by L. E Joyce
“Is the library on the way to the Nursery, Lady Daphne?” Emma asked.
“It can be,” she said.
“Maybe we can stop there and you could show me?”
Daphne shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose.”
“Lead the way,” Emma said to the children.
Louie took off in a mad dash to the main entrance. Genevieve followed closely on his tail with Daphne sauntering after them looking very much the unimpressed gloomy teenager.
In the foyer of the castle, Eric found Mrs. Davenport was waiting for him.
“Ah, Davenport,” Eric said. “Just the person I need to see. Would you be so kind as to retrieve Ms. Jones’ things from the Inn at Rockford?”
Emma was taken aback. “How did you-,” she began, but caught herself. “Right, of course. Billionaire nobleman, I’m sure you have your ways.”
“In the mean time, Davenport, please send something up to the Duchess Room for dinner.”
“Right away, sir,” Mrs. Davenport said and hastily exited the foyer.
Eric and Emma followed the giggles through the Grand Hall to the Library. There they found Daphne brimming with pride. She had long since asked Eric to take over the library as her own personal project, updating the titles to appear modern in the eyes of their guests. There were plenty of things about the inner life of Castle Carlisle that Eric’s peers gladly overlooked. An out-of-date library was not one of them.
Emma was impressed. She walked the perimeter of the room letting her fingers lightly sweep the leather bindings, one after the other. As she made her way around, Eric studied her: pure loveliness with a hint of femme fatale vixen waiting to burst out. He could help her with that. He knew how to bring out the beast from the beauty. He pictured her in latex and spiked heels, the uniform of all the women who had been his companion before. Is that what he wanted for her?
As if reading his mind, Emma looked up at him, her eyes burning, and in that moment, his cock stretched against the fabric of his pants.
“Come,” he said as his fingers gently grazed hers. “Let us go to the Nursery.” As Emma brushed past him, he grabbed her. “And then I will show you to your room.”
She smiled devilishly, and to his sheer astonishment, he flushed. No woman of earth had ever had such an effect on him. He both relished this new experience and feared it.
Louie ran up the back staircase. “Follow me, Emma. The Nursery is the best part of the house.”
Emma chuckled.
“Something amusing, Ms. Jones?” Eric asked.
“This is hardly a house,” she said.
To Eric, of course, Castle Carlisle was a house. His idea of a castle rested on Mount Olympus, where his father had lived these last one hundred and fifty years. There, and only there, had he witnessed pure majesty in a house.
When Eric and Emma arrived at the nursery, they found it empty.
“Strange. Where have all the children gone, Ms. Jones?” he said.
“Oh, dear. Perhaps you’d better find new children, Lord Carlisle.”
The quiet nursery shattered into fits of giggles from underneath blankets. Even Daphne joined in and hid behind the curtains.
Emma yelled “Boo!” and the room broken into screaming fits of laughter.
Mrs. Davenport appeared at the door and ruined the fun. “Children,” she said. “It’s time for your supper.”
“Aww!” Genevieve and Louie echoed.
“It’s Toad in a Hole,” she said in a sing-songy voice filled with encouragement.
In a flurry of rambunctious activity, the children ran down the hall toward the kitchens.
Emma laughed at their energy and it warmed Eric.
He took her hand, “Now, where were we?”
“You were going to show me to my room, Lord Carlisle,” she said with a sly smile and a curtsy.
“Indeed I was,” he said and cupped her lovely face in his hands. He crushed his lips to her and felt his cock grow against her belly. Her hands shot to stroke him and he moaned with arousal.
He liked that she took charge, but he was the master. Eric gathered her up into his arms and carried her to the Duchess Room. The door was open, Davenport knew well to keep it that way, and they slipped in before anyone noticed.
Six
“Now, Ms. Jones,” Eric said. “Take off your clothes.”
Emma smiled, and to his complete chagrin, she chuckled. “Is that how you normally do it? Order women around?”
