Lydia stiffened as she feebly tried to resist the insistent urge of his grip, wincing as her bottom made contact with the coverpane.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to—’
‘Yes you do, Lydia,’ he countered insistently. ‘Yes you do.’
Lydia sniffed and tried again to pull away from him, but she was so drained of energy that she finally collapsed against his chest with a small moan of defeat.
Her body was limp and hot, her breasts yielding pillows against his muscled chest. A feral scent rose from her – the fragrance of erotic emissions mingled with the perspiring warmth of her skin, a bouquet that belonged to her alone.
With one arm around Lydia’s quivering body, Gabriel began to unfasten the buttons of her dress. She made a little mewl of protest, but only shifted a little as his fingers released the dainty pearls from the scooped neckline to the hem of the skirt. He parted the folds of cotton, revealing her snowy, burnished body.
Gabriel’s erection grew harder as he gazed at the soft crests of Lydia’s breasts and the plump apex of her thighs. He cupped her breasts in the palms of his hands, flicking his thumbs over her nipples as he recalled how luscious she had looked spread out on the table with the fleshy orbs of her buttocks thrust towards Kruin in coerced offering.
He smoothed his hand over the gentle hollow of her tummy to the satiny cleft of her vulva. Her thighs remained pressed closely together until a terse word from him persuaded her to reluctantly part them. He dipped his fingers into the heat between her legs, unsurprised to discover that her sex lips were still damp and swollen with arousal.
Lydia stirred with a little gasp when his fingers began to gently squeeze and manipulate the secret folds. Her head turned away as if she could not bear to watch the erotic plucking of her feminine charms again. Her hair fell across her profile like a satin curtain as she buried her face in Gabriel’s chest.
Her breasts heaved when his thumb traced a circle around her swollen button, then he submerged his forefinger deeply into her humid passage. Her wet heat fastened deliciously around his finger, and then her hips squirmed slightly as if she wished to impale herself upon the digit. Pressing her face against him, her sniffles melted into tiny cries of pleasure.
Gabriel felt Lydia’s body tensing with the effort of attempting to retain control over her naturally sensual inclinations. He knew she had reached the breaking point of her self-control, that she had exhausted her strength in trying to endure both Kruin’s fierce punishment and his heartless use of her body.
He rubbed the slick bud of her sex, splaying his fingers on either side of it as he stoked her inner fires.
‘Oh, please… yes, please…’ Her husky words were lost against his shirtfront as her fingers curled tightly into it, her panting so rapid he could feel the warmth of her breath through the material. She let out a pleading moan, her inner flesh clenching around his finger in a vice-like grip. Gabriel pressed his lips to the top of her head and worked his fingers more deliberately.
‘Come, Lydia,’ he commanded. ‘Come now.’
She cried out with relief, quaking into violent shudders of rapture that caused her to clamp her legs around Gabriel’s hand so that she might milk every last sensation from her sex. Her hips squirmed with wanton delight and warm fluid flowed over his fingers, and his arm tightened around Lydia’s body as she crested the wave with a deep, lascivious moan.
‘Oh, God…’ She sagged against him, her voice filled with gratitude as she fought to regain her breath. She pressed her forehead against his chest again and whispered something so low in her throat he didn’t catch the words.
He pressed his fingers underneath her chin, lifting her face to look at him. Her eyes were dark with satiation, but buried deep within the brown depths was a lingering expression of shock and apprehension.
‘What did you say?’ Gabriel asked.
‘I said…’ Her moist lips quivered. ‘I said thank you.’
Gabriel smiled slightly and stroked her hair. ‘You’re welcome.’
Lydia twisted, her hand moving to try and drape her dress back around her nakedness, and as she did so her arm brushed inadvertently against the hardness in his trousers. She started for an instant, but then paused and stared hesitantly at the swollen bulge.
Without looking at him, her cheeks reddening with a developing blush, she slid down the zipper of his trousers, then her graceful fingers trembled a little as she slipped them into the opening to fasten around his stiff flesh.
Pulling his erection into view she paused for a moment, and then her face lowered, her lips parted and then closed tentatively around the turgid dome, her tongue dabbing at a seepage of liquid from the tip.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he watched her cheeks hollow and her tightly stretched lips descend upon him with a slow, luscious sink of her head. Her tongue worked with artful swirls, her hand creeping between his legs to cup and caress his firm testicles.
She shifted onto her knees in order to better dispense her erotic ministrations, raising her whipped bottom, the dawning sun beginning to peep through the window, inflaming the pattern of red welts on her buttocks with such a lustrous, inviting sheen of gold that Gabriel could not resist stroking them.
She flinched, but did not cease suckling his sturdy phallus, bathing it almost devotedly with the heat and moisture of her lips and tongue. Gabriel traced her bruises with his fingertips, and then stroked up the arched curve of her back. With a jerk of his wrist he pulled her unfastened dress off, a motion to which Lydia provided assistance as she shifted her arms to let the printed cotton fall from her body.
Gabriel’s eyes tracked over his captive’s full nakedness as she crouched next to his thighs. Her head was lowered in submission to his prick, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she continued to work him in and out of the slickness of her mouth, her soft breasts molding to his thigh, her torso washed a deep gold from the breaking sun.
