Regina Mills was on her spring vacation in Venice. She was about to graduate from college with a degree in teaching and a few of her friends had suggested about taking a vacation to Venice for one last wild spring fling. Regina had agreed immediately, she had not told her family. She had just up and left and was going to live it up in Venice with her friends.

They had just arrived late this very evening and after grabbing a quick bite to eat, had decided to go to bed and then live it up in Venice. The three girls, Ruby, Tink and Regina all had their own room in the suite, splitting the price three ways. After an hour of being in her bed with no signs of sleep coming, she knew she was very jet lagged and sleep would not find her this night.

With another deep sigh, she turned onto her side, staring off into the shadowed darkness of her bedroom.

Closing her eyes, she pictured herself dressed at the height of French fashion, giving a mysterious stranger a sly look from across the ballroom. He would meet her gaze, discerning her thoughts. Those eyes of his would flash with lust, and he would incline his head ever so slightly toward the garden doors, commanding her.

She would do his bidding. In her fantasy, she would be free to do what she pleased, and much bolder than the woman who lay alone in her bed dreaming of a man she would never meet. She would slip out first, sure to remain inconspicuous, making her way through the hedgerow maze toward a distant corner of the garden. He would follow swiftly, the sounds of his footsteps right behind her, though he would remain just out of view, teasing her by pursuing out of sight.

His hands would be strong and sure when he captured her, gripping her waist and pulling her against a body hardened by physical activity. Regina bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, mind filled with images that sent her heart racing. Her pulse fluttered as she imagined his lips there, just at the juncture where her jaw met her throat, his searching fingers making their way to the front of her bodice.

One of her own slender hands found its way there, cupping one heavy breast in imitation of what she wanted her dream lover to do with his palm. Her thumb and forefinger found her nipple through the fabric of her nightgown. She bit her lip again, stifling a whimper as she rolled the stiffened peak between the pads of her fingers, tugging insistently. She bared her breasts, imagining him doing the same, tugging on the front of her gown in the darkness of the garden. Her other hand joined the first as a rush of moisture flooded between her thighs, her body practically humming with need. Her vivid imagination conjured his scent—or what she imagined her dream lover would smell like—the feel of his hands, soft yet strong, skilled, touching her and enflaming her need to desperate heights.

She panted as he would find the hem of her skirt in one hand, the other still tweaking a perky little nipple. His lips and tongue sent a trail of fire along the line of her jaw, neck, and shoulder. She wiggled against him as his hand trailed up her thigh, gripping tightly. He found the bare skin above the lace of her stocking. Her derrière nestled against his crotch, causing his cock to spring to life. It hardened against her, his hips moving in tandem with hers in a primal, forbidden dance.

Her back arched, one of her own hands finding its way beneath the blankets, snatching up the hem of her nightgown.

She couldn't help a moan at the touch of her own fingers upon herself. The throbbing between her thighs refused to ease up. Moisture wept from her core, wetting her fingertips in a searching caress much less skilled than she knew her dream lover would be. He would know just where to touch her, his hand cupping her mound while his index finger found the little pearl of pleasure hidden within. She moaned again, her mind blurring the line between her hand and his as she stroked in slow circles, trembling when a shiver of delight rolled through her.

"Mmm," she whimpered, the fingers of one hand pinching her nipple tighter. The other hand's fingers moved faster, applying more pressure to her sensitive nub.

His teeth would find her neck, his kiss a mingling of pleasure and pain. His thick fingers would find their way inside of her, stroking swiftly and surely while she shivered and quaked in his arms.

"Regina…love."

His voice would be deep, and he would call her love as well. He'd treat her like a woman, and not like a little girl to be cosseted and pampered like her mother loved to do. She would finally take what she wanted boldly, the consequences be damned!

Regina shuddered, her questing fingers moving lower. She spread her legs, sliding one finger into her own yearning channel.

"Oh, yes, yes," she whispered as her phantom lover lowered himself between her thighs and filled her with his cock. He would make love like a rampant stallion, she had no doubt. He would grip her hips possessively and drive into her over and over again, ruling over her.

She imagined him between her legs, fucking her with wild abandon. Despite her attempts to stifle her moans, another one slipped out, the wanton sound reverberating from the walls of the dark room and further enflaming her lust. She grew wild with need, her hips moving in tandem with her hand, her mind so vividly conjuring her dream lover she could almost feel his solid weight atop her.

She shattered forcefully, splintering as she clenched her lips shut to stifle the groan burning in her chest. Spasms rippled the walls of her sheath, drenching her fingers in her own juices. Her shudders quickened and then ceased, and a languid sense of calm washed over her. Her taut muscles relaxed as the tremors causing her insides to tremble ebbed. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Fatigue now stole over her, clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

That was the closest she would ever come to bedding some handsome stranger, and well she knew it. Still, it did not stop her mind from imagining it and her heart from wanting it so ferociously that it hurt.

The next day, Regina and her friends were just coming back in after finding out about the Masquerade Ball to be held that night at the Palazzo Moretta. The girls went to a local dressmaker and all found appropriate attire for the night's events. As the other girls were getting ready, Regina rushed to her room and knelt beside the bed. After pulling the white shopkeeper's box from its hiding place, she slowly and reverently opened it.

As she had the first time she'd laid eyes upon it, Regina emitted a breathless gasp. She caressed the lace and beading along the bodice and smiled, imagining how the gown would look in the glow of ball. Beneath the dress, she found a pair of matching slippers, reticule, and satin mask complete with black feathers. A slow smile spread across her face as she pressed the mask to her face and stood, turning to face her reflection in her vanity mirror. She imagined it paired with an elegant chignon and rouged lips. For one night, at least, she would be a woman—independent, beautiful, and free.

Who knows? Perhaps she'll even catch the eye of a handsome stranger.