For a lost moment, he forgot that his lust-desire had no effect on her. To recoup, he smiled and shrugged it off. “Well, I am the Marquess of Carlisle. Women like it when I exert my authority over my underlings.”
She tousled his hair. “I’m an American. I am not your underling. There was a war long ago,” she said. “You might have heard of it.”
Eric watched as her hand slid between her breasts and disappeared behind the white silky fabric of her blouse. She caressed herself as she sauntered towards him. “And we won,” she said with her mouth inches from his, her hot breath steaming over his lips.
A slow smile shaped her gorgeous mouth. He searched her face with wonderment. This girl. This woman. Without tricks, without Gods’ magic, how did she hold his attention? The son of Eros, God of Sex, the Marquess of Carlisle, whose station in the family business was to provide pleasure to the masses, was incredibly turned on. His cock twitched in his pants as she looked up at him with hungry eyes.
“What am I to do with you, Ms. Jones?” he asked.
Emma backed up until her calves hit the end of the four-post bed. She began unbuttoning her blouse. “Anything you want,” she said.
“I hope you mean that.”
With his desire crushing his patience, Eric was upon her; grabbing her top and ripping it open with one fluid motion. She gasped at his sudden and feral move as her pearl buttons bounced to the floor. With the palm of his hand, he tilted her head so that her breasts rose with the arch of her back. He slid his hands over her milky skin and squeezed her supple breasts, first one and then the other. His mouth found purchase and kissed a trail down her torso as she sighed and squirmed with anticipation.
“Yes,” Eric murmured. “What am I to do with you indeed?”
He eased her to the bed and worked the buckle of her pants suit. With a gentle pull, they slid down her legs and exposed bright pink boy shorts underneath. Eric eyed them quizzically.
“Very interesting,” he teased, snapping the band with his finger.
Emma laughed. “Unlike you, Lord Carlisle, I don’t have servants to do my laundry.”
He let his hands explore her body; down her flat stomach, tight buttocks, and toned thighs. “Neither do I, Ms. Jones.”
“Oh please. Are you telling me that Castle Carlisle doesn’t have servants to do the laundry?”
“That’s correct, Ms. Jones,” he said delivering soft kisses to her smooth skin. “We just have Mrs. Murphy.”
Caught in his ruse, Emma grabbed a throw pillow from behind her head, and pummeled him across the face with it.
“Oh, you naughty girl,” he said. “You are going to pay for that.”
Emma laughed and then fixed her gaze on him most intently. “Promise?” she whispered.
At that moment, he thought of introducing Emma to his dungeon, but something stopped him. Was it truly his flavor to play Dom, or was it merely the wishes of women caught under his Sex God–powers? He could read their every wish and sexual desires, and they all wanted it, every single one of them. They begged him to dominate them, and it was their secret wish to submit. Yet, Ms. Emma Jones, a woman from meager beginnings, a woman who rocketed herself to positions with the rich and elite with her hard earned education, drive, and intellect, did she also crave domination?
He hovered over her at the edge of the bed and withdrew his belt from his pants. “Raise you arms above your head,” he said coolly.
She followed his directions with her eyes boring into him like an animal surveying her prey. E
xcitement surged through him.
Yes, he thought. Oh, yes.
In a swift move befitting a Master Dom, Eric looped the belt around her wrists and pulled it tight. She winced, but lifted her head off the bed and reached for a kiss. He crushed his mouth onto her and she moaned with pleasure. With his arousal soaring, he ripped her bra from her flesh and watched as her breasts fell out from behind the white fabric. With both hands, he pinched her nipples until she hissed.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she sighed.
“And this?” he said as he slapped her mounds.
She squirmed underneath him. “Yes.”
“And this?” he asked, as one hand fell to her panties and ripped them from her body.
“Yes,” she wailed.
He kissed her long and deep, and held her tongue prisoner within his mouth. The urge to pound her senseless was getting too much to bear. But he wanted to take his time with her; he needed to feel every inch of her body with his.
He unfolded her glistening sex and slipped two fingers inside, pumping with ease and smoothness. His cock hardened as images of sliding into her filled his overheated brain.
