As Wicked as You Want: Forever Ours Book 1

by Nia Farrell

  I watched and waited.

  When he could trust himself to speak again, the hurt in his eyes was echoed in his voice. “Feeling as ye do for me—and don’t try to deny it—knowing I was coming, ye still slept with him? Christ almighty, Lanie! What were ye thinkin’?”

  “That I must be mad,” I admitted. “That there’s no way that I could love two men, and yet I do. I do. You might not want to hear it, but there it is. I love you, and I love Edward, and he hopes that you’ll be open to the three of us sharing a bed. Sharing me. Sharing you, if he has his way. I realize that it’s his secret to tell but you’ll know soon enough that the professor is a man of unusual tastes. I can see, that doesn’t surprise you.”

  He didn’t need to say it. I could tell from his expression.

  “Edward wanted me when I was Lane. When the Pinkertons left me no choice but to reclaim my true identity, he was twice tempted. But I was tempted too, and I yielded to it. Yielded to him. He’s a forceful man, but he’s never forced me to do anything that I did not agree to try.”

  “Thank you for that.” This, from Edward, who had slipped into the room at some point during my discourse. His gaze was warm as he crossed the floor, his head wreathed in golden curls, looking like an earth-bound angel. He handed each of us a wet wash cloth and laid a stack of towels by Daniel’s head. Coming to where I sat with Daniel’s shrinking phallus still inside me, he leaned over and brushed a kiss across my lips.

  “I shall tell Babs fifteen minutes. That should give you enough time, hmm?”

  He looked from me to Daniel. We both nodded.

  “Good. I shall see you both in the dining room, my dears.”

  Daniel stared at Edward’s retreating back, no doubt wondering if he’d heard aright.

  I dismounted, jamming the wet cloth between my legs as I did so, trying not to make things worse than they were. I cleaned and dried myself, but when I turned with the intent of finding my clothes and dressing, I heard Daniel’s strangled curse and realized that I had marks left from Friday night’s session.

  “It’s all right, Daniel. I find it to be cathartic. Edward wants my tears, and I need to give them. Probably because of my Catholic upbringing, this need to do penance, but there it is.”

  Daniel came up behind me. His fingers ghosted the fading bruises left by Edward’s belt. “Jaysus,” he breathed. “It just gets worse.”

  “It will get better,” I said firmly, hoping against hope that that would be the case. “Once we’ve figured things out. Now, get dressed and take me down to dinner. I’m starving, and you know how I get.”

  He bent his head close to my ear. “Aye. That I do, Miss Davenport.”

  Hearing the humor in his voice, I smiled in sweet relief. My Daniel was coming back.

  *****

  Edward did most of the talking at the table. His offer on the building was accepted. Come the morrow, he would arrange for the roofers to begin their work and have measurements taken for the new windows to be made. The cleaning crew could get started, but their job could only be completed once the roof and windows were done.

  “Have you thought of a name for it?” Edward asked me.

  I’d been doodling in my mind, shaping letters into words and seeing how they felt rolling off my tongue. “I was thinking of Lane Davenport Gallery and Studio. Of course, it could just be Davenport Gallery and Studio, in case my nephew fulfills the promise that he shows and wishes to join me in another fifteen or twenty years.”

  “Nephew?”

  It was the first two-syllable word that Daniel had spoken since coming downstairs.

  At last.

  He knew nothing of my family. Nothing of my childhood, my coming of age, all of the people and events that had molded and shaped me. I’d deliberately kept myself hidden from him, afraid that to say anything was to reveal too much.

  “Yes,” I said. “Joseph is five. A bright boy. Very pleasant and—judging from the drawings that I’ve seen—something of a prodigy. He’s the son of my half-sister Masey, my father’s natural daughter, now a free woman of color living here in England. You’ve seen her portrait—the beautiful high yellow that hung in my apartment? That’s Masey. You’ll meet them soon, I’m certain. They live with Dr. Wainwright, Edward’s father.”

  At that, he shut down again, turning his attention back to his plate.

  “What do you think of the studio’s name, Daniel?”

