TITLE: Mud Lust
AUTHOR: Steph (roxtonsgirl@cox.net)
DISCLAIMER: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World and all characters contained within belong to Over the Hill Hang, Coote/Hayes, Newline Cinema, and a host of other people that don't include me, and I'm not making any money off this one either (like anyone would pay for this anyway). However, if Lord John Roxton is ever looking for a change of ownership, please send him my way, I have a very inclusive benefits package that I'm sure he'd be interested in.
SUMMARY: Marguerite and Roxton partake in a relaxed day at the spa…
RATING: R
TIMELINE: Season 3
BETAS: Mommybrat & Elbie, thank you guys so much, without your help, this would be completely unreadable.
THANKS: My betas of course, Jaxgirl (for the title), sahsedalia, Ann01, and everyone else from chat whose names I can't remember. I appreciate the encouragement and all the lustful Roxton comments to inspire the creativity.
NOTES: This story was written with the inspiration of the Elixir photo up at the Official Site, and was completed before the author actually saw the episode. So, the obvious discrepencies between the episode and this work of fiction are in fact intentional. If you've made it this far, congratulations! On to the fic.
Moving with a stealthy ease born of years of practice and natural instinct, Lord John Roxton slipped through the lush jungle surroundings, much as a wraith through fog. All his senses were attuned to the primordial vegetation teeming with verdant, exotic life about him. His prey was simple, any medium sized mammal would do, for tonight's dinner was like all others on the plateau: hastily thrown together menus based purely on the luck of the meal's hunter. Roxton noticed the steady change of the scenery, growing less dense and vibrant the further west he traveled. Adjusting the grip on his rifle, Roxton kept alert for any predators that might happen by in this new area of exploration.
As he moved further from the familiar sights and sounds of the jungle and into the increasingly rocky terrain he noticed that someone or something had been through there too. Unfortunately the ground became too rocky to make out any prints and the hunter had to rely on the meager evidence of the occasional trampled shrub or broken twig to follow his predecessor. Hearing noise up ahead, Roxton slowed his pace, lowered his stance, and brought his rifle up to bear. Reaching the edge of the vegetation, he stopped, stunned at the sight that greeted his most assuredly hallucinating eyes. If not for his finely honed instincts, his treasured rifle would have slipped from his grasp and clattered to the rocky ground beneath his lug-booted feet.
Amidst a jumble of massive rock formations and steaming pits of mud stood Marguerite Krux. She was casually removing her clothing and neatly placing the fine articles next to her previously discarded rifle, pack and boots. For the life of him he couldn't work out why she was so methodically stripping out of her clothes in an area that offered only dense rocks and thick mud, but then his higher faculties weren't really functioning at peak level with the delicious sight of Marguerite slowly, seductively revealing her pale silky skin to the heavens and all of mother earth. Once she'd gotten down to her lacy camisole and silky underpants she stopped undressing, much to the chagrin of the enthralled hunter. Carefully, she gathered her thick, unruly curls into a soft bundle at the back of her head and securely pinned it in place. A few wispy tresses escaped their confinement to flirt softly along the delicate line of her graceful neck. He watched entranced as she elegantly lowered herself into the nearest mud hole, deliberately slathering the rich, dark earth over her arms and chest, stealing away this most magnificent view from him as surely as her beauty had stolen his breath away.
Slowly, his pulse evened to normal and he could breathe again with the sight of her tempting flesh removed from his boldly prying eyes. His mind soon strayed though to the recesses of fantasy he only allowed himself the pleasure of playing out under the blanket of darkness that only a night on the isolated plateau could offer. Debating with himself the morality of his options, his more primal desires soon won out, and he silently crept forward so as not to
break the blissful trance he was so enjoying with the unaware woman of his dreams and desires. He stopped about five feet from where she rested oblivious to his presence, saturated in her earthen cover, but the curves of her feminine body were still clearly visible to his hawk-like vision. It only served to increase his need, and drive home to him that he'd made the right decision.
Suddenly Marguerite's head snapped around, her whole body contracting exquisitely with the movement. Her gray-blue eyes quickly found his smoldering gaze. As recognition and relief flashed through her amazing orbs, suspicion and annoyance quickly rode in like a white squall on the high seas. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as her demeanor became defensive and rippled with the rushing current of adrenaline that his unexpected presence had caused.
