The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories

by Barbara Cardy

  When the buzzer for early coffee break sounded, Alec got his coffee and returned to his lathe. He was just in time to watch Betty climb the stairs. She did her characteristic pause to let Alec admire her legs and he smiled widely, knowing what was waiting for her. She went in and Alec could only stand with his loins throbbing and his mouth open, looking up toward the door. When the buzzer that signaled the end of coffee break went off, he was still standing at the window enraptured by the memory of Betty.

  He waited impatiently for the lunch break and when it came he seated himself in his usual place to wait for the goddess of the stairs to come out to her worshiper . . . But the minutes ticked by and Betty did not come out. Soon the lunch break was over and Betty still had not come out.

  Oh God, I’ve offended her, Alec thought. She’ll never come out and let me look again!

  He was crushed. How could I have been so stupid! Why didn’t I leave things alone?

  After a few moments of waiting, he opened his lunch box, unwrapped the sandwich in it and, without taking his eyes off the staircase, began to eat. The other secretaries came out and three or four men came out with them but Betty did not come. Alec was heartbroken. His sandwich lost all taste and he looked down to begin to rewrap it. Some sound called his attention from wrapping and he looked up to see another secretary from the office coming down the inside stairs. She was carrying the gold-wrapped package. She made her way to the lathe by the window and, when she reached it, she extended the box to Alec. “Betty sent this,” she said.

  Alec took the box. “Did she say anything? Send any message?” he asked.

  “No. Just said to bring this to the guy at the lathe by the window.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you,” he said.

  The girl smiled at him and turned away.

  Alec sat down on his stool and looked at the package. It had been opened. He could tell because the paper was a little torn and wrinkled. He sighed and tore the paper the rest of the way off then opened the cedar case, and when he did the aroma of sandalwood rose up, but that heady aroma was mixed with an aroma of ancient seas and crushed violets more mouth-watering than the finest caviar. Tied to the sandalwood phallus with a white silk ribbon was a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and found the words: “This is wonderful, but flesh would be better.” It was signed “Betty” and inside the folded message was a tiny curl clipped from her Delta of Venus.

  When the end of the workday buzzer sounded, Alec busily shut down his lathe and prepared to go home. There was a glow in his middle as he thought of Betty and his gift and it took his mind off what he was doing.

  “I do adore the aroma of worked wood,” a well-recognized deep feminine voice said. Alec looked up to find Betty standing across the lathe from him. She held out her hand to him.

  EROTICA

  Volume 7

  Edited by

  Barbara Cardy

  THE VAMPIRE’S WIFE

  Sara-Jane Fox

  In Kensington, just opposite the Victoria and Albert Museum and down the road toward Harrods, was Molly’s new home. Like Hiller, the man who had found her on the streets, the exterior was plain. A similar white-fronted building to the rest on that road, but the inside was sheer, unadulterated opulence. As if she had somehow been transported into some noble home.

  It had been glorious sunshine outside, but as soon as she stepped inside the front door, it seemed like winter.

  Hiller closed the door on the world.

  Her shoes tapped the walnut hallway. “It seems so much bigger inside,” she whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Hiller asked, whispering too.

  She laughed. “Because it’s like a library.”

  “I’ll show you to your room. You can meet the rest of the girls.”

  As if planned, a girl drifted across the hallway. She was beguiling, dressed in something that seemed Elizabethan, all velvet and embroidery. Her hair was like a wave of amber. Beautiful. Molly’s eyes widened when another girl followed her, the bosom of her dress undone to reveal her breasts. Her nipples were the most delicate pink. Molly’s cheeks heated. She felt a flash of shock, but also a warmth. The same warmth she felt when she was in the bath and she moved her hand between her legs.

  Despite this, there was a small part of her, tucked away deep inside, that felt she should have been alarmed. Her life was changing so quickly. But what she really felt was awe and excitement.

  The girls giggled, grasped each other’s fingers and disappeared.

