Nan Ryan (19 page)

She felt the slick satin slowly sliding over the swell of her breasts and she was delighted that Johnny was such a slow, deliberate lover. At the same time, she wanted to scream at him to hurry. Please, darling, hurry.

“We’ve all night, sweetheart,” Johnny murmured softly as if reading her mind. He lowered his head to brush a kiss to her open lips. His mouth was warm and pliable. He tasted of wine and tobacco, and the skill of that delicious mouth left Nevada hungering for more as he straightened and whispered again, “all night.”

The enticing dark fingers that were toying with the shimmering pink satin were almost indifferent, decidedly lazy in their endeavor. Squirming, on fire, Nevada could wait no longer to be naked, to have Johnny’s hands on her. She couldn’t help herself—the attraction was too strong, the desire he enkindled too compelling.

“Johnny”—she was breathless—“I don’t want to wait all night. I want you to touch me now. Now.”

He smiled then, a slow, sexual smile. And he said, the rich timbre of his voice a caress in itself, “Whatever you desire, sweetheart.”

And as if he held a magic wand in his dark hand, he touched her and the pink satin gown fairly melted away and all at once she was totally naked, right down to her bare toes.

A soft gasp of pleasure passed her parted lips and her throat constricted as Johnny’s mouth closed over hers and he pulled her into his arms. His hands moved with seductive knowledge over her bare shoulders and down her back, lingered for a second at her waist before sliding over the flare of her hips.

He kissed her and kissed her again, covered her throat with kisses. The clean masculine scent of him assailed her senses as he drew her close. She could feel against her bare breasts the slick satin of his lapels, the silkiness of the pleated white shirt, and his muscular chest beneath it. Through the fabric of his trousers, the hard, powerful muscles of his thighs pressed against her bare, trembling legs as he kissed her with a kind of dangerous unchained passion that both excited and frightened her.

It was a strange, glorious sensation, standing there naked against her fully clothed lover, the tightened nipples of her swelling breasts and the tingling flesh of her bare belly brushing against teasingly abrasive cloth instead of a warm naked body. Nevada inhaled deeply and threw her head back as Johnny’s hot lips moved down the bare column of her throat.

It seemed that a part of her was standing apart, watching them, an invited voyeur. It was thrilling. She enjoyed it. She was seeing Johnny, big and dark and handsome as a stage actor in his black evening clothes, holding in his strong masterful arms a shamelessly naked her. She appeared excessively white and exceptionally small against his massive dark strength, and from out of her memory walked a pleasant but warning recollection. Her wide, interested gaze clinging unashamedly to the passionately kissing pair, she remembered Johnny’s original concern regarding the vast differences in their sizes. Recalled vividly the solution he had come up with in the consummation of their lovemaking aboard the
Moonlight Gambler
.

The voyeur and the participant merged as Nevada, her lips an inch from Johnny’s ear, whispered breathlessly, “Darling, you haven’t forgotten that—”

“That I weigh twice as much as you?” His lips traveled along her delicate jawline and up to her temple. “No, sweetheart, I haven’t.”

“Then undress and get on the bed first and I’ll—”

He grinned, a slow, teasing grin, and said, “I’ve an even better idea.” His hand gently cupped her left breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over the pebble-hard nipple.

“You have?” Her heart thundered in her chest.

“Mm. Why don’t we make love in the chair?”

Kissing her into silence when she started to object, Johnny picked Nevada up, carried her across the room, and gently lowered her into the blue brocade easy chair. She felt suddenly very shy and foolish, seated there, naked, in the chair. Instinctively she frowned, crossed her legs primly, and clasped her hands together in her lap.

Johnny shrugged out of his evening jacket, slipped his black silk tie from under the stiff white collar, and removing the gold studs from his shirtfront, said, “Sweetheart, you once told me you’ll always trust me.”

“I do, but—”

“If you don’t enjoy making love in the chair, darling, we can always move to the bed. Just give it a chance.”

