by G. A. Hauser
“My word! Why have we not met before? Have you known Percivel long?”
Her satin dress was a deep plum color. On its edges were white ruffles sewn with a delicate hand to the layers of panniers that surrounded her petite waist. He imagined fitting both his hands around that narrowness and lifting her up. The curls of that wig danced over her naked shoulders like clouds over mountain peaks. It was covered in tiny sea pearls. Her breasts were pressed back and, from what he could tell, they were large and lovely.
When he did not answer her immediately, Mark caught her studying him more closely. “Why haven't we met?” she asked once again.
“We would not travel in the same circles, m'lady.”
“Do you mean to insult me or yourself? Whatever the reason, I am very glad to have found you now.”
Taking that as a sexual invitation, Mark met her eyes quickly. They were light brown and very intelligent. “Why? Why is it you are glad to meet someone like me?”
“Do you not even see it yourself? Or do you tease me?”
His gaze made a quick sweep of the courtyard. They were very much alone. Mark moved to her with a swiftness of a fencer and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her to him.
When she was caught up against him, Lady Grey arched back to be able to keep her eyes on his face.
When the aureole of her nipple became exposed, Mark thought he would go mad. A groan escaped his lips before he could stifle it. He ground his teeth and inhaled her perfume. “Oh, lady ... you are so magnificent.”
“Let us be discreet, my gorgeous man. This castle has so many empty rooms, surely we don't need to be spied.”
Heeding her warning, Mark released her at once. “Tell me where I will find you.”
“I know this castle well.” She grinned wickedly. “Go up the stair you so gracefully came down earlier. At the end of the long corridor there is a door to your right. You'll know it by the red paint on the wood. Meet me inside. Go!”
Rejoicing at so lovely a conquest, Mark was panting in excitement. Slipping back into the main party, attempting to become invisible, Mark tried to keep against the walls.
Free of the crowd, he pumped his legs to get where he wanted to be, sprinting down the halls. The doors washed by him in a blur. The last door on the right, red in color. Stopping short, he turned the latch and the eerie creaking sound made him hesitate. Swallowing his anxiety, Mark shoved it back. An elaborately decorated room with a canopy bed came into view. The light seeped in through a crack in the curtains. Dust motes spun in the still air. A whisper of a slipper on stone caught his attention. Spinning around to the door as she came in, Mark closed it tight behind her.
As Mark stood with his back to it, he sucked the air in through his teeth as he gazed at her. She was so lovely he wanted to taste every part of her. Making his way across that great expanse of stone, the yearning between his legs like pain, Mark didn't want to waste a minute. He wrapped his royal blue velvet-covered arms around her as he pressed his face into her bosom, inhaling and tasting the flesh there. When Lady Grey's moan reached his ears, Mark lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her back gently, he stared down at her face in awe. It was porcelain and lightly painted, so very beautiful. His focus returned to that exposed skin of her neck, then her chest. Her breasts were large and tortured under the tightness of the bodice. He dipped his fingers into that plum satin and tugged it down, exposing the whole of her right nipple.
It occupied him completely. Though he knew they only had a brief moment to be together, Mark wanted to take his time, to savor her. As he licked that hard nipple with the tip of his tongue, he began to unravel her, just enough to expose her and not so much that she could not get herself dressed again. When both breasts fell out of her gown, Mark had to still himself not to climax. Calming himself down, he sat up and closed his eyes, pressing his hand against his own hardened member trying to tame it.
Like she was a demon possessed, Lady Grey leapt on top of him and tore open his britches. Mark gasped in awe, hoping he would be the man of this encounter. He was soon proven wrong.
Turned from a refined woman to a wild animal, she opened her ruby lips and devoured him.
Against his will he came. He was very disappointed because he wanted to wait and take her inside. When she heard him cry out his pleasure, she sucked him harder and swallowed him down in delight.