  Molly gave Hiller a quizzical look. He smiled and kept walking. She followed him up a winding staircase which reminded her of a snail’s shell. Her shoes marred a red velvet runner along the right corridor. He stopped at a heavy oak door with great iron hinges and tapped. The door fell back.

  “Molly,” Hiller said, “this is Elizabeth. She’ll tell you everything you need to know about the debutante ball.”

  “Ball?”

  Hiller was gone. Elizabeth was dressed in a cerulean-blue dress that grazed bare feet, her hair fell to her waist in gentle waves. Her small mouth was the color of roses.

  “What’s the ball?” Molly asked.

  Elizabeth smiled, the curve of her gorgeous mouth just shy of friendly. “You’ll see.”

  “What dresses will we wear tonight?” Molly asked.

  She and Elizabeth were sat side by side, before the dressing table in their bedroom. They were being brushed and blushed by assistants.

  “It is the night of the debutante ball, and that is all you wish to know?” Elizabeth asked.

  Molly shrugged.

  “None will claim you.”

  A cold worm of fear sluiced through Molly. “Why would I want that?”

  “Do you think you have a choice?”

  “There,” one of the assistants said in a French accent. “How beautiful you both look.” The other assistant nodded, pleased with their work. They left.

  It was true. Elizabeth looked like a Swedish princess. The blue of her eyes shone like an ocean. Her hair gleamed almost white-blonde. Molly’s own strawberry-blonde hair had been tamed to gentle waves. The delicate red had been warmed. It matched the artful blush in her cheeks, the glossy pout of her mouth. Her eyelids were pure white, as if frosted, contrasting against the buttery brown of her eyes. She blinked. Her lashes felt unbelievably long. One of the assistants had set a jeweled headband over her forehead. A pearl spilled from its center, a milk teardrop.

  Molly turned in the mirror, preening. The ball was going to be so romantic. “So when do we see the dresses?”

  Elizabeth rounded. “Hiller shouldn’t have taken you so late. You’re going to ruin it for all of us. ”

  “Taken? No—”

  “Just don’t go thinking you’re Cinderella. It’s not that sort of ball.”

  But a bell was ringing. Elizabeth got up out of her seat, still in her dressing robe.

  Surely this wasn’t what they would wear?

  It became clear that Elizabeth’s comment was glaringly true. This was no fairy story. What was going on here?

  The downstairs hall had been decked in red velvet and gold. There was fruit and wine everywhere, ancient-looking goblets. An audience of magnificent men and women sat in a ring around the hall. They were all wearing Venetian masks. One moment they would sound angry, and then laughter would erupt. Great belly laughs seemed to shake the floors. Molly watched, peeking through a gap in the double doors. A woman called names, lining them up as if about to graduate. Were they? To what? She didn’t want to go out there in this robe.

  What was she supposed to do once out there?

  Hiller stepped into the circle. “How wonderful to see you all this evening, all looking utterly exquisite, as ever. Duke Aurelius, it is especially good to see you. I know the distance you’ve had to cover.”

  “Bring on the entertainment!” someone shouted.

  Laughter flooded the room. Molly’s stomach clenched. There was actual royalty in the room? What was the entertainme
nt? Would there be music? Molly peered over one girl’s shoulder. Classical musicians were set up in one corner.

  She relaxed. For a moment, for some reason, she’d thought they might be the entertainment.

  Hiller was still speaking. “. . . please welcome this year’s debutantes. Girls.”

  God, they were going out like this, naked save for a robe.

  The girls filed out into the center of the room. Molly followed Elizabeth, fear making her breathing shallow.

  “What the hell is this?” Molly whispered.

  “Didn’t I tell you? This is where the vampires pick their wives.” She shrugged and resumed staring at the blond-haired man. Was he Duke Aurelius?

  Vampires? Wives? Vampires?! Molly wanted to turn and look for exits, but her body wouldn’t listen.

