Fortuna stared at the obscene images, many of which depicted acts that both sent a thrill through her and made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“Good night, Fortuna.”
Curiously deflated, she sat on the bed and swung her legs. He wasn’t supposed to leave. Really, he should have seduced her in the carriage. She understood why that hadn’t happened, but now... She stared at the large empty bed, not wanting to run after him to beg for his attention. Couldn’t he at least offer her a little encouragement?
From the bed, her gaze slid to the paintings, taking in the various poses; ladies sucking upon their lover’s cocks, coitus performed in a myriad of different positions, intriguing scenes involving multiples of lovers, whips, shackles, and feathers, and imperious naked ladies flogging naked male behinds.
Fortuna licked her dry lips. The hall clock chimed an hour after midnight. She knew she ought to snuggle beneath the sheets and sleep, but the paintings made her want to touch herself. They fed her base instincts.
Hesitantly, she turned back the bedcovers, only to remember she had no nightdress, and only a half petticoat and stays beneath her gown. In twenty-four years of life, she’d never once slept naked. Perhaps Giles would loan her a shirt.
The splintered remains of her teacup and saucer still lay strewn across the hall tiles. Fortuna crept to the bottom of the stairs. There was no sign of Dovecote or his man to ask for a nightshift, but Lord Darleston stood in silent repose against the wall by the drawing room door. His eyes were closed, while his long hair lay fanned across the shoulders of his dark coat like rich seams of copper.
Fortuna warily approached. She reached past him to open the drawing room door, only for his hand to close on top of hers as she clasped the doorknob.
“I shouldn’t if I were you.” His whispered words hissed against her cheek, sending a zing of fear and excitement through her insides.
“Why?” She jerked away from his touch, and rubbed at her hand as if she could remove the impression of his palm.
He was more powerfully built than Dovecote. Taller, his shoulders broader, hips narrower, and his mouth far more sultry. She recalled how he’d crowded her mother, and made her blush. How he’d spun her about the dance floor, his agenda hidden behind a façade of civility.
“Giles isn’t in there.”
A streak of danger hung about him that piqued her interest in a way that she dared not explore. She couldn’t imagine Darleston offering to protect her in the way Giles had.
He moved ever so slightly, so that his thigh brushed her skirts. “Do you believe in free love, Miss Allenthorpe?”
She blinked up at him uncertainly. “Free love?” It sounded like something a rakehell would enjoy and that she ought to faint over.
“It’s what you’ll find in this room. So, best be certain of what you’re seeking before you enter.” He tweaked the knob and let the door swing inwards.
In the bronze glow of the hearth, Neddy and Lady Darleston lay entwined. The latter wore only her stockings. The remainder of her clothes lay strewn across the furniture. Neddy, to her shock, was completely naked. The firelight licked pleasing shadows across the broad expanse of his back. His upper arms were thickly corded with the sort of muscles she’d seen on farm labourers and navvies. Not the sort of evidence of work she expected to see on a gentleman. Lower, his legs were equally firmed and covered in thick golden hairs. His bottom was comprised of two firm globes, which in that wild moment, she could imagine digging her nails into so they left red half-moon indents in the flesh.
Fortuna could count on one hand the number of real kisses she’d seen. She’d never seen real people engaged in a sexual act. Her breath became flighty as she watched them arch together. Lucy’s hand lay curled around Neddy’s thick and ruddy staff, while his fingers dipped repeatedly into her slit.
Curiously light-headed, Fortuna took a step back from the doorway.
“Do they excite you?” Darleston’s words intruded upon her wayward thoughts. His gaze fixed upon her face.
“Your brother... Your wife...” she gasped. How could he stand by and tolerate the adultery?
His grey eyes seemed to glow, almost as if the sun were peeking from behind a thundercloud. “Is he inside her yet? Describe them for me.”
She realized he wasn’t looking into the room, but at her expression.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Sh-h!” he hushed her. “Just describe.” His soft hiss coaxed like a caress. Surely the infidelity hurt. It had to. So why was he so insistent upon her doing this?
