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Rio de Janeiro
The winding streets were packed, fit to bursting as revellers flooded the city in a bright, teeming mass of music and dancing and general mayhem on this, the final night of feasting before the coming fast. It was Carnaval, the world famous festival that took place every year before the austerity of Lent. Tomorrow the palms would be blessed and burned to create the holy ash of atonement and repent, but tonight the faithful had come to celebrate in a dazzling display of indulgence and excess.
And when in Rome
Emma slipped easily through the vast crowd, a mask of white feathers concealing her face and her long hair tumbling down loose on her back. Though she was not dressed in a costume quite as fantastical or revealing as some of those currently on display, elaborate headdresses, sweeping trains and little else but strategically placed sequins and glitter - she had donned a two-piece dress that left a wide swath of her midriff bare. The skirt was made of layers of diaphanous white chiffon, sheer across her thighs and sitting low on her belly. A panel of fabric fell from each of her shoulders and were attached to cuffs on her wrists, making makeshift wings that fluttered and danced behind her in the night air.
Samba music played from a hundred different directions, a rolling beat echoed in the shimmy of swinging hips and beckoning fingers. The heat of the Brazilian summer and the hundreds of thousands who had gathered to dance and sing under the ball of orange fire in the sky was sultry, a living breathing thing all its own. It was thick in the air and made them all glisten with sweat, damp bodies of all shapes and sizes gyrating without care. They could confess their sins in the morning and be absolved, but right now there were no rules, it was a rare night where there was no divide between rich and poor and all could mix and mingle freely under the anonymity of their masks.
Even heaven and hell.
He was dressed all in black, a lone raven among the bright, strutting peacocks who surrounded them on all sides. They moved out of his way without command, some deep, primal instinct kicking in even as the music continued to play. One woman pointed and groped for the crucifix hanging around her neck with a cry of “Diabo!” that made him grin and give a little bow in her direction. She turned and fled into the crowd while everyone shrugged off her accusation and went back to the dance, no one else could see him for what he really was.
Except her.
Killian caught her hand and spun her into his arms, blue eyes looking down at her from behind his satin mask. Emma molded herself to him, hips swaying to the pulsing beat and fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” he chided lightly, hands low on the small of her back, “I would never refuse an invitation to come to you, Emma.”
Lips brushed her ear, silky voice heavy with promise, “Or inside you.”
Her eyes closed and she turned in his arms, a shiver running down her spine as his hands now stroked her bare stomach, the muscles contracting under his touch and the familiar ache building between her legs. Killian circled her waist and his thumbs brushed over her hipbones, guiding her movements as they slowly swayed to the beat. The air was warm but he was warmer, and the need clawing deep in her belly was threatening to burn her from the inside out. Forty days of separation loomed ahead of her, forty days of penance paid gladly in the faint hope that maybe, there might be a chance-
“My angel,” Killian whispered, nuzzling at her shoulder while a hand grazing the underside of her barely covered breast.
She said nothing, merely rolling her hips into the generous bulge she could feel pressed against her ass. They were alone in the crowd, hidden in the shadows Killian was casting to conceal them. The carnival-goers danced around them, unaware of the forbidden embrace taking place right in their midst.
He maneuvered them expertly to the mouth of a small alley and drew her into the depths, using a smokescreen to create a barrier between them and the revelry taking place on the street beyond. The music continued to play while they ground against each other, her hands in his hair again to pull his head down to hers and their lips meeting in a hot slide that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature around them. Killian tasted like pure sex, rich and dark and enticing on her tongue when he kissed her with that infernal mouth.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked when they broke apart, his nose rubbing hers and breath warm on her face.
“Yes,” she answered, stroking along the line of his jaw with the tip of her nail.
He gave a sharp inhale, “Show me.”
No one could see them through the smoke and her skirt had a long slit up one thigh. She slid a hand under the fabric and quickly dipped a finger between her legs, putting it right up inside her slick heat as he watched with a slightly shocked expression. Obviously he hadn’t really expected her to be so brazen in public but she was an angel who had taken a demon as her lover. It was hardly the biggest line she had ever crossed.