"Roxton! What the hell do you think you're doing?" her normally husky voice climbed a quick octave in her rage. If her tone had any effect on him though, she could not see it. Unnerved by the intensity of his stare, she perceptively lowered herself into the warm mud, ineffectively trying to hide her near-nude form from the uncharacteristically silent man in front of her. "Don't just stand there staring Roxton, answer me!"
Rather than answer her, Roxton stepped back a foot next to the neat pile of her discarded clothing and gently laid his rifle down, never breaking eye contact with the increasingly alarmed heiress. His hands moved to his shoulder rig as he deftly undid the buckles and lowered the pearl handled Webleys down next to his cherished rifle. A rakish grin slowly manifested itself across his rugged face as he stooped to remove his boots and noticed Marguerite's eyes widen in realization of what he was doing.
"Roxton, don't you even dare think about it!" Marguerite commanded. Her command held little weight though with the wavering tone that crept in as she watched him ease the braces off his lean, broad shouldered frame.
"What's the matter Marguerite? Don't want to share in the pleasure of your earthy discovery?" The huskiness and blatant lust in his tone and gaze made her reevaluate her decision to keep him away. The arrogant grin widened when he saw her small pink tongue dart out to moisten the luscious lips as she watched him start to unbutton his shirt.
"Perhaps, in my haste to enjoy this experience I was a little thoughtless towards you and the others in not telling you about this place." Her voice was still unsure, but her gaze was becoming increasingly ravenous as her body warmed at the sight of him.
His hands stopped on the fourth button of his shirt. "Perhaps?" he queried with a raised brow and cocky glint in his mischievous green eyes.
Suddenly annoyed with the control Roxton had taken with the situation and his arrogant attitude, Marguerite abruptly turned her back to him, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I amend that statement, *Lord* Roxton. I was perfectly within my rights to exclude a heathen like you from such a civilized experience as this. Now go away!"
The surety he'd so strongly felt only moments before swiftly vanished from his being and the carnivorous smile ebbed from his sculpted features. However, the disappointment was only temporary as he denied the loss of opportunity. Quickly changing his tactics, he purposefully strode to the edge of the mud pit and submerged himself into the thick warm mass, clothing, hat, and all. Amid Marguerite's angry shrieks, a cavalier grin swiftly broke out on his open face as he made himself comfortable against the hard edge of the pit, ignoring Marguerite's tirade and flailing arms. Only after he was adequately settled and thoroughly coated, did he finally deign to look upon her shocked countenance.
"Have you gone mad?" Marguerite asked incredulously.
"Yes," he said locking a serious gaze onto her. "Completely mad about you."
An awkward silence filled the air as Marguerite digested his words and the meaning plainly spoken in the depths of his expressive eyes. Finally a smile graced her face and soft peals of laughter began to emanate from her slight frame.
Frowning at her reaction and more than a little befuddled, Roxton immediately retorted, "What's so funny?"
Gaining a modicum of control, Marguerite finally gasped out between bursts of laughter, "You. You're the only man I know who would even consider right now, covered in mud and *still* wearing that damned hat, the perfect time to start making romantic overtures."
Roxton's first instinct was to be angry at her belittling laughter, but taking stock of how he must look, he slowly realized her point. Her laughter was infectious and he soon joined in her mirth. Eventually the amused couple regained their breath and control. "Well, you have to admit, it's not the worst time either," he defended.
"Are you kidding? How could this even remotely fit the bill for romantic?" Marguerite asked skeptically.
Glancing about him for a minute absorbing their surroundings, a mildly triumphant glint flickered to life in his eyes as he refocused his attention back on the breathtaking woman sitting snugly at his side. "We're isolated here from the usual interruptions. No Challenger setting off chemical explosions in the lab. No Veronica chasing dinosaurs and Trogs. No Malone to get cracked in the skull and fall into desperate need of rescue. The weather for once cooperated with my mood and behaved rather well. And you, Miss Krux, are relaxed, half naked, and the only person besides myself for several miles. Now, I ask you, what's wrong with this place?"