“Please.”
The hint of desperation in his voice sheared away her reserve and once she began, the words spilled out easily. They tumbled over themselves in a stream of colours and invectives as she painted a detailed description of every touch. Even when their bodies joined, she didn’t hesitate. Instead, she watched Lucy straddle Neddy’s hips and sink upon his staff and felt her own cunny clench with anticipation.
Blindly she reached out, imagined the feel of soft skin beneath her fingertips, and pulse of blood racing below the surface. The waft of his perfume enslaved her. All these things she could have begged of Giles, if only she’d had the nerve to ask.
Neddy’s cock was huge. When he rubbed himself repeatedly between Lucy’s parted thighs, Fortuna thought she would go mad from the vision of it. Frustration pooled within her own body. It slicked her thighs with need, and curled her fingers into fists. With an uncomfortable squirm, Fortuna turned away from the lewd pair and stared instead at Darleston poised against the wall.
His eyes were closed, and his palms pressed flat against the burnt orange plaster. Each breath was regimented, as if he too were affected, but fought continually for control over his reactions. Her focus fell to his loins. She had little experience of such matters, but Neddy Darleston seemed particularly well blessed in that area, and she couldn’t help wondering if his twin was similarly endowed.
Darleston’s eyes flickered open. He peered at her until the very space between them seemed explosively charged. “Why don’t you ask?”
“Are you?”
“Hung like my brother?”
Her blush was so fierce, her skin prickled with the heat of all the blood rushing to the surface.
“You’ll have to unwrap me to find that out.” He leaned towards her and she caught the whiff of brandy on his breath. Darleston caught the wisp of hair at the side of her face between his fingertips. “Go. Before I do something rash and upset Giles.” His thumb swept across her throat, and dozens of anticipatory shivers washed all the way to her womb.
Fortuna stood frozen, willing herself to move, but unable to do so, despite the danger.
“You’ll find him upstairs. First door on the right.”
Lord Darleston spun on his heels, a moment later the drawing room door slammed in her face. Fortuna blinked, and then bolted up the stairs.
Lord Darleston was dangerous. He’d spared her, but he was dangerous. She’d make sure to keep her distance from now on. Only with Giles would she consider herself safe.
* * * * *
Darleston pressed his back to the inside of the drawing room door. It had been imperative that he got away from her. Somehow Miss Allenthorpe had got under his skin. He wasn’t sure how. His intention in speaking to her had been to offer her a warning, not to excite them both. Although he admitted he’d enjoyed the tease. Cruel, he knew, but he’d sacrificed his own entertainment to bring her here, and all he’d gained for it was his wife’s presence.
Fortuna was not the sort to normally fascinate him. She was too fair and too pretty. And far, far too tame. He liked his women curvy. If he desired a boy, he’d seek one out rather than settle for women who looked like one.
Fortuna had changed from the girl he’d met at Pennerley’s house party. Crudities and descriptions he’d be surprised to hear from a whore had slid glibly from her tongue as she’d described the sex acts she’d witnessed tonight. Truthfully, he hadn’t
expected her to say anything, but to run screaming to Giles instead. When she’d risen to the challenge, his turbulent emotions had climbed out of the locked box in which he stowed them and left him feeling addle-brained and purse-proud. Scaring her off had been the only logical thing to do, certainly the only way he could think of to rein himself in. She might not be entirely innocent anymore, but she wasn’t prepared for the full force of his emotions either. Hell, come to think of it, nor was he. They’d been bottled up far too long. Probably best they stayed that way too, considering how smitten Giles was with the girl.
Protection and honour... Not two words he typically associated with his friends in regards to women.
Darleston sighed. His teeth chattered as he stood in the dark. He’d done the right thing, moving himself beyond her reach, but that didn’t stop him wondering about how it would have felt to loosen her blonde hair and let it flow over his hands, or feel her long legs wrap around his hips as he claimed her. At this moment, he wanted her in a way he wanted few women and had never wanted his wife.