A foolish hope, but she couldn't let it die. If she could manage to capture the interest of a fascinating man, even for one night, she would be more than happy to return back home to her life.

One night with him would be worth one hundred with any one of them.

The night vibrated with life, hummed with excitement, and felt as if it had been kissed by promise. Regina could hardly contain herself, but luckily, she did not have to, this being an evening for revelry and fun. She intended to enjoy every moment of it.

The girls were all getting ready, Regina's cheeks flushed with excitement as she'd knelt to retrieve her gown and accessories.

She'd dressed quickly, no easy feat to accomplish. Lacing her own corset had proved trying, but she'd managed to cinch her waist and lace herself properly before donning her gown. She couldn't help a sly smile when she'd met her reflection in the mirror. The corset and gown worked together to lift and display her bosom most enticingly. With her shoulders bared and cleavage so tantalizingly exhibited, she had never felt more alluring in her life. This was the woman she wanted to be, the sort of lady she knew that the men in the room would take notice of.

She'd always been talented when it came to styling her own hair, so she had arranged her locks into an elegant chignon at her nape, with a few wispy curls pulled free at her ears and forehead for a softening effect. She wore no jewels. With her mask to hide behind, Regina knew she'd be able to enjoy a night of mystery.

Covering the ensemble with a voluminous hooded cape, she met up with Ruby and Tink and together they made their way to the hotel. As they arrived Regina's eyes were dancing at the sights, sounds, and smells of the pleasure gardens reached out to them from across the river.

She slid her mask on before leaving the boat and alighting the stairs, her wide eyes drinking in every single detail as they all paid the required fee and entered the gardens. Rotundas and a colonnade of supper boxes, where meals could be taken, faced the illuminated orchestral stand. The glow of the lanterns rivaled that of any starry night. The soft, yellow glow gave the entire scene a sense of surrealism; she felt as if she walked through a dream.

All around her, revelry ensued. Dancers, acrobats, and singers could be seen here and there surrounded by applauding crowds. The Palazzo Moretta proved a feast for the eyes with its winding paths leading past ruins, illuminated statues, and—as far as the eye could see—gravel paths on which promenaded the people of Venice. Mingled with the cream of society were those who could afford entry to the gardens and had come for a peek at the spectacle. Courtesans in daring gowns made eyes at the gentlemen, young couples clung to each other and stared in awe, and painted doxies plied their trade. Young men home from university, titled bachelors, and married men alike could have their pick of the litter at an event where inhibitions were known to be lowered and all manner of scandalous behavior excused.

The atmosphere felt decidedly sensual. Heat flushed the back of her neck when she witnessed people dancing much too closely, lips meeting and hands groping. Behind almost every statue and in any alcove, a young couple—and in some cases threesomes or foursomes—could be found in the throes of passion, heedless of their surroundings.

Tink and Ruby were quickly approached by young gentlemen and asked to dance, Regina enjoyed watching the scenes before her.

She procured a flute of champagne from one of the many masked waiters making their way through the crowd, sipping while she skirted the edge of the crowd gathered around a troupe of acrobats. She clapped and drank champagne while the troupe awed them with their feats of daring. Her head spun as the drink travelled straight to her head. She had never allowed herself more than one glass of champagne, and even then, when at home her mother had watched her closely to ensure she did not over-imbibe.

Before Regina realized what she had done, she'd drunk three flutes and felt remarkably happy and carefree.

When she neared the orchestral pavilion, she became caught up in a group of dancers surrounding it. A pair of arms came around her, and before she knew it, she was swept into a boisterous waltz—not the slow, sedate dance of a ballroom, but rather a celebratory reel that caused her head to spin as the masked gentleman whirled her about.

"You are an enchanting beauty," the man shouted to be heard above the music and laughter of the other dancers. "Does my angel of the night have a name?"

"Regina!" she proclaimed without thinking.

Throwing caution to the wind, she decided she would be Regina for the night. It was a common enough name and the mask had emboldened her. Besides, she'd never waltzed in public before, and no man had ever called her 'an enchanting beauty.'

"Ah, Regina," the young man said as he spun her about. "Take me to the stars, love."

Regina realized his intent when she felt the hard length of him pressed against her belly. She blushed furiously and avoided his gaze. "I can't," she said. "I am … I am waiting for someone."

"I see." He shrugged and continued spinning her about. The man was quite a graceful dancer. "Pity. Whoever the bloke is, I hope he knows he's the bloody luckiest man here tonight."

The dance ended, and before long, she fell into the arms of another gentleman. She lost herself in the music—she'd always loved to dance—and the heady rush of the champagne coursing through her. She went from partner to partner, her cheeks hurting from the smile that refused to allow her face rest.

Before she knew it she came face to chest with someone new. Or rather, she came face to chest with him. Her current dance partner gave her a careless spin, sending her into the arms of a man standing on the edge of the crowd … a man whose hard chest felt like heaven against her cheek, and whose scent sent a jolt of awareness down her spine.

Powerful arms came around her, steadying her. She made no attempt to move away from him, her hands coming up to his chest, resting just over the lapels of his coat. Her gaze traveled up from the top button of his waistcoat to the snowy white linen of his simply tied cravat, to the delectable throat she wished to nibble and lick, and onward to his strong chin, firm lips, aquiline nose, and—finally—his electric blue eyes peeking out at her from behind his simple black mask.

Those eyes smoldered, locking with hers, and his sensual mouth curved into a half-smile.

"Well, good evening, milady," he said in a low, purring tone.

Regina shuddered as she realized he had not yet released her from his hold. When she did not answer, he grinned, stunning her with a display of perfect teeth.

"Are you all right, love?"

She nodded, quickly finding her tongue lest he think her an imbecile.