During his little speech, Roxton had carefully edged in closer to her lithe body, drawing his right arm around her slender shoulders and bridging their proximity to mere inches. Running her eyes over his powerful form and sensuous lips, Marguerite slid further into his embrace and smiled that seductive smile of hers. Nearly purring, she answered, "Mmm, when you put it that way, I suppose this *is* the perfect place."
Not chancing her changing her attitude, Roxton swiftly closed the distance and pressed his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss. Marguerite eagerly responded and pressed her hands against his chest, nimbly running them past his open shirt front and up around his neck. Her fingers brushed into his dark locks, continually roaming in her desire to get closer and feel more of the man wrapped tightly in her arms. When she opened her mouth to his insistent tongue, he moaned from deep within his throat at the sensation of her heated mouth and flesh pressed so tightly against his own. His own movements became fevered as he struggled to taste and possess her supple body.
His strong arms wrapped around her trim waist and hips as he maneuvered her onto his lap, allowing his hungry mouth to blaze a fiery trail down her elegant neck to the hollow at her collarbone. His right hand slid up to her shoulder and quickly dragged the strap of her camisole off her shoulder, streaking the mud away from her sweet skin for his eager mouth to descend upon. He frantically sought out her swollen lips again in a frenzied kiss, stealing the breath from their lungs. Breaking away for air Marguerite tossed back her head and moaned out John's name as his mouth and hands continued to explore her body.
In the dim recesses of her mind, a voice in Marguerite yelled for her to stop before it was too late. He would only use her, then abandon her like all the others. But a fuse had been ignited, and even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have stopped. Shoving her doubts aside, Marguerite's hands traversed the hard planes of John's back, grasped his shirt, and yanked the ends free from his trousers. She roughly moved her hands to his stomach in a desperate effort to remove the offending article of clothing that was keeping her away from his heated flesh. Growling in frustration, she gripped the sides of his shirt and pulled with all her adrenaline charged strength. A loud tear resounded through the air as sturdy cotton gave way to her determined passion. Taken aback by her force, Roxton pulled his face back and looked upon her with cocky amusement. "In a hurry are we?"
"Shut up John," Marguerite ordered, as she pulled the sides of his ruined shirt forcefully back over his shoulders.
His arms temporarily restrained, Roxton merely smiled up at her in pleasure and replied, "Your wish is my command, my Queen."
Once his arms were finally freed again, he took the opportunity to shift their position, gently pushing Marguerite up against the rock wall of the pit and eased her long legs around his lean waist. His mouth again descended upon hers as his hands roamed her body, tortuously moving to softly caress her swollen breasts. Marguerite gasped at the sensations, something akin to an electric shock rocketing down her spine. Her eyes widened as John pulled the soaked camisole away from her body and his large, callused palms finally massaged her aching breasts. Looking at him, her eyes devoured the mud-streaked flesh she had revealed, the taut muscles bunching and cording with his movements. He smiled ferally up at her before replacing the caress of his hands with that of his mouth and tongue. Not wanting to forfeit the upper hand, Marguerite's hands quickly splashed into the mud and fumbled for the buttons of his trousers. Finding them, she pealed back the front of his pants and grasped him in her small hand, running a light caress over his rigid flesh. Roxton groaned deeply into her neck where he was nuzzling the sensitive skin. Smiling at his response, Marguerite repeated the gesture until Roxton was sure she would truly push him into the abyss. Reaching down, he stilled her hands and tried to get control of his ragged breathing.
"John?" Marguerite asked uncertainly.
Roxton opened his eyes and what Marguerite saw stilled her very heart. Pure lust warred with love for supremacy in his deep green eyes. Gaining some control, Roxton was finally able to speak. "Are you sure about this? I can stop right now, but if we continue, I won't be able to."
It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to say, but for Marguerite, he'd walk through fire if he had to. He wouldn't ruin their relationship just for one passion-hazed encounter.
Staring into his eyes, Marguerite understood what he meant. This was it, if they consummated their feelings, there would be no going back -- he wouldn't allow it. It was all or nothing for John Roxton, nothing else would satisfy. She thought back to all the horrible relationships in her past, and her eyes started to cloud over with uncertainty from the painful memories.