Her eyes on the thick thatch of black chest hair he was uncovering, she nodded and replied, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

After that Nevada didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Johnny was casually removing his clothes, allowing them to fall on the carpet, revealing a dark powerful chest, corded ribs, strong muscular arms, and long sturdy legs.

And when the last garment, snowy white underwear, fell away from his tall brown body, Nevada gasped. The awesome tumescence she had felt pressing her through his clothing sprang proudly free. Her astonished gaze riveted to that splendid symbol of virile masculinity, she unconsciously licked her parted lips and gripped the chair arms tightly, nervously.

He stood there with his bare brown feet apart, a living, breathing statue of flesh-and-blood perfection. A magnificent Adonis, sculpted by the Almighty’s masterful hands. A beautiful God of Love possessed of the power to give her glorious ecstasy.

“No,” she said when he made a move toward her, “let me look at you a moment more.”

Nevada’s legs came uncrossed. The texture of the chair’s silky brocade was pleasing to her bare skin and she writhed and stretched and never took her eyes off Johnny.

He came to her, his dark eyes aglow with passion and with love. Very slowly he eased her legs apart and Nevada felt a sweet expectation build with the languid movement He knelt between Nevada’s legs, and lifting his hands to her face, gently drew her forward and kissed her, a long, deep kiss that left her shaken and breathless.

“Johnny,” she murmured, her hands gripping his broad, bare shoulders.

“My only love,” he answered, and bent to kiss her right breast. His shiny black curls tickling her, his mouth enclosed the nipple warmly, sucking so gently Nevada arched her back in a silent eager plea. But his lips released their treasure and he raised his dark head to look into her eyes.

He knelt there between her parted legs, touching her gently, caressing her with his long, skilled fingers and his heated black eyes. Allowing the anticipation to build, permitting the dazzled girl to grow so totally aroused there would be no discomfort when he took her.

Johnny knew exactly when the instant arrived, and murmuring soft endearments, he drew her legs around his waist, then guided the tip of his pulsing phallus into her. For long, sweet moments they stayed like that, Johnny, barely inside her, remaining purposely still.

Waiting.

Nevada, deeply in love, on fire for him, gripped Johnny’s smooth shoulders and began to move, slowly at first, cautiously, inching farther off the chair, sliding more fully onto Johnny, settling herself warily on that rigid, thrusting masculinity.

Johnny, exercising extraordinary control, continued to remain perfectly fixed there in place, kneeling before her, his hands resting lightly at her waist, while she sank deliciously down onto him.

When at last Nevada had carefully but fully impaled herself upon him, Johnny’s hands moved down to her bare bottom. His pulse beating visibly in his tanned throat, he gripped her firm buttocks tightly in his splayed fingers and urged her off the chair. He bent his knees and spread them apart, then sat back on his heels, bringing her with him.

There on the deeply piled rug before the brocade chair, Johnny made love to Nevada, his hands guiding her hips, his pelvis rising rhythmically to meet hers. Nevada, her pale thighs draped over his hard brown ones, looped her hands behind Johnny’s dark head, stiffened her arms, and leaned way back.

Looking into his blazing eyes, she abandoned all prudent precaution and anxiously, eagerly ground her hot, pliant body to his. Recklessly she pushed down on him, tightly she squeezed him, gloriously she felt him filling her, stretching her.

And all the while she was looking at him, thrilling to the sight of his dark face hardened with passion and his wide, powerful shoulders and arms gleaming with perspiration, the biceps bulging and pulling.

The pleasure was growing so intense Nevada felt herself slipping dangerously close to the edge. Her mouth open, she panted. Her gaze locked with Johnny’s.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said.

“Oh, Johnny, I … I’m—”

“I know, darling. Let it come. You’re so beautiful. So beautiful.”

Her nails cutting into the flesh of his bare shoulders, Nevada’s dazed eyes slid down to Johnny’s chest where the thick crisp hair was beaded with moisture. One diamond drop poised on a flat male nipple. Nevada impulsively leaned forward to kiss the tiny droplet away as her climax began.

