“Velcro,” she told him with a grin.
He was still laughing when they entered the manor house lounge for their tea.
Savannah was alone, and appeared extremely annoyed. “Reg has to go back up to London tomorrow,” she said. “That damned woman,” she added, looking as if she might cry. And Savannah Banning never cried.
“What woman?” Emily was at once sympathetic.
“Gillian Brecknock, that so-called actress,” Savannah said.
“I thought he gave her up when you were married,” Emily said.
“So did I, but it’s obviously been going on all along,” Savannah said bitterly.
“Oh, Sava, I’m so sorry.” Emily put her arms about her friend.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m no Lady Di. I’ll never divorce him. And the truth is that he does love me. But he’s like all these damned Brit toffs: He’s got to have his little bit on the side and think he’s keeping it a big secret from the wife because it adds excitement to the relationship for him. I could ruin it by causing a scene, but I won’t. At least I know who he’s with when he’s with Gillian. I know what she is. And I know he had the opportunity to marry her before he even met me, but he wouldn’t. I may be an American, but I’m Southern aristocracy, I’m famous for writing racy novels, and I’m rich. It gives me more points than an actress who began her life in Liverpool and still lapses into the dialect when she gets angry. Reg is a snob at heart, you know, and I’ve done my duty as a nobleman’s wife. He’s got an heir and a daughter, and the little stick went pink the other day when I peed on it, so there’ll be another next June. That’s why I’m so weepy. Hormones running rampant,” she concluded with a weak grin.
Emily hugged Savannah. “Oh, I’m so happy for you! Even if he is a pig!”
“You should have kids,” Savannah said softly.
“You have to have a husband to have kids,” Emily replied. “At least I do.”
“Then you’re ready to get married,” Savannah persisted, looking past Emily to Michael Devlin and fixing him with a hard stare.
“If the right man asked, yes,” Emily said.
At that moment Lord Palmer came into the lounge. “Did Sava tell you?” he asked them. “I have to go back to London tomorrow. One of my clients is in need of my services,” he told them smoothly. “Let’s skip tea, Sava, and take Emily and Mick out to dinner. That charming little French restaurant that opened up a few months ago on the other side of Barrow would be lovely, don’t you think? It’s called La Belle Auberge.”
“What a brilliant idea, darling,” Savannah said, smiling at her husband.
“Then we’ll go back to the inn to dress, and we’ll meet you at the restaurant,” Michael Devlin said. “The concierge will tell us how to get there.”
“Perfect!” Savannah agreed. “I’ll make the reservations. Eight o’clock all right?” She reached up, and pulled a piece of straw from Emily’s hair. “Don’t be late,” she told them with a wicked grin.
“How long do we have?” Emily asked her lover when they had regained their rooms at the inn.
“A little over three hours,” he said. “Why?”
“I thought you would like to see something I bought before I left,” she replied innocently, but a little smile played at the edges of her mouth.
“Is it naughty?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, “but how naughty depends upon you, Devlin.”
He nodded, seating himself in a wing chair by the lounge fire. “I will await your pleasure, angel face,” he told her with a smile. He loved how she was suddenly seeking out things to please him. Was it because she cared for him, or was she just researching again? How the hell could he ever really know? And yet she had said quite plainly to Savannah that she was ready to marry and have children. But was he? Yes, he loved her the way he had never really loved another woman. But was he ready to give up his freedom, and stick to one woman for the rest of his days? And when he married it would be forever. He was Irish, for God’s sake.
Emily went into the bathroom and quickly showered. Thoroughly dried, she now put on the black garter belt, rolled on a pair of black stockings with tiny diamantés scattered all over them, and slipped on the black teddy. It barely reached her belly button, was held up by thin little silk straps, and had tiny heart cutouts that allowed her nipples to thrust out through the fabric. Slipping her feet into the black silk-and-rhinestone stilettos, she gave her strawberry-blond hair a quick brush, looked at herself in the floor-length mirror on the closet door, and smiled, pleased.
