Page 17 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

“Shall we try and see?”

I didn’t wait for his answer to my question. After all, knowledge is power is time is money, correct? I had been taught by the best. So, immediately, my hand sped up, travelling down his front, eager to explore. All for science, of course. No other reason.

“Mrs Ambrose!” a familiar, cold voice growled into my ear.

“You still remember my name, darling? Aww, that’s so sweet of you! I’m so glad you’re my husband.”

My hand sped up again, just in case. I was nearly there! My fingertips brushed his belt buckle! Just another second, and I’d…

A strong, male hand grabbed hold of my fingers.

Drat!

His other hand, the one that had never stopped stroking my hair before, suddenly slid lower, over my temple and onto my cheek, capturing my face within its grasp. I could feel his gaze on me.

“Mrs Ambrose… What. Are. You. Doing ?”

Meeting his icy blue-grey gaze, I stretched until my lips brushed against his. “Try to guess.”

“We can’t do this here!”

I smirked. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier today.”

“I…temporarily succumbed to temptation. But it shall not happen again.” His eyes flashed in the darkness. “We need to sleep. We have important things to do tomorrow! We’re shipwrecked on a deserted island, and—”

Was he actually trying to reason with a pregnant woman’s libido? More importantly, with me? Poor, delusional darling.

“Yes. Trapped, all alone, with nothing to do for months on end…” Slowly, I started trailing kisses over his cheek, across his chin and down his neck. Ever so slightly, I felt his body shudder against me, every tight muscle locked in the attempt to stay still. “How ever should we spend our time?”

“M-Mrs Ambrose…!”

“No suggestions?” I snuggled even closer to him, placing another kiss in the hollow at the bottom of his throat, just above the top button of his shirt. “Don’t worry. I think I might have a few ideas.”

“Mrs Ambrose…Lillian…don’t, I—”

“Shh…silence is golden, remember?”

I reached for his top button.

Suddenly, a growl erupted from his throat. Grabbing hold of my hands, he slammed them into the sand, still warm from the sinking sun. In a blink, he was above me, and his lips came crashing down to claim my mouth in a fierce kiss.

“Mine!” he growled, pushing me onto my back. I felt the soft white sand caress every inch of my bare skin, and suddenly, the remaining heat of the fire seemed to be much stronger. Or…was it the heat coming from the man above me, whose restraint had just irrevocably snapped? “My little ifrit !”

I had to admit…right now I certainly felt hot enough to be some kind of fire demon. And, for once, so did the iceberg that was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Mounting me like a beast driven mad by desire, he once more bent down towards my mouth and—

—bumped into a certain bump.

He froze.

I froze.

A moment passed in silence. Then…

“Mwahahahahaha!”

“Do. Not. Laugh. Mrs. Ambrose.”

“Who is laughing, Mr Ambrose Sir? I’m only…pfft! Mwhahaha…only having a coughing fit! Mwhahaha!”

“A coughing fit, is it?” A muscle in his cheek twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Oh yes. Mmmwahahah!”

“Come here.” Grabbing my neck, he pulled me towards him, his eyes sparkling arctically. “Let me cure you of your ‘cough’.”

Once again he attempted to kiss me, to brand me with his searing lips and claim my body as his own…

…only to once more bump into a certain bump.

There was a moment of silence.

A very pregnant moment of silence.

“Mwhahahaha!”

“Silence!”

“Hahah! Mwhahaha!”

Growling in frustration, he leapt off me, smashing a fist into the sand. Oh my. Was it just my impression, or did he seem just a little bit tense? One part of him, especially, didn’t seem to want to relax at all.

“You know…” I whispered from where I lay on the ground, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I did already suggest a way we could do this. All you have to do is lie back and relax.”

“Not happening, Mrs Ambrose.”

“It’ll be fast and efficient, I promise.” All right, not exactly the most conventional seductive words, but this was Mr Rikkard Bloody Ambrose I was dealing with! I had to get creative.

He sent me a cold glare that told me he knew exactly what I was doing. Leaning forward until his lips were only inches away from mine, he enunciated each word carefully.

“Not. Happening.”

I held his gaze for a long moment—then sighed, and lowered my eyes. “Oh well, I suppose then I can only give up.”

Mr Rikkard Ambrose blinked. “Give up?”

“Yes.”

“ You ?”

My shoulders sagged. “Yes. Apparently, my husband doesn’t want me. I…I just have to come to terms with it.” I sniffed.

“Mrs Ambrose?”

“Y-yes, Sir?”

“What are you really planning?”

I sniffled again. “W-what do you mean?” I asked with a quivering voice. “What could I possibly—”

Suddenly, I froze, and my voice cut off. A horrified gasp escaped me as I stared over to the edge of the palm forest.

