by Pia Tremayne
He uttered an incoherent sound and lifted her to her feet, turned her around, and pulled her down into his lap. She spread her legs wide, and he fondled her tempting buttocks as she lowered herself. His cock slid unerringly into her, pulsing warmly so deep inside her that it seemed to almost be touching her heart. He covered her belly with his hand and pulled her tight against him with little lifting motions that pulsed her sensitive clit against the root of him.
The contact spread warmth all over her lower region, and she was enveloped with a wonderful feeling of calmness, of inevitability, of knowledge and acceptance of what was about to happen, what she realized now that she wanted to happen. Enclosed in his arms she leaned back against him and they began to rock together in a sensuous rhythm, a dance that neither of them wanted to end. She raised her right foot, still encased in its silver sandal, and pushed gently on the edge of the table to add momentum to their rocking. His breath warmed the back of her neck, and as she turned her face, his tongue sought hers hotly as her movements swiveled her sheath silkily around him.
His climax was gathering force, preparing to explode inside him, and he buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder. Within seconds, he would no longer have the power to make it last, and God, how he wanted this to last! Feeling as though he were ripping away a part of himself, he put his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her off him. As she cried out in protest at the abrupt and unwanted separation from him, he stood up and, urging her over the table, buried his face between the perfect ovals of her buttocks.
He breathed her in deeply and became drunk with the scent of her that had been in his nostrils since that first night. He would never get enough of it. Loving the feel of them under his hands, he spread her buttocks and traced an eager path between them with his tongue, beginning at the lower end of her sex and moving back and upward, flicking the small tight pucker in passing. She moaned with pleasure, and he did it again and again, reveling in the power and satisfaction of making her moan for him. He aligned himself over her back, pressing his erection into the cleft of her buttocks, his hand sweeping it up and down the path made slick and hot and smooth with his silvery emissions. His other hand was splayed on her belly as he reached for her nipple. Hunger to taste her ravaged him and he bit into the skin of her delicate shoulder to appease it. His groin felt rendered, torn into slivers, shredded from restraint.
A drool of saliva escaped from Nicola’s mouth and ran down onto the table. She needed something in her mouth, needed to taste, to savor. Agilely, she turned herself around to face him.
“I want to kiss you,” she said tremulously, holding out her arms.
He looked down at her, his face tense with a primitive wish that he had a dozen pairs of hands, a dozen mouths with a dozen tongues and please God, at least three cocks so he could enter her every orifice, and touch and taste her all over, every part of him in contact with every part of her at one and the same time because he couldn’t bear to surrender even the tiniest part of her even for an instant.
He leaned down and opened his mouth for her. She entwined his tongue with hers, massaging it silkily before letting it explore his mouth, darting her clever little tongue here and there, and stroking the sensitive lining. He shivered at her delicate touch and then sucked back hungrily before letting his tongue scour the rest of her mouth. She twitched uncontrollably when he ran it along the roof of her mouth and he mentally filed away in the recesses of his mind the knowledge of this hitherto undiscovered source of her sensual pleasure.
He experienced an overwhelming need to get inside her, to strip away her flesh to experience her from the bone. He took hold of her left leg and ran the palm of his hand along it, hard, from her feet all the way up to the apex of her thighs. He removed her sandal and licked her toes, and she twitched under the almost unbearable stimulation of his tongue flicking seductively between each toe. His hands travelled along her leg, massaging her instep, ankle, and calf and leaving all the parts he touched in a state of limp and total surrender. He released her left leg, letting it dangle from the edge of the table as he took hold of her right leg and endowed it with a similar treatment. Inserting himself between her dangling legs, he began to caress the insides of her thighs, moving his thumbs and four fingers upward from the knees in a sweeping circular motion, pressing hard, to the bone.
Her stomach muscles contracted and released with the suspense of waiting for him to touch her, there, wanting him to do it as he brushed her moist sex with his fingers and thumb. Just one touch, inside, would push her over the edge and she wanted to scream out her readiness.
“Now, Anthony,” she whispered.
She reached down and held his hands intending to guide them into her, but he wouldn’t let her. She had started this, and he had decided to finish it, to lay claim to all of her in his way.
He bent lower and began licking her breasts. The hard, sensuous pressure of his tongue as it swept over her nipple made her breath catch in her throat, air searing her nostrils like steam. Unconsciously, her hands moved down, burrowing to find him, to touch him, touch herself, anything. She was ready for him to deliver what his mouth and his tongue, his hands, and his body had promised, or she would do it herself.
Feeling her hands underneath him, he raised himself off her and stilled them with his own. “That’s my treat, Nicola,” he said. Letting go of her hands, he lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders, one on either side, and angled her the better to devour her.
His hot breath fanned over her like an incendiary precursor, and she jerked involuntarily, giving way at last to unending and uncontrollable spasms as he buried his face hungrily between her thighs,. The sound of her voice, of her mewling, of her crying warned him that her endurance was at its peak. He raised his head and her legs immediately left his shoulders and entrapped him about the hips. He pushed forward, crying out with the gutting wrench of entering her and drove his hard, aching cock into her up to the hilt.