“Close your eyes, Devlin,” she told him. “And ready or not, here I come!” Then she walked out into the other room, stood before him, and said, “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” She had struck a provocative pose, her butt sticking out.
His open eyes widened with appreciation at her appearance. “Yes,” he drawled slowly. “Very naughty indeed, angel face.. Now stay where you are, because I found a few things in a shop in Frankfurt that should give us a little fun.” He stood up, going back into the bedroom to reemerge a moment later. There was a leather glove on his right hand. “This,” he said, showing it to her, “is a spanking glove. See the tiny little prickers on the palm? The outfit you’re wearing just screams, ”Spank me,” and so I’m going to spank you, angel face.” He held out his hand. “Over my knees with you!” He pulled her down, and without another word began to spank her adorable bottom. He thought about Lord Palmer eyeing it earlier, and his hand fell harder.
At first the prickly glove simply stung. Then it began to burn, and her flesh grew warm, especially her clitoris. The spanking seemed to excite the sentient little nub of flesh. She squealed and wiggled, attempting to escape the glove, but Devlin’s hand was firmly planted in the small of her back, restraining her. Finally she could bear no more, and begged him to cease. He did at once, putting her on her knees and pulling his engorged penis from his pants.
“Suck!” he commanded her. “Take me all the way.” And she did, letting his come slide down her throat. But she was still filled with her own lust.
She looked up at him, pleading. “Devlin?”
He stood and pulled her with him, leading her into their bedroom. “Lie down,” he said. Then his hand went into his pocket, and he drew out two tiny, smooth ivory balls, rolling them about in his palm. “Inside each of these is a tiny drop of mercury,” he told her. “When they touch each other the effect is going to be quite stimulating. Open your legs for me,” he told her, and when she had he slowly inserted each ball into her vagina, pushing them well up into her body. “Now get up and walk across the room for me in those wicked trashy shoes that are so perfect with the teddy and garter belt.”
Emily slipped her legs over the bed and, standing, began to walk. Suddenly she stopped and gasped. Her body was suffused with a rush of heat. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. She took a few more steps. “Devlin, these are pure torture.” Not only that, but her ass was still burning from his leather glove. The combination of the two was murder.
“Then they’re doing their job,” he replied. “By the time we get back from dinner you should be more than ready to be fucked, angel face.”
“You expect me to keep these things inside me while we’re having dinner with Savannah and Reg? If the way I’m feeling now gets any more intense, even Reg Palmer is going to look good. Do you have any idea what they are doing to me?” She looked outraged. “Damn it, I am ready to be fucked right now!”
“I know what they are supposed to do to you,” he answered her, “and obviously they are. But trust me: It will be much, much better after dinner. But,” he taunted her gently, “if you don’t think you can manage it then I’ll take them out.”
He was throwing a challenge at her. She slowly walked back across the bedroom. “No,” she said. “I’ll manage.” But how, she wasn’t quite certain. Every time those damned little balls hit each other a wave of sensual sensation rolled over her, and all she wanted was his big cock in her pussy.
Devlin pulled her into his arms and began to slowly kiss her. “Good girl!” he said softly. “You won’t be sorry, I promise you.” He slipped his hand beneath the sheer silk of the teddy and fondled a breast.
“Go to hell!” she snapped, and pulled away from him. “I’m going to take a nap before we have to dress for dinner.”
“Me too,” he replied with a grin.
“Not here,” Emily said. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Devlin. Nap in the lounge.”
“Okay,” he said, just slightly chastened, and he left her.
Emily escaped the subtle torture of the ivory balls for a brief time while she napped. She found a comfortable position and remained in it. He awakened her with kisses, and for a moment she forgot the little spheres—until the first wave of lust hit her. She stripped the teddy off and slipped the little black dress on. It had a scooped neckline to show off her breasts, cap sleeves, and a flirty ruffled skirt that just brushed her kneecaps. She slipped her feet into a pair of black silk heels, ignoring the deliciously trashy stilettos. She could only imagine what Lord Palmer would think if he saw her in those. Sitting at the little dressing table, she opened her jewel pouch, but Devlin came up behind her and slipped a delicate gold chain with a small diamond heart about her neck.
