Ravish: The Awakening of Sleeping Beauty - By Cathy Yardley Page 0,42

determined. “I know. The problem is how?”

“I’m not sure,” he muttered, holding her and looking around at the devastation. This was all happening too fast. He had a two-week deadline, before his brother reported him to the medical board or tried to have him psychiatrically evaluated. Now, Rory was homeless and at the mercy of an egomaniacal voodoo priestess intent on either winning her over or possibly killing her. He had to wake her up—but he was just a doctor, not a witch doctor.

How the hell do you undo a curse?

“When I wake up, I’m doing a hell of a lot of Google searching,” he muttered.

“Do you really think that will help?” she said, looking bewildered.

He realized—she’d been asleep for six years. Long enough to know what Google was, but not enough to realize what the Internet had turned into. “It’ll turn up something. And there’s a professor in New York that might be able to help us, if I can just get her to listen. If push comes to shove, there are other voodoo practitioners in New York, I’m sure. One of them will be able to help.”

She nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she promised.

“First things first, then,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “We’ve got to get you some kind of shelter. Come on.”

They explored the nearby rain forest, searching for something that wasn’t too far from the wreckage of the hotel. After an hour of searching, they found a cave, near a clearing of sorts. It wasn’t much, but it would shelter her from the elements, give her a place to hide.

“Hopefully you won’t have to stay here long.”

She nodded, looking determined. “No. I won’t stay here long.”

They went back to the hotel, scavenging. By nightfall, they had outfitted the cave with a few lanterns, a low table, and a mound of salvaged bedding.

“It’s like a nest,” she said reflectively.

The lanterns were lit. The place was very primitive, compared to the opulent splendor of the hotel.

He looked over at her. Her face was smudged with ash, her gold hair tangled. Her clothes were dirty, torn.

She looked beautiful.

He stroked her face, then held her close to him. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, no inhibitions, just pure, simple ardor.

“I’m so lucky I found you,” he murmured against her throat, sucking gently.

“I’m the lucky one,” she responded, rubbing her pelvis against his. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.”

“I’ll get you out of this, I swear.”

“I know.” Her eyes shone with trust. “I believe you, Jacob.”

He felt like he was ten feet tall. After a lifetime of proving himself, he was intoxicated with the one person who simply believed in him, no questions asked.

He lifted her up, placing her gently in the center of their makeshift “bed.” He burrowed into the bedding with her. They shed their clothes, reaching for each other. For a long time, they simply held each other, kissing each other slowly, their tongues caressing each other’s as their bodies rubbed one over the other. Her thigh stroked against his; his hand rubbed her hip as it curved into her stomach; her palm stroked his back with warm, strong circles. It wasn’t foreplay, although it was arousing them both. It was just happiness at being close to each other, reveling in each other’s warmth and presence.

“Rory,” he breathed. “I want to be with you forever.”

“You will be.” She kissed him fervently. “You will be.”

With that, he entered her, his cock pressing into her pussy with a slow caress. They moved with exquisite delicacy, their lovemaking a ballet of sensuality. She nudged him over, straddling him, moving up and down his cock by inches, then resting astride him, his cock buried deep in her cunt. She arched her back and he felt her shift and clutch around him, causing him to moan with pleasure as she made tiny movements with her hips. She leaned almost all the way back, with yoga-styled flexibility, and he felt his cock stretching, plunging deep within her.

He sat up, pulling her hips against his, then leaned back. Like a seesaw, the two of them took turns, one pressing and thrusting, the other relaxing and releasing. The climax built with infinitesimal slowness, but by the time the climax was on them they had created a conflagration that was unbelievable. They both sat, facing each other, their legs crossed, her thighs around his hips. They pressed against each other, sighing and gasping every time his