“This is what I want.” He bent his head again pushing her legs even wider apart if it were possible, his hands a vise around her ankles. “Come, come,” he said. “You are to come for me. Let me see it. Let me feel it.”
His beard scraped her soft, moist flesh, adding to the myriad sensations that assailed her. His tongue teased her, and when she gasped, he plunged it into her and withdrew, sucking her swollen clit before every thrust.
She was powerless to resist as he brought her to climax, the sensations ripping through her, making her cry out and clutch at him as the wave from within her washed upward, and took her out to a space where there was no feeling, no thought but the exquisite moment. Every inch of her cunt and her belly quivered, shot through with an aching delight, until she thought she might break apart.
As the storm subsided, she lay limp and stunned for a half-minute, her heart thudding, her body sensitive to every touch. Before she could come down completely from the sensual heights, he moved to straddle her face to face, spread her legs and drove his stake-hard cock into her. It filled her and stretched her, brushing against the mouth of her womb.
Astonished, she found herself trembling on the brink of another orgasm. Her hips arched off the floor to meet him, to drive him deeper still. She wanted to feel his hardness far inside.
She wound her arms around him and held him. He moved slowly, forcing her to wait, then increased the rhythm, making her gasp with every thrust. He brought her to the limit again, holding her poised on the brink before plunging into her one last time.
When she could think and breathe once more, he was still sheathed inside her, holding himself over her body. She moistened her lips. His cock was still big and firm. She squeezed her inner muscles and he started and moaned.
“Have pity.”
“You had none on me.”
With one hand he pushed her sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes and moved her head, compelling her to look at him. “Forgive me. I was under the impression that was what you wanted. Was I wrong?”
She had no desire to banter, to tease. What had happened between them was too profound, too intense.
“No,” she whispered. “You weren’t wrong at all.”
He pulled himself out of her and gave her a long, tender kiss. “I want to stay with you more than anything, but I must leave you,
She sighed. She knew he had to deal with Giovanni and had to conduct his long-planned ambush. She reached for him and trailed her fingers down his face, tracing the line of his lips. “Stay safe. Come back to me.”
With a final, tender kiss he rose to his feet and pulled on his discarded clothes. “If I know you are waiting, I’ll make sure it is swift and decisive.”
Within five minutes he was the bandit leader again, hard-faced, armed, resolute.
He cast a glance in the corner where the dog lay alert. “You’re on guard,” he said. “Look after her for me.”
He bent over her for a last, lingering kiss. “I will return for you,
Emma watched him move away from her. At the open wall of the hut he paused, outlined in starlight, then faded into the night.
Chapter Nine
Marco disappeared from her sight and left a cold emptiness by her side. Emma had never known anyone who could take all life and warmth with him, just by leaving her alone. But the imprint of his body remained, like the faint tenderness where his beard had rubbed her. The lines of his limbs were etched in memory and her hands longed to touch him again. He had branded her deep inside with the shape and heat of him, and she felt abandoned by the loss of him.
Suddenly, without his presence, the dark shadows in the corners of the hut became menacing. The stars still shone through the broken roof, but with a harder, more metallic sheen. The breeze chilled her skin and lifted a strand of hair from her cheek. She shivered and felt around for something to cover herself.
She heard Mickey move over against the wall and then saw the grey bulk of him edge toward her. He pushed his nose against her neck and, as if satisfied that she was still alive and breathing, lay down beside her with a satisfied grunt. She pulled some kind of fabric over her, whether it was her discarded skirt or the sheet she had used as a towel she couldn’t tell.
She turned on her side and put one arm over the dog. “You’re not much of a substitute for a lover,” she murmured. “But we’re stuck here together for a while.”
The dog licked her face. “Stop that,” she said, pushing his nose away. “You’re far too big and slobbery.” She wiped her face on the cloth that covered her breasts.
The cover and the dog’s body warmed her. She fully intended to stay awake, to listen for the sounds of the ambush, but her limbs were heavy and her eyes closed of their own accord. “I’ll rest for just a few minutes,” she whispered in Mickey’s ear.
It was the sudden movement of the dog that woke her. She had been dreaming she was adrift in a flimsy boat in cold water, huddling from a violent storm under a ripped tarpaulin. Each new blast of the wind ripped the sheet, leaving her increasingly terrified and exposed. When she opened her eyes she did not know where she was, surprised to feel solid earth beneath her. Then the rough walls of the hut brought memory back in a rush. The stars had faded, replaced by a pearly light that heralded the dawn. Mickey was on his feet, stock-still, a low growl rumbling in his chest. She must have been asleep for hours and the ambush was over, already decided for one side or the other.
In the cold light she searched for her clothes and pulled them on, leaning against the wall to spare her injured ankle.
Mickey’s ears flattened and his growl deepened. She thanked heaven that he had roused her, but how much good was this kind of dog as a protector? She hoped that the Italian variety was bred for more aggression than the Old English sheepdog that he resembled.
A faint movement came from outside, then the sound of heavy breathing. She sank to the floor and placed her hand on the dog’s neck, more for her own reassurance than to restrain him. Marco had said he would return for her. She hoped against hope that it was her lover approaching. Nevertheless, one of the discarded pieces of wood lay under her hand, and she took hold of it, waiting with bated breath.
A man appeared against the grey sky. He was as tall as Marco and her heart leaped in her chest, giving thanks that he had returned safely to her.
The figure leaned against the entrance as if tired or wounded. “
She scuttled backward at the sound of his voice, a cold terror in the pit of her stomach.
Giovanni raised a pistol in his right hand and pointed it at her. At the same moment, Mickey lurched forward with a loud bark and flew across the tiny space. Without hesitation Giovanni fired. The explosion was ear- shattering within the stone walls and Emma flinched instinctively, cowering against the wall, covering her head with her hands.
Mickey’s body thudded to the floor as the sound faded, and a well of despair opened in her heart. She scrambled toward the dog, unmindful of the threat of another shot. Big and arrogant, Giovanni took a step over the animal and placed a contemptuous foot on her shoulder, pushing her away. As she fell back she glimpsed a bloodstained bandage circling his thigh.
She landed on her side and struggled quickly to her knees. To her relief, Mickey lifted his head and whined. A dark stain oozed from his shoulder. Not dead, but hurt. How badly?
“Let me see him, you swine,” she spat. “You can shoot me if you want. Much good it will do you.”
“No, that is not my intention. I would rather shoot the dog.” He trained his gun on Mickey again. “You are worth much more to me as a hostage. The dog has no value.”
Suddenly it was all too much. She was tired of being a prisoner, tired of men who placed so little value on life and human dignity. Anger swelled inside her, stronger than she had ever known, clutching her throat, clouding her vision. Heedless of her swollen ankle, she launched herself from her crouching position, fingers crooked like claws.