A little shocked at the turn of events, imagining he would play the aggressor for once, Mark lay panting to catch his breath. As if he were her very own toy, she would not stop playing with him, keeping him hard. She mounted him after raising up the yards of fabric between them. When he felt her wet heat, Mark shivered in rapturous joy. With her breasts brushing against his face as she rocked on him, purely for her own satisfaction, Mark succumbed to her wishes with tacit approval. His fingers made their way gently around each breast and he suckled one, then the other until once again he came, gasping.
This time the lady joined him, pressing down on him as if making the sensations linger.
He was spent, sweating, trying to get his breathing back. Like a drunkard, she rolled over and lay sprawled out, calming her racing breath.
Leaning up over her to savor their shared sensations, Mark reached to touch her dampness and closed his eyes. Impulsively he whispered, “You are beautiful. Live with me.”
She started to giggle, then to laugh, until they were both hysterical with it. Collapsing down on the bed, he lay spent as he recuperated.
Finally finding his energy, he rose and washed up efficiently at a basin.
Once they were both presentable, Mark stopped her from rushing off. “May I see you again?”
“Of course. Won't you be at all of the duke's gatherings from now on?”
His head lowered as well as his eyes. “No, I am leaving.”
“Leaving for where?” She acted as if the news upset her.
“I need to go to Italy. It will take me some time to make the trip.”
“Italy?” She studied his features. “Of course. You are Italian. Mark Antonious. You just don't appear Italian. Your eyes are so light. Your chin has no beard. Do you go to Italy for family?”
“Yes. It may just be for a visit. I don't know yet.”
“Is it where you are from? You have no trace of an accent.”
A wry smile appeared on his lips. “Indirectly.”
“When will you leave?”
“Soon.” He took her hands in his and met her eyes, which were wet and glistening.
“How can you leave now?” It came out like she was accusing him.
“I just have something I must do.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to?”
Mark bit his lip, not knowing how to answer that question.
“I'm sorry. I pry into something which is none of my business.” She straightened up her shoulders. “I am glad we met before you left, Mark. Very glad.”
Raising his eyes to her topaz brown ones, Mark wondered if he could ask her to come. Would she?
“Surely we have been missed. Let's get back to the party, shall we?” She held out her elbow to him.
Gently he took it and walked her back to the gathering. Before they parted and were spied by the rest, Lady Grey reached into her purse and removed some golden sovereigns. “Here, for your journey.” She pressed them into his hands.
In astonishment at the gift, he watched her go. Opening his palm Mark found more than enough gold to get him across the Channel. Unsure of how he felt about the present, he hid it inside the deep pockets of his coat and went to join the rest.
Musicians had arrived and a lively music filled the castle. Aromas of an enormous meal started to waft through the air. Simply because it was available, Mark was drinking too much wine for his own good and attempting to be the charming, loveable rogue. Try as he might, he could not take his eyes off the lovely Lady Grey. When an old man accompanied her to the
sitting room where the music was being played, Mark wondered who it was, and if it could be her dear old father.
Percivel answered his obvious unspoken question. “It is her husband.”
Mark cringed. “No!”
“Yes, love. I hope you gave her an enjoyable romp.”
Sickened by the news, Mark's smile died as he thought of all that beauty wasted on an old man.
After gazing at it, Percivel smoothed his hand down Mark's bottom. “I've someone who hasn't stopped admiring you all afternoon. You need to go and be polite and meet him.”
“Who?” Mark rose on his toes and peered around.
“Lord Gremville. He very much wants to make your acquaintance and has been very patient, I may add.”
Mark met Percivel's eyes. “Will he give me a gift of money for it?”
“Undoubtedly.” Percivel's face became expressive. “Did our lady?”
His cheeks tinged warm with a blush, Mark bit his lip. “Yes. A very generous one.”
“You see. You are on your way.”
Finishing the last gulp of wine in his glass, Mark said, “All right, where is this lord?”
“Right this way.” The duke held Mark's elbow and escorted him into a very crowded room.
