Rich. That would be the day. She hefted the leather bag and listened to the faint clink. “How do I know these aren’t, um, chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil or something?”
“Trust me.”
She didn’t. It occurred to her that he would overhear the thought but that was his tough luck.
He smiled slightly. “I trust you, although you have not fulfilled your side of our bargain.”
Tanya hesitated before answering. “I—I can stay the rest of the week. Fair is fair.” The little bag of gold was reassuringly heavy. “But you have to stay out of my mind. Agreed?”
Jean-Claude inclined his leonine head. “Agreed.”
“You still haven’t explained everything.”
“That may not be possible.”
She leaned forward in the chair. “The thought-reading—can you teach me to do that?”
He laughed. “You don’t need to learn. You are remarkably sensitive to others, my dear Tanya. Your touch stirred the lion to his soul—it was he who summoned me to meet you in the field, you know.”
“Oh.” She remembered the moment she had seen Jean-Claude, just standing there, tall, proud, and virile. Would it be so wrong to jump in and have a sexually satisfying fling?
She looked up when he coughed discreetly. Jean-Claude was studying her pensive face. “It seems my answer did not please you, Tanya. Very well, I will explain as best I can. The thought-reading is like”—he searched for the right words—“like listening to the clicks of a complicated lock one must open by stealth. It requires acute perception and great patience.”
He rose and closed the desk drawer, pacing about the room with long strides, restless as a wild animal. “But I had time. The descendants of the duke continued to live in this chateau, and so did I, among them in various guises. The circus you saw is one of many. My lion brother and I created diversions and entertainments in each generation. No one ever knew that we could communicate in our own way, without words. But we did and we do. Words have many limitations, Tanya.”
He fell silent, but only for a moment.
“Like my father, most of the members of my family were intelligent and highly educated, and invited the great and the brilliant here. And sometimes, when they wished to be amused, actors and musicians were invited as well, or artists to paint their portraits and delightful scenes. Naked nymphs in bosky settings, that sort of thing. My family looked down on creative people, but found them useful.”
“The paintings are wonderful,” Tanya said. She’d admired several in the halls.
“Thank you. A few of them are my own work. I have some talent as a painter.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tanya murmured. No doubt Jean-Claude had actually known Toulouse-Lautrec.
“When one is immortal, one has nothing but time. I know seven languages. I studied the rational sciences: physics, biology, mathematics. I read the texts of alchemists, stargazers, philosophers—”
He stopped pacing and stood for a moment before her. “Pythagoras and Plato believed in the transmigration of souls, you know.”
Tanya knew good and goddamn well she had nothing to add to this discussion. “Pythagoras,” she said pertly. “Didn’t he invent geometry and the hootchy-koo of the hypotenuse?”
The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Something like that.”
“And as for Plato—enlighten me, Encyclopedia Man.”
“He believed that the material world is only a shadow of the real world.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t know.”
Jean-Claude seemed lost in thought for a moment. “But the Greek philosophers never answered a certain question to my satisfaction.”
“And what would that be?”
“Whether love was real. What do you think?”
Tanya had no idea. Seemed to her he oughta know the answer after seven or eight centuries of existence. She sure as hell hadn’t figured it out in her one lifetime on earth. “I don’t know.”
“Would you like to find out?”
She held up both hands. “Whoa. I’m having enough trouble comprehending the time travel thing. Plus you might be just plain crazy.”
He smiled faintly. “You are refreshingly honest. But everything you have seen and experienced here is real in its way.”
Tanya shook her head. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He clasped her outstretched hands. Without thinking, Tanya turned her face up to his and he pressed a brief, unexpected kiss on her forehead. “There is an unknown universe within every mind, Tanya. Will you allow me to take you where you have never gone?”
Something clicked in her mind. She heard it distinctly. Was that the click he had talked about? “Will I be able to come back?” she whispered.
“Of course.” His look pinned her to the chair. Her thin dress might as well have been invisible. He raked her with his golden gaze, arousing instincts she could not deny. “We are kindred spirits, but you are not my prisoner and never will be.”
“Thanks. I think.”
He smiled, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. The light hair on it tingled against her skin. “You are blushing. Was my erotic circus too much for you?”
“No,” she lied. “But I would like to know where the tent went. And where I’m going to go. I don’t want to drift around in your imagination or your memory. I want to go back to New York eventually and I want to stay…me.”
“Of course, my dear Tanya. I would not dream of altering your reality. I am only inviting you into my own, for however long you wish to stay.” He still held her hands and he helped her to rise.
“Not long.”
He let her go. “Very well. But will you be mine for just one night?”
Tanya could not look away from his penetrating gaze. “Y-yes.”
3
Once the word was spoken, there was no taking it back—because she didn’t want to. When she said yes, she meant yes. One night. Just one night. And she had a feeling it was going to be unforgettable.
Tanya followed Jean-Claude, a few steps behind, not because she was feeling submissive, but because she liked to watch men walk. Eloquent as this one could be, his body said more. His long legs strode in a sensual rhythm, with an earthiness that reminded her of how the lion had sauntered from the field, his tail swaying in a lordly way.