Sensing her hesitation, Roxton reluctantly let go of her hands and started to disentangle himself from her, his heart heavy but hopeful for the future. Startlingly fast, Marguerite reached forward, grabbed either side of his stubbled face in her muddy hands and pulled him back down to her. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears, she softly whispered, "I love you too," before kissing him soundly.
"You do?" Roxton asked, a grin plastered across his handsome face, but a hint of confusion still touching his eyes.
"What, have you got mud in your ears John? Yes, I love you too, all right?" The last finished with a crack in her voice as the tears tracked down her cheeks.
Smiling, Roxton reached up and wiped the tears from her face, leaving a generous film of mud in his wake. "I love you too, Marguerite Krux." With that, Roxton quickly pulled out of her embrace and merely smirked at her confused expression.
"Roxton!" she trilled annoyance clear in her voice.
Standing fully, he shucked his trousers and undergarments and carelessly tossed them near the other clothes before practically falling back into Marguerite's waiting arms. Donning a devilish grin, and taking a cue from Marguerite, Roxton plunged his hands into the warm mud surrounding her waist, firmly grasped her underpants, and ripped them away from her body.
"John! Those were my last pair from Harrod's!" cried an annoyed Marguerite.
Still grinning, Roxton merely grasped her hips and replied, "You won't be needing them anymore," then dove down and captured her lips once more.
The frenzied passion of moments before was soon rekindled, but tempered by the depth of feeling and knowledge of what embarking on this carnal journey truly meant. Moving his hands reverently up her body until he cradled her face in his palms, Roxton languorously broke their kiss to look into her wide, gray-blue eyes. Smiling back at the love she saw in his face, Marguerite securely wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed her lover's mouth. Releasing his lips, and arching a teasing brow at him, Marguerite asked, "Going to make me wait all day now, John?"
Bemused by her impatience, Roxton pretended to think over the situation, wrinkling his forehead in deep concentration. "I still have dinner to hunt down you know."
"John!" Marguerite laughed as she ineffectually slapped at his shoulder.
"My, my,my, aren't we demanding?" Roxton asked, love edging into his tone.
"Yes, and you best not forget that!" Marguerite answered, haughty as ever.
"Of course your highness." Before she could add a rejoinder, Roxton pulled her closer still and met her mouth in a searing kiss. Finally taking mercy on both of their strained bodies, Roxton slowly entered her willing body. Staring into each other's eyes, reveling in the new sensation, neither moved nor said anything for what seemed an eternity. Slowly, Roxton moved them into a sensuous rhythm, Marguerite meeting his thrusts with an ever increasing urgency. Soon all manner of control was lost as both strived to reach their point of blissful collapse. Suddenly, the world dropped out from under them and they spiraled into the abyss, a single being fused of love, heat, and passion.
***
Hours later, Marguerite lay at the edge of the mud pit, Roxton cradling her in his strong arms and the soft material of their clothes cushioning his deliciously exhausted body against the rocky ground. Smiling up at Roxton like the cat that ate the canary, Marguerite lazily traced nonsensical patterns across the hunter's mud streaked chest. Roxton was staring up at the clouds, enjoying immensely the opportunity to freely run his hands through Marguerite's thick curls. Sighing, he slowly pulled them up into a sitting position. "It'll be dark in a few hours, we have to start heading back."
Marguerite reluctantly agreed and started to tug on her filthy clothing. "Well, this will have to be burned now," she commented is a sad voice at the state of her attire. "How on earth are we ever going to get all this mud washed off?"
Looking a bit distracted as he fastened his trousers on, Roxton smiled over at her in a mischievous manner. "I suppose we'll just have to use the shower."
Grinning at his reply, Marguerite walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist then leaned up to and brush a kiss across his stubbled chin. "How scandalous Lord Roxton. What will everyone say?" she teased.
Returning her embrace, Roxton looked about him still a bit distracted, but amused all the same. "Forget about that Marguerite, we've got more pressing concerns."
Looking up at his frowning face, Marguerite got concerned. "Like what?"
"Like where did my bloody hat get off to?"