Clinging to him on the edge of the table she tightened her legs around him, her breathing a loud, synchronized duet with his gasps. The tendons in her neck stood out, taut, as she contracted her inner muscles to milk each one of his quick, hard strokes. In the eternity of a few seconds the passion between them had ignited to pure flame, a spontaneous combustion that sucked them spiraling into its white-hot vortex. Their cries bounced off the dining room walls as he embedded his seed in fertile ground.
Gradually, they quieted, until only the sound of their harsh rapid breathing remained. Sure that he would collapse if he didn’t sit or lie down, he pulled her up, staggered backward into his chair, and fell into it, taking her down with him. For several minutes she lay on top of him, recovering. She stirred and pressed her wet face and hair into the side of his neck. The butterfly touch of her tongue was nectar on his skin.
“Anthony,” she whispered.
Her breath wafted over his skin, warm and moist. He waited, his eyes closed.
“Anthony, can we just forget about the wager and continue the game?”
He didn’t answer for a full minute. Then, with care, he stood up, holding her so she wouldn’t fall. He maneuvered her back to the table, set her on the edge of it, and gripped her forearms. He studied her for a long moment.
“Not a chance, Nicola,” he said. “Not a chance.” He dropped his hands and strode out of the room, leaving his clothes on the floor.
Nicola bit her lip as she watched him walk out of the room, taking all her hopes and dreams with him. He had taken what was due to him, one more night with her, but had not swerved from the ultimate purpose of his wager—to end their association. She pushed herself off the table and stood with both feet flat on the floor as though testing her balance. Then she began to dress, collecting her clothes piece by piece and putting them on. When she was finished she walked to the door. Before walking through it she turned around and took one last look at the room where she had spent her last hours with him.
Some moments passed and
then she was ready. She flicked off the switch, plunging the room into darkness. She walked down the corridor and up the stairs, with only one thought running through her mind over and over, repetitive and unanalyzed. She had just lost all chance of saving the estate, and she had just lost Anthony for good. The magnitude of the combined loss was so overwhelming it left her numb, which was fortunate because she didn’t think anyone could survive such a disaster if they were able to feel.
Back in his suite, Anthony was taking a shower. Nicola’s request hadn’t surprised him. From the first moment that she touched him, sat in his lap, suspicion had lodged unpleasantly in his mind that she intended to use sex to overturn the wager. In spite of himself, some ridiculous part of him had been hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be true, so although he had more or less been expecting it, when her request did come, it had hurt. It told him that all that had passed between them, her every move, had been a planned seduction with a very specific goal—to get her money back.
And yet, the thought of not having her was simply not on. No other woman on the planet was capable of the depths of sexuality and sensuality that he had shared with her. She had reached into the core of him, igniting him and consuming him with the white heat of her passion. He could not, would not, live without it. He would never know a moment’s peace until he owned Nicola Edgerton, body and soul, just as she owned him. And that was why he had decided to set her free, for now. Conventional wisdom had it that if you love something, you should set it free. If it’s yours it will come back to you. Sure, he thought mockingly to himself. And if it didn’t, you went and got it back. By fair means or foul, he intended to get her back.
Chapter Eighteen
As Nicola came out of the shower she heard a knock on the door. Shrugging on her bathrobe she ran to answer it, hoping he had come to tell her he had changed his mind and that the game would continue. It was Hodgett carrying a tray.
“Good morning, miss. I understand you will be returning to London today. I thought you might like a bit of breakfast before you set off.”
She bit back her disappointment. “That’s very kind of you, Hodgett,” she said, opening the door wider.
He walked in and set the tray down on the French provincial desk in front of the window. “It’s a beautiful day, Miss. A bit on the windy side, though.” He walked back out of the room. “The car will be at the front entrance when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you, Hodgett. For everything.”
“It was my pleasure, miss.” He bowed and trod smartly back up the corridor. She closed the door, poured herself a cup of coffee, and took it into the bathroom to drink while she dried her hair. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. The minute she opened her eyes, depression had set in and it hadn’t gone away. Her chest felt tight, as though her heart had swollen and her lungs didn’t have enough room to expand.
She got dressed, packed her things, and left the room, carrying her suitcase. As she came down the stairs, Hodgett was waiting. He took the suitcase from her, walked out to the car, and put it in the boot. Then he opened the door on the driver’s side for her and shut it firmly after she got in. He took a step back as she switched on the ignition. She gave him a little wave and drove off.
Hodgett walked briskly down the path that led to the garage and went in. He started up the Aston Martin. By the time he brought it around to the front entrance, Anthony was waiting. As soon as Hodgett got out, Anthony got in and drove away.
“He’s going after her!” Hodgett thought. Any fool could see that. He felt pleased, somehow.
It would be just past noon when they hit London, Anthony thought., Nicola’s vehicle was two cars ahead of him in the left lane. The London traffic might make it a bit more difficult to keep up with her. He had caught up to her very easily on the highway and had stayed cautiously behind in a different lane, even though he knew she wouldn’t recognize his car. She had never seen it. But he didn’t want to take any chances.