  And that was when she noticed him. Next to the blond man was a dark-haired man who was just as still as she. His mask was a simple black band across his eyes. While everyone else was engaged in conversation, throwing their heads back, pointing at this girl and that, this man was eerily calm. He was all jaw and shoulder, that dark-haired guy schoolgirls dream about but eventually realize doesn’t exist. Yet here he was. Utterly male and utterly beautiful. She could just make out the shape of his mouth, full and red. Prettier than her own. His eyes, so dark she couldn’t guess his thoughts. And this was the bit that made her stomach flip: those gorgeous eyes were trained only on her. Brutal in their attention.

  The music started suddenly, a swell of melancholic violins. All the girls disrobed, except Molly.

  The blond man stood.

  “Disobedience?” bellowed Hiller.

  The whole hall watched. Molly, hands feeling numb, not her own, untied the robe and let it fall. The blond man’s eyes roved over her body, but the dark-haired man’s eyes remained on her face. Her cheeks flamed. All these people seeing her most intimate places. She’d never even kissed anyone.

  A servant girl scurried into the circle to sweep away the robes. Thirteen girls stood before this group of richly attired men and women. It was chilly. The girls started to sway to the music, moving in a routine Molly had not learned.

  She noticed that some of the people around the circle were leaning into each other. A man kissed another man deeply. The man being kissed turned and stroked a woman’s face. His hand fell down her throat, the thumb ran over her chest, delving into the valley between her breasts. She gazed at the dancing girls as he touched her.

  Elizabeth offered Molly her arm. She took it clumsily.

  “What are we supposed to do?” she hissed.

  Elizabeth turned away, making it clear Molly was the clumsy one.

  Hiller came up behind her as the dance continued. His hand on her shoulder was like ice. He pulled her out of the circle. The blond man raised a hand. Hiller stepped away and Molly stood outside of the dance. Waiting.

  The music stopped. Candles were extinguished one by one. Molly looked from girl to girl. None of them seemed alarmed. In fact, they seemed excited. Elizabeth was breathless, her generous breasts heaving, her eyes shining.

  “Now what?” Molly asked.

  Elizabeth grinned. “Now your husband will find you, Molly. Run.”

  The lights went out.

  Stumbling, groping, Molly fled. She dashed for the direction of the door they’d been pushed through earlier, rocketing straight into a table.

  “Ow!”

  Hands grasped her body. She couldn’t tell whether it was one of the girls or one of them. Vampires? Seriously? This sort of thing just did not happen here. Or anywhere, right?

  She felt her way to the door, dived through it. The lights were low outside the hall and she ran for the place she knew best: her bedroom. Girls were happily letting themselves be caught around her. Molly hauled up the staircase, right along the corridor and into her room. She gently clicked the door shut, twisted the lock. Sat with her back to it. Her breath was fast, screaming in her ears.

  And then he was inside, the dark-haired man with the black mask. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She clasped her knees to her chest. “Were you in here already?”

  He shook his head, stepping forward with a blanket. He averted his gaze.

  Molly grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around herself.

  “They haven’t schooled you on this, have they?”

  “It’s that obvious?”

  He laughed. “The sarcasm of young women today. All participants are supposed to be here of their free will. I will have words with Hiller.”

  “But I don’t want to go back. To that life.”

  He nodded. “Can it be as bad as the life you would choose if you stayed here? What’s your name?”

  “Molly.”

  “I’m Aurelius.”

  “You’re Aurelius? The duke?”

  “It’s not royalty in the sense you think it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No. What do you want from life, Molly?”

  She frowned. Why was he asking such a weird question? Why didn’t it seem weird to answer? “To be loved.”

  “So young to know exactly what you want.” He smiled and seemed to remember his mask. He pulled it off, hair grazing his cheekbones. They were so sharp, she thought they would slice through that soft blackness. Black eyes burned.

  “I will love you, Molly.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Time.”

  “What?”

  Aurelius smiled.