-40-
AUTHOR: Steph (roxtonsgirl@cox.net)
DISCLAIMER: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World and all characters contained within belong to Over the Hill Hang, Coote/Hayes, Newline Cinema, and a host of other people that don't include me, and I'm not making any money off this one either (like anyone would pay for this anyway). However, if Lord John Roxton is ever looking for a change of ownership, please send him my way, I have a very inclusive benefits package that I'm sure he'd be interested in.
SUMMARY: Marguerite and Roxton partake in a relaxed day at the spa…
RATING: R
TIMELINE: Season 3
BETAS: Mommybrat & Elbie, thank you guys so much, without your help, this would be completely unreadable.
THANKS: My betas of course, Jaxgirl (for the title), sahsedalia, Ann01, and everyone else from chat whose names I can't remember. I appreciate the encouragement and all the lustful Roxton comments to inspire the creativity.
NOTES: This story was written with the inspiration of the Elixir photo up at the Official Site, and was completed before the author actually saw the episode. So, the obvious discrepencies between the episode and this work of fiction are in fact intentional. If you've made it this far, congratulations! On to the fic.
Moving with a stealthy ease born of years of practice and natural instinct, Lord John Roxton slipped through the lush jungle surroundings, much as a wraith through fog. All his senses were attuned to the primordial vegetation teeming with verdant, exotic life about him. His prey was simple, any medium sized mammal would do, for tonight's dinner was like all others on the plateau: hastily thrown together menus based purely on the luck of the meal's hunter. Roxton noticed the steady change of the scenery, growing less dense and vibrant the further west he traveled. Adjusting the grip on his rifle, Roxton kept alert for any predators that might happen by in this new area of exploration.
As he moved further from the familiar sights and sounds of the jungle and into the increasingly rocky terrain he noticed that someone or something had been through there too. Unfortunately the ground became too rocky to make out any prints and the hunter had to rely on the meager evidence of the occasional trampled shrub or broken twig to follow his predecessor. Hearing noise up ahead, Roxton slowed his pace, lowered his stance, and brought his rifle up to bear. Reaching the edge of the vegetation, he stopped, stunned at the sight that greeted his most assuredly hallucinating eyes. If not for his finely honed instincts, his treasured rifle would have slipped from his grasp and clattered to the rocky ground beneath his lug-booted feet.
Amidst a jumble of massive rock formations and steaming pits of mud stood Marguerite Krux. She was casually removing her clothing and neatly placing the fine articles next to her previously discarded rifle, pack and boots. For the life of him he couldn't work out why she was so methodically stripping out of her clothes in an area that offered only dense rocks and thick mud, but then his higher faculties weren't really functioning at peak level with the delicious sight of Marguerite slowly, seductively revealing her pale silky skin to the heavens and all of mother earth. Once she'd gotten down to her lacy camisole and silky underpants she stopped undressing, much to the chagrin of the enthralled hunter. Carefully, she gathered her thick, unruly curls into a soft bundle at the back of her head and securely pinned it in place. A few wispy tresses escaped their confinement to flirt softly along the delicate line of her graceful neck. He watched entranced as she elegantly lowered herself into the nearest mud hole, deliberately slathering the rich, dark earth over her arms and chest, stealing away this most magnificent view from him as surely as her beauty had stolen his breath away.
Slowly, his pulse evened to normal and he could breathe again with the sight of her tempting flesh removed from his boldly prying eyes. His mind soon strayed though to the recesses of fantasy he only allowed himself the pleasure of playing out under the blanket of darkness that only a night on the isolated plateau could offer. Debating with himself the morality of his options, his more primal desires soon won out, and he silently crept forward so as not to
break the blissful trance he was so enjoying with the unaware woman of his dreams and desires. He stopped about five feet from where she rested oblivious to his presence, saturated in her earthen cover, but the curves of her feminine body were still clearly visible to his hawk-like vision. It only served to increase his need, and drive home to him that he'd made the right decision.
Suddenly Marguerite's head snapped around, her whole body contracting exquisitely with the movement. Her gray-blue eyes quickly found his smoldering gaze. As recognition and relief flashed through her amazing orbs, suspicion and annoyance quickly rode in like a white squall on the high seas. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as her demeanor became defensive and rippled with the rushing current of adrenaline that his unexpected presence had caused.