As he passed, Mark inspected every face. Many eyes were staring at him. He began to calculate the fortune he could make if he had time to bed several more. To each obviously inviting smile Mark returned in kind, bowing, trying to let them know to be patient and he would be happy to oblige them.
When Percivel stopped, Mark found himself standing before an old man, toothless and shriveled. The charming smirk Mark wore fell off. Inhaling deeply at his disappointment, Mark tried to catch Percivel's eye to shake his head, no. Not this one! There were so many young, handsome people in the room, surely this one wasn't necessary.
But suddenly Mark was bowing to him as they were introduced, trying not to visualize contact with someone so ancient.
“I will leave you two alone, then.” Percivel's glimmering eyes and laugh unnerved Mark, to say the least.
“What a fine lad.” The hoarse voice seemed to strain with even this effort. Surely an orgasm would kill the man.
“Yes.” Mark nodded, trying to give him the attention he deserved and not be rude. When the dry, creased hand slipped him some coins, Mark felt his face heat up miserably. Couldn't the man be careful? Must they exchange payment in front of so many?
Palming the gold like a magician, Mark hid the handful and tried as casually as possible to get it into a pocket without making a jingling noise that would alert the whole room. With a tight smile on his face as he tried to hide his annoyance, Mark asked, “Yes, yes, which room?”
The old man with the old wig, that was no more than a worn old cap from so much use, shuffled off to the staircase.
Discreetly checking the surroundings, Mark waited until the man was well ahead of him to follow. He didn't dare catch anyone's eye. Being seen bedding Lady Grey was something he did in pride. But this old fellow? Was it worth the money?
When he could, he checked to see how much worth it was. Mark was astonished when he counted the amount. He hurried after the man, at least to thank him.
Pushing back a door that was ajar, he found Lord Gremville seated on a chair. “Lord, thank you kindly—” he was about to reconsider and hand him back his coins.
A bony finger interrupted him. Mark quieted his voice and closed the door behind him. That same finger beckoned him closer.
Holding his breath, Mark stood before the man in the chair. First those hands smoothed over the fine velvet of Mark's coat, and with a shaking clumsiness they opened the buttons of Mark's breeches.
Committed to the act, Mark could only wait and see what was expected of him. He widened his stance as Lord Gremville spread and pushed back his breeches. Those spotty cracked fingers very gently lifted him out, balls included, to lie over the white fabric. When Mark opened his mouth to ask what he could do for the lord, he was once again silenced. With his arms relaxed at his sides, Mark realized that this man merely wanted to play with him. With a sigh of relief, he knew what was not expected.
Using his right hand to stretch out and reach against a wall to steady himself and give him some support, Mark tried to relax. Lord Gremville's gaze moved from Mark's face to his growing masculine parts.
In his mind, Mark was reliving his contact with Lady Grey. How everything about that woman had enticed him. That wonderful taste and scent. The feel of her breasts in his mouth and plunging into her wet heat. He wanted to have her once again before he left England, yet he had no idea how to accomplish this.
That set of tepid hands urged him to reveal more of his body. Mark tugged down his breeches so they were at his knees, and raised his blouse to show his belly button.
When those lips touched the tip of him, Mark closed his eyes and tried not to pull back in revulsion. Think of Lady Grey! Not this toothless lizard!
With his head tilted to the ceiling and his eyes sealed shut, Mark allowed those fingers to explore into his anus and that mouth to taste his youth. He was stunned when he gave into it. Never would he have guessed he could perform under these conditions. The trick was his mind. He could envision so much beauty.
As the sensuous gasp of his climax subsided, Mark dared a peek at the old man. He had obviously pleased him. Mark tried his best to smile and waited to see if the lord was through playing.
After some loving caresses, Mark was allowed to back up and close his clothing. Then to his complete astonishment, Mark was handed a king's ransom.