"Of course," she answered, sounding as breathless as she felt. "I am perfectly fine. My dance partner was just a bit …"

"Careless," the man finished for her, shooting a pointed glance at the man who'd flung her into him and who still stood by as if he expected to reclaim her. He shrunk away at the newcomer's glare and disappeared into the crowd. "If you were mine, I'd take much better care of you."

She didn't miss the double entendre in his words, or the heat in his stare when his eyes traveled over the curve of her nose, her rouged lips, then farther down to the bosom pressed tight against him. She did not know where her boldness came from, though if she had to guess, she'd blame the champagne.

Whatever the cause, Regina found the courage within herself to give him a coy smile and press her body more fully to his. Satisfaction shot through her as shock flickered across his face, followed by amusement and desire.

She leaned close and whispered in a husky tone, "I am certain you would."

Robin Locksley remained unsure of what exactly about the woman in red and black beckoned to him. From the moment he'd first seen her, twirling in the arms of one dance partner after another, he'd been drawn to her.

It wasn't as if he'd never seen a beautiful woman before. In fact, he had indulged in affairs with other women. She was pretty, with her beautiful skin, luscious, dark locks, and teasing, heart-shaped mouth. There was something about her—here, tonight, beneath the light of thousands of lanterns—captivated him.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked, even as he took one of her hands in his and twirled her back into the throng of dancers.

His hand remained tight at her waist and he held her far closer than would be considered decent in any ballroom. However, they were not in a ballroom, and he always did what he pleased. Right now, the way her thighs felt moving against his as they waltzed pleased him.

"Yes," she murmured, as if she didn't realize he'd already swept her into the waltz.

Her breathless whisper heated his blood in his veins and sent it racing straight for his cock.

Christ above, who was this woman? A graceful dancer, she was so light on her feet. He'd never met her before; of that, he felt certain. He did not think he could ever forget a woman so exquisite.

"Will you honor me with a name?" he asked, his eyes finding hers through the red and black mask covering the upper half of her face. A few black feathers rested against her left cheekbone, and her lips had been stained with rouge, making them even more inviting.

"Regina," she replied.

So, they were only trading first names? All the better. It would only add to the mystique of the evening.

"Robin," he responded. "What brings you to the Gardens this evening? Never tell me you are here to meet someone."

Regina graced him with that coy smile of hers again; just a slight upturning of her lips at the corners, causing him to want to run his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

"As a matter of fact," she said, "I am looking for a gentleman."

Robin would not let disappointment claim him. He'd become accustomed to getting what he wanted, and tonight, he'd already decided he very much wanted Regina.

"Whoever he is, forget about him," he declared, leading her into a graceful turn. "Be my companion for the night. You won't regret it."

"Hmmm," she hummed, her perfectly plump lips pressed together as if she contemplated his offer.

He imagined those lips wrapped around his cock, her red rouge staining him in a ring of desire while her tongue circled his head.

"Well, I did not have any particular gentleman in mind, you see. So, I suppose all there is left is for you to convince me."

Arching an eyebrow, he swiftly led her into another turn, whirling her too far on purpose and taking her from the midst of the multitude. Ducking behind a statue, he spun her again, taking them clear out of view of the dancers and revelers and behind a high, thick, flowering hedge. The scent of the blossoms enveloped them as he pressed her against the shrubbery. His hands spanned her waist and he sank into her, bending his knees a bit so his hips aligned with hers.

Regina gasped, her eyes wide and disoriented. He loomed over her, his parted lips sliding along the line of her jaw. She smelled heavenly, like rose oil and something else he could not identify. She tilted her head back, her hands gripping his biceps tightly. Her breath ruffled the curls at his temples, and her throaty whimper caressed his ear in a low, seductive note. He claimed her mouth in a crushing kiss, his hips grinding against hers as his tongue swept her lower lip, demanding entry into her mouth.

She opened for him, returning the kiss with a fervor matching his own. Her hands came up to his shoulders and she clung to him, her tongue mating artlessly with his.

He had kissed dozens of women, and fucked more than he could count. Many of them had been far more experienced than Regina—her kiss told him the truth of her innocence—yet, none of them had coaxed the response from him she had. He burned for her, his every muscle taut and coiled, ready to spring. She was so eager, throwing herself into their kiss with such wild abandon he could hardly contain his primal response.

Pressing her against the hedge, he grasped her hips and pulled her closer against him, relieving the tension in his groin. He slid his hands up her waist, over her ribs, finding the mounds of her breasts through her gown. She gasped against his mouth, her breath coming in breathless pants that caused them to heave in his palms. He kneaded her, his eyes drawn to the creamy flesh cradled by her bodice. He wanted to jerk the gown down, exposing her nipples—nipples he knew would be as pink as rose petals.

Not here, he told himself. Not now.

Something about this woman made him want to take her back to his bed, lay her across it, and fuck her on his bed for hours.

His mouth left hers and trailed a path down her neck, then even farther, until he was making love to the valley between her breasts with his tongue. She cried out sharply, then bit her lip to contain it as he nuzzled her soft flesh, leaving a row of hot kisses along the top of each one.

"There is so much I want to do to you," he murmured. "I want to take you to bed, Regina. I want to undress you and lick every inch of your delectable body. Then I want to lay you on your back and fuck you."

She groaned, arching her back and pressing her body more fully to his. He grinned, reaching down to cup her arse, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Would you like that, Regina? Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, I want that."

He chuckled, giving her a little kiss near the corner of her mouth. "So, I have convinced you, then?"

The bold vixen returned, and she flashed him a catlike smile.

"It seems you have, my lord," she purred. "Now all that's left is for you to impress me."

"We shall dine first," Robin declared, offering Regina his arm. "It wouldn't do for me to get you back to my bed only to watch you expire with weakness."

She took his arm and followed him down one of the twisting lanes, toward the row of dinner boxes near the river entrance.

"I am famished," she admitted. "Thank you, Robin."

