His Wicked Touch

HIS WICKED TOUCH

By

Taylor Manning

© Copyright by Taylor Manning, April 2012

© Cover Art by Eliza Black, 2012

© Original Copyright, June 2008

ISBN 978-160394-688-9

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

"If I grant you permission to reap the harvest, Captain, what price will you pay in return?"

He recovered quickly.

"The price shall be what you demand. I believe that to be access to the treasure room?"

Hot dog. Now she was cooking with gas. She opened her mouth to clarify the deal, but he raised a finger to silence her.

"The agreement shall be thus: This night you shall grant me the kissing of your lips. On the morrow, your breasts. And the next night following, you shall grant me the most intimate kiss of all."

A shiver ran down Bess’s spine and her lower belly tightened. Good grief! Did that mean no intercourse? Just… a picture of his ebony curls spread over her thighs as he took her with his mouth almost made her shiver.

She reigned in the sensation and forced herself to think. Why not intercourse? Was there something physically wrong with him? Was it a religious thing, like with Will?

The thought brought her completely back into focus. So, she had to pay with kisses to get access to the treasure? It worked for her.

"If I agree, you will allow me to deposit my lady's goods among the treasure?"

"If you fulfill our agreement, yes."

He would keep his word. She was sure of that.

Bess couldn’t believe her luck. His terms were not so bad. It wasn’t as if she didn’t find him attractive. Hell, if the dampness in her crotch was any indication, she actually lusted for him.

"You agree, then?" he asked.

Bess nodded, slowly.

"Then let us retire to my quarters for the first kiss." He extended his arm.

Bess considered telling him to take his kiss here and now, but caught herself. A chance to learn where he slept, since it had to be near the treasure, was not to be passed up, just in case something happened to flummox their agreement. Like he gets taken out by a cannon ball before the final kiss.

She laid her hand on his arm and moments later they reached his chamber.

He gesturing broadly. "Please, be seated."

Bess looked around. There were only two places to sit. One was the bed. She thought not. The other was a classic bergere—a large, low armchair with a curving back and thick cushion, upholstered in dark green velvet. It looked as potentially seductionable as the bed.

"I prefer to stand."

The eyebrow quirked. Damn him.

"As you wish. I but thought you would be more comfortable sipping your wine were you seated."

Wine. Quite the seducer. Well, she had no intention of sipping wine or anything else. Hoppers had to be careful about lowering their inhibitions and wine was one of those things that could make her do just that.

"My comfort is already in jeopardy by my presence in your rooms," she said. "Nor do I believe wine will alleviate it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Take your kiss and let me return. I am weary from the day’s exertions."

* * * *

He almost believed her, but the quaver of tension in her voice contradicted her eyes. He poured two goblets of wine, then turned and held one out to her.

His cause could be advanced if he could loosen her tongue. It had become a personal challenge to him to find out who she really was. If a traitor, the longer she stayed, the more dangerous she became.

"You must indulge me," he said, holding the glass out to her.

The remark earned him a frown, but he did not bother with studying her scowl, instead concentrating on her eyes. There was reluctance in them now, but she unlocked her arms and took the glass from his outstretched hand.

"A toast to us each finding our treasure," he said, raising his glass.

She made a small gesture then took a hummingbird's sip and moved to the table by the window. There she set her glass down. Too bad that was all she would be drinking.

"Being a patient woman, I indulge you meekly, sir, but I give you fair warning, I will not indulge you long."

If his desire were any gauge, she would not have to indulge him long. Without bothering to drink, he set his glass beside hers and allowed himself the briefest doubt as to whether seducing her was a wise decision. Her presence, so close, alone in his chambers, was intoxicating in and of itself. He moved to stand behind her and took in the scent of her.

"I only take but a moment to pleasure my eyes before pleasuring my lips." He stepped closer, feeling the heat from her body. "I shall do as you bid if you but turn and face me."

She turned, but did not raise her eyes.

"Look unto me," he whispered.