Jean-Claude’s butt was beautiful and muscular. She could imagine him giving her maximum pleasure with each tightening thrust of his manly ass—how long had it been, anyway? She couldn’t remember much about her lackluster dates in the last year, besides yawning through dull dinners and skipping the routine sex afterwards. The Big Bunny, her vibrator with the clit-stimulating wiggly ears, was a lot more reliable.
But Jean-Claude looked like the real thing and then some. And if she really was in another dimension and time—Tanya planned to do some serious snooping around tomorrow to find out—she might as well enjoy it. Talk about no-strings-attached sex. He wasn’t going to be hanging around her apartment or salon expecting to be taken care of when she got back to New York.
With her bag of gold. She curled her fingers around the soft leather and let it thump against her thigh. Whatever happened, her employees were going to make out all right. Flash forward to the future—she would make out all right too. Maybe open a salon in the Virgin Islands or someplace warm, where she could live in a bikini.
Jean-Claude stopped in front of a closed door, and she bumped into him. Ahh. He was hard all over. She slipped her hands around his back and brushed her fingertips over his taut nipples, resting her cheek against the back of his linen shirt. He smelled wonderful—like hot, sensual, kissable man.
“Our lips have not touched.”
Laughing, Tanya let him turn around in her arms. “You said you wouldn’t read my mind.”
“My darling, I did not. It was simply a statement of fact.” He made up for lost time by bringing his lips to hers for a sensual exploration of her mouth. His hand caressed her cheek while he kissed her,
then traced a stimulating line from her chin to the side of her neck to her nipple. He cupped her breast and squeezed, drawing her hips against him with the other hand.
It wasn’t long before he moved from her hips to her ass, rubbing and stroking both round cheeks with abandon but keeping his hand on the outside of her silky dress. “No underwear? You looked so prim at dinner and sat so straight…ah, I should have followed my instincts and slipped my hand under your dress…like this!”
He let go of her breast and grabbed her bare bottom with both hands, lifting her off the floor so she was kicking in midair. She held on to him by his hair, smooching him lustily.
Jean-Claude kicked the door open—so much for his patience with locks, mental and actual, she thought—and carried her into the bedroom, throwing her onto the grand gilt bed.
She sank into a down cloud, her legs open and her dress flipped up, leaving her bare to the waist. He stared hungrily between her legs as he shucked his clothes. She admired the fine dark hair on his chest and the narrow trail it made down his torso to where his thick, stiff cock bobbed between his legs. The big balls beneath it nestled in dark curls that she longed to get her fingers in, tugging on it gently so she could nuzzle and lick and enjoy his male scent. Tanya arched and wriggled out of her dress.
On all fours.
He hadn’t said it but she heard it. He wasn’t going to wait for the blow job she planned to rev him up with. Not a problem. Tanya got on her hands and knees, swaying her hips, enticing him with the sight of her sex, moving up to the headboard to make room for him on the bed. He pounced, kneeling behind her to lick her labia, spreading her ass cheeks so he could really go in deep with his tongue.
It felt so good to be fucked with something that was simultaneously soft and hard. She rocked a little, pushing her behind into his face, as unashamed as an animal and well aware that she was arousing him to fever pitch. He moaned against her slick flesh, nipping her ass and rubbing a fingertip against her tight anus. It pulsed in response and he growled.
Then his laps and licks got faster, until he stopped and mounted her, pulling her hips back hard and filling her up with the biggest cock she’d ever had inside her. Tanya gave a guttural cry of pleasure.
Jean-Claude dropped his body over her back, holding himself up on one straight arm and curving a hand underneath to tease her nipples, then slap her breasts gently so they swayed and bounced with his thrusts.
His hand moved all over her. He seemed to love everything about a female body—the soft abundance of her breasts, the frothy curls of pubic hair, and most of all, her womanly behind. His excitement intensified. He grabbed her around the waist with both arms, slamming into her cushy ass, that huge cock parting her pussy lips, and pumping harder and harder.
He was fucking her fast now, biting her on the neck in a way that thrilled her. The power of the male body sliding over hers, giving her deeper penetration than she would have ever thought possible, was overwhelmingly sensual.
Jean-Claude’s muscular belly suddenly tensed and his cock strokes grew quicker still as he groaned with lust, pushing her hair aside to nip at her vulnerable neck. He dug his nails into her skin as a slow pulsing seized his cock—she could feel it against her snug, juicy pussy. He rammed into her, bucking and writhing on her back, filling her with an explosion of creamy cum, crying out her name.
His hands slid down and found her clit, which he rubbed between two fingers, teasing its tip with skillful sensitivity until an amazing orgasm hit her hard. Her pussy tightened around his still enormously erect cock as he prolonged her climax, stroking her cum-slicked clit until she pushed her buttocks backward into him, wanting more, more, more.
Male, female, human, animal—Tanya no longer knew at that moment who or what she was, and she didn’t care.
