“Do you see a lot of her?” Alaric asked. A little shock of jealousy skittered up his back like a cockroach or a spider.
“Not anymore. I did at first, and then it was like the more I wanted her the less I saw her. There are a few girls, a few blokes actually, too, on The Row who appreciate being taken care of the way I want to take care of her. So I get by. Not seeing her almost makes it better sometimes though. I’ve never…it’s like being under a spell.”
“Has she ever- has she brought you to her tent before? The way she did tonight?”
“Oh, yes.” Pemberton sighed in an oddly dreamy way, his eyes glazing over, his expression glowing again, much like it had as he knelt in front of Anisette. “Not always the same way. Never seen a man tied like you were. But it’s always amazing. And there was a bloke before me. I can’t recall his name. Sucked my cock so hard it damn near bruised. Scarlet had me blindfolded while he did it. I never came so hard in my life.” He laughed, and Alaric couldn’t hear anymore. He couldn’t sit and discuss Anisette so crassly. He felt as though it took away from the way she made him feel-like she only brought out that magic for him.
“Well, I have an angry captain to deal with.” Alaric said, gathering his pencils and sketchbook. “I should go to back to my ship.”
Pemberton nodded, oblivious to the anger, jealousy, and just a little bit of hurt that Alaric thought must be absolutely radiating off of him. He spun quickly and took off across the field.
When he returned to the ship, Thomas was passed out face down in Alaric’s hammock. He sighed, and dropped into Thomas’s hammock. Between the beer, the way Anisette had worked him over, and the long day of labor, he fell almost instantly asleep.
Anisette crept into his dreams.
She was in shadow, walking past torches. Each light revealed a different mask on her face, and a different man, most of them looking much like Pemberton, walking behind her, until she reached some sort of clearing surrounded by firelight. Alaric knelt in the clearing, a strip of red cloth tied tight around his neck. Anisette grabbed it and dragged him off into the dark before she returned to the clearing and began to take each man in turn. As they cried out in orgasm, they turned to dust, and she walked over their remains to go to the next man, until Alaric began to feel fire licking at his thighs.
****
When Alaric woke up, he was hard as stone. Turning over, he groaned at the way his trousers shifted over his engorged cock. He dropped gingerly out of his hammock and walked, bow-legged, to the head. He closed the door behind him, pulled open is his trousers, and spit in his hand before he wrapped it around his cock. He pulled at it hard, fast, trying to rush himself to the end because he could. No red masked eyes were watching him. No full, red painted mouth was telling him when he could start and when he could stop and how hard and how tight.
He tugged at himself for several minutes, shifting speed and rhythm and pressure as he liked, not quite finding satisfaction. Usually he was able to take himself over within moments, but now he was gasping and jerking and struggling to come.
He gave in, pictured Anisette. Her body, held in tight under her red silk dress, her red lips and fingernails. The heat coiled in his stomach as he imagined her voice, instructing him, whispering to him that he was special. He was lovely. Telling him he could come.
His orgasm hit hard, the shock of release bubbling through his stomach, flying through his veins. He barely came at all. He was so wrung out from the previous night that the additional wetness on his palm was almost unnoticeable against the spit. But the trembling in his legs was worse than it had ever been.
He groaned in frustration and set his head against the rough wooden wall.
Anisette’s patterns and sketches were in his bag, but images of her and Pemberton, her and the shifting men from his dream, and images of himself with Anisette holding him up by a faded bandana around his neck, were in his head.
And the deadline hung over him. The ship would leave before sunset. He could remain a pirate, or he could run to Anisette, believe she wanted him, believe they could travel together. And if it wasn’t true, or if she cast him aside like she had tossed aside her other men, or if she wanted him to be used like she used Pemberton, what would he do?
It was ridiculous. He was a man. He was a pirate. He shouldn’t need to be so concerned over whether or not he would be putting himself at the mercy of a woman. Even if he didn’t want to be without her.
He left the head and walked out under the sky, dark under the clouds obscuring the dawn. Staring out over the carnival grounds, he imagined he could see a spark of red peeking out of the distance, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
Chapter Seven
Jane had never been nervous about one of her men before. She had never stood near the entrance, watching the sun set, wondering if they were going to return or not.
She had never cared about one of them before.
She had also never pinned her hopes on one of them the way she had pinned her hopes on Alaric. Her night had been spent imagining the places they would be free to go. The way she would take off her mask and walk beside him as they toured the world. The way she could have a man who wouldn’t consider her his property. A man who would treat her well and give her the dominance she needed while leaving her free to give him the care he needed.
But she couldn’t keep daydreaming as night fell. She settled into her vanity chair, watched her own reflection for a moment, and dabbed a little bit more rouge onto her cheeks. They were finally visible under tonight’s mask, a plain affair with jewels over the eyes. She stood. Sat down again. Stood again and headed to the entrance of the tent.
She would peek her head out, nothing more. She pulled aside the fabric at the door of the tent, intending to just quickly scan for Alaric approaching when a swell of grey and white against the darkening sky caught her eye. Then another. Jane stepped outside of her tent, gaping up at the sky as a third and then fourth balloon joined the first two, and the ancient pirate ship underneath them rose unevenly into the sky. She watched as it gained altitude and distance, and eventually disappeared into the dark over the horizon.