She did as he commanded. Her eyes held a smoldering fire.

"I would, if you will grant me the honor, do this in a way I believe will please you."

"I do not undertake this task for pleasure, sir, so be done with it."

Ah, so true. She did it to gain access to the treasure vaults. He allowed himself a smile, but only to draw her attention to his lips. The ploy succeeded, for her gaze lowered from his own and a flush blossomed on her cheeks. It was most becoming. And possibly the first true reaction she had displayed since he'd met her.

With calculated slowness he raised his hand to her pinkened cheek and brushed his knuckles along the line of her jaw, bringing them to rest beneath her chin. With a gentle nudge, he tilted her head upward.

"My touch does not please you?"

"Nay," she whispered, then closed her eyes.

She lied. How much else about her was a lie? "You must keep your eyes open, Bess, that I may watch the truth of your feelings."

She opened them for him, languidly, her lids narrowed and sultry.

"'Tis better this way," he whispered. With his forefinger he traced a line along her jaw to her ear and heard a quickening in her breath. He glanced down. Her breasts rose and fell in a way they had not done a moment ago. Against his will, his own breath matched hers and his loins tightened.

Returning his gaze to her face, he traced the outline of her ear with his fingertip. She shivered beneath his touch and his own body responded in kind.

He laid his palm against her cheek—so soft and warm—and raised his other hand to cradle her face lightly. She did not pull away, which he had half-expected, but instead closed her eyes again. This time he did not tell her to open them, for he no longer needed to see the fire in her eyes to know her passion.

With the thumb of his right hand, he brushed the rosy softness of her lips, first atop, then below. He felt her tension as she struggled not to part her lips in welcome. But he would have them parted, before he tasted of them.

Again he grazed his thumb across her bottom lip, this time with greater pressure. She fought it. He could see the struggle she waged with her body's yearning for the pleasure he offered. Why did she resist? He would not allow it. He must bend her completely to his will if he had any hope of learning her true purpose in coming to Basing. He would begin his seduction again.

Forsaking her mouth, he sought and found her hand, raising it to his lips. The salting had made it rough, but it was still not the hand of a woman accustomed to labor. Even a lady's maid would have some signs of being a working woman. He let a warm breath caress the back of her hand, then turned it over to stroke her palm with his thumb.

His satisfaction grew as he watched her fingers curl in response. Bowing his head, he pressed his lips lightly to the hollow of her hand then kissed the tip of each finger in turn. He let his tongue have play, sliding between her fingers to where they joined her palm. Thrusting, he spread her fingers, opening them, as he would spread her limbs.

In time.

Drawing her forefinger into his mouth, he suckled it slowly, then with increasing intensity. When she moaned softly, he released his hold and withdrew her finger, only to guide it to a caress of his lower lip.

A glance at her face showed her eyes still closed, but now her lips were parted, as he had wanted.

But he was not yet ready to take his kiss. Far from it. There was one more thing he needed, proof that he had the power to control her. He wanted her acknowledgement that she desired his kiss. He wanted the truth from her.

With a slow movement he drew her finger from his lip and lifted her hand to his chest, pressing her open palm over his heart.

"Feel what you have done, Bess," he whispered. "My pulse quickens, my heart races. Your mere touch has made my heart your slave, yours to command."

She opened her eyes, drowsy with desire, but said nothing.

"Will you command it, Bess? Will you set my heart free and confess that you, too, wish this kiss?"

He watched her face intently as he spoke, and saw what he wanted. Her lips parted further and the pink tip of her tongue came out to slake them.

But when she still she did not speak, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her gently into him. With infinite slowness he lowered his lips to hers.

Hovering a bare finger’s breadth from her, he could feel the warmth of her breath. "Say it is so, Bess."

"It is so," she whispered.

She swayed, leaning fully into him, her lips seeking his.

A wave of desire coursed through him. Tightening his arms, he crushed her breasts to his chest until he felt her nipples harden with desire. His loins thrust forward, seeking the ultimate pleasure.