* * * *
Pleasure warmed Alex as he let his eyes trace the soft, sleek lines of Emily’s slender form as she sponged herself with scented water. She turned and her mouth dropped open. With her large sherry brown eyes, bobbing shoulder-length ringlets and apple-sized breasts with their small, light pink nipples, she looked very young in the firelight. Like a bride.
Her full, red mouth fell open. “Have you been watching me the whole time?”
Alex laughed softly. “Yes, and enjoying it most shamelessly.”
He got up and came to take her hands and pull her close. He hated himself for the distance he’d put between them.
However, now, knowing Aimee was safe, he could breathe again.
With the anxiety past, he hated most of all having lied to Emily, yet what other choice had he? He could never tell her. Never. He scanned her gaze for any trace that she suspected his deception.
In return, those wide-open eyes seemed to probe too deeply. His neck and shoulder muscles went rigid and he had to look away.
She was dearer to him than anything.
Yet there was a chasm between them.
If she were to somehow be enlightened about the whole truth of his past, how would she ever understand? She could never know what it had been like at eighteen to be faced with the twin evils of torture combined with seduction. And, if she did understand, pity would replace her love.
But it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t help being so fresh and whole and fully alive. And she was so ready to share it. That was a large part of why he had fallen in love with her.
He couldn’t deny that he was glad he’d been the first to slide his cock into her hot, tight depths. Damned glad. But, now that infatuation was giving way to deeper love, he could bear her being a little less pure.
Maybe a lot less.
With the devil surely on his shoulder, he made a suggestion. “Wear the green velvet gown.”
* * * *
At supper, Peter insisted, as he always seemed to do of late, on flirting shamelessly with Emily. However, that didn’t disturb Alex half as much as the way Emily returned Peter’s attentions with apparent giddy pleasure but then glanced down at her plate and blushed.
She didn’t realise what she was doing. But Alex did. He knew in his guts that she was not just a little attracted to Peter but a lot. His neck and shoulders tensed and he turned his attention to his glass of port, downing it in three swallows. God, if they were in public, what she was doing would be termed making a spectacle of herself. Or worse.
Peter was correct. She really had no idea how much she could be swayed by her own innate desires—or how wolfish a man like Peter was capable of being to make a conquest of her.
Her soft giggle made him look up. She caught his gaze and offered him a sugary smile.
All the while, lusting in her heart for his cousin.
His unsullied girl, so unknowing of herself and still poised on the brink of womanhood. He knew how easily a young person’s natural carnality could be turned against them. Make them do things they wouldn’t otherwise do…
The scent of a dripping water pipe hung heavy in the air. A soft cough stirred Alex’s fuzzy brain. He tried to move but he couldn’t easily. Three nubile yet lush female bodies were wrapped about his. Entangled with his limbs. Pinning him to the divan. Not just any women—or at least not like women he’d ever seen before. They were each a model of perfection, in every way possible.
His balls felt like lead weights, aching. Sore. He was completely exhausted to the point he felt lightheaded and he only wanted to be alone in his own pallet. In the chamber he shared with Nicolo.
He looked up, across the room to the other large divan. Steely grey eyes met his, half-mast and glassy. The old satyr’s voyeuristic desires had been finally met.
The blond-haired devil spoke, “And you said you would not oblige me. You said you would only share yourself with a bride, someone you wed in your own Puritanical faith?”
The last words were spoken snidely. Derisively.
Alex dared to speak back to the devil. “You were raised in the same religion and what you do now goes against the religion you have converted to as an adult.”
The blond devil laughed, deep and cynical. “You’re so idealistic. I can only wonder for how much longer.”
If Alex had the energy to do so, he would have been angry. Sexual congress was a sacred gift from God to form a deep and loving bond between one man and one woman. No one had the right to take that away and certainly not like this.
He felt sick into the pit of his soul.
He’d never do this again.
Even if it meant a bastinado beating.
He’d never do this again.
Never…
God. The illusions and self-deceptions of youth! He could not recall all the faces, just a general vague impression of blonde and vivid redheads, smiling lips, downcast eyes and bouncing, lush breasts. The devil loved to purchase those girls in the markets, bring them to his house and watch Alex fuck them. After that, they’d be sent on to the devil’s bordellos. And beautiful, flawless women like that were eventually sold into a private harem. But to be personal, intimate with them and never know their eventual well-being had been crushing. Yet he couldn’t resist the temptations presented to him. What eighteen-year-old could? Especially when the alternative was so excruciatingly painful.
And then Paris. Oh, Christ—what had been left of his soul after the excesses of Paris? He had no excuse for Paris. There had been no devil waiting to punish him for failure to perform. There had been only his natural, voracious drives.
“Alex?”
He refocused his vision on Emily. Her eyes were wide, her face a little pale. He suddenly felt unclean. Old. Satyric. What the devil was he doing with a fresh, naïve girl?
“Alex!” She’d gone completely white.
“Yes, my love?” His voice sounded indolent, strange to his ears.
“You were laughing.”