Once they hit central London, traffic became the usual nightmare and eventually, he lost her. He swore softly. Following her had been a stupid idea anyway. He just hadn’t been able to get past this horrible feeling that if he didn’t have some idea where she lived or where she was staying, she could disappear completely, leaving no trace of ever having been in London. Best to get someone on it right away who knew what they were doing. He drove to Thackeray Street and parked in front of an innocuous looking building, on the third floor of which the Thomson Agency was located. If they couldn’t get him the information he wanted, he would only have one last resort—Henrietta Colefax. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but if it did, then so be it.
Chapter Nineteen
Nicola dropped off the rental car and took a taxi back to her flat, arriving there at about three-thirty. As she let herself in Henrietta came walking briskly up the hall.
“You’re back,” she exclaimed, sounding pleased. “I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. Why don’t you take your suitcase upstairs and come back down to have one with me in the study? I could use the company.”
“Right,” Nicola said, with a brightness she didn’t really feel. “Tea sounds like just the thing.” She headed upstairs, secretly dreading the moment when she’d have to tell Henrietta what a hash she had made of things. Before unpacking she turned her mobile back on. There was only one message.
“Hey you,” Erica said. “Give me a shout when you get in, will you?”
She decided to call Erica back later. By the time she got downstairs, Henrietta had set out the tea things and was seated on the sofa, reading what appeared to be a personal letter. Seeing Nicola, she folded it up and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks.
“There you are,” she said. She picked up the teapot and poured tea into two cups. Nicola took one, added milk and sugar, and took a sip. She helped herself to a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam, and Henrietta did the same. They chatted between bites of scone and sips of tea.
“So what did you think of Astonville Manor?” Henrietta inquired and touched a napkin to her lips. “It’s one of the few manors still used as a private residence. Most owners have turned them into B-and-Bs or give guided tours through them to tourists for a fee. They’re just too expensive to upkeep.”
“Well, Anthony…Sir Anthony seems to like living there. He said he preferred it to London.”
“He’s an unusual person. How did you two get on?”
Nicola swallowed the last piece of her scone. This was the question she had been dreading. “I’m afraid I let you down,” she said miserably.
Henrietta’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “How so?”
“Well, he…uh…I don’t think he wanted to continue the game. At least, not with me.”
“Good heavens! Why?”
“I didn’t get the impression that he liked me all that much.”
“Tell me exactly how it came about that the game was called off,” Henrietta commanded. She listened in silence while Nicola recounted the details of the bet.
“I’ll work for you without salary until you’ve recovered your percentage of the bid,” Nicola ended. “It’s not fair that you should lose too.”
“Oh my dear, don’t worry about that. Once the final bid is made, I receive my percentage regardless of what happens. I’m just sorry you won’t get the money. I know what it would have meant to you.”
“Something else will come up,” Nicola said stoutly, which was what she had been telling herself repeatedly all the way back to London.
After dinner, some Indian takeaway she had picked up at a little place around the corner, she telephoned Erica. Ever since Lacey had left on her internship with the United Nations Geneva office, she and Erica had been spending at least one evening a week together, usually meeting for dinner at some inexpensive place.
“Thank God you’re still around to keep me from going batty,” Erica said cheerfully when they met for dinner the following night. “It’s hard to believ
e that of the X million people who live in London I am personally acquainted with so few of them. I’ve pretty well decided if something exciting doesn’t happen soon, I’m heading back to Australia in time for a sunshine Christmas.”
“You mean you’ll give up your job?”
“It’s either that or let it kill me of terminal boredom,” Erica said, not looking in the least bit like someone facing an imminent demise. “It just has to be better elsewhere. I think I’ll just sponge off my parents at home for a bit, while I look for the right job.”
“And I guess Brian’s really dead in the water?”
“Oh, so dead. I can’t imagine why he thinks helping to rid me of the trappings of maidenhood so long ago is a reason why we should be forever joined at the hip.”
Nicola colored slightly and Erica regarded her suspiciously. “What are you blushing about? Has something happened that I ought to know?” She examined Nicola critically.
“You’ve done it!” she shouted triumphantly. “You’ve bloody finally done it! Who was it?” she demanded. “Inquiring minds have a right to know.”
“Well, if you must know,” Nicola said, unable to hold back a smile. “I did.”
“And?”
“And it was great. He was great,” she amended.
“So does that mean the two of you are going to have a thing? Who was he anyway?”
“Just some guy I met, one of my boss’s clients. And no, we’re not going to have a thing. In fact, I don’t imagine I’ll ever be seeing him again.” She took a gulp of beer, washing down the huge lump that saying those words immediately brought to her throat. It would be too humiliating to admit to Erica that she had actually fallen in love with the first man she ever slept with. She hadn’t even been able to admit it to herself yet, not really. How could she possibly be like one of those pathetic college females who couldn’t tell the difference between sex and love? For pity’s sake, she barely knew the man!