Robin. She loved saying his name. They'd waltzed beneath the moon, their thighs brushing and their hips pressed together. He'd stolen her away, pressed up against a hedge, and kissed her. His hands had cupped and fondled her breasts.

He was Robin—her Robin for this one night.

Though the dinner boxes could seat at least ten, they sat alone in the intimate enclosure. The space had been opulently turned out, with fine art hanging on its walls, beautiful brass candlesticks and gleaming silver on the tables, a crisp, white tablecloth, and painted china.

"Good evening," said a masked waiter once they were settled at the table. "Would you care for wine?"

Robin turned to her and smiled. "Well?"

She smiled back and nodded. "Wine would be lovely, thank you."

Robin was pleasantly surprised. She'd have thought him one of those overbearing sorts who did not think a lady possessed the intelligence to answer a question for herself. If she weren't already besotted with him, this act of consideration would have won her heart.

He lifted his wine glass and took a long swallow, his piercing eyes peering at her through the slits in his mask. He leaned toward her, his breath fanning her ear, his lips brushing the lobe. She shivered.

"Tell me, dearest," he murmured, his mouth grazing her neck just behind her ear. "How adventurous are you, really?"

She arched her back, straining closer to his lips, to his touch. She closed her eyes and said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I am at your disposal, Robin."

She felt him smile against her cheek.

"Good," he answered. "Because just now, I am gripped with the desire to taste wine from between your marvelous tits."

A flutter of pleasure at his words registered down low in her belly. The burning heat there grew and crept steadily lower. Without speaking, she reached up and cupped her breasts, lifting them in invitation, pressing them more tightly together, creating the perfect chalice for him.

He picked up his glass and tilted it just enough to allow his wine to trickle onto her skin. It rested in the hollow between her neck and collarbone for a moment, before sliding downward, drawn down the slope to the valley between her breasts. One arm braced on the back of her chair, he lowered his head and caught the stream with his tongue. He trailed it slowly upward, leaving fire in his wake. The warm rasp of it caused her to cry out, but she swiftly clamped her lips together, holding back another moan when his mouth began to travel, dotting a soft row of kisses across the generous globes quivering in her hands.

One of his hands came up over hers, pulling it away from her breast before replacing it with his own. He gave it a gentle squeeze, using his other hand to tilt the glass again, causing another cool splash. This time, his mouth found her breast, suckling as his tongue circled to lap the wine from her skin. His thumb dipped into the neckline of her dress, finding her nipple and circling it once before he joined it with his forefinger. Giving the nipple a gentle tug, he found the opposite bud through the fabric of her gown with his other hand. Her head fell back, a throaty groan burning in her chest. His mouth pulled upon one breast while his fingers teased the other.

Abruptly, he pulled away, the devilish smile in place once more.

Regina straightened in her chair, taking deep, slow breaths, and fighting to clear her head. The waiter approached again. Though she knew Robin had been right to stop, she found herself wishing he hadn't … wishing he'd continued his torture by snatching down the front of her gown and running his devilish tongue all over her breasts.

They were served by the waiter, silent and swift, laying out their light supper of ham sliced paper-thin, a refreshing, lightly dressed salad, warm bread with butter, and an array of custards, tarts, and cheeses for dessert. As desperately as she wanted him to continue where he'd left off, she also had not eaten for hours and had grown famished.

The two ate and chatted amiably while the carousing of the masquerade continued around them. Dancing, music, fireworks … there wasn't a dull moment, and everything seemed designed to engage the senses in some way.

"I have the strangest sensation we've met before," Robin said suddenly, his knife and fork poised over his plate.

"Maybe in another life?" Regina said.

His hand came over hers, stilling it before she could continue slicing the ham on her plate.

"I feel more than certain I would have remembered you," he said. "I don't think I could forget such a stunning woman."

"Maybe in another life you were a bold thief who stole from me." Regina said. "Though I'm sure you would have a long list of admirers."

His hand rested on the back of her chair again, his thumb slowly circling the bare skin between her shoulder blades. "Right now, you are the only woman in the world I want to know."

She gave him a coy smile and lifted her wineglass for another slow sip.

"And know me you shall," she whispered.

"Ah, the lady seeks to play games with me," he jested.

She laughed. "We did agree I was entitled to a bit of fun. Why not begin the festivities a bit early?"

He pursed his lips. "Yes, let's."

Before Regina knew what was happening, one of his large hands had gripped her knee. He pulled until her legs parted and then slid his hand between them.

Her heart leapt into her throat, beating furiously. Her hips moved forward a bit to meet his questing hand. He cupped her through her gown and chemise, his palm finding her mons and massaging with gentle pressure.

"You aren't the only one who enjoys a good game, Regina," he purred, his mouth caressing her shoulder and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

A slow pulsing began between her legs, becoming more rapid when Robin applied more pressure.

"I have one of my own in mind," he continued. His hand left her just long enough to lift her skirts. His palm skimmed her drawers, moving steadily upward. "The game is called 'how many times can I make Regina come in one night'." His fingers tugged on the ribbon holding her drawers in place and loosened it ever so slightly. "There is a long night ahead of us, and I am a man who likes to begin a game in the winning position."

His fingertips slid to her other pair of lips, dampened by her desire, parting them to find her distended clitoris. She hissed, clenching her teeth as his index finger slid over it, down, lower and lower, gliding over the folds and back up again, circling her hidden pearl.

"You're so wet, Regina," he whispered, leaning closer to place a row of gentle kisses from her shoulder to the side of her neck.

She watched the revelry beyond the dimly lit dinner box, her every sense heightened by the excitement of allowing him to perform an erotic act on her in public. If even one of the passersby walking the lantern-lit paths just beyond the row of dinner boxes had taken the time to look closer, they could have easily found them out. She thought the idea thrilling, and that excitement only served to heighten her pleasure. Robin joined his finger with a second, dipping them both just within her tight, wet sheath.