Alaric had gone.
Her plans for her future had gone.
Her chance at freedom, bliss, and maybe, she hated to say it, maybe even love, had sailed away into the sunset.
It was time to leave the carnival. She couldn’t wait until morning. She would go tonight. Pack up her things, toss them in her automobile, and take down her tent in the dark. Drive to Scotland. Or Ireland. There were other men. She would keep searching.
She stormed back through her tent, out the back exit out to where her automobile and her trunks were, and grabbed one of the trunks out of the automobile. It slipped out of her silk gloved hand and dropped onto her foot. She growled in frustration and brushed her loose hair back from her face. The seam of her glove caught on one of the jewels of her mask as she brought her hand down, tearing the glove open. With another growl she tore the mask from her face, tossed it into the automobile and, angrier than ever, charged back into her tent.
She dropped the trunk to the floor near the statue’s table, threw the ruined glove toward the cushion covered box, then threw the other one after it before growling again.
There was the sound of a throat clearing.
Alaric stood at the entrance of her tent, his satchel slung over one shoulder and a large trunk behind him. He was staring at her, entranced.
“Alaric?”
He stepped toward her.
“I thought you’d,” Jane told him dumbly, “I thought you had flown away. I thought you were gone.”
“I almost was,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure if I could follow you. I’m sorry. I was on my ship until they turned on the burners, and then I just couldn’t… I couldn’t bear the thought of never feeling the way you make me feel again.”
“Neither could I,” Jane breathed, shocked she had admitted it.
“Your face,” Alaric said, and Ja
ne reached up to touch it. “You’re beautiful.”
Jane left her hand on her cheek and took a step back, feeling naked without her mask. Alaric took another step forward.
“I brought the sketches. I figured it all out. I’ve even got an extra gas canister. We could do it. I could do it. I could travel with you. Please tell me you still want me to.”
“I do want that,” Jane told him. The deep voice she had been using with him up to this point began to fray at the edges, lightening into her natural voice, a little higher pitched, her accent just a little coarser.
“Anisette?” Alaric asked tremulously. “May I kiss you?”
Jane nodded and watched as he approached her, not with a predatory crawl, but with the soft footsteps of someone walking quietly through a holy place, until he came to a halt in front of her.
“Anisette?” he whispered. She took his arms, set them at her waist, and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling his face gently down to hers.
It started soft. Sweet, like she had expected Alaric to be. Like honey dripping over strawberries. He sighed, almost in disbelief, and she flicked her tongue across the seam of his lips, which opened instantly to her. She slipped her tongue into his mouth easily, like walking through an open door.
His hands tightened around her waist, slotting their hips together slowly, and she could feel him already hardening in his trousers. Her slow exploration of his mouth was finally reciprocated. The feeling of his tongue tangling sweetly with hers caused a shiver of desire down her spine. Jane fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him toward her, hard. He moaned as he fell against her. They tumbled backward into the table, and there was a thump of something falling. Her statue.
But as Alaric grabbed her under the ass, saving her from falling, lifting her up onto the table, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
She seized him by the collar, bringing his face to hers, plundering his mouth as he panted.
“Undress me, Alaric,” she demanded. Alaric hissed and reached behind her, undoing the few buttons on the back of her dress with surprising dexterity. She let the dress fall to her waist, dropped her arms from caressing Alaric’s muscled chest long enough to raise herself so Alaric could pull the dress from her body. It dropped to the ground with a soft whoosh. She continued to hold herself up wiggling her legs until Alaric understood. He took the bottom of her bloomers and tugged them off, tossing them onto the dress.
She snaked her bare legs around his waist, pressing herself against his hard cock, rocking a little, reveling in both the friction and the begging noise it pulled from Alaric’s throat.
“I’m going to take you tonight, Alaric,” she hissed. “You’ll be mine.”
“Oh, God, yes, Anisette,” he huffed, dropping his face to her shoulder and moaning as he rubbed against her wantonly.
“The cushions, Alaric. Now,” she moaned, pressing against him again to emphasize the point.
Alaric wrapped his arms around her waist and carried her to the cushions set out on top of the box she had him on for the last few nights. He turned around and dropped down onto the box, with Jane pooled in his lap.
“Lay down,” she ordered. He collapsed onto his back, and she held herself up on her knees so he could slide up under her. She lowered her weight back down onto his cock, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked downward, sending the buttons flying. He cried out and arched under her, bucking up so hard she practically bounced on top of him. He moaned again when she landed on his cock.
She set her hands on his stomach and slowly ran them up his body. He shivered as she laid her body flush to his and rutted shamelessly against him, touching every inch of his skin, until he started making soft “unh, unh” noises against her neck.
“Stay still, Alaric,” she whispered.
He whined but obeyed.
“Unlace my corset.”