  He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and shot me a strange look. “Nothing wrong with Lane Davenport Art, is there?”

  “No. Of course not.” That had been the business that he’d helped me build back in Chicago, when it was just the two of us, before Professor Wainwright arrived and the Pinkertons descended. “No, indeed, Daniel. It’s a good name. Simple. Solid. Yes. Well, that’s settled. Edward, we shall call it Lane Davenport Art.”

  “Excellent,” he said, his rich baritone voice rolling across the table and resonating in my core. “I propose a toast.” He lifted his glass and watched as Daniel and I lifted ours. “To Lane Davenport Art and its every success!”

  He waited until we’d finished before voicing his next proposal. No toast, this time, but I knew as soon as the words left his lips what he was guiding us towards.

  “Tomorrow, I suggest that you and O’Flaherty visit the warehouse I’ve rented for storing your things. He has the manifest. Mark what crates need brought here, and inspect the marble that you said you wanted for your next piece. Now that he’s here, we can get started—that is, if he’s agreeable.”

  I looked at Daniel and saw the unspoken questions swirling in his eyes. “The big block,” I told him. “I want to carve Achilles, Patroclus, and Briseis, using the three of us as models. We’ll all have to shave. I can’t have body hair, not even on me. Of course, if you’d rather that I find someone else, I’m certain that there are plenty of strapping young men at the university who would be willing to pose with Edward and me.”

  Daniel looked at his wine, probably wishing for something stronger to drink. “And just how do ye think to sketch the three of us with yerself in the middle of the mix?”

  “Mirrors,” I said. “A circle of mirrors to capture every angle. All I have to do is see us, and I’ll be able to sketch from memory. Or,” I said, drawing out the word, “we find a discreet and talented photographer who photographs nudes and is willing to do an extensive private session with the three of us.”

  Daniel shifted uncomfortably. Edward leaned toward me, his mind alive with possibilities. If we used mirrors, all that would be left to him were fading memories, but a photographer would leave us a legacy, a treasure trove of images that could be explored again and again, long after our youthful looks had faded.

  “I’d want his prints made on site, of course, and I would demand that he leave his plates here. There’d be no chance, then, of copies being made without our knowledge or permission. They’d be ours alone, and mine to use, but I’ll need to see the block. Feel it. Sense what lies inside so I know how to pose us. You know.”

  This last, I directed to Daniel. He was intimately acquainted with how I worked. He’d seen me often enough, staring at a block of stone, running my fingers over its surface, sometimes embracing it, pressing my chest against the cool, hard surface and listening for its whispers in my heart.

  I was relieved to see that he looked more frayed than torn. There’s no way that Daniel would let me pose nude with two other men, particularly when one of them was Edward. He might not like it, he might still resist it, but in his mind, he was prepared to do this, however unwilling he might be.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The day had taken its toll. Daniel’s arrival. Visiting the abandoned church that would house my studio. Five years of lust and longing finally consummated, only to have to tell him that I would not be his alone. God knew, I had no idea what would happen tonight.

  Just the possibilities made my head swim and my stomach pinch.

  I managed to finished my fruit a
nd the cheese that I’d put on my plate. After proposing to have our session photographed, Edward had entered author mode, talking about his most recent research and the progress he’d made toward supporting Frank Calvert’s theory, that Hisarlik was the site of Troy. He was fascinating to listen to. By the time dessert was served, even Daniel was held in his thrall. But all good things come to an end, and supper was no exception.

  The question was, where did we go from here?

  “Do you play cards?” Edward asked Daniel.

  He finished wiping his fingers on his napkin and laid it beside his empty plate. “Some,” he said, flicking a glance at me.

  Edward was quick to follow it. “And you, Elena?”

  I made a production of folding my napkin. “I can play,” I told him, halving the cloth once, then again. “Likely any game that you name, but you don’t want to play against me.”

  “Ye don’t,” said Daniel, underscoring my warning.

  Edward was more than curious. He looked ready to debate the point. “And why is that?”