"Ah, so tight," his husky voice said against her ear. His tongue caressed her earlobe, and he caught the delicate cartilage between his teeth. "If you're this tight around my fingers, I can only imagine how you will feel wrapped around my cock."

Regina couldn't hold back this time. The moan that spilled from her was wild and wanton, uninhibited.

He captured her mouth with his, engaging her tongue in a spirited duel, fingers pumping in and out of her. His thumb slid through her lips again, finding her clitoris and stroking it mercilessly while he worked the walls of her channel with his thick fingers. Never, in her most vivid fantasies, had she imagined anything like this. Her own tentative caresses could never compare with his bold ones.

"That's it, love," he whispered when she gasped, her thighs clenching together and imprisoning his hand.

A light fluttering had begun, and she knew what it meant. She'd experienced it several times before at her own hands, but knew it would be even more magnificent this time.

"Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

She bit her lower lip and whimpered, trembling as the pleasure swept over her, causing the pulsating between her legs to crescendo with a force that left her reeling in her chair. Gripping the table, she closed her eyes and savored it, discretion entirely forgotten. She rotated her hips against his hand, seeking to draw out the heavenly ending for as long as it would last.

When the spasms faded, Robin withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them between his lips. She watched him perform the act in awe, unable to look away even when his gaze snapped up to lock with hers.

"Hmmmm," he mumbled. "You taste exquisite. I can hardly wait to get a proper nibble."

Taking up the bottle from their ice bucket, he refilled their glasses and returned to his dinner as if nothing had just occurred between them—as if he had not just taken her body to the heights of pleasure right there at the table.

"Oh," she said with a smile, reaching for a lemon tartlet. "I do believe I'm going to like this game."

"After you, love," Robin said, gallantly offering Regina a hand to help her into a limo.

She placed her gloved hand in his and gave him that coy little smile of hers. His cock twitched in response, and his sac tightened around his bollocks, reminding him once again of the urgency of his desire for this woman.

After her sweet little cunt had contracted in orgasm around his fingers beneath the table, he'd almost lost his senses and taken her right there. The temptation to sweep the contents of the table to the ground and have her for his dinner had become far too great. Just the thought of her splayed across the table, her sumptuous tits freed from her gown and bouncing in rhythm with his pounding strokes between her spread thighs … He took a deep breath and released it on a slow, steady exhale. He followed her up into the limo, reminding himself of his plans of slow seduction.

It defied all reason that he should care. Never in his life had he ever felt the need to woo any woman. They made it easy for him, really … too easy, on most occasions. In parties across Venice, women plotted to place themselves in compromising positions with him. There were widows free to do as they pleased, and the occasional married lady, who wanted the pleasure of a night, or several, in his bed. Yet, easy as it would have been for him with any other woman in Venice, he did not want easy. He wanted Regina.

Speaking of which … that he should want her, a woman obviously so inexperienced, also shocked him. He'd often avoided virgins, and rarely made bedding them a habit. He should have walked away the moment she'd let on that she wasn't as experienced as she portrayed. Yet, here he sat beside her in the limo, unable to find the strength to tell her he could not do this. Because, the truth was, he wanted her too badly to think about the consequences for either of them.

He gazed at her in the moonlight filtering through the moonroof, studying her profile. For all her innocence, she certainly acted like a girl who wished to be well and truly ruined. She couldn't have made such a decision without thinking of the repercussions. If she were willing to give herself to him, why should he refuse?

He reached down to adjust himself, biting back a groan of frustration. The ride to his apartment would take at least ten more minutes. He prayed he would make it until then.

"Was this your first time in Venice?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh, yes!" Her voice came out filled with breathless wonder. "I found it ever so marvelous. I'd always heard so much about it—the lanterns, the pavilions and the orchestra, the supper boxes. It proved quite an experience."

An amused smile started pulling at the corners of his mouth. "My, you are a unripe one," he teased.

"With you as my teacher, I won't be so unripe much longer." Regina countered.

For a moment, the mask of the seductress slipped and he could see the insecurities of a wallflower emerging. Was he really such a heel that he'd never noticed her? Christ, what a vivacious little thing. He could hardly imagine being in a room with Regina without being aware of her electrifying presence.

Deciding he couldn't wait another moment to get his hands on her—and put her self-doubt to rest once and for all—he went to his knees on the limo floor. His hands found her ankles, his fingers caressing the silk of her stockings.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Regina," he replied, lifting her skirts over her knees and revealing garters that matched her gown. "If I wanted a woman with experience, I would have found one. What I want is to be the first to taste your sweetness with my mouth. The first to know what it is to be inside you. Do you understand?"

She shivered and fell back against the seat as his hands skimmed her thighs.

"You wish to fuck me," she whispered.

"So thoroughly and completely you'll never want any other man to touch you again," he growled, his thumb finding her swollen clitoris through the wetness between her legs.

She whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand.

"Yes!" she cried.

A rush of moisture met his searching fingers as he stroked her, steadily rubbing her little button in circles and dipping down to caress the slick folds.

"I want that, Robin. Fuck me."

At her passionate plea, he lost his grip on control and lowered his head, desperate for a taste of her. The scent of her arousal gripped him and pulled him in, causing his mouth to water. He parted the plump lips of her mons with his fingers and pressed his mouth to her.

He moaned, his tongue meeting hot, wet, feminine flesh. He pressed his palms against the insides of her thighs and pushed them farther apart, opening her up to him. Closing his lips around the tight pearl of her pleasure, he reached up with one hand and snatched down the front of her bodice. Her breasts bounced free, and one of them filled his hand, the nipple tightening and tickling his palm. He pinched the little pink bud between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled, earning another flood of moisture from between her legs and a sharp cry from her lips.