So dedicated to her task was Lydia that she failed to notice when Preston pushed open the bedroom door. He stood there for a moment as he took in the explicit scene before him, and then a jealous anger hardened his lean features.
As his verdant gaze met that of the other man, but Gabriel did not move his hand from Lydia’s naked back, sustaining the gesture of both protection and possession.
‘Well, well, well.’
The sound of Preston’s voice caused Lydia to jerk upward with a gasp of shock, her eyes clashing fearfully with his, but Gabriel pressed his hand more firmly against her back to indicate that she need not move or worry.
‘Preston, you’re not welcome here just now,’ he said, his voice icy. ‘I suggest you leave.’
The two men stared each other down with sparks of irritation lighting the air between them, until Preston broke first and stepped back. His eyes darted surreptitiously to the standing column of Gabriel’s erection as he grasped the door handle.
‘Excuse me, then,’ he said flatly as he left and closed the door with an audible click.
Gabriel gave Lydia, who was looking at him with trepidation, a comforting smile. With a murmur of reassurance he placed his hand on her neck and pressed her back down to his groin as she resumed her bathing of his bursting shaft, her mouth quickly proving too much for him to withstand, and with a groan he ejaculated copiously over her lips and chin and hands.
Wiping her mouth she gave him a shy smile as she sat back on her heels, and Gabriel tucked away his softening penis, fastened his trousers and leaned over to press his lips against her temple.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ he murmured. ‘He’ll never really hurt you. He’s too obsessed with you.’
Lydia’s eyes widened. ‘Obsessed with me?’
‘He has been for years, since you were children, apparently. Didn’t you know that?’
‘When we were teenagers, I… I knew he held a torch
for me, but I didn’t think much of it.’
‘He’s kept track of you ever since,’ Gabriel said. ‘He always wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, who you were with.’
A dawning fury lit in her eyes. ‘How on earth did he keep track of all that?’
‘You were enough of a public figure, so that some things were well known,’ Gabriel disclosed. ‘Others he discovered mostly from private detectives. That’s why it was so easy for you to contact him. He already knew you were in trouble.’
‘Oh, no.’ Lydia pressed a hand to her head, feeling nauseous with what she was hearing. ‘I can’t believe this. Is he sick, or something?’
Gabriel reached out to tuck a stray lock of her dark hair behind her neat ear. ‘It’s all right, Lydia; as strange at seems, he’ll protect you to the death. Why do you think he offered to help you?’
Lydia shot him a glare. ‘Because he wanted to fuck me, of course,’ she said bluntly. ‘And disgrace me.’
‘He wants to control you, yes, but he will allow no harm to come to you. Especially not from people who want you imprisoned.’
She smiled without humor. ‘I’m imprisoned here, aren’t I?’
‘And who made that choice?’
Lydia looked down, rubbing her fingertip over a small scar on the back of her hand. ‘I did,’ she finally said.
‘Always remember how fortunate you are to be here,’ Gabriel advised. ‘And be grateful for Preston’s intervention. You have no idea of the lengths he’s gone to in order to ensure your anonymity and safety here.’
Without another word he rose from the bed and left the room, closing the door behind him, his sudden departure confusing and unsettling Lydia.
When she padded cautiously downstairs some time later, her bottom still burning from the leather lashing, she found both the solarium and the drawing room empty.
She had dozed off when Gabriel left her and she subsequently overslept, and as they took breakfast at precisely seven and now it was ten minutes to eleven, the dining room was empty too.
Lydia went through the porch to the gardens, stepping onto the soft grass. Although her weary mind still couldn’t process the utter confusion of pain and pleasure she had endured last night, she had slept deeply enough to replenish both her poise and spirit.
She filled her lungs with fresh air as she searched the gardens and stables, but she found no sign of the three men. Bewildered and slightly alarmed, she returned to the house and peeked into the kitchen.
It was a vast, airy room with long wooden worktops, a sparkling steel range and refrigerator, and a polished tile floor. One door led to what Lydia assumed was the basement, and another led back out to the gardens. Copper pots and dried herbs hung from the ceiling, infusing the air with the spicy scents of rosemary, sage and thyme.
Her belly rumbled with hunger, so she selected a juicy peach from a bowl of fruit before she left the kitchen and went to the library. She had never been in the library before, but the moment she entered she caught her breath with delight.
The ceiling was high, the walls lined from top to bottom with all manner of books. A spiral staircase led to a mezzanine floor that encircled the room and allowed access to the upper floor, while polished, wooden ladders were attached to sliding racks to reach the top shelves. Buttery, leather chairs and a sofa were arranged around a marble fireplace, and a large oak desk sat at one end of the room.
Lydia walked around the library, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. She had loved to read when younger, but when she began working in the corporate world she simply lost both the time and desire to submerge herself in books anymore.
She had been so immersed in projects, accounts and budgets that reading seemed almost like a frivolous waste of time, but she hadn’t realized until this very moment how deeply she missed the simple pleasure. And what joy to think that she now had an endless supply of time in which to engross herself in books once again.