When she popped the glistening finger into his mouth he seized her by the wrist with one hand, making a low noise in his throat and holding her steady as he licked it clean with his eyes never leaving hers.
“What hotel are you staying at?”
Killian shook his head, letting her hand fall back down and lacing their fingers together, “None of them. I made alternate arrangements for tonight, something a little more…private.”
The sun was setting when they reached the harbour, the music coming now from the neighbouring beach where the party had spilled from the streets onto the sand and spread right to the edge of the dark ocean. Laughter and cheers swirled around them as Killian kept her hand firm in his and they walked side by side. She followed him onto the docks, the planks gently rising and falling with the movement of the waves underneath, and he led her to a sleek yacht that was moored in one of the slips and probably cost more than most houses. It wasn’t the largest on display, but it was clearly a work of art in its own right with a pristine white hull and dark wood fittings. Before she could protest Killian lifted her in his arms and easily leapt across the small gap between the dock and the open platform at the back of the ship. He set her down on her feet and took off his satin mask, tossing it aside onto a small chair.
“This doesn’t seem so private,” she remarked, noting the close proximity of several other yachts with loud parties taking place on their decks. There was the pop of champagne corks and even the unmistakable sounds of more intimate activities taking place nearby, “You’re usually more the Presidential Suite type.”
“Trust me,” the demon winked, disappearing into the depths of the ship.
When the engines rumbled to life underneath her feet she realized what he had planned. The yacht began to move, cutting through the water with ease as Killian guided them out of the harbour with the lights of the city blazing behind them. Emma made her way carefully to the forward deck, feeling the wind stir the panels on her dress and making them billow out behind her when they started to gain more speed. She could still hear the music, it traveled easily across the water even as the sprawling city grew smaller and smaller in the distance as they headed down the coast. The party would continue in various forms until dawn, hours away and yet it would come all to soon.
It always did.
The master cabin was surprisingly large, set under the prow of the yacht and fitted with plenty of clever built in shelves and nooks to maximize the space and leave enough room for a king-size bed. Killian didn’t protest when she pushed him down onto his back, straddling his hips and grinding against him with her skirt hiked up almost to her waist. He was hard again, or still, but now they were completely alone and she took off her own feathered mask, letting it drop to the mattress while she rolled against his lap.
“You know, I had a bottle of champagne waiting on ice, thought maybe we’d share a dance under the stars, a little romance-”
“Shut up,” she said, leaning forward to brush her lips over his, “We don’t have time for that now.”
“We have eternity, aside from these blasted forty days every year that you’re so insistent about, blessed one.”
“It’s not enough for me.”
The blue eyes snapped to hers, narrowing slightly and she knew she had said too much. Give the devil an inch and he’d take a mile. But before he could retort she covered his mouth with hers again, feeling his hands splay across her back while he rocked up and the material covering his erection slid roughly back and forth between her legs, the friction kindling a fire that needed to be stoked.
Emma sat up and quickly divested herself of what little underwear she had on under the skirt while Killian reached down and eagerly unfastened his pants. But she had something else in mind first and crawled up his body instead, placing a knee on either side of his head. His smile was positively wicked as he craned his neck back to look up at her, and then he settled back and licked his lips while she slid her knees across the bedspread and lowered herself down.
His tongue should be illegal, and it probably was listed as such on a few forgotten medieval charters. Every swipe against her damp flesh had her arching her back as he quickly found the right rhythm, teasing and stroking with his hands curled around her thighs to hold her in place. The bed was set on a platform and the ceiling was low enough that she was able to reach up and brace both her palms against it while she rode his face into oblivion. She could feel the delicious scrape of his beard against the delicate skin, he turned his head and sucked on her inner thigh like a greedy vampire while she made a small noise of protest that he had pulled away from where she needed him most. But then he was back and was sucking right there, sending waves of pleasure crashing over her while he watched her with those bright and knowing eyes from his supine position between her trembling legs.