"Roxton! What the hell do you think you're doing?" her normally husky voice climbed a quick octave in her rage. If her tone had any effect on him though, she could not see it. Unnerved by the intensity of his stare, she perceptively lowered herself into the warm mud, ineffectively trying to hide her near-nude form from the uncharacteristically silent man in front of her. "Don't just stand there staring Roxton, answer me!"
Rather than answer her, Roxton stepped back a foot next to the neat pile of her discarded clothing and gently laid his rifle down, never breaking eye contact with the increasingly alarmed heiress. His hands moved to his shoulder rig as he deftly undid the buckles and lowered the pearl handled Webleys down next to his cherished rifle. A rakish grin slowly manifested itself across his rugged face as he stooped to remove his boots and noticed Marguerite's eyes widen in realization of what he was doing.
"Roxton, don't you even dare think about it!" Marguerite commanded. Her command held little weight though with the wavering tone that crept in as she watched him ease the braces off his lean, broad shouldered frame.
"What's the matter Marguerite? Don't want to share in the pleasure of your earthy discovery?" The huskiness and blatant lust in his tone and gaze made her reevaluate her decision to keep him away. The arrogant grin widened when he saw her small pink tongue dart out to moisten the luscious lips as she watched him start to unbutton his shirt.
"Perhaps, in my haste to enjoy this experience I was a little thoughtless towards you and the others in not telling you about this place." Her voice was still unsure, but her gaze was becoming increasingly ravenous as her body warmed at the sight of him.
His hands stopped on the fourth button of his shirt. "Perhaps?" he queried with a raised brow and cocky glint in his mischievous green eyes.
Suddenly annoyed with the control Roxton had taken with the situation and his arrogant attitude, Marguerite abruptly turned her back to him, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I amend that statement, *Lord* Roxton. I was perfectly within my rights to exclude a heathen like you from such a civilized experience as this. Now go away!"
The surety he'd so strongly felt only moments before swiftly vanished from his being and the carnivorous smile ebbed from his sculpted features. However, the disappointment was only temporary as he denied the loss of opportunity. Quickly changing his tactics, he purposefully strode to the edge of the mud pit and submerged himself into the thick warm mass, clothing, hat, and all. Amid Marguerite's angry shrieks, a cavalier grin swiftly broke out on his open face as he made himself comfortable against the hard edge of the pit, ignoring Marguerite's tirade and flailing arms. Only after he was adequately settled and thoroughly coated, did he finally deign to look upon her shocked countenance.
"Have you gone mad?" Marguerite asked incredulously.
"Yes," he said locking a serious gaze onto her. "Completely mad about you."
An awkward silence filled the air as Marguerite digested his words and the meaning plainly spoken in the depths of his expressive eyes. Finally a smile graced her face and soft peals of laughter began to emanate from her slight frame.
Frowning at her reaction and more than a little befuddled, Roxton immediately retorted, "What's so funny?"
Gaining a modicum of control, Marguerite finally gasped out between bursts of laughter, "You. You're the only man I know who would even consider right now, covered in mud and *still* wearing that damned hat, the perfect time to start making romantic overtures."
Roxton's first instinct was to be angry at her belittling laughter, but taking stock of how he must look, he slowly realized her point. Her laughter was infectious and he soon joined in her mirth. Eventually the amused couple regained their breath and control. "Well, you have to admit, it's not the worst time either," he defended.
"Are you kidding? How could this even remotely fit the bill for romantic?" Marguerite asked skeptically.
Glancing about him for a minute absorbing their surroundings, a mildly triumphant glint flickered to life in his eyes as he refocused his attention back on the breathtaking woman sitting snugly at his side. "We're isolated here from the usual interruptions. No Challenger setting off chemical explosions in the lab. No Veronica chasing dinosaurs and Trogs. No Malone to get cracked in the skull and fall into desperate need of rescue. The weather for once cooperated with my mood and behaved rather well. And you, Miss Krux, are relaxed, half naked, and the only person besides myself for several miles. Now, I ask you, what's wrong with this place?"