Lucy. The thought of her brought his surroundings into sudden clarity. He’d actually locked himself in with her and his brother. The pair still lay upon the hearthrug like nested spoons. Neddy was temporarily satiated, but there was a glow of fire in Lucy’s eyes. Carefully, she disentwined herself from Neddy’s hold, and prowled towards him on hands and knees.
Everything about her was sleek and soft. The fire glow painted her skin a shimmery gold, and her lips were plump and red from Neddy’s kisses. He allowed her to get far too close before he raised his defences, and too late he found he’d left his urbane façade back in the hall.
“My lord, husband,” she purred, as her hands smoothed the cloth over his inner thighs. “Will you not take your rightful place?” She nuzzled up to where his cock lay hard against his stomach and traced kisses along its length. It took all his will just to stop his knees from buckling. Damn her, he didn’t want her and she knew it. Had known it from the very first day they met. The only thing that bound them together was an oath before God made under duress.
Darleston looked down at her. What he really wanted to do was spit in her face and send her crawling back to his brother. They were far more suited, and indeed their affair had lasted a long time, far longer than her numerous others. If there’d been any sense in the world, she’d have married Neddy, not him. Alas, society didn’t hold sense in very high regard. All it cared for was profitable alliances, and as the eldest son of an earl, he’d been expected to marry advantageously and sire numerous heirs. Currently, he failed admirably on both counts.
Memories of past events rose and slipped away as she coiled herself around his thighs and freed his cock. The first time he’d seen her with Neddy had been at one of the countess’s innumerable parties. Not that she’d been a real countess back then, just a very appealing courtesan. The party she’d hosted that night had been an orgy of the senses, thick perfume wafting over scores of naked revellers, all drunk on the smell and high on debauchery. Neddy had slipped into Lucy while he’d reclined contentedly upon a sofa beneath a pile of masked nymphs, and Darleston had found that he didn’t care. Certainly he’d felt no possessive pull, no urge to growl, or desire to defend his rights. Instead, he’d felt a wave of relief.
Lucy closed her mouth around the head of his cock, and he bit down hard upon his lip until he tasted blood. She breathed fire into his veins, which only acerbated the ache he already felt in his balls. He thought of Fortuna, and further sparks lit across his body. Lucy sought his tender spots. She knew how to coax him. He’d once made the mistake of teaching her, and she’d tortured him with that knowledge ever since.
Her fingers crept across his skin and delved into the crease between his buttocks. Anger spiked inside him, and he tried to push her away, but she’d successfully pinned him against the door, and her lips and fingers worked harder the more he struggled. Finally, her nails bit into the sensitive flesh of his rear and he stilled, captured by the promise of toe-curling ecstasy.
“No!” His breath left his body as a ragged hiss, and he shoved her away from him. She fell back upon the rug laughing.
“Neddy’s a better lover anyway.”
His twin shrugged. “More practice.”
Darleston wished he could ignore the remark. He’d walked away often enough in the past, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do so tonight. Instead, he waited until she turned then clapped a hand down hard upon her rear. The resulting smack rang through the room like a gunshot. Lucy gave a sharp cry as he claimed her, pushing his cock into her wet cunt with absolute ease.
“Robert!” Her caw of displeasure quickly transformed into mewls of joy as he began to deep thrust.
She always had liked it rough.
“God, yes! Take me, Robert. Take me, harder. You know I deserve it.” Strings of names and positions followed, but the litany of her sins failed to provoke him. He knew all her lovers by sight and by name. He knew why they were drawn to her too.
“Punish me.”
He continued to fuck her, ignoring her pleas. Let her many lovers serve her, as he knew they did, warming her pert bottom until it shone cherry-red. A week ago she’d been unable to sit through dinner without fidgeting because she smarted so much from the slaps of her most recent lover’s hand.
“You don’t deserve anything,’ he growled. Instead of delivering the smacks she craved, he teased the furl of her anus with his thumb.
“No-o,” she sobbed.