“Was I?” He ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass. He felt disconnected from himself. From this moment.
“Yes, it was the most terrible thing I have ever heard… Empty, cynical.” Her brows drew together, an expression of something almost like sorrow.
To reassure her, he smiled at her and winked. Inside he still felt distant from her and everything else, including himself. “Well, I was thinking of something quite amusing.”
Peter’s forehead wrinkled and he raised a silver-blond brow. “Maybe you should share it with us, cousin.”
“I don’t think so. It is a very personal jest.”
Silence fell, the emotional mood as tight as a violin’s string. Alex ate chicken that tasted like wood. Peter cleared his throat and then launched into some droll story about one of his New York clients. Alex couldn’t focus on it. His attention was drawn to Emily.
She appeared to have recovered. She’d been laughing—no, giggling was a more apt term. Quite flirtatiously. Candlelight glowed softly on her pristine ivory complexion. Spots of colour, like the rose blush on a spring peach, shone on her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled like sunrays on morning dew. But her lips were swollen, bruised…like a woman who’d recently been well and truly fucked. As she had.
And, in the moment while their gazes locked, her eyes grew heated. She wanted more. She always wanted more. He loved that about her. Endless fucking. He’d dreamt of such a woman for years. One single woman to fill his boundless needs.
But would she always be happy with one single man?
Would she eventually be unfaithful, the way that Peter had insinuated?
She believed in the purity of love. She’d hate herself. She’d hate him for tying her down.
Yet it seemed inevitable. The lying. The hiding.
The four glasses of port he’d imbibed soured, and bitterness rose in his gullet.
But what if a person’s self-discovery could be made softer, easier. Safer?
* * * *
Aft
er supper, in the study, Alex pulled Emily into his lap. He’d done that in front of Peter before and so it didn’t bother her. She enjoyed the feel of his strong thighs beneath her. His strong hands holding her waist. His comforting scent as he and Peter spoke of politics, of the debates in Congress over the creation of a National Navy and the resending of the British Orders of Council. Their voices lulled her and she laid her head on his shoulder and grew drowsy.
Why didn’t he make their excuses so Peter would leave? He’d asked her to wear this green velvet gown. Since the first time she’d worn it, it had been a special thing between them. They had employed it and the satin chemise she wore beneath to such sensual decadence that just to wear it made her insane with sexual hunger.
Her breasts had been taut with her expectation, the lips of her cunt swollen, aching with desire all through the meal. Just in anticipation of being alone with him. Two weeks of pent-up lust was simply unbearable. She’d been so edgy she’d drunk far too much wine. It made her a little dizzy. It made her want to be wild. Free. To writhe and scream.
Now Peter wouldn’t leave and Alex seemed in no hurry to urge him to do so.
A pleasant sensation tingled through her and her nipples drew into stiff peaks. She realised he was caressing her breasts through the velvet bodice. She tensed. “Alex?”
“What?” he breathed against her cheek, as if she were the one out of order. The strong odour of port on his breath only fuelled her own sense of intoxication.
“Peter.”
“What about him?”
“He’s still here.”
“Are you embarrassed?”
Her face flamed. “Yes, of course…”
“Why? I am only showing you affection.”
“I should imagine Peter is embarrassed, too.”
“He’s not.” Alex’s hands moved to the back of her gown to her laces and began tugging.
She couldn’t look at Peter. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because he asked me if he might watch us sometime.”
Her heart began to hammer.
“Watch us?”
“Yes, he wants to watch us together.”
His tone was smooth and seductive. It made her throat go dry but she wasn’t exactly afraid. “Together?”
He was still caressing her breasts. The pleasure lulled her. Drenched by a constant trickle of wetness, her inner folds swelled. She darted a glance at Peter, wishing he would vaporise on the spot. So she would be alone with Alex. So they could lie back on this settee and he could continue to drive her insane with desire. So he could slowly bare her body and caress every inch of it before pressing her down and—
“Yes. Together. You and I.” Alex’s voice interrupted her naughty thoughts. His tongue flicked her earlobe and anticipation went shuddering through her.
God. She was quite excited by the whole idea. What the devil? She was completely foxed and Alex’s erection, rising beneath her, was about to drive her over the edge.
“Wh—” She wet her dry lips. “What does he want to see?”
Alex laughed, a sound all the more wolfish for its softness. Shivers raced down her spine, little tremors of delight that made her cunt pulse like a second beating heart.
“He’d like to watch me fondle your pretty little tits and then I think he’d like to watch you give me a French.”
Chapter Three
“Oh.” It was all Emily could manage to say. She dared not believe her own ears. Yet he was still working her laces loose.
He took her earlobe into his mouth and drew on it. Pure delight tingled down over her neck and made her nipples tighten even harder. He put his tongue into the centre of her ear and demonstrated an approximation there of what she wanted most. Softly thrusting in and out. God, he knew what that did to her… Fierce need stabbed down into her lower belly. She opened her mouth on a silent moan, trembling all over.
