Sweet Torture

by Dayna Quince

  “I’ve always approved of expanding one’s mind. What is it called?”

  “The Kama Sutra,” Devon said with the air of a professor instructing a student. “It is quite informative and, some would say, necessary for living a rich and fulfilled life.” He strolled to a table and turned up the lamp.

  “Is it in English?” Lydia asked quizzically as she drew near to look at the book.

  Devon held it against his chest. “No, but the illustrations rather speak for themselves.” His expression grew serious. “The concepts are quite sophisticated, and often involve practice, hours and hours of practice. You will need my help.”

  “I will be the judge of that, let me see.” She reached for the book, but he evaded her.

  “Careful, dear, it is quite old, let me show you.” He set the book on the table and after glancing at her briefly, he opened to the middle of the book. He trained his gaze on her face to witness her reaction.

  Her eyes grew round with shock, her lips popped open with a sharp intake of breath, and a flush infused her cheeks. The colors and images depicted were startling and riveting. She stepped back and glared at him.

  “I suppose you find this funny showing me such…such rubbish.”

  “Hardly rubbish, Lydia. Some would consider it art.”

  “What!” She huffed angrily. “You mean to make a fool of me, is that it? Am I just a joke to you?”

  Devon closed the book and stepped toward her. Clearly, his jest was having disastrous effects. He had meant to annoy her at best, and perhaps arouse some curiosity in her, but she was growing angrier by the second. “Lydia, no, I…” Christ, but he didn’t know how to explain himself.

  She folded her arms across her chest, fuming with indignation. “Oh I see, this is your way of educating me for our…our… Whatever it is we’re doing. I’m not sophisticated enough, so you must coach me, is that it?”

  “Christ, no, Lydia. I just wanted to arouse you and—” He stopped. She looked more than a little confused, and suddenly, Devon felt like a horse’s arse. For all Lydia’s maturity and composure in the face of the ton, she was as pure as the driven snow in heart and mind. What kind of man was he to corrupt such innocence?

  “Arouse me?”

  “I’m sorry, Lydia. I bungled this enormously.” He went and sat on a nearby chair and dropped his head in his hands. He was the picture of contrition.

  “I don’t understand, Devon. What were you trying to do?”

  He shook his head in his hands. “Make you blush, make you argue with me, either or both, I don’t know. You’re so damn beautiful when trying to tear me apart with your tongue, and it’s vastly more entertaining than reading farm reports. Hopefully, by the end of it, I could sneak in a kiss before letting you go to bed, while I damn myself to a sleepless night of tossing and turning from wanting you.”

  She remained silent for a moment. “You did bungle it then. I daresay I’m astonished such a book is in your family’s library.”

  “You and I both. It was a wedding gift to my parents. My Uncle Edward has quite the sense of humor.”

  “No!” Lydia giggled.

  “Yes, my father told me so.”

  “How could he say such a thing to his own son?”

  “Perhaps he knew at the tender age of nine and ten, that I was a skirt-chasing scoundrel.”

  “Everyone could tell. It was nearly branded on your forehead.” Lydia strolled nearer and pulled a book from the shelf. “The Downfall of Mr. Drake, hmmm, sounds interesting.”

  “Sounds like rubbish.” Devon scowled. “It must be one of Olivia’s romantic novels,” he said disgustedly.

  Lydia smiled. “Sounds perfect, then.”

  Devon stood languidly and approached Lydia. She backed up into the shelves, watching him with a mixture of wariness and amusement.

  “If it’s romance you need, I can give it to you.” He brought his hand slowly to her chin and tipped her face up.

  “You can’t kiss me in your parents’ house Devon, it wouldn’t be proper,” Lydia said, but she didn’t move away and never took her eyes from his.

  His gaze consumed her in one sweep before settling on her lips. “Nothing about what we’re doing is proper, Lydia. You must let go of this puritanical cloak you wear, or you will never find what you are looking for.”