The rock and sway of the limo, combined with the instinctive movement of Regina's hips, caused the perfect friction between her and his tongue. He lapped at her, timing his strokes with the movement of her hips, concentrating his efforts on the little bundle of nerves at her center. She'd become so wet, it was nothing for him to slide two fingers inside of her.

Regina trembled, moaning with wild abandon, heedless to the driver just beyond the glass window. The devil take them all, Robin didn't give a bloody damn if the driver heard her, so long as he was the one giving her such pleasure.

"Ah … oh, Robin," she groaned, her hips undulating against his fingers and tongue. "Oh … oh, that feels so…so fucking good."

His balls tightened until it felt as if he would spend himself in his breeches when his title came falling from her lips like the most erotic, most wicked of whispered words. He pumped his fingers in and out of her swiftly, spurred on by her wild cries. Her hands came down to tangle in his hair, her fingers sliding through his hair. She ground against his tongue, searching for that exquisite ending he knew drew near.

She screamed and shuddered, her tight channel squeezing his fingers and throbbing around them. His cock pulsated in tandem with her spasms, yearning to experience what his fingers felt. His fingers slowed as he dragged out her torment, creating wave after wave of the little tremors rocking her insides while she floated back down from the pinnacle of rapture.

Reluctantly, he tore his mouth away from her, his lips slick with her essence. He'd barely managed to slip his fingers free of her sheath when she reached down and grasped his lapels, dragging him up and over her. He groaned with pleasure as she captured his mouth with hers, bringing him right between her spread legs. He could feel the heat of her through his breeches as she wrapped her limbs around his waist and pressed her hot core up against him. He ground his hips against hers, his body overcome with the thought of the pleasures to be found between her lovely thighs.

"Oh, Robin," she murmured against his lips. "You make me feel so … so alive. I want … I can't wait any longer. Please … take me, Robin. Ride me."

He shuddered at her plea, his hand already going to the fastening of his breeches. Even as he freed himself, he shook his head.

"I can't, Regina. Not here. Your first time shouldn't be in a limo. There will be pain … I want to take you home to my bed."

Her eyes grew wild, glazed with desire and need. She swayed against him, the opening of her cunt brushing up against the head of his cock. He gasped as it came away coated in her juices and tingling from the contact. He couldn't resist the urge to thrust against her again, brushing against her damp lips.

"Bloody hell," he growled, his hips moving of their own accord, urging him closer to the pleasure she offered him. Reaching down between them, he gripped his cock and nestled it against her, right between the lips of her mons. His teeth clenched as she drenched him with her honey, easing his way. He rubbed against her, the head of his sex pressing perfectly between her lower lips.

Regina held on to his shoulders, her hips moving in perfect rhythm with his. She rubbed her delectable cunt against him, coating him in even more of her wetness, moaning against his jacket and burying her face against his chest. It took everything in him not to plunge into her womb and fuck her mindless, but he held on to his last shred of discipline. He'd meant what he said about waiting to take her to bed before breaching her. He would be damned if he took her virginity on the backseat of a limo as if she were no more than a whore. He would be content with just this small taste of her, a prelude to what they would experience before the night ended.

"Oh, God … it's happening again!" she cried, her thighs gripping him.

"You're coming," he rasped, his thrusts becoming wilder against her. "So am I, love. Come with me. I want to feel you come on my cock, Regina."

She whimpered and shuddered against him before going limp in his arms. A few more thrusts and he went there with her, trembling violently and burying a forceful cry in the side of her neck. His bollocks contracted, and the hot gush of his seed spurting against her lower belly brought him blessed relief.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a handkerchief, using it to carefully clean Regina before stuffing it back into his coat. He put his cock back in his breeches and lowered Regina's skirts before raising himself onto the seat beside her.

Leaning back against the seat, he tucked her into the crook of his arm and kissed the top of her head. She fell silent and held him, one arm crossing his middle and snaking around his waist.

It surprised him how content he was to simply sit with her, watching as the movement of the limo slowly lulled her to sleep. This was it, his chance to take her home—wherever that happened to be—and forget the rest. She wasn't fully compromised, and he hadn't missed his chance to cry off.

However, just the thought of her with someone else set his blood to boiling. He held her possessively against him and kissed the top of her head. Even if just for this one night, Regina was his.

She took his hand, allowing him to draw her toward him. She became very aware of her opulent, yet masculine surroundings—Robin's bedroom was elegantly appointed in shades of dark navy, white, and gray—yet, she lost the desire to marvel over the décor when he reached up to remove his mask.

The bridge of his nose appeared, as did his dark eyebrows over the blue eyes that had so captivated her. He then tugged at the ribbons holding her mask in place. She reached up to pull it away, glancing up at him with an expectant stare. Despite the intimacies they'd shared, she was afraid he would not find her as enchanting without it.

Her breath caught in her throat when his hand came up to her face, thumb stroking her cheek before finding her lower lip in a gentle caress.

"Regina," he whispered. "How have I managed to go so long without knowing you? I feel certain I could never have forgotten you if we'd met."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her chest heaving and her breath racing between her parted lips.

"I-I do not know," she stammered. A half-smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "You cannot know how long I have wanted this," she whispered, lowering her eyes.

His soft chuckle warmed her from the inside out. "Surely, my notice is not worth so much."

She shrugged. "For me who is prone to flights of romantic whimsy, it is," she admitted.

Regina knew she should not say these things. Beyond this night, she could not fathom anything more coming of their little liaison. To bare her secrets to him would only leave her vulnerable to the pain to be borne when it ended. Yet, she could not stop now that she'd given voice to her deepest desires.

Robin circled behind her, placing his hands upon her shoulders. His lips brushed the back of her neck and she shivered.

"How do you feel when you thought about what I'm about to do to you?" Robin asked as his hands worked at the buttons running down her back, sliding them loose one by one, opening her gown.

"Excited." Regina whispered.

He gripped the sleeves of her gown and pulled, lowering it to the floor to pool around her feet. His hands took her waist and he pulled her against him, his lips trailing along her shoulder.

