Virgin Dancer (13 page)

"But … you hate me," Jade whispered. "I spied on you, betrayed you."

He tightened his arms around her. "You don't have to explain anything. I know why you did it. I knew it the moment I saw you standing over your brother like a tigress protecting her cub." He nudged up her chin with his finger, forcing her to look into his eyes. "And I don't hate you, Jade. I love you. I love you more than I've ever thought possible. Just thinking of you makes me go mad with desire, and I hate every minute I don't spend holding you, knowing that you are safe in my arms. I need you," he continued, his face open like a child's now, and she saw that his words were true. "I need you more than anything else in my life."

"And I love you, Alrik," she whispered. "Why did you walk away from me when I needed you so much?"

He winced and kissed her brow. "I am so sorry, love. I had to make sure that none of Ascobar's surviving men would see how much you mean to me, even though they went to jail. They have contacts, even in there. We’re dealing with a powerful network here, Jade. I doubt it, since they are busy with deciding who'll be the one in power next, but they might want revenge. I thought it better to make them believe that you were indeed Ascobar's spy, and that I would have you put in jail, as well. Our agents even found that your apartment had been bugged by Ascobar so I thought it was safer not to call you."

Jade grimaced. "I know. They searched my flat for two days. I was starting to get used to them when they finally left." She still didn't dare to believe that Alrik actually loved her, that he wanted to spend his life with her.

"I spent the last few weeks bringing back the girls we found closed in a small cabin on Ascobar's ship, and making sure that they'd be able to start a new life. After that, I began to cover my tracks. I'm finally done with this undercover job, but I'll instruct other agents who’ll take over in the future. I sold the club, spreading the rumor that Alrik Larsson had moved back to Sweden, and I bought a house out of town. You'll like it. It's not far from your brother's school. It's large enough for him to live with us whenever he chooses. We'll start a new life together, Jade. You can continue with dancing, teaching ballet, whatever you want. The only problem is that you might have to get used to my new identity's name, only in public, of course. That is … if you should still want me."

For the first time in weeks, she allowed a real smile to brighten her face, and she met his eyes, seeing the deep, sincere love shining in their depths.

"We'll see about that, Alrik … or whatever is your name now," she said, letting her fingertips trail down his uncovered chest as she gave him a naughty little smile. "First, you'll have to show me how much you still want
me
. I'm almost a virgin, you know. I need to gain more experience."

"To me, you'll always be my virgin dancer," he murmured. Jade opened her mouth to answer him, but he was already kissing her again, and she decided that talking wasn’t really foremost on her mind after all. Later, there would be enough time for that.

Much, much later.

About the Author

Deborah Court lives in a small, picturesque European town. A health professional by day, at night she loves to write romances about elven warriors of deadly beauty, capable of making a woman die from sheer pleasure - or sensual stories to awaken the deepest, most secret fantasies of her readers.

*****

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading "Virgin Dancer".

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Deborah Court

Excerpt from
House of Pleasure
by Deborah Court

When Jane Eden inherits an old Victorian mansion on the outskirts of Boston, she has no idea what secrets it harbors. She soon discovers that it's a magic house, fulfilling all the sexual fantasies of its female residents. Losing herself in sensual dreams that take her to exotic places and delightful historical eras, she never considers what will happen if she ever loses her heart.

Luke Thomas is Hollywood's most celebrated action-hero, used to swooning fans falling all over him. One day he meets a beautiful woman in a park who doesn't seem to be interested in him at all. It's a challenge he just can't resist. His desire to see her again transports him to Jane's house, and he gets lost in the arms of a lover who drives him into a frenzy of boundless pleasure. But will he gain her love when the prize is higher than she's willing to pay?

*****

Night fell quickly in the Sultan's realm. One minute the sunlight had warmed the room, bathing it in a golden glow, the next it seemed to grow darker rapidly while the muezzin sang the evening prayer, his beautiful voice creating a magical atmosphere. When he finished, the city seemed to fall into a deep slumber, all the noise and shouting from the streets and the bazaar gone. Only the night birds sang their sweet, seductive songs from a branch near the open windows.

Jane followed Aamir the chief eunuch to the huge bathing pool on the other side of the chamber, secretly admiring his broad back and sculptured muscles while he lit the candles. He had discarded his turban and revealed long, dark hair that reached over his shoulders; she had the inexplicable wish to entwine her fingers in the glossy waves. Jane couldn't believe that he was not a real man anymore. But had he told her the truth?

His deep voice and the unveiled desire in his eyes clearly spoke against it, although this only occurred when he thought she was not looking at him. The slave led her to the marble steps leading into the water and told her to undress. Jane looked around, but there was nothing with which to shield her body from Aamir's eyes. She shrugged, quickly removed her clothing and stood naked before him. Her body was fully exposed to his sight and although he stood behind her, she felt his eyes examining her body, doubtless deciding if she was beautiful enough to please the Sultan.