“I found that in Frankfurt too,” he said softly, kissing her shoulder.
“How can you be such a bastard one minute, and so nice the next?” she asked him, admiring the chain and the diamond.
“Do you like it?” he asked her.
“Of course I do! It’s beautiful,” Emily said.
“How can you be so prim and proper one moment, and so carnal the next?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“My orgasm later had better be the best one I’ve ever had, or you’re toast, Devlin!” she threatened him. “These damned little balls are wicked torture. At least my butt isn’t burning anymore.”
“We’ll take care of your cute little ass later, and you’ll come like you’ve never come before, I promise you,” he said, drawing her up and to her feet. “We had better go. It’s at least a twenty-minute drive, the barman said. I went down while you napped, and asked.”
The Jag sped through the night, the countryside around them dark but for the occasional lights from a cottage. Finally they reached La Belle Auberge, parked, and went in to find Sava and Reg already there. Emily thought at one point that she was going to scream as the little balls banged together over and over again. There was a tiny dance floor, and Reg insisted on dancing with Emily. He held her so close she could feel his hard-on, and the damned thing felt good, considering the silent torture she was enduring. Finally the music stopped, and Emily excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. Savannah followed.
“What’s the matter?” she asked Emily. “You look pale.”
“I’m walking around with two little balls stuck up my cunt,” Emily said.
“Oh, my God! He made you wear them out to dinner?” Savannah’s gray eyes were wide. “Oh, sweetie, you are going to come like no tomorrow later! Those things are wicked, wicked, wicked. Devlin is more adventurous than I thought, considering he turned us down like you did. Reg usually never asks other men to join us. He’s jealous of other men who hover around me. And, of course, he likes to be sure my children are his. He only asks other women. He asked Devlin to join us because he knew I think he’s hot, and I suspect he’d done something especially bad that I didn’t know about, and was trying to soothe his conscience. We had better cut this evening short.”
“Not until I’ve had dessert,” Emily said. “I need the most chocolaty of chocolate mousses, and I need it now!”
Savannah began to giggle. “I hope Mick is prepared for endless fucking,” she said. “It’s going to take several long hours to scratch that itch he’s given you.”
“Even your randy Reg looks good to me right now,” Emily muttered.
“You’d hate yourself in the morning.” Savannah cackled.
“I know,” Emily said, wincing, and her best friend laughed harder.
The two women returned to the table, and dessert was ordered. Emily ate two plates of chocolate mousse, complaining when she saw the first serving that it was way too little. She washed them down with champagne, and then announced she was ready to go back to the inn. Outside, the two women air-kissed each other, and Lord Palmer insisted on giving Emily a kiss on the cheek, which was no more than an excuse to squeeze her ass as his arm slipped about her waist and he pulled her close. He still had the hard-on. Well, at least Savannah was guaranteed a good night as well.
They began the drive back to the inn, but Devlin suddenly pulled off the road into a stand of trees. The engine had barely died when he was yanking her into his arms and kissing her hungrily. “He had a hard-on when he danced with you. Did he rub it against your pussy?” Devlin demanded.
“Yes,” she whispered in his ear. “He still had it when he kissed me good night, and he squeezed my butt. Are you jealous, Devlin?” she teased him, the tip of her tongue outlining the inside of his ear seductively.
“Did you want him?” His voice was rough, angry. “Did you think about what it would be like to have his cock up your cunt, angel face?”
“I only want you, and instead of taking me back to our room, where we can fuck each other’s brains out, you’re raving at me in the car like a jealous lunatic. The thought of Reg Palmer as a lover disgusts me. If he were the handsomest, most charming man in the world I wouldn’t screw him. He’s my best friend’s husband, and I do have some standards,” Emily said icily. “Now start the damned car and let’s get back. I am so hot for you right now I could die, Devlin!”