He didn’t stop. Instead he nodded to Neddy, who was watching them in a bemused fashion with his hand wrapped around his cock.
It was easy once she’d accepted them both, and she did it with a peculiar kind of relish. Her mouth full of Neddy’s cock, she was quiet save for those groans of raw excitement nothing could contain. Then it was just a steady seesawing motion he had to concentrate on, and he let his instincts take over that. It was like masturbating looking in the mirror, as if Neddy was just his reflection not another being of flesh and blood.
When he came it was with his eyes closed. He held on to her afterwards just long enough to trace her stone-hard clit until she climaxed in his arms. Spent, she curled upon the rug.
Darleston stood and found his muscles were as kinked as his brain. “Go home,” he said, and he hoped she would obey.
* * * * *
Ghost-like, Fortuna skulked outside Giles’s door. Initially she’d gone back to her room but the images there were just too suggestive. Her heart still raced from what she’d seen downstairs, and the way Lord Darleston had closed in upon her. It made the act of knocking on Giles’s door seem doubly dangerous. He’d only have to look at her expectantly and she’d likely throw herself into his arms, when all she truly required was a nightshirt.
With a sigh and a squeak of the floorboards, Fortuna turned away and crept back to the guest room. Stripped to her half-petticoat she crept beneath the covers. The sensible thing would be to sleep, but something stopped her snuffing out the candle. Instead, she stared at the pictures around her and wondered how having fled into the night with three rakehells, she had come to be spending the night alone.
* * * * *
Giles sat stood with his brow pressed to the inside of his bedchamber door and his shirttails crushed within his hands. He had heard her in the corridor, her breathing as sharp and ragged as his own. She was in danger in this house. If not from him then from one of the wretches he called friends. Neddy liked nothing better than coaxing naïve maidens into his arms, and, while Darleston was more restrained, he was also far more dangerous when roused.
Giles clenched his fists tight. His cock lay flat against his belly, his balls pulled tight and high by the ache of his arousal. He wanted to throw open the door and grab her. Force her against the wall or onto her knees and sink his cock deep. There’d be no permission sought, no recoil at her humph of protest. He’d simply ravage her, strip her naked and throw her into his bed.
But he�
�d promised. He groaned, long and low. Promised that he’d protect her. And his purpose in stealing her away had not been to corrupt her. It was not to fuck her senseless.
He thought of the way her lip trembled when she’d dropped her cup upon the stairs, the taste of her when they kissed, and the dimpled smile that occasionally lit her face.
Dammit! He tried to breathe, but it was no use. He virtually tore the door from its hinges in his hurry to get to her. He’d heard every word she’d used to describe Ned and Lucy to Darleston.
Thankfully, Fortuna was no longer in the corridor, and the cool wash of air on the landing sufficiently soothed him, so that when he reached the guestroom he was composed enough to hesitate before barging in.
“Fortuna...” He sagged against the outside of her door, determined to rein in his emotions. This would wait, assuming he didn’t have the law tearing his door down tomorrow attempting to find her. There’d be plenty of time for intimacies on her terms. He ought to let her sleep.
Except, he couldn’t actually force himself away.
Aware that what he was doing was deeply wrong, Giles pressed his eye to the keyhole.
She sat awake in bed, propped amongst the pillows, her pert breasts bared, and her long hair loose upon her shoulders. Her shift, a simple half-petticoat lay bunched around her thighs.
Giles watched her roll one darkly engorged nipple into a peak. Then her other hand slid downwards between her parted thighs. He didn’t have to look twice to know what she was doing. No, he needed that second glance to confirm he wasn’t hallucinating.
In rapt fascination he watched her gulp down little choking breaths and knew that she was chasing that fleeting promise of ecstasy. Her fingers worked quickly, rubbing, moving slickly. He imagined he could taste her in the air, the faint scent of her perfume—musky, salty, and eager. Giles’s cock stood hopelessly erect, but he resisted the urge to touch himself. He would not be caught tossing himself in the corridor.
Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells) Page 5