"I will bathe you now," she heard his deep voice before he took her hand and led her deeper into the warm water. The flowers on its surface made her dizzy with their exotic perfume. Then, his large hands were all over her body, washing her with a soap that was scented like orchids and something earthy, ambra perhaps. It made her skin tingle and left it soft like velvet. He washed her hair, neck and back, moving his hands in circles until he reached her breasts. Jane gasped, but he continued mercilessly, gently kneading her and rubbing her sensitive peaks with his palms until they stood upright. Aamir laughed, a pleased look on his proud, handsome face. It was the face of a noble prince, not a slave, she thought.

"Oh yes, you will be well-prepared for the Sultan once I am finished with you," he said. "The Sultan likes his concubines ready and willing once he visits them in the harem. He is not a very patient man. When he joins your bed and takes you, he'll expect you to be aroused. So relax, My Lady. I know that although I'm not a whole man, women usually like my touch for I'm not unpleasant to their eyes - at least this is what I have been told. If you let me do my work it will be better for both of us, I promise. Just let it happen."

Jane still thought about a possible answer but cried out with surprise when he sat her down on a low marble column that rose slightly out of the water, then parted her quivering thighs with his strong hands ...

*****

All rights reserved.

Excerpt from
Bound to the Prince
by Deborah Court,

Book One of the Elven Warrior Trilogy

Once a proud warrior, elven prince Elathan is living in exile, fallen from grace and separated from his own people. When he beholds a compelling mortal woman on a London bridge one night, he hunts her down and abducts her to be his slave of pleasure. Bound by magic and desire, Igraine Chandler finds herself in a world beyond her wildest dreams, fighting at her prince's side to reclaim his throne …

*****

Elathan stood at the edge of the lake, waiting for Igraine to serve him. “What do you want me to do, my Lord?” she asked, still avoiding looking at his private parts.

“Don’t you filthy humans even know how to wash?” he hissed impatiently. He gestured to the ornate table. "These vials contain soaps and oils. Use them to bathe my body, slave.” The prince stepped under the waterfall, rinsing off part of the mud, but it stuck to his skin and hair. Igraine sniffed at some of the bottles, inhaling their wonderful, unknown scents. Some of them were fresh, others musky, but clearly intended for use on the gorgeous body of the male who was showering right in front of her, naked. Water droplets glistened on his skin, running down from his chest to his flat, rippling stomach and still further down, gathering at … "Why do I feel like I'm in midst of a
Cool Water
commercial now?" she nervously murmured, wincing when the elf threw her a glance that clearly declared her a lunatic.

Sighing, Igraine took a small green bottle containing a soapy liquid and followed the prince. Elathan stepped out of his natural shower without even looking at her. Closing his eyes, he turned his broad back to Igraine, with the unspoken order to wash him. She poured some of the aromatic soap into the palm of her hand. The mud was diluted by the water, but it still ran in dark streams over the elf’s body, down over his hips and his muscular backside, dripping over his thighs. It collected in a puddle at his feet.

Igraine’s hands trembled when she reached out to touch him. “May I …?” she said softly. “What are you waiting for?” Elathan replied. Despite the harsh words, his voice was low and hoarse. She couldn’t see the expression of his face from behind, but she noticed his rigid posture. His contempt for her was obvious.

Taking a deep breath, she fought back her tears and started with his dirty hair, lathering it with the luxurious soap. Black, muddy water ran through her fingers and down her arms. When she had worked the soap into the whole silken length, she reached up to massage his scalp. Elathan stiffened before tilting his head back so she could reach him more easily. After she had washed all the mud out of his hair, she reached out to touch his shoulders, covering his pale skin with the soap.

Elathan stiffened even more, looking like a statue of stone now. Her hands wandered to the sides of his neck to wash the dirt away, then moved down over his shoulders, rubbing him in circles. His skin was smooth and soft as velvet over his rock-hard muscles. She longed to touch him, ferociously. No man had ever affected her so much. Just being close to him made her a weak creature, driven by the most primitive desire to mate.

Now that he couldn’t see her shamelessly staring at him, she was safe to admire his muscular back. It was built like an artist’s masterpiece. The scars marring his alabaster skin only enhanced his beauty. Without them, the sight would be too perfect for human eyes to endure. They were old, faint scars, diagonally crisscrossing all over his back. Igraine suddenly realized that the prince had been whipped, even if it had obviously happened long ago. Tears stinging in her eyes, she lightly traced the scars with her fingers while she washed his back. Although she didn't dare, she longed to touch those reminders of his torment with her lips, kissing the ancient pain away.