

“Oh, dear.” His mouth pulled into a small smile. “But I know how to help moody women. I have four younger sisters—five if you count Stefania. Would you like some Belgian chocolate?”

She burst out laughing. “Frank, you dope. I had a head injury, not PMS.”

He gave her a bigger grin and she realized that he had succeeded in cheering her up. “You can still have the chocolate.”

But he wouldn’t make the next move. It was Julia who needed to start things up again. “Let’s have chocolate later, after we work up an appetite.”

“I already have a big appetite,” he murmured seductively, his erection firming under her again.

“Why don’t you show me?”

Frank hastily tossed the blankets in front of the fireplace and guided Julia down with him so they knelt face-to-face. She stroked his chest. His fingers quickly undid the catch and peeled her bra away.

“Beautiful.” He cupped her breasts, her plump flesh pale against his strong brown hands. He brushed each nipple until they stood up in tight peaks, then rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

She arched into his touch, desperately wanting him to ease the throbbing between her thighs.

But he was determined to take his sweet time, and nuzzled her hair aside to nibble her neck.

“Frank,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around him.

“Mmm.” He nipped at her earlobe. “Don’t you like this, my darling Julia?”

She shivered at both his exquisite torture and his endearment. “Love it.”

He tongued the hollow behind her ear. “Then let’s keep going.” He pinched her nipple, and she was powerless to resist.

“Keep going.”

He sat back against the couch and moved her rubbery legs so she straddled his muscular thigh. She settled onto him and gasped at the pressure against her *. Without meaning to, she began grinding on him as he played with her breasts.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” he crooned. “Poor Julia, you’ve missed my touch, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“My hands, my cock, my mouth?” He leaned forward and imprisoned a nipple deep in his mouth and she screamed in pleasure. He was hot and wet as he sucked on her, stroking her with his tongue and even biting her gently.

She tried to undo her pants but he easily caught her hands and held them behind her back. “Not yet. I want to make you come like this.”

“But Frank,” she whimpered. “Don’t you want to come inside me?” It was a rhetorical question since his sweatpants were about to pull apart at the seams.

He gave a strained laugh. “When I push inside you, I want you so hot, so ready that you’ll come as fast as I will. Now lean forward so I can suck on your juicy tits.”

Her * quivered at his sexy words. Even as a younger man, he’d enjoyed talking dirty to her and telling her in explicit detail what he was going to do to her and what she could do to him. It had always turned her on and tonight was no exception.

She surrendered and pressed her body into his. He immediately mouthed her other breast, but forgot something. “Frank?”

“Mmm.” The suction was exquisite, hard enough to drive her crazy but not painful.

“Ah…my arms are still behind my back.”

He let go. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, but…”

“You don’t like the lack of control.” He was too perceptive for his own good.

She shook her head.

“But, Julia, if I let go, you might start playing with your breasts, running your hands down to your wet little p-ssy to ease its ache,” he explained matter-of-factly. “You are my guest on my island and I plan to do everything for you tonight. All night long.”

“You brute,” she said weakly, little shudders of desire rising from listening to him.

“I am. And we are alone in the middle of a storm where nothing but the wind will hear your screams of pleasure.”

Hypnotized, she leaned forward, offering herself to him. He easily encircled her wrists with one hand and cupped the other breast. “Such soft skin,” he murmured. “Like silk. Like cream.” He leaned forward and blew on her, raising goosebumps as he cooled her overheated flesh. She groaned.

“Don’t you like this, darling?”

“Too much.”

“It’s never too much. It has never been enough, has it?”

Julia shook her head. Somehow, he still knew what she wanted, even when she didn’t realize it herself.

He kissed along her collarbone. “I think you like your arms pinned behind your back. I think you like your breasts pushed out for me to touch.” His strong fingers stroked and teased her skin, circling around but not touching the peaks. “For me to kiss.” He bent his black head and kissed each nipple delicately. “For me to make love.” He rolled a tip between his fingers.

She couldn’t help herself and started riding his thigh again. “That’s it, Julia.” He pinched her a bit harder. “Use me for your pleasure. You’ve needed this for a long time.” He sucked her other nipple and then blew on it. “Needed me for a long time.”

She ground her hips hard into him, stunned at herself. Topless, riding his thigh with several layers of clothing with her hands trapped. Offering herself up to him totally.

It was his voice. His dark, sherry-accented voice luring her into his sensual intoxication. She was drunk with lust—no other explanation.

“Ride me, Julia. I can feel your hot, wet center burning me.” He sucked on her nipples after that, biting, teasing her until she bucked on him, her head tossed back.