  Molly rolled her eyes. “The cryptic thing is boring, you know.”

  “Could you love me?”

  She studied him. “You are beautiful. I—” She blushed.

  He laughed.

  “How can I know?”

  “Time,” he said.

  Molly looked into his eyes. There was something about this man that made her feel completely naked, and yet so willing to give him all of her. To meet his gaze, not blinking, and let him see inside her. Be inside her. Whatever this was, whatever he was, he seemed right. They fit. And it wasn’t just the thrill of his astonishing good looks, the strength of his body beneath his expensive-looking clothes, it was that sense of meeting the man she wanted to spend eternity with. How could she know? She just did.

  What would it feel like, her first time with this man? For him to fit himself inside her, urging deep into her body?

  A scream ripped the silence.

  Aurelius looked over her head. “Stay inside.”

  He was gone too quickly. She blinked. Should she wait? She crept out on to the landing. And was covered by the hulking body of the blond man. Molly clutched the blanket higher. He ripped it aside and advanced on her. She retreated, back-pedaling into the room.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Please.”

  He smiled. “It won’t hurt if you don’t fight. Then again, sometimes that’s all the fun.”

  She scratched his face. He slapped her. The shock rang through her body. She watched as he wiped the blood she’d drawn. Smeared her mouth with it. She tried to back away, couldn’t. Blood shocked her tongue, meaty and metallic.

  “You bastard, Luther.” It was Aurelius.

  The blond man smiled. “My blood is inside her, you cannot claim her now.”

  Aurelius looked pained. “Why don’t we put that to the test?”

  Luther shrugged. “You’ve never beaten me at anything.”

  Aurelius touched Molly’s face. His cool skin burned her cheek. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Luther will be an unyielding husband, Molly. I don’t want that for you. But we have to go back to the circle. It will be dark, but you can’t be afraid. You will choose.”

  Luther grabbed Molly’s arm. She gasped. The next moment, she was somewhere else. Back in the hall?

  It was pitch black. Out of nowhere, someone fitted a blindfold over her eyes.

  “Hello?” Her voice echoed. A draught curled about her ankles, sneaking up her thigh. It caused her to turn, colliding with skin. The man’s
body was cold and solid. Her palm explored. The shape of his arm, muscle. His shoulder. Abdominals. Lower, lower. Then, something long and hard. His cock. She wrapped her hand around it, moving forward and back. It got harder.

  Another man’s fingers curled into her hair, pulling her head back. Who was this? The possessiveness of the action was thrilling. She let go of one man, moving into the arms of this other. A hard chest. A tongue slipping between her lips. She moaned. Someone else’s mouth kissed the skin of her back. His hands running up the back of her legs, her buttocks. Spreading her. The mouth lowered to her waist, to her bum cheeks. Teeth nipping.

  She squeaked, kissing the man before her. She felt wet and hot. She wanted the man she was kissing so beautifully inside her. No, she wanted the man behind inside her. His power was magnetic. Words she’d never said: Fuck me.

  Why couldn’t she make love to one and fuck another?

  The man she was kissing drew her down to the ground. His body was beneath her. His cock tight against her pussy. She angled her hips. Pushed. His cock drove deep inside her until they were locked together. His hands found hers. They laced fingers. His hips moved under her, encouraging her to move too. And when she did, God, it was exquisite.

  But behind her, the man ran a hand down her back, drawing shivers. His finger was wet as he inserted it into her backside. It felt so tight. But the tightness made the pleasure in her clit all the greater. She moved faster, loving the feel of one man’s cock inside her pussy. The growing warmth of her clit. But the other man’s finger wasn’t enough. He knew it too. She bucked hard, gasping and crying. When he withdrew his finger she moaned the loss. Her eyes widened when he replaced it with his cock. Cold against her asshole, she was sure it would never fit. But she wanted it badly. Just the thought of both of them inside her was almost enough to spill her over into orgasm. Gradually, the other man worked his way in. She bit down on her scream.