"Did you fantasize about me, Regina?" Robin asked. "Dream of me?"

"I did," she said, her voice low and husky. "At night, alone in my bed, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it was like to be with you."

"Oh, Regina," he said, his voice tinged with amusement and mock horror. "Never say you were ever so naughty."

She giggled, bit her lower lip, and leaned back against him, resting her head on his chest. "I was."

"You touched yourself when you thought about me, didn't you?" One of his hands slid across her stomach, lowering slowly toward the apex of her thighs. "Did you pleasure yourself to fantasies of me?"

He cupped her mons, his fingers massaging gently and drawing moisture from her core.

"Yes," she gasped, her voice strained as he continued to tease her. "Yes, I did."

"Show me," he whispered, removing his hand.

She groaned in agitation, wishing for his touch again. Yet, he seemed to be waiting for her to fulfill his command.

"Show me how you pleasured yourself, Regina," he said, his voice a bit rougher this time—a demand she dared not refuse. Not if she wished for more of the pleasure he could give her.

Robin peered over Regina's shoulder at the full-length mirror resting just across the room. When he'd come behind her, he'd caught their reflection in the glass and had thought to undress her before it, watching her body revealed inch by slow inch.

Then she'd admitted to fantasizing about him—no, not just imagining herself with him, but pleasuring herself to the thoughts. The admission had sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his cock, causing the organ to throb painfully. He'd wanted to carry her to the bed, lay her down, and fuck her until he'd fulfilled every one of her fantasies and desires. More than that, at the moment, he wanted to see her slender fingers teasing her body into readiness for him.

Eyes closed and head resting against his chest, she reached up and pulled down her chemise, causing her breasts to bounce free. His throat constricted, tightening in response to the sight of those luscious tits. One hand came up to cradle the left breast tentatively, and his breath caught and held, anticipation causing his mouth to go dry. He parted his lips, wetting them with this tongue, his eyes fixated on her reflection as she pinched the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her more fully against him and pressing his erection against her bottom.

The evidence of his arousal seemed to embolden her. She brought her hand up to the other breast, toying with both nipples now, rolling them between her fingers. She moaned, her hands kneading and massaging, her lips parted and her cheeks flushing with pleasure.

He fisted the skirt of her chemise, lifting it. She assisted him, removing one hand from her breast. Once the skirt had been pulled to her waist, she deftly untied the string holding her drawers over her hips and allowed them to fall, before stepping quickly out of them. His eyes lowered to the sweetness between her legs, watching her searching fingers find their way there. His hands clenched the fabric of her chemise tightly, trembling as he watched her slender fingers slide between her nether lips. She moved in slow, rhythmic circles, stroking the hidden pearl concealed within. His breath became rapid; he fought for control. It took all of his will to keep from bending her over and ramming into her from behind.

Watching her reflection, he imagined his own hand where hers was now, stroking her sweet, silky folds and coaxing a surge of moisture from deep within. He contented himself with palming one of the breasts she'd abandoned in her exploration, kneading it and tweaking the stiff peak of her nipple. Her lips parted on a shrill cry, her fingers quickening between her thighs. He held her tight against him, not daring to take his eyes off the mirror for even a second. Her reflection captured and held him entranced.

"You look so beautiful, Regina," he whispered in her ear. He tasted her earlobe, taking it between his lips and suckling. She moaned again, her hips bucking against his and causing his member to twitch with want. "Open your eyes and look at yourself, love. See how magnificent you are."

Her eyelids drooped heavy over eyes glazed with desire, their dark chocolate pools focused on the reflection before her. She was the most vibrant, vivacious woman he'd ever had in his arms. He could not imagine encountering her without being overcome with the need to have her then and there.

"Robin," she whispered, her gaze locking with his in the mirror.

"Yes, love?" he asked.

"I am weary of fantasy. Show me what it really means to be with you. Make love to me."

He turned her to face him, his lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss. Her arms came around his neck and she clung to him, her mouth engaging his just as passionately. He found the strings of her corset and yanked, working to unlace her from the constricting garment. She reached up and began untying his cravat. Throwing it aside, she attacked the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, opening both garments simultaneously.

The muscles of his chest and stomach tensed in response to her touch, feather light and searching on his naked skin.

Finally freeing her from the corset, he tossed it aside before shedding his shirt and waistcoat. Gripping her hips, he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her toward his massive bed.

He whisked the counterpane aside and laid her on the crisp white sheets. Then, turning to the bedside table, he opened the top drawer and retrieved a condom.

"To protect you from becoming pregnant," he stated, showing her the wrapped letter before placing it on the bed beside her.

She sat up on the bed, coming to her knees. A small smile transformed her face. "How thoughtful of you. I'm not on the pill."

"I want you to be free to enjoy the night without worry," he replied, climbing up onto the bed beside her.

She reached for him, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him down toward her for a kiss.

"Thank you," she murmured just before sliding her tongue into his mouth.

Robin met it with his own, and they dueled, the gentle friction sending a tremor down his spine.

As they kissed, he reached up and palmed her breasts. The nipples hardened, teasing his fingers and beckoning to his mouth. She arched her back, offering them up to his lips. He bent his head, pressing the two large globes together, and ran his tongue over both nipples. He took one between his teeth and teased it with a gentle tug before taking the other into his mouth and suckling as if starving.

She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails clawing his back and drawing a groan of both pleasure and pain from deep in his chest. Laying her back onto the bed, he pulled the chemise down over her hips and legs, baring her to his hungry gaze.

"You have a body made for loving," he remarked, his hands tracing her curves, fondling her breasts, before skimming the flat plane of her stomach and the generous curves of her hips. "So damned perfect."