Her lips were pressed to his chest, her tongue was eagerly licking and savoring the salty taste when the deep, wrenching pinnacle of passion overcame her.

“Johnny, Johnny!” Her mouth went up to his slick shoulder and she bit him punishingly in her wild, searing joy.

“Ahhhh, darlin’,” groaned Johnny, her deep fulfillment becoming his own. “I love you, baby. I love you.”

When their breaths returned and their heartbeats slowed, they tumbled over onto the soft carpet and Johnny, gathering Nevada close, leaned over her, kissing her hair, her eyes, her lips, and punctuating each kiss with words of love and devotion.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered happily, “I knew you loved me, I knew it.”

“I do, sweetheart,” he said. “I love you, I want to marry you.”

“Yes! We’ll be married and Papa will be there. I’m so happy. So very happy. We’ll tell Papa, and he’ll like you too. And … Johnny … Johnny … no, Johnny … don’t go … don’t leave me … Johnny … Johnny …”

Nevada’s eyes fluttered open and her searching hand swept the empty space beside her, patting frantically, futilely feeling for the warmth that was not there.

“Johnny!” she murmured despairingly in the darkness. “Come back … Johnny …”

Her hand encountered only the cool silkiness of the sheet stretched tightly over the soft mattress of her bed. Truth dawning, Nevada sat up and looked anxiously about. And saw, in the bed across from hers, Miss Annabelle sleeping soundly.

“Johnny …” Nevada foolishly whispered his name again. The dream had been so real, so vivid, she couldn’t believe he was not with her.

But Johnny was not there. Had never been there. She was in her stateroom with Miss Annabelle and Johnny was … A crushing sadness weighed down on Nevada.

Only a dream. Nothing had changed. Her papa was dead. Johnny didn’t love her. Johnny would never love her. Johnny didn’t want her love.

Nevada lay back down. She shut her eyes tightly and tried very hard to relive the beautiful fantasy. Johnny undressing her. Johnny carrying her to the blue brocade chair. Johnny removing his own clothes and kneeling before her. Johnny kissing and touching her. Johnny saying he loved her as together they ascended to paradise.

Sadly she could not recapture the magic, and within seconds the entire episode was growing cloudy, extremely vague. In minutes she could not even recall any of it. It had vanished completely, an illusion gone forever. Her love dreams had ended.

For a long time Nevada lay awake in the darkness, restless and disturbed. It was after four in the morning when finally, to the rhythmic roll and pitch of the vast ocean liner, she fell back into a dreamless sleep.

19

Up with the rising of the sun, Nevada recalled nothing of her erotic dream.

She remembered only that Johnny had not invited her to sit in on last night’s poker game with King Cassidy, a fact that had greatly disappointed her. If Johnny was the big winner, he might no longer need his lucky charm.

She couldn’t wait to find out what had happened and yet she supposed she would have to. Johnny, she knew, would not come out of his stateroom before noon.

Frowning, the idea suddenly struck her that King Cassidy would be an early riser. He would be at that very minute enjoying breakfast in the ship’s main dining hall.

Glancing at Miss Annabelle still sleeping peacefully, Nevada’s frown turned to a smile. If she was quick about it, she could be dressed and out of the cabin before Miss Annabelle stirred.

In minutes Nevada had slipped quietly out of her stateroom and was standing in the arched doorway of the ship’s vast dining hall. The enormous room was almost deserted at that hour. Only a handful of early birds were seated at scattered tables, all of them gentlemen.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee was strong in the air and stewards carrying large silver trays passed among the sparse crowd, serving the first-class passengers from a varied breakfast menu.

Ignoring the looks of inquiry she drew, Nevada smiled when she spotted the gleaming silver head almost hidden behind a tall potted palm.

“Were you to meet one of the gentlemen for breakfast?” Nevada looked up to see a tall thin uniformed man smiling down at her.

“Why, yes,” she answered without hesitation, “I’m to join King Cassidy.”