Dizziness spiraled around her, twisting up from her pulsing * to where their hands were locked together to where his mouth tormented her throbbing breasts. They were a whirlwind together, more powerful than the storm outside. She closed her eyes and let her climax sweep her away on a wave of intense pleasure. She dimly realized she was screaming his name into the storm, reveling in his possession of her.

After an eternity, she felt him release her arms and he lowered her to their nest of blankets. He pulled the rest of their clothing off and settled between her legs.

Her eyes flew open. “But what about protection?” Thank goodness she had remembered at literally the last minute.

He guided her hand down to his rock-hard cock, sheathed in latex. “Already taken care of.” He nudged her thighs wider. “Take me inside you, Julia. I die for you.”

She gladly accepted him, and they groaned simultaneously. Oh, my God, he was still built like a bull, even thicker and longer than she remembered. The walls of her passage eagerly squeezed him, and he began to move.

“So hot and tight,” he gasped.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and wrapped her thighs around his waist, not letting for an instant. “Do me hard, Franco.”

He threw his head back in shock and stared down at her. She had never been the one to talk dirty, but judging by how he swelled and jumped within her, he liked it. “You want me to do what?” His voice was hoarse with desire.

Ah, he wanted her to say it again. “I want you to do me hard, Franco. Now and all night, until I drain you dry.”

He started slamming into her. “What else?”

She had to stop and think for a second. His luscious cock was heating her up again, especially when he slipped his hand between them and teased her *. What else would she like him to do? Everything. Anything. One fantasy came to mind. “I want you to lick me.”

“Where? Here?” He licked her neck. “Or here?” He licked her breast. “Or here?” He slowly pulled out of her, teasing her opening with his blunt tip and laughed as she clutched at him. “Oh, yes, there.”

“Yes, there.”

“Tell me, Julia. You want me to lick you where? You know my little secret now, that I like to hear you tell me naughty things. Be a naughty girl and tell me.”

Her face was burning hot but he probably couldn’t tell that in the firelight. “I want you to lick my p-ssy.”

“Oh, I will.” His promise was so heartfelt, she forgot her embarrassment. “I’ll sit you in a chair and spread your soft thighs, kneel in front of you like a servant and sing your praises with my mouth.”

“Oh, yes…” She arched under him and he stroked her tight little nub again and again, stretching her and filling her. His bronzed skin glistened in the firelight, his head tossed back in passion.

“Tell me you’re close,” he ground out. She nodded, gasping at his fat tip and thick shaft twisting inside her. Her insides were on fire, pulsing and trembling with his every stroke. He pinched her * hard and she screamed in pleasure, shaking and falling apart underneath him.

He exploded into her, a hoarse cry spilling from his lips. His frantic thrusts spurred her into another climax, her breath catching in her throat as she saw stars. He collapsed on top of her and they lay locked together, shuddering from orgasmic aftershocks.

He rolled to his side after a minute and took her with him, his cock still full and juicy inside her. “Oh, Julia, that was amazing.”

Lying draped over him, she had to agree. “It’s still early. We have plenty of time tonight.”

He kissed her gently. “Why only tonight? Why not longer?”

She thought for a second. She didn’t have any plans, and she was alone in the islands with no one to fuss at her. “What did you have in mind?”

“This.” He brushed his fingertip over her * and she shuddered in lust. “And more. Stay with me. I’ll work on the renovations, you can sunbathe in the nude. I can watch you sunbathe, forget the renovations and make love to you next to the pool. Or on the beach. Or in the house. In a chair,” he said with a devilish grin, reminding her of her fantasy. “Anything you want. And I mean anything.”

“Anything?” That sounded slightly scary but delicious.

“Whenever you want. Or whenever I want,” he added. “You and I, we are fantastic together. When will life again give us this opportunity?”

He had a good point. Life was so unpredictable.

“Wouldn’t you like, just for once, to be a total hedonist? We eat what we want, we drink what we want. If we want to be naked all day, who cares? We can swim naked, lie in the sun, drink wine and make love to each other. Hell, do all of that at the same time.”

“All right,” she said slowly. “It sounds wonderful, but what about the end of our hedonism?”

He shrugged with a Mediterranean fatalism. “We see what happens then. Carpe diem as my Roman ancestors used to say. ‘Seize the day.’”

“Seize the day.” How many days had slipped away while she was slogging through her gray life in Boston? Over four thousand. What was a week or ten days if she could live them like this? “Yes, Frank, I’ll stay with you here. But if either one of us has had enough, that’s it.”

“Of course. Along with oppressing peasants, we gave up kidnapping beautiful maidens a long time ago.” He kissed her again. “You can go back whenever you want. But I hope not too soon.”

“You’ve got a deal.” She kissed him back, having the conflicting feelings of both coming home and standing at the edge of a precipice.