Mr Ambrose’s head whipped around, searching the tree line. “What is it, Mrs Ambrose? What did you see?”

I let out a gasp, my point shooting up to point to the left. “L-look! Over there! The tiger!”

Whirling around to follow my outstretched arm with his eyes, Mr Ambrose tensed. “Where?”

“…doesn’t exist,” I finished and pounced on him. Before he could so much as blink, I was on top of him, grinning like a loon. “God, I can’t believe that worked!”

The look that Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent me could have frozen a tropical forest. In fact, I could have sworn I saw some frost spreading over the nearby palms.

“Mrs. Lillian. Ambrose. You…!”

That was when I reached down and grabbed the hardest part of him I could find. “You were saying, Mr Ambrose, Sir?”

“Nnng!”

“What was that?” Leaning forward, I traced my free hand’s fingers down his chest. This time, the buttons didn’t stop me. “You said you were feeling a little too hot?”

My hand squeezed around his length.

“Hnnr…!”

“I think that was a yes. Don’t you worry, Dick. Let me help you.” I leaned forward, smiling down at him sweetly. The fact that I was undulating my derrière right on top of his nickname was surely pure coincidence, right? “I think I have an idea what to do.”

I only needed a single moment before I had his shirt wide open. In the fading light of the flickering campfire, his muscles glistened like polished bronze, like some ancient statue of a Greek god. Let me just say that I was suddenly very appreciative of ancient art.

It was all right to feel up art, right? That’s what connoisseurs do.

Oh, to hell with it! Who cares?

My hand started roaming all over his prone body, taking in every delicious inch, every familiar bulge and dip.

I could feel his rock-hard muscles tensing beneath my fingers.

I could feel his scars, accumulated over years filled with dangers and adventures.

I could feel his heart beating for me. Beating with me.

A groan escaped from his throat. “Ahh…Lilly, you can’t…we shouldn’t…”

“Why? Because you aren’t in control? Because you aren’t on top?” I undulated my hips again, eliciting another groan. Leaning down as far as I could, I whispered, “Remember your speech, darling. You’re a feminist now. Surely, you wouldn’t mind surrendering to your lady wife for just one night?”

“Ng! Never!”

I smirked. This was why being married to Mr Rikkard Ambrose was so much fun. Reaching down, I once more grabbed my Darling Dick by his nickname.

“Pardon, Mr Ambrose, Sir? What did you say?”

I squeezed.

“Nnnngdarg!”

“Ah, yes. That’s what I thought I heard.”

I watched him squirm beneath me, this man who was mine and mine alone.

And as I did, heat rose deep within me, and need, and a feeling that went far beyond that.

It was a heady feeling. A feeling of…power.

Of incredible, addicting power. This powerful, beautiful man, who had more money than I could count, who commanded ships, lands and companies across all five continents, was writhing underneath me, brought low by nothing more than what he felt in his heart. For me.

Well…my hand on his pecker might also have had something to do with it.

My grin widened. Speaking of which…

Squeeze.

“Aaaagh!”

“Now, my dear…” I leaned down as far as I possibly could, gazing straight into his eyes. Eyes that were blazing up at me, burning with arctic fire. “Do you submit?”

“N—”

Squeeze.

“—rrgg!”

“What was that, Mr Ambrose, Sir?” For the third time, I swayed my hips. His eyes clamped shut and, below me, I felt him twitch. “I didn’t quite get your answer. Do you mind having a woman…” Squeeze . “…being in charge?”

That night, Mr Rikkard Ambrose professed to be an ardent follower of feminism.

***

I blinked, my sleep disturbed by the distant call of birds.

Slowly, I let my gaze drift over the inside of our little hut, flooded by sunlight, and the events of yesterday came rushing back.

The storm, the saboteur, being shipwrecked, Mr Ambrose trying to find food and water, Mr Ambrose with a crab clamped to his nose, Mr Ambrose on his back with me on top doing…

Ehem.

Smirking broadly, I let my gaze settle on my dear husband, who was lying only a foot or so away, staring at me with a censorious gaze.

“I have to say,” I told him, “I’m really glad you have suddenly decided to embrace matriarchy. It’s wonderful to know I’ve married a man who is smart enough to agree that women should rule the world.”

“I,” he told me in a tone more icy than anything on a tropical island had any right to be, “most certainly do not.”

“Oh?” I cocked an eyebrow. “So you didn’t mean it when, last night, you screamed for me to just—”

“No comment.”

“And when you begged me to—”

“I said no comment .”

“You really know how to ruin a lady’s morning, don’t you?”

His eyes flashed and, suddenly, he was right beside me, icy gaze spearing into me. “I also know how to make a lady’s morning. Or her entire day, for that matter.”