He groaned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I get jealous when I see him imagining himself with you.”
“Why?” she demanded softly.
He wasn’t certain he had heard her. “Why?” he repeated.
“Yes, why do you get jealous?” Emily said.
Why? Because he loved her, that was why! But he couldn’t seem to get the words out of his mouth, and remained silent.
“Do you like me, Devlin?” Emily said gently. “Do you get jealous of other men because you like me?”
“I think so,” he admitted to her. “Yes, damn it, that’s it!” He sounded to himself like a moron. What the hell was the matter with him that he couldn’t tell her that he was in love with her? That he had never before loved a woman the way he loved her? But he couldn’t say it, because if he did it would mean more to Emily than just a casual affair. Loving Emily meant forever. It meant children. It meant happily-ever-after, and Michael Devlin wasn’t quite ready to admit that he had the same needs as other men: a desire for a mate, for offspring, for a warm place to come home to. And what if she didn’t love him? What if it really had been all about the sex, and nothing more? About her career.
“Turn the key in the ignition, Devlin,” she said to him. “If you don’t get those damned ivory balls out of me soon I’m probably going to kill you. And incidentally, I like you too.” There! She had said it. And she had heard him say it. He liked her! Was like shorthand for love? Men always found it hard to use the word love. Was like better than adore? When they got back to the States she was going to begin to put the pressure on Michael Devlin. She didn’t want him just as a lover anymore. She wanted him as a husband, but getting confirmed bachelors to commit to forever-after was never a simple thing. Aaron had said their relationship was a forbidden one. But it didn’t have to be. Why couldn’t real life be as easy as her novels? She could manage the Duke of Malincourt, the Earl of Throttlesby, and their ilk. But could she manage to get a proposal of marriage from Michael Devlin? If she couldn’t she was going to die an old maid, because Emily Shanski was not a woman to give her heart away more than once, and Devlin already had it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“How does it work?” Emily asked Savannah. They were curled up together on Lady Palmer’s large bed. Lord Palmer was in London, and Michael Devlin was flying bac
k to New York even as she spoke. Emily could hardly wait to follow. Two nights ago she and Devlin had engaged in the most incredible sex. She wanted more.
“Actually, it works just like the old one, except if you click the enter button twice, both of us can enter the same fantasy,” Savannah explained. “They’re just trying it out with a few good customers worldwide. I haven’t attempted it with a friend yet, but I thought this would be a great time to try it.”
“I don’t know, Savannah,” Emily demurred.
“Now that you know what sex is really all about,” Savannah said, “aren’t you just the tiniest bit curious to know the perverted side of it? I know you, Emily. If Devlin doesn’t propose you’ll never marry, and you probably won’t take another lover in or out of the Channel. This is your chance to experience some naughtier aspects of sex.”
“Devlin and I have had oral and anal sex,” Emily replied. “And he likes to spank me now and again.”
“Ever had multiple partners?” Savannah replied. “Of course you haven’t. There are things you should experience, if only once. You know you have the right to refuse or say no. And I’m going to be there too.”
“Where?” Emily asked.
“London, 1870. I’ve created this fancy brothel called the Cock and Cunt. I peopled it with a Madame Rose, pretty whores, and lots of randy gentlemen. Only wealthy gentlemen can afford the Cock and Cunt. We’ll be two of the girls. You’ll be Molly, and I’ll be Polly. We’re cousins, and the men are all mad about us.”
“I suspect I shouldn’t ask,” Emily said, “but what are we wearing?”
“Well, to begin with, we both have long, curly hair down our backs,” Savannah said. “Do you want to change your color? I like my black hair, especially with my fair skin. Actually, I think your coloring is perfect.”
“What are we wearing?” Emily asked again.
“Not a whole lot.” Savannah giggled. “We have black silk stockings that are gartered at the thigh, and colorful short silk robes with sashes.”
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