They were one. Slowly coming down from the height of sexual pleasure, they rocked on all fours, he over her, until she eased herself down on the bed. Jean-Claude followed, curving his big body around hers with the utmost gentleness, strong and protective. His warmth, his silken strength, his lovingness were too much for her. Tanya fell fast asleep, cradled in his arms.
She woke up because Jean-Claude was chewing gently on her ear and because the sun was coming in through the antique lace curtains.
“You animal,” she whispered drowsily.
“Yes, I am,” he said. “And a hungry one. What would you like for breakfast, my lioness?”
Tanya opened her eyes and looked down at her body. She was still human, no claws or fur or anything. Smelling very loved. “What are you having?”
“Haunch of antelope. Raw.”
“Ugh.”
“I spoke in jest. My breakfast has not varied for a hundred years. Brioche, confit aux abricots, oeufs en beurre, jus, and café au lait.”
“Oo la la. Have your imaginary servants send up a second order of that.”
He rolled away from her and pulled on a long rope adorned with a silk tassel. Tanya heard a distant bell ring twice.
“They know the signal,” he said, rolling back and curling around her again. “Breakfast for two, served in silence.”
Tanya pouted. “Huh. So you have had women in your lair before.”
He shrugged. “I did not know you would come into my life. My previous amours are numerous but they mattered very little to me. There is no need to be jealous.”
She settled her head on the pillow and looked up at him. “Hug, please.”
“What?”
“The only rational cure for irrational jealousy. Works like a charm.”
He enfolded her in his strong arms and she sighed with pleasure. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
Jean-Claude kissed her tousled hair. “I thought we might visit the lion first. You can continue the work you started. He spent most of yesterday admiring his reflection in the lily pond. The king of beasts is vain, you know.”
“All right. Sounds like a plan.”
A knock on the door made him whisk the sheet over their naked bodies. A manservant came in, not looking at them as he set a huge round tray on a square table, not making a sound. Jean-Claude dismissed him with a wave, and he left, closing the door behind him. Jean-Claude jumped out of bed, gloriously naked, and filled plates for both of them, handing her a bowl of café au lait to sip while she waited.
It was strong, richly flavored, and laced with cream, and so good she wanted to lap it up. She tipped the bowl up to drink it faster, giving herself a coffee-colored mustache. Jean-Claude laughed when he saw it and bent over the bed to lick it off her upper lip. Then he stuck his tongue in her mouth just for good measure.
“Mmm.” She held out the bowl. “More, please.”
He refilled her bowl and sat down with his own, but not before he set the filled plates on the bed. They devoured everything, getting a little crumby and sticky in the process. Tanya decided she didn’t have to feel guilty about letting someone else clean up after her when the servants were only imaginary. She said as much to Jean-Claude, who found it amusing that she would feel guilty.
Then he sent her off to bathe in a swan-shaped porcelain tub hidden behind a screen. She turned the winged spigot and filled it with steaming water, stepping in as daintily as a marble goddess. He came behind the screen when her toe touched the water, patting her behind where it was pink from sitting through a luxurious breakfast in bed.
“Enjoy your bath. I will meet you outside when you are done.”
She treated herself to a long soak, using lavender-scented soap and a soft cloth on her skin, although she was reluctant to wash away his scent. It soothed and stimulated her at the same time. Tanya realized how much she was going to miss him when she went back to New York. One night with him was definitely not enough.
Jean-Claude met her in the field, where the lion was strolling around, whiffing the breeze that ruffled through the trees. The tent and the performers had not reappeared, Tanya noticed. Fine with her. She wasn’t sure if a real woman could ever compet
e with a fantasy female invented by a man, but she told herself that the pretty acrobat in last night’s erotic encounter belonged to the strongman, not Jean-Claude.
She adjusted the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder, filled with brushes, combs, and beads, hoping the lion would behave as well today as he had yesterday. The trainer was nowhere to be seen, but if the lion was Jean-Claude’s brother, she figured his presence would be enough to keep the animal calm.
The lion sprang up onto a square-shaped rock just big enough to hold it, although its paws draped over the front. “He looks like the New York Public Library lions on 42nd Street,” she called to Jean-Claude.
“Indeed he does.”
She walked up to him and slipped her hand in his. “Have you seen a picture of them?”
“Not a picture. I visited New York decades ago with the lion. He wished to meet his stone brethren and I was inclined to oblige.”
Tanya nodded. “You mentioned that he was lonely.”
“Yes.”
She thought about it for a moment. “But how much fun can a stone lion be?”
“Ah. You would be surprised. There is blood in their marble veins. The library lions are alive in their own way, although they cannot leave their pedestals. Such is the price of fame.”
“Are you pulling my leg?” Tanya asked.
“Not at all. They like to watch the parades go by on Fifth Avenue, and see lovers meet on the steps. And they look out for those who only wish to enter the library and read in peace.”
Tanya smiled. She loved the famous library lions and it was easy to imagine that everything he said was true. She had stood by the south statue during the last Veteran’s Day parade, watching the soldiers, young and old, march by.
“I saw the oldest marchers nod to the lions,” Jean-Claude said. “Some wave. Such men are closer to the next world and know that each year’s parade may be their last.”
Sexy Beast II Page 12