  “Because of what I see. How I see,” I reminded him. “I remember what’s been played. At any given moment, I know what remains out. I still have to be dealt enough of the right cards, of course, but if the deck is worn, chances are, by the end of the night, I’ll know at a glance what’s in everyone’s hand.”

  “Good lord.”

  He’d been so focused on using my ocular recall for his research that he hadn’t considered other applications.

  “That’s it,” he said. “We’re going to the club.”

  “Another night, please, Edward. I don’t think I can handle any more this evening beyond a long soak in the tub and a pillow beneath my head. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll bid you both good night.”

  And with that, I left the two of them alone, praying that they’d continue to get along together while I made my solitary way upstairs. Lucy had dutifully laid out my nightdress and wrapper, knowing full well that I rarely wore them. Now that Daniel was here, that could change either way. I suspected that I’d either wear night clothes less, or I’d wear them more, depending on whether I wanted to entice or deflect.

  By the end of my bath, it was all I could do to crawl into bed and extinguish the lamp. Bone tired, I drifted into a restless sleep, jackknifing awake when I felt a presence in my room.

  “Sorry,” Edward said, his hushed voice warm and intimate. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just checking. How’s the stomach?”

  “All right,” I whispered. “How’s Daniel?”

  “Coming around.” He fell silent, shifted on his feet, then sighed. “As am I.”

  There was something in Edward’s voice, a vulnerability that I had never heard, that made my heart ache for him. He might have suspected my feelings for Daniel, but seeing us together had clearly affected him.

  “I love you,” I told him. “The two of you, odd though it may seem. I’m afraid that I need you both, and if Daniel won’t consent to join us, then we’ll work something out. You on evenly numbered days, him on odd days…something.”

  I shook my head and threw up my hands, feeling lost and alone, with Edward standing there, unmoving. I didn’t know what else to do except…

  “Would you hold me?” I asked, my throat tight with tears. “Please? I just…I can’t….Don’t hate me.”

  “Hate you? Elena….”

  A heartbeat later he was there, on my bed, taking me in his arms and ravaging me with a kiss that claimed me, heart and mind and soul. Jointly owned but owned nonetheless, I was his as much as Daniel’s. Perhaps more so.

  I wove the fingers of one hand into his hair and slid the other over his heart, wanting to feel its beat, but layers of cloth separated us, making it impossible. “You’re still dressed,” I complained.

  “Yes, pet. I just came from downstairs.”

  Trailing kisses to the breast that he bared, Edward fastened his mouth on my nipple and sucked, catching it between his teeth and tormenting it with his tongue.

  “Yes. Well. Now that you’re here, feel free to remedy—” I gasped when he bit me “—that.”

  He ripped off his cravat and bound my wrists, pinning them above my head. “Don’t move,” he growled, his voice feral. My breasts ached with a need that spiraled to the center of my being, adding to the flame in my molten core. My body responded, preparing itself for him. My secrets were like a font, issuing moisture until I felt drenched, he’d made me that wet.

  Withdrawing to the far side of the room, Edward stripped off his clothes and fisted himself aggressively, an action heard more than seen in the darkness. He prowled like a lion, then crossed the floor to the foot of my bed. He took hold of my ankles and mounted the bed between them, shoving my legs apart with his knees as he climbed between my wide-spread thighs.

  Edward thrust two fingers inside me and hummed his pleasure when I whimpered. “It’s a good thing that you’re ready for me. I’m afraid I won’t be gentle.”

  “Then don’t be,” I said. “Just be you. That’s all I ask.”

  He poised himself at my entrance, took hold of my hips and lifted, thrusting fully into me, piercing me like a bayonet and striking deep. He took no prisoners, showed no mercy, pounding into me like a man bent on breaking me to his will.

  I needed this. Needed him. I craved his domination and his discipline. I wanted to writhe in the dark with Edward as much as I needed to dance in Daniel’s light. One lover to inflict pain, one to soothe it. Together, they were my perfect balance.

  Now, though, it was just Edward, flesh slapping against flesh as he ravaged me, claimed me, the sharp, demanding snap of his hips driving all thoughts of Daniel from my mind. It was all I could do to remember to breathe, locked in the hot, hard, animalistic rut of a man pushed to the edge of his control.