“Milk and honey,” he said in a low voice when she freed him from his voluntary bondage and he moved to kneel on the bed behind her, “I’d cross an entire desert on my knees to slake my thirst on you, Emma, and I’d do it gladly.”
She could feel that he was naked now, they were skin to skin and his erection was pressed right where his mouth had just been, rubbing back and forth with that amazing friction again but this time with no barrier between them. But he didn’t slip inside, he just continued to grind against her while his hands made short work of her top. It tied in the back like a bikini and with a few tugs it was off and dropped to the side of the bed. Fingers traced the hard points of her exposed nipples while she reached behind her and grasped his ass, feeling the firm curve and sliding up and down the backs of his thighs. Killian pulled away from her abruptly and stretched out on the bed, on his back and taking himself in hand while giving her an expectant look. Since turnabout was fair play she straddled his thighs this time, reaching for her discarded carnival mask where it still lay on the mattress and pulling the longest and thickest feather free. She started at his face, stroking it across his lips and under his jaw, tracing the line from ear to ear with the soft plumage and running it down his neck. The cords flexed under his skin and his chest rose with a quick inhale, but he said nothing, propping his head up on a pillow. She liked the contrast of the white against the black chest hair and the flat plane of his stomach was the perfect spot to draw an invisible picture. He bit his lip hard when she dipped into his navel and traced the muscular abs, fighting valiantly against the urge that was making his whole body shake but when she used the feather to lash against his ribs he gave in and the laugh finally escaped him.
“A bit ticklish are we, infernal one?”
“It’s not wise to tease a demon, you know,” he retorted, trying to sound menacing and failing miserably.
“Oh you love it,” she smiled back, leaning down and running her tongue along the crease of his hip with the feather forgotten. Killian relaxed instantly into her touch, a hand brushing the hair back from her face as she nipped lightly at the taut skin next to the trail of dark hair that led towards her goal and then finally took him into her mouth.
“Fuck!”
His tongue lost a bit of its silver, his usual eloquence giving way to a crudeness that only made her slicker under her skirt. She teased out all the sensitive spots along the rigid shaft and sucked hard, while he thrust between her lips and kept talking in a voice that was like silk over smoke, “Suck me good, angel, it’s fucking heaven your mouth, my own private fucking paradise just like your gorgeous pink cunt. Want you on your knees every damn day sucking me off and twice on Sundays…fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Emma knew all the signs, the way his thighs shook under her hands while his thrusts grew more erratic and he went even harder in her mouth with his balls drawn up tight. She expected him to climax any second down her throat but he suddenly lifted her from his lap and had her on her back in a serpentine roll of long, bare, limbs while the sheer chiffon of her skirt was quickly ripped open and thrown aside.
“No time,” Killian bit out, “Too close to midnight and I need to be inside you.”
She twisted her head to look at the clock hanging on the wall, an old-fashioned one with Roman numerals and hands that were pointing far too close to the XII at the top. The party might go on on the city streets for a while longer, but Lent technically began at the stroke of twelve and she had to leave Killian’s bed before then. Her legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulder and relishing the burn and stretch when he pushed inside. He set a fast pace that she matched at once with the tilt of her hips, gasping from the flames that started to lick at her from every angle like a thousand tiny caresses. It filled all of her senses, smell and taste and touch and the only voice inside her head when she fell over the edge into unbelievable bliss was his.
The hot spill as he thrust right to the hilt and came at last was accompanied by a very satisfied groan. The demon on top of her went limp, nuzzling into her neck with his lips trailing up and down the column of her throat and a hand wrapped possessively around her wrist.
“Stay with me. We’ll sail around the world together and tomorrow will never come.”
Emma stared up at the ceiling, “It doesn’t work that way.”
His fingers grazed her breast, “It could. We could make our own rules and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves.”
She looked down and saw that he was watching her with a serious look, “Damnate, don’t tempt me more than you already have.”
That earned her a smile, “It’s in my nature, beata.”
Emma tilted his chin up and kissed him sweetly on the mouth, “I know.”
She took his carnival mask with her secretly when she left, black satin that whispered of sin and sex and the one line she could never cross because if she did…there was no going back.