She lay against him, unmoving, but pressed firmly against his body and his cock as he fumbled for the laces at her back. She waited until he had tugged open the complicated knot at the bottom, then shifted her hips against him, just enough to frustrate him. He panted and swore under his breath as he tried to loosen the laces, tugging them out grommet by grommet until the lace finally came free in his hand.
Jane lifted herself up over him, enjoying the rush of air over her skin as the corset fell away underneath her. Alaric threw it off as she threw her hair over her shoulder and set her lips to his, pressing them together quickly before sinking her tongue back into him.
She hadn’t kissed a man in years. She had forgotten how easy it could be to fall to pieces against someone’s mouth. Alaric panted and grazed his rough palm down her back, over the chemise she could not stand against her skin any longer. She sat up, shifted up Alaric’s body and yanked her chemise over her head. She tossed it blindly away before reaching behind her and unbuttoning his trousers, purposefully brushing her fingers over his erection with each button she popped open. He gasped and rutted against her hand each time, arching his hips as she pulled open the final button.
She slipped farther up his bare stomach, the sprinkling of fine blond hair across his body tickling at her thighs as he moved underneath her, freeing himself from his trousers before setting his hands back at her waist. She leaned down to kiss him again, reveling in the feeling of his hands against her hips, holding her close.
Between the press of his hands and some mostly unconscious desire, her body crept up his chest until the angle at which she bent to kiss him became uncomfortable, and she broke away with a gasp, realizing she was wet and ready against his chest.
Alaric’s eyes flicked down between her legs, at the dark hair and the flash of pink there, then back up to her face. She grinned widely and set her hand to his face, running her thumb along his cheek and tucking her hand under his head. Jane lifted his head up a little bit and moved her hips the last foot forward.
His lack of experience was as obvious as his enthusiasm, and after a few moaned directions, Jane sunk into it. The way his head rocked against her hand and the way his tongue traced along her folds before dipping between them slipping up to her clitoris was overwhelming. She gripped him hard, her fingers digging into his skull.
“Oh, yes,” she panted, moving against his tongue. Alaric lapped at her, switching back and forth between light teasing strokes over the bundle of nerves and pressing his tongue hard against her, causing shivers to chase each other across her skin. She dropped his head down onto the cushions and shifted forward, giving him better access and allowing herself more movement. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
“Anisette.” Alaric protested as she leaned back, away from his ministrations. She slipped her hand across his face, wiping off the moisture there, and moved back down his body, his pupils blowing farther with every wriggle of her hips. She reached behind her and folded his cock up against his stomach, moving past it so she was settled on his thighs. She stroked him a couple times, and he pushed up into her hand.
“Please, please, I want-”
Jane cut him off, “So do I,”
She lifted herself up onto her knees and moved forward, so the tip of his cock brushed against her opening, causing a burst of lust in her stomach. She wanted to drop down immediately, but schooled herself. She gripped him at his base and brushed his cock against her, slicking him up a little bit, teasing him.
He bit his lip so hard she could see the line of white skin below his teeth, even in the dim candlelight. His head rocked back as she slid him against herself again. The tendons of his neck stood out obscenely. She moved down a little farther, and guided him inside.
He groaned, a low visceral sound, and she joined him as the thickness of his cock stretched against her. The deeper she brought him in, the higher the pitch of their cries got, until the insides of her thighs finally touched his groin. Jane clenched around him, loving the feel of him. Alaric shouted out, a meaningless sound of pleasure.
“Ani- anisette? Te- tell me when to-to c
ome please.”
“Not yet,” she said. Alaric huffed out a noise that may have been a laugh, instantly swallowed when Jane began to move, shallowly at first, rocking against him just enough to enjoy the pressure inside her, and the slight wet friction that made lust spark up her spine.
Alaric moved uncertainly underneath her, as though not sure he was allowed, and Jane set her hands to his hips. She held him down as she began to move in earnest, riding him, pulling herself all the way up on her knees before dropping back down again. Alaric’s arms moved wildly at his sides before finally dropping down onto the cushions and taking handfuls, groaning and muttering and cursing under his breath.
“Anisette,” he started. She let loose her grip on him, no longer restraining him. Jane seized his hands in hers and set them to her waist, then laid her hands over his and pulled up, shifting up on her knees as she did, hoping to communicate what she wanted to Alaric. He gripped her hips and moved her. Jane laughed. The slight loss of power was made all the more enjoyable by the fact she could take it back any second.
She went along to Alaric’s rhythm, the heat boiling across her skin, little shocks and sparks making her body twinge unexpectedly. Alaric wrapped a hand around her back, and slid it up between her shoulders, bringing her down to kiss him.
Jane kissed him with bruising force, tongues dancing and lips colliding until she pressed back onto his cock, digging him into that burning spot inside her. Her whole body clenched in the beginnings of orgasm.
She tore his hands from her waist and pressed them down to the cushions, driving his cock into that spot over and over again until she came. Alaric was flushed beet red, shining with sweat, still rocking into her.
She released his hands.
“Come, Alaric.”
He drove in hard and deep with a strangled yell, and Jane felt him burst, warm and wet, before the arch of his spine relaxed, and he collapsed against the cushions.
The Promise of Silk Page 8