Reaching down between them, he slid one finger between her lower lips, moaning at the feel of her slick, heated flesh. She dripped with wetness, her tight little sheath gripping his finger hungrily. He pumped it in and out, stretching and accustoming her to his touch. His thumb found its way through her slickened inner folds, teasing her clitoris with gentle pressure and causing her hips to bow up off the bed.

"There?" he asked, giving the bud another gentle stroke.

"Yes, there!" she cried, her hips thrusting against his hand, taking his finger in deeper.

Her juices coated the digit, and he coaxed even more from her with a few well-timed strokes of his thumb.

"Yes, like that. Oh, more!"

He obeyed, joining one finger with a second and quickening his strokes. His thumb circled in a more rapid motion, drawing a chorus of moans from her mouth.

"Now, Robin," she panted, her hips moving in time with his fingers. "I cannot wait any longer."

"I want to make this easy for you, love," he murmured, still working her insides with two questing fingers. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care," she insisted. "The pain will only be for a moment, and I have wanted this for so long."

He nodded, already tearing at the fastening of his breeches. He could not deny her now, not after the promise of what he'd given her in the Gardens, and again in the limo. The tightness of the channel around his fingers had just reminded him of how innocent she was, and how wrong he'd be to despoil her. A stronger man might have walked away, even now with her lying naked and willing in his bed. He hadn't been this desperate to have a woman since he'd been a green boy of fifteen.

Reaching for the condom, he tore it open and sheathed himself with care, ensuring it was on properly. Satisfied, he braced himself over her and probed her tight entrance. Eyes boring into him with intent, she raised her hips and welcomed him, sheathing his head within the rim of her channel.

He gasped, his eyes sliding shut as the first inch of her enveloped him. She whimpered when he slid in further and stretched her a bit more. He gritted his teeth, trembling with the effort it took not to slam in to the hilt and take his pleasure. She panted, her arms coming around him and holding him tight as he continued forging a path through her. She moaned again, this time in pain when his head encountered the barrier of her virginity.

Robin bent his head to capture her lips, muffling her sharp cry as he plunged, tearing through her hymen. He stilled within her, continuing his tender assault upon her lips while he allowed her to grow accustomed to the feel of him inside of her. His chest expanded, burning with the need to pump in and out, filling her over and over again. She still trembled from the pain, a lone tear welling in the corner of one eye.

"I'm sorry, my sweet," he whispered, brushing a kiss between her eyebrows.

"It's all right," she insisted between shallow, ragged breaths. "I knew there would be pain."

"If I have any say, it won't be for much longer," he mumbled, raising himself a bit and reaching down between them. His thumb encountered her clitoris and stroked it in a slow circle, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips. His mouth curved into a smirk, and he repeated the motion, applying a bit more pressure while moving inside of her with a slow, calculated stroke.

Her lips parted on a low moan, a tremor rocking her. He continued his ministrations, teasing her pearl while his hips undulated against hers. He bent his head to take one of her nipples, drawing on it with deep pulls and swirling his tongue around it. Her clenched thighs relaxed, falling open and allowing him in deeper. Her channel gripped him so tight, he wondered if he'd ever find his way out again. His chest rumbled with a low, primal groan.

Regina's sharp cries melted into sighs of pleasure when his pace quickened, his hands gripping her hips and tilting them at the perfect angle.

"Christ, Regina," he murmured, pumping in and out of her. "You feel so bloody good."

She responded with a moan, and he increased his rhythm even more, his blood roaring in his ears in concert with the sound of their bodies coming together. She clung to him, her rapid breath tickling his ear and the side of his neck, further exacerbating the urgency he felt as he hurtled closer and closer to climax.

"Is it good for you, too, sweetheart? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you?"

"Yes," she cried, throwing her head back and clinging to the sheets. "Oh, yes, Robin!"

Prying one of her hands from the bed sheet, he lowered it between them and urged her to touch herself.

"Yes, that's it, Regina," he murmured, his mouth going dry as he watched her stroke herself toward climax. "I want you to come with me, love. You're almost there."

His thrusts became frenzied and wild, a thin film of sweat breaking out along his hairline. His gut clenched and his balls contracted, signaling his ending. Her inner walls tightened around him at the exact same time he spilled his seed. He buried his face in the pillow beside her head, stifling his roar of completion and thrusting one last time before going still. His head spun and his shoulders heaved as he struggled to draw breath.

Regina's thighs quivered on either side of his hips, her arms going limp and falling from around his neck. He turned his head and brushed his lips along her jawline before finding the corner of her mouth. She met his searching mouth with her own and gifted him with a languid kiss.

One of his hands came up to her breast, pinching the nipple lightly and causing her to shudder beneath him.

"Well?" he asked, once he'd managed to break the kiss. "Did reality live up to your fantasies?"

She grinned, wide and radiant. "Oh, Robin … it turned out to be far better than I could have imagined."

A chuckle shook his shoulders as he rolled away from her, standing to dispose of the condom. By the time he'd cleaned himself and returned from the bathroom, Regina had dozed off. Easing himself gingerly beside her on the bed, he took up the damp linen he'd soaked at the bathroom and used it to clean the blood smearing the inside of her thighs. She sighed in sleep, but did not awaken as he tended her.

Once finished, he pulled the counterpane up to her chin. Though he was loathe to cover her beautiful body, the fire had died down a bit in the hearth, and he wouldn't want her to catch a chill.

Turning away from the bed, he disposed of the linen in the fireplace before stoking the fire up again, adding more logs. He then donned his breeches once more and crossed the room to the sideboard, where he poured a liberal splash of brandy into a tumbler before taking an armchair before the blaze.

The flames cast an orange glow over the bed, illuminating her angelic face in peaceful sleep. Frowning, he took a gulp of brandy and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the liquor run through his body.

As he sat there, allowing the erotic encounter he'd just had with Regina to fill his mind, he wondered if she realized that she'd been far more than he could have imagined, as well.