He removed his tongue. “He’d like to do a lot more. However, no man is ever going to fuck you but me.”
“Oh…yes. Of course.”
He moved his hands to her waist and tightened. “Damned correct, of course.”
“But you want this…for him to watch?”
“I do.” Alex breathed the words and she recognised his most passionate mood. His cock was harder than iron beneath her bottom.
“Why?”
Alex laughed, the sound rumbling like deep thunder through her body. “Because I know how badly he shall wish to be me and that he’ll never know the joy of being inside your sweet body.” His whispered words sent heat and chills through her. He nipped her earlobe. “Allow this. Give me this.”
Her nipples tightened into sharp, painful peaks and suddenly she wanted nothing but to feel his hands upon them. A moan trembled through her and she bit her lip to hold it back. He kissed her then and she couldn’t help opening to him. Hungrily, shamelessly.
He pulled her gown off her shoulders, sliding the velvet slowly down, his fingertips trailing after it and sending sparks of fire down her skin. Her back arched of its own accord, her breasts aching for his touch.
The straps of her petticoats dropped. He touched her satin chemise, hooking into the neckline, tightening.
She became aware enough to grasp his hands. “Don’t tear it!”
She hurried to shrug out of it. She hadn’t worn stays and, as the cool air touched them, her nipples grew even more erect. They were painfully hard now. Heat twisted through her belly into her cunt.
He turned her on his lap so that she partially faced Peter’s settee. She didn’t open her eyes. Yet she knew he was watching. She could sense it. There was carnal fire sparking on the air. It intoxicated her, dizzied her. Once again, Alex was showing her sides to herself she’d never dreamt existed. How could she have dreamt it? No one did such things in books. No one talked of such things.
Alex’ caressed her breasts with agonising slowness. The inner folds of her quim swelled and she couldn’t help but squirm on his leg. He stroked and cupped her but somehow never managing to even so much as brush her nipples. A moan escaped her. It echoed loud and animal.
She caught at his hands and tried to direct them but he resisted her. “Oh, please, please,” she cried, no longer even remembering where they were.
“He’s watching you, my love.” Alex’s voice was warm and soft in her ear. “He wishes he were me.”
She barely comprehended his words. She was beyond caring.
“Look at him. Go ahead, he will like that. Look at him now.”
Thoughtlessly, she obeyed, opening her eyes. Peter was watching, his sky-blue eyes darkened and focused, intent on her. It should have dismayed her but it only fuelled her desire higher. Wetness gushed forth between her legs and her inner walls began to quake. Alex’s fingertips grazed her nipples and fire raced through her body. She moaned. She couldn’t stop. He turned her to face him and lowered his head. His tongue laved one nipple avidly.
She threw her head back and cried out. Tears flowed down her cheeks, pure relief.
His mouth closed to suckle her. Hard. He pinched her other peak.
She arched her back, leaning into his attentions. Her inner walls contracted hard and then she was coming. Wave after wave hit her and took hold of her. At last she lay weakly against Alex, too drained to do much more than pant for breath.
“My God,” Alex’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “You are so fucking magnificent.”
Sense and sensation returned. He stroked her hair off her face; she smelt her own sweat. Her throat felt raw, ravished. She’d been screaming. She was still too drained to think about it.
Alex gave her a gentle push off his lap. “On your knees, my darling.” His voice was a soft command.
She dropped down to the soft rug, a spill of velvet skirts and lacy petticoats. The gown hung about her waist as she tried to regain her bearings. But Alex was already wrenching his fall open, already pulling her into the circle of his hard, muscled legs. She could feel his urgency in
his hands and then in the throbbing of his cock as he placed her hand about it. He wanted her, needed her.
She wanted to please him. Needed to please him.
She placed her lips to the head then ran her mouth down his length leisurely. His flesh seemed to vibrate with pleasure beneath her lips even as his hand gently touched the curls at the back of her head. She looked up and his eyes glowed dark periwinkle and held hers. Somehow she was more completely his than she’d ever been before. She took him into her mouth, never breaking their eye contact.
But she was also aware of Peter.
Knowing she had an audience, she took her time and slowly ran her lips down Alex’s length then back again. She stroked the underside of his shaft with her tongue, moving incrementally then swooping back to suck him into her mouth. She worked hard to relax her throat, to swallow and to take as much of him as she could.
Then she let him go completely, allowing his cock to pop from her mouth. She ran her tongue again down his length then pressed kisses all the way back up to the crown. She swirled her tongue around and around the head. He began to leak profusely and she eagerly licked him, tilting her head back.
Then she moved suddenly forward and swallowed him as far as she could.
“My God, Alex, no wonder you’ve been scarce. You’ve been spending all your time playing schoolmaster.” Peter’s voice sounded hoarse.
“I never taught her anything. She was born natural at this.” Alex touched her hair, lightly.
She made his cock wetter and worked her hand on the part she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She could feel the tension in his body increase and she reached for his balls and found them heavy and pulled close to his body. His breathing grew more discordant and she doubled her efforts.
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