He moved from on top of her, quick and frantic, and stole the space between her thighs. He lifted one of her legs off the bed, then the other, and buried his face between them. She gasped when his tongue teased her opening. She tensed when he suckled on her most sensitive spot. Eric continued his assault with his tongue until she bucked and writhed in ecstasy.
He raised his head to spy the satisfaction on her face. If he had ever felt something for a woman before this day, it was a farce. Seeing a woman he had pleasured without the use of his lust-desire, his Gods’ magic –this was a raw energy more powerful than anything contrived by the Gods.
He watched her recover as he moved from the bed to standing and undid his slacks. Emma’s eyes widened as his cock sprang loose.
“Do you like what you see, Ms. Jones?”
“Very much.” With her hands bound by the leather belt, she slid off the bed and sank to her knees. Her bright eyes drank him in as he stroked himself. When she was near enough, he teased her mouth open with the tip of his swollen cock. Slowly, she took him in, inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming. How warm and delicate her mouth felt. With bound hands, she tried to grasp his legs and move him deeper into her mouth, forcing his hips to match her rhythm, but faltered. Taking her cue, he thrust himself toward her, and she moaned with pleasure.
She wanted her mouth fucked. What a naughty girl Ms. Emma Jones had turned out to be and naughty on her own volition. If his lust-desire had worked on her, to what heights could her pleasure soar? he wondered.
Faster and faster, she sucked his rock hard cock until lines of drool spilled from her lips. He began to feel his own pleasure build, and for the briefest of moments, his mind drifted to the last time a mortal woman brought him this close to his own surrender. The answer was easy. Never.
His hands tangled in her silky brown hair as he watched her work his cock. “You are amazing, Ms. Jones,” he whispered. He pushed her head off him with a rough tenderness. “But now I must have you.”
Gently, he eased her to the bed again, this time tying her belted hands with the bed curtain sash. She hissed as her were strung up behind her. “Fuck me, Lord Carlisle,” she urged.
“If you insist.”
Emma sucked in a sharp breath as her slit spread open by the tip of his fat cock. Eric growled as the heat of her body surrounded him. Their lips crashed together as their bodies became one. He pumped his length into her, slow and controlled and Emma gasped as he bottomed out inside of her. She moved with him as he thrust into her. Deeper and deeper he forged; his pelvis slapping hard against her clit, delivering tiny quakes of pleasure that he witnessed on her face. Sensing another climax closing in, Eric withdrew himself with a jolt.
“Not yet, my love,” he said.
He was not denying her as he had done with so many women before her. No. He was arousing her to the point where pure bliss occurs. This was his gift to her, Ms. Emma Jones, the first woman he ever had mortal emotions for and because of this, he had much more work to do.
Swiftly, he undid the sash and belt, freeing her hands. She reached for him and ran her hands through his dark curls, down his face and to his lips. He kissed her fingers before her hands explored the rest of him, traveling the length of him, kneading the rock hard muscles of his chest, and tracing the lines in his flesh that made up his washboard abs. Her hand found his swollen cock, and with a gentle tug, she urged him towards her dripping wet hole.
“You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”
“Do you like it?” she purred.
“Yes, indeed.”
In a smooth and controlled move, he flipped her over so that her stomach lay flat on the bed, and pulled her feet over the edge of the bed. With her beautiful firm ass high in the air, he entered her slowly from behind. She moaned with pleasure as he drove into her with furious hot thrusts. With one arm, he hooked her biceps together, and he lifted her off the bed. With his other hand, he gripped her shoulder to steady himself. He pumped ferociously, with angry hot lust driving into her. She yelped and moaned and begged for more.
“Don’t stop,” she screamed.
“Play with your clit,” he demanded and she obeyed, feverishly massaging her nub until he felt her walls seize and tense.
Now, he thought, she was ready.
With himself deep inside of her, he crumbled to the floor. “Turn around,” he whispered. “I want to watch you come.”
She honored his wish and straddled him. As she lowered herself onto his shaft, he met her in a passionate kiss, gripping her hair and moaning softly.