  He changed angles, wringing from me an orgasm so intense, I swore I felt my eyes cross before they rolled back in my head. “More,” he grated, slamming into me. Each stroke ended with my aching center grinding against his pubic bone, driving me toward another climax, and another. He fucked me until the sheets were soaked with my juices and our sweat, his dripping onto me and running down my sides.

  Finally, finally, he let go. Pulling out at the last second, he exploded on my abdomen, shooting thick white ropes of semen between us. He bucked and heaved one last time, then lowered my hips to the bed and rolled to one side.

  “Good girl,” he said thickly, untying me. Having dutifully kept my bound hands where he’d placed them, I stretched and worked the stiffness from my shoulders.

  The sheets were already ruined. Ignoring the creamy rivulets that ran down my side, I turned to face Edward, wincing at the soreness below my waist. “I’ll have to hire a carriage,” I sighed, exploring the hirsute contours of his chest, delighting in our differences. “It will be days before I can walk again.”

  His body tensed. I could feel his frown. “You didn’t say Delphi.”

  “No. I did not. You needed this. I needed it, too.”

  Silence fell between us, as thick and heavy as the cock that he’d shoved into me. He touched his forehead to mine, sharing breaths that eventually synchronized. “What about Daniel?” he asked, his voice oddly strained.

  “What about him? For better or worse, I’m yours and I’m his and we’ll just have to find a way to deal with it.”

  He blew out a sigh and said nothing more, which didn’t surprise me. The good professor could wax eloquent about Abraham Lincoln and art and ancient civilizations but in bed, he was a man more of action and not much of one to engage in pillow talk, trivial or otherwise.

  Which was just as well. Tonight had left me raw, inside and out.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I drifted into an uneasy sleep and woke in the thin morning light to a pair of troubled turquoise eyes. Judging from his clothes and the sweat still beading his brow, Edward had already exercised in the third floor room cleared for that purpose, practicing the thrusts and parries h
e’d use in his next fencing match. “I have errands this morning and classes this afternoon. Will you be all right?”

  Would I be? That depended on Daniel. Once Edward was gone, it would be the two of us alone.

  “I think so. A hot bath will help.”

  “Let Benson know when you wish to go to the warehouse and he will arrange a conveyance. Oh, and ask him about the purses. I have left one for each of you, to draw from what you will. I shall depend upon you and Daniel to tell me when you need more, hmm?”

  His generosity never ceased to amaze me. “Thank you,” I said, humbled. “Again. For everything.”

  His beautiful lips canted into a rueful smile. “Despite the excesses of last night, I promised to take care of you, Elena. I want you to believe that. Trust that I am a man of my word.”

  His gaze was profoundly earnest, but there was an underlying note in his voice that made me hasten to offer my assurances. “I will. I do. Have I given you cause to think otherwise?”

  “No,” he said. “No, you have not. I just wanted to…” He shook his golden head, crossed to the bed, and kissed me earnestly, a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. “This,” he murmured thickly. “I came because I wanted a kiss before I go.”

  “And now you have it.” On a whim, I caught and kissed his hand. “And here’s another one. These pursed lips have more than enough for you to draw from what you will. I shall depend upon you to show me when you need more, hmm?”

  My mimicry earned me a genuine smile. “Cheeky thing. Now, I must wash,” he said, smacking what he could reach of my bottom, “dress, and go. I shall see you both this evening.”

  He slipped away as quietly as he had come. I soon heard the rummaging I’d come to associate with his early morning ritual. Exercise upstairs. Return to room. Wash and shave. Dress for the day. Breakfast with nose in newspaper. Leave for the university. Home by half past five.

  With supper at seven, Edward usually read more news while discussing the day with me. I’d continued my reading program to assist him in his research, and he proved a good listener, whether it was hearing about the art that I’d done or listening to the recitation of whatever pages had caught my fancy. I suspected there’d be no sketching or reading today. There were things that I needed—both personally and professionally—to retrieve from storage and for that, I needed Daniel and his manifest.