“No, Your Lordship, this is far too much. I simply cannot—”
Through his pleading Mark was rebuffed as the man shuffled out of the room. Mark gazed down into his hands in awe. It was filled with golden sovereign coins. He had never seen so much wealth in one place, and particularly not in his own palms. Needing to hide them, Mark found his way to his room and tucked them out of sight.
After another quick scrub at his basin, his face flushed and warm from his rushing, Mark found Percivel in the crowd. Mark leaned down to his powdered wig dusted ear and whispered, “Who is next?”
Percivel covered his mouth before he erupted in a laugh. “You have more in you?”
A proud smile broadened Mark's face. “I have an endless supply.”
Percivel turned around to stare at that beaming grin. “Oh, to be young again,” he giggled. “Leave one for me. It will be a way for you to thank me before you leave.”
Brushing up against him, Mark gave him a very seductive grin. “I shall. I shall save the best for last.”
“All right, my lovely.” Percivel nodded to a gentleman leaning against the side of the fireplace. Young and fiery, with a long sword at his side.
“Ah, delightful...” Mark hissed.
“And rich. He will be rough on you, my dear. You will be ridden like his polo pony.”
The handsome man met Mark's eyes with such an air of wealth and elegance it set Mark's teeth on edge. Mark couldn't wait to get at him.
“Come, let me make some kind of introduction so you are more civilized than mongrels humping in an alley.” Percivel sauntered over to the dashing noble with Mark following hungrily at his heels.
As if he were greeting a king, Mark bowed and took the noble's hand. It was a gripping strength Mark was not expecting. Raising his head quickly to the man's serious gaze, Mark knew they both wanted to race to a private room. All this talk was a waste of precious time.
As Mark listened to the posh accent of Baron Abel, he tried to imagine him under those fine clothes. This man was muscular and solid, an obvious athlete and avid sportsman. Mark was astounded by the variations of the human form. How some were so thin and willowy, whilst others were portly and squat. Then the rare treat of a Lady Grey whose body was near ideal womanly perfection, to this handsome baron, who met the same standard in the masculine gender. Bliss! He had found bliss!
Enough! Percivel rambled on miserably.
Mark could tell Baron Abel was trying to politely end this torture as well.
Finally Mark cleared his throat. “Allow me to show the baron some of your lovely artwork.”
At the ridiculous comment, Percivel stared at him in awe. Mark knew it was a pathetic attempt to get he and the baron alone as well. Percivel's smirk appeared and he bowed, allowing them to finally take leave of him.
As Mark led the way up those narrow stairs, he heard the baron grumble, “Insufferable duke.”
Having infinitely more kindly thoughts of his host, Mark smiled to himself. “He means no harm.”
Mark peered down the hall first to check to see it was empty, and showed the baron into the room he had claimed as his own temporarily.
“He means to tease us. He thinks we don't know his game.” The baron laughed in a low, masculine murmur that made Mark's skin prickle.
“Yes, he is an imp.” Mark waited for a sign of what to do.
It was quiet. The heavy doors blocked out the sound below. At the anticipation, Mark felt his breathing quicken.
As if they were set free all of a sudden, the baron rushed at Mark and drew him into a rough embrace. Mark had no doubt he was playing the woman in this scene. He relaxed and allowed himself to soften as those lips sought to devour him, and those hands unclothe him.
Mark gasped as he the baron lifted him into the air, carried him to the bed, and tossed him down carelessly. His clothing was almost torn off there was so much strength and force behind his passion. Mark closed his eyes and withstood it until he was completely naked. Peeking open his eyelids, he found the baron staring at him from beside the bed.
The baron tugged his wig off, revealing a full head of black hair. He ran his hands through it to shake it out and then gave Mark a most seductive glare.
The gaze raised the gooseflesh on Mark's skin. Mark was incredibly vulnerable to this man's clothed and armed presence. Trying to swallow the dryness in his throat, Mark's eyes never left those dark brown ones before him.