“Come for me, Emma,” he said and watched as she grinded on his cock, deep and controlled.
Her beautiful round breasts jiggled with her movements. He leaned forward, caught one between his lips, and flicked the nipple with his tongue. Her gasps and sighs filled his ears. He let go and watched the pleasure wash over her face until her body quivered.
She smiled down at him. What a sight she was; chestnut hair cascading around her face and milky-skinned body. He could look upon her near bliss state forever. As he soaked her in, that’s when she said it, words no mortal had ever uttered to him before, “No, you come for me, Eric.”
And with that, he was lost to her. Pressure built to maddening heights in his sex. He grabbed her hips and hammered her onto him. She squealed and stiffened as hot release began to rip through her, and he felt himself lose control. Their moans and pants mingled in the air as they came together in a thunderous orgasm. Hot come shot into her and mixed with her own sex juice. Her body went limp as he gathered her up into a crushing hug. With chests heaving, they clutched each other and waited for the dawn.
Hours passed and Eric did not find sleep. He watched Emma, naked and lovely with her hair draped over him, slumbering in a post coitus haze. As she lay encircled in his arms, her warm breath flitting over his skin, he felt a kind of peace he never knew possible. He savored it, not wanting to break the perfect stillness of the moment. Birds began their early morning songs and the yellow sun started to peek through the crack in the curtains. He twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers and thought about the days ahead. He did not want to be apart from her, that he knew. Without the use of his Gods’ powers, what they had was pure attraction. He had never experienced such a connection with a mortal woman before. He no longer wanted to make every woman’s fantasy come true; he wanted to please just one, Ms. Emma Jones.
He would have to find someone to run Club Divine. Of course, he would need to make appearances; as the son of the God of Sex, it was expected. Nevertheless, after he put in his time, he could come home to Emma. He felt a smile creep across his face – such a pedestrian fantasy for an Erotes half-God. Where mortal men would pray for deliverances from such domesticity, Eric craved it with Emma.
A quiet knock at the bedro
om door broke him from his daydreams. Careful not to wake Emma, he untangled himself from her and light-footed to the door. On the other side, he found Mrs. Davenport looking stern and matronly as ever.
“Ah, Davenport, how are this morning?” he asked.
“I am well, my Lord, thank you. I have come with a message from your father.”
“My father?” he said. “How unexpected. What is it?”
“He has requested your presence immediately.”
Eric’s chest tightened. It had been years since his father last sent for him. Eros’ timing had never been good.
“I shall leave at once, Davenport. Please see that Ms. Jones gets whatever she wants while I’m away.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Seven
With the sweet smell of their sex still lingering on him, Eric made haste to Mount Olympus. An audience with his father Eros, God of Sex, was not an invitation to take lightly. Yet, as an Erotes, a certain fiendish behavior was expected.
On the lake outside the castle, Eric looked onto the mausoleum at its center. His excitement soared with the anticipation of seeing his father, uncles, and cousins once again. He also took every opportunity to visit Miss Pennywinkle, his teacher and very first love. It had been too long since he had last seen either of them; the twelve days of debauchery and hedonism that was customary for such a visit still lingered in his memory. If he were not a half-God, he wouldn’t have survived it. No mortal could.
He stepped onto the water and where a true man of earth would fall in with a thud, his half-God feet were met with stones of marble that carried him to the mausoleum. Of course, it wasn’t a real mausoleum; behind its door held the bridge between Olympus and earth. As custom dictated, he threw drachmas at the entry, and stepped inside. The towering mountain peaks and majestic castles of Mount Olympus erupted into view.
Eric walked the cobblestoned streets, guided by torchlight and fires, and followed the sounds of seduction to his father’s palace. He walked past wood nymphs and other half-Gods, some he recognized and some who recognized him. The blooming gardens of jasmine and roses and sweet things he couldn’t name wafted to his nose and mixed with the succulent scent of Emma still on his person. He breathed deep and held into his mind the moment when he could take her again to his bed.