During his little speech, Roxton had carefully edged in closer to her lithe body, drawing his right arm around her slender shoulders and bridging their proximity to mere inches. Running her eyes over his powerful form and sensuous lips, Marguerite slid further into his embrace and smiled that seductive smile of hers. Nearly purring, she answered, "Mmm, when you put it that way, I suppose this *is* the perfect place."
Not chancing her changing her attitude, Roxton swiftly closed the distance and pressed his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss. Marguerite eagerly responded and pressed her hands against his chest, nimbly running them past his open shirt front and up around his neck. Her fingers brushed into his dark locks, continually roaming in her desire to get closer and feel more of the man wrapped tightly in her arms. When she opened her mouth to his insistent tongue, he moaned from deep within his throat at the sensation of her heated mouth and flesh pressed so tightly against his own. His own movements became fevered as he struggled to taste and possess her supple body.
His strong arms wrapped around her trim waist and hips as he maneuvered her onto his lap, allowing his hungry mouth to blaze a fiery trail down her elegant neck to the hollow at her collarbone. His right hand slid up to her shoulder and quickly dragged the strap of her camisole off her shoulder, streaking the mud away from her sweet skin for his eager mouth to descend upon. He frantically sought out her swollen lips again in a frenzied kiss, stealing the breath from their lungs. Breaking away for air Marguerite tossed back her head and moaned out John's name as his mouth and hands continued to explore her body.
In the dim recesses of her mind, a voice in Marguerite yelled for her to stop before it was too late. He would only use her, then abandon her like all the others. But a fuse had been ignited, and even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have stopped. Shoving her doubts aside, Marguerite's hands traversed the hard planes of John's back, grasped his shirt, and yanked the ends free from his trousers. She roughly moved her hands to his stomach in a desperate effort to remove the offending article of clothing that was keeping her away from his heated flesh. Growling in frustration, she gripped the sides of his shirt and pulled with all her adrenaline charged strength. A loud tear resounded through the air as sturdy cotton gave way to her determined passion. Taken aback by her force, Roxton pulled his face back and looked upon her with cocky amusement. "In a hurry are we?"
"Shut up John," Marguerite ordered, as she pulled the sides of his ruined shirt forcefully back over his shoulders.
His arms temporarily restrained, Roxton merely smiled up at her in pleasure and replied, "Your wish is my command, my Queen."
Once his arms were finally freed again, he took the opportunity to shift their position, gently pushing Marguerite up against the rock wall of the pit and eased her long legs around his lean waist. His mouth again descended upon hers as his hands roamed her body, tortuously moving to softly caress her swollen breasts. Marguerite gasped at the sensations, something akin to an electric shock rocketing down her spine. Her eyes widened as John pulled the soaked camisole away from her body and his large, callused palms finally massaged her aching breasts. Looking at him, her eyes devoured the mud-streaked flesh she had revealed, the taut muscles bunching and cording with his movements. He smiled ferally up at her before replacing the caress of his hands with that of his mouth and tongue. Not wanting to forfeit the upper hand, Marguerite's hands quickly splashed into the mud and fumbled for the buttons of his trousers. Finding them, she pealed back the front of his pants and grasped him in her small hand, running a light caress over his rigid flesh. Roxton groaned deeply into her neck where he was nuzzling the sensitive skin. Smiling at his response, Marguerite repeated the gesture until Roxton was sure she would truly push him into the abyss. Reaching down, he stilled her hands and tried to get control of his ragged breathing.
"John?" Marguerite asked uncertainly.
Roxton opened his eyes and what Marguerite saw stilled her very heart. Pure lust warred with love for supremacy in his deep green eyes. Gaining some control, Roxton was finally able to speak. "Are you sure about this? I can stop right now, but if we continue, I won't be able to."
It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to say, but for Marguerite, he'd walk through fire if he had to. He wouldn't ruin their relationship just for one passion-hazed encounter.
Staring into his eyes, Marguerite understood what he meant. This was it, if they consummated their feelings, there would be no going back -- he wouldn't allow it. It was all or nothing for John Roxton, nothing else would satisfy. She thought back to all the horrible relationships in her past, and her eyes started to cloud over with uncertainty from the painful memories.