The thought alone was nearly enough to wipe away the pain and shame of the previous few days. When her fingers paused on an edition of Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, she pulled it from the shelf and tucked it underneath her arm. Even if she wasn’t allowed to take items from the library, none of the men would miss just one book. She made a mental note to ask Gabriel about her privileges when she next saw him.
After finishing her exploration of the wonderful library, she went to the drawing room. A door there had caught her attention the first evening she arrived, and she pushed it open curiously. A huge ballroom adjoined the drawing room, with grand windows along one side and a painted, coffered ceiling. She wondered when it had last hosted an actual ball. Years ago, probably.
She retraced her steps and ascended the stairs again, the carpet soft beneath her bare feet. Her bedroom was midway along a landing on the second floor, but the staircase continued to a third floor, so deciding that she had a right to explore the house in which she would be living indefinitely, she went up another flight.
She opened the first door she came to, which revealed a large bedroom dominated by an enormous four-poster bed, covered with pillows. The high windows were covered with light curtains that contrasted sharply with the masculine tones of rust and amber.
Framed oil paintings of naked, supine women hung on the walls. Discarded clothing lay scattered over the footboard and on several overstuffed chairs. A high-tech entertainment system stood against one wall, complete with a large television, stereo and speakers.
It was Preston’s bedroom, Lydia knew. She went further inside, pleased to think she was invading his personal space without his knowledge. The scent of his cologne lingered like a whisper in the air.
She walked slowly through the room, examining the toiletries on his dressing table, the shirts and jackets hung neatly in the closet, the videos and CDs stacked on a shelf. Then as she moved back to the door her gaze fell on a worn photograph tucked into a mirror frame.
She looked at it for a moment before plucking it out, and the truth took a moment to penetrate her shocked brain as she realized she was staring at a photograph of herself as a younger woman.
The photographer had captured her without her knowledge as she walked along the street. She was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, and a short pink skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Her dark hair was long, falling almost to her waist in a shiny waterfall.
With a trembling hand Lydia replaced the photograph. Preston had taken it, of that she had no doubt, and the fact that he had kept it during the interim years was enough to make her feel ill.
She remembered what Gabriel had revealed to her last night, when her emotions and strength had been entirely depleted. Just how long had Preston been obsessed with her? And how else would he exact penance for what he thought were wrongs she had committed against him? Despite what Gabriel said, Lydia knew that Preston’s fascination with her was interlaced with malice.
She knew Gabriel had been correct, that she must be grateful for the fact that Preston had provided her with a sanctuary where no one could find or punish her, where the investigators and lawyers could not touch her… as long as she yielded to the dark trinity of men who lived in the plantation, of course.
Lydia hurried from the bedroom, pressing a hand against her tummy in a futile attempt to stop it churning. It would be all right, she told herself. It would be all right. She was safe here; no matter what Preston did or said, she knew he would keep his word. That’s what mattered. That’s all that mattered.
She opened another door; it was Kruin’s bedroom. Although as large as Preston’s, Kruin lived in a much sparser environment. His bed was covered with a dark blue, utilitarian coverpane, the shelves only contained a few non-fiction books, and the counter of the adjoining bathroom held just a comb, toothpaste and a razor. Yet even those meager belongings served to humanize Kruin somewhat in her think
ing, for she had begun to wonder if he possessed any mortal qualities at all.
She checked the other rooms on the third floor, but they were only several spare bedrooms and a storage room. She returned to the second floor and opened the door of the bedroom next to hers, and was surprised to realize it was Gabriel’s, not having known he slept so close to her.
Slightly unnerved by the thought, she looked around the room with its colors of deep blues and greens, the large bed covered with a rumpled, feather comforter, the shelf of paperbacks and magazines, and the comfortable easy chairs near the window. A desk was near the window, upon which was a computer and scattered sheets of paper.
Lydia touched the hairbrush on the bathroom counter, trailed her fingers over a discarded shirt, and moved a few pieces on the chessboard. When she had finally satisfied her curiosity, she returned to her bedroom and closed the door, her newfound familiarity with her surroundings giving her an odd feeling of calm.
The bizarre happenings within the old plantation were so unsettling that obtaining a basic understanding of the house’s blueprint seemed to balance her equilibrium. So she curled up in a chair by the window, opened the book and sank her teeth into the juicy peach.
Chapter 7
Lydia woke to the touch of a hand on her hip. She started, fearing for an instant it was Preston coming to submit her to further insults, but then she recognized Gabriel’s touch. She shifted into a wedge of relaxing sunlight that spilled across the bed, letting it warm her face and shoulders. The long fingers of the sun teased her nipples into tight points.
She stretched long and hard, feeling the glorious pull of her muscles as blood flowed through her body. In that brief instant she felt wholly herself, unfettered from the mental shackles that bound her to this place and these three dark men.
How long had she been here? She tried to think. Three weeks at least; perhaps longer. After her whipping under Kruin’s authority, followed by relief at the hands of Gabriel, she had been granted only a short reprieve. The three men had all appeared preoccupied for the past couple of weeks, although clearly still determined to sustain their control over her.
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