Sensing her hesitation, Roxton reluctantly let go of her hands and started to disentangle himself from her, his heart heavy but hopeful for the future. Startlingly fast, Marguerite reached forward, grabbed either side of his stubbled face in her muddy hands and pulled him back down to her. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears, she softly whispered, "I love you too," before kissing him soundly.
"You do?" Roxton asked, a grin plastered across his handsome face, but a hint of confusion still touching his eyes.
"What, have you got mud in your ears John? Yes, I love you too, all right?" The last finished with a crack in her voice as the tears tracked down her cheeks.
Smiling, Roxton reached up and wiped the tears from her face, leaving a generous film of mud in his wake. "I love you too, Marguerite Krux." With that, Roxton quickly pulled out of her embrace and merely smirked at her confused expression.
"Roxton!" she trilled annoyance clear in her voice.
Standing fully, he shucked his trousers and undergarments and carelessly tossed them near the other clothes before practically falling back into Marguerite's waiting arms. Donning a devilish grin, and taking a cue from Marguerite, Roxton plunged his hands into the warm mud surrounding her waist, firmly grasped her underpants, and ripped them away from her body.
"John! Those were my last pair from Harrod's!" cried an annoyed Marguerite.
Still grinning, Roxton merely grasped her hips and replied, "You won't be needing them anymore," then dove down and captured her lips once more.
The frenzied passion of moments before was soon rekindled, but tempered by the depth of feeling and knowledge of what embarking on this carnal journey truly meant. Moving his hands reverently up her body until he cradled her face in his palms, Roxton languorously broke their kiss to look into her wide, gray-blue eyes. Smiling back at the love she saw in his face, Marguerite securely wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed her lover's mouth. Releasing his lips, and arching a teasing brow at him, Marguerite asked, "Going to make me wait all day now, John?"
Bemused by her impatience, Roxton pretended to think over the situation, wrinkling his forehead in deep concentration. "I still have dinner to hunt down you know."
"John!" Marguerite laughed as she ineffectually slapped at his shoulder.
"My, my,my, aren't we demanding?" Roxton asked, love edging into his tone.
"Yes, and you best not forget that!" Marguerite answered, haughty as ever.
"Of course your highness." Before she could add a rejoinder, Roxton pulled her closer still and met her mouth in a searing kiss. Finally taking mercy on both of their strained bodies, Roxton slowly entered her willing body. Staring into each other's eyes, reveling in the new sensation, neither moved nor said anything for what seemed an eternity. Slowly, Roxton moved them into a sensuous rhythm, Marguerite meeting his thrusts with an ever increasing urgency. Soon all manner of control was lost as both strived to reach their point of blissful collapse. Suddenly, the world dropped out from under them and they spiraled into the abyss, a single being fused of love, heat, and passion.
***
Hours later, Marguerite lay at the edge of the mud pit, Roxton cradling her in his strong arms and the soft material of their clothes cushioning his deliciously exhausted body against the rocky ground. Smiling up at Roxton like the cat that ate the canary, Marguerite lazily traced nonsensical patterns across the hunter's mud streaked chest. Roxton was staring up at the clouds, enjoying immensely the opportunity to freely run his hands through Marguerite's thick curls. Sighing, he slowly pulled them up into a sitting position. "It'll be dark in a few hours, we have to start heading back."
Marguerite reluctantly agreed and started to tug on her filthy clothing. "Well, this will have to be burned now," she commented is a sad voice at the state of her attire. "How on earth are we ever going to get all this mud washed off?"
Looking a bit distracted as he fastened his trousers on, Roxton smiled over at her in a mischievous manner. "I suppose we'll just have to use the shower."
Grinning at his reply, Marguerite walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist then leaned up to and brush a kiss across his stubbled chin. "How scandalous Lord Roxton. What will everyone say?" she teased.
Returning her embrace, Roxton looked about him still a bit distracted, but amused all the same. "Forget about that Marguerite, we've got more pressing concerns."
Looking up at his frowning face, Marguerite got concerned. "Like what?"
"Like where did my bloody hat get off to?"
-40-