  “What am I looking for?” Her gaze dropped to his lips as he moved a fraction closer, taunting her senses with his nearness.

  “Me. You’ve always been looking for me, and I, you. We just didn’t know it.” He brushed his lips against hers, gently at first, and then sealed them.

  She opened readily, and he took her mouth with a slow, deliberate exploration designed to turn her knees to water. She dropped her book and brought her arms around his neck to hold on to him. They just kissed, holding each other, and exchanging breaths. Their bodies molded tightly together, hungry with the need to be closer.

  His arms held her tightly, his hands moving up and down her back with needy strokes. He cupped her bottom with both hands lifting her and bringing her hips harder against his, creating a delicious friction against her. She moved against him in response. He answered her and groaned aloud while setting a rhythm to drive them both mad. He cursed against her mouth, and lifting her off her feet, carried her to the settee where he collapsed with her on top of him. She arched up in surprise, but Devon wouldn’t have it. He grabbed her braid and pulled her back to him, bringing his lips to her throat in a searing trail of kisses and licks.

  Lydia moaned in wicked abandon. Her new position gave her a measure of control, and she used it to angle her hips against his rigid arousal and move against him.

  “Oh, God, Lydia. I can’t take it.” But his hands gripped her hips and helped her set a torturous cadence.

  Lydia gripped his shirt in white-knuckled handfuls and opened her neck to his sinful onslaught. Her dressing robe had come open, and he nuzzled the fullness of her breast using his chin to maneuver her neckline down. Bringing one hand up, he pulled at the gown until her breast popped out, and he took it into his mouth without preamble. Lydia gasped, and then hissed in pleasure as he suckled her. Lydia closed her eyes and buried her head in Devon’s shoulder, her hips twisting and grinding against him, heat and brilliant pleasure gathering between her thighs. She softly cried out and shuddered against him.

  Devon groaned suddenly, and without warning, he lost all control and spilled his seed in his trousers. He felt like a green boy. But at the same time, never had he experienced anything as seductive and arousing as having Lydia orgasm against him. It was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced, and considering some of his past exploits…

  Lydia pulled away, flushed and deliciously rumpled. They both sat up on the settee and began to straighten their appearance in silence.

  “I daresay, you got more than a kiss,” Lydia quipped after she had refastened her robe and began to re-braid her hair.

  “I think we both did, sweet.” Devon watched her in fascination. Lydia in disarray was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  “I should go before we tempt fate any longer.” She stood. She looked bashful, and a little bit hesitant to meet his gaze.

  Devon walked her to the door, but before he opened it, he took her in his arms again and kissed her senseless. “Now go to bed before we get caught, and you ruin my reputation.”

  Lydia smiled dazedly and slipped out of the library. Devon watched her fade into the darkness before closing the door and leaning against it. He looked down at his trousers. How was he going to explain this to his valet? Bother it; he paid the man well enough to earn his silence.

  Chapter 8

  The days flew by in a dream-like whirl of social gatherings and hidden trysts. Lydia felt positively wicked but longed for those moments when Devon would catch her off guard and sweep her into some hidden cove, dark parlor, or steamy conservatory fragrant with exotic flowers and fruit. Her behavior was reprehensible, but she loved it. Never had she defied
the social norms or broken the sacred doctrine of propriety that had been preached to her from her earliest memories. Lydia didn’t care. When she was with Devon, none of it mattered. The cocoon of his embrace was a place of pleasurable warmth, kisses, and caresses that brought Lydia a completely new awareness of herself. She was a desirable woman with wants and needs of her own.

  She was not the ice queen she pretended to be for the ton but a living breathing creature of passion, and that’s exactly what Devon gave her. Each kiss, each caress, led her further down a road of which she could not return. She was becoming startling aware of her body, and all the ways Devon could make her feel pleasure. He was peeling away her modesty little by little, until she panted for more and ached for the brush of his tongue against her nipple or the thrust of his arousal against her.

  They had resumed their normal banter in the public arena, and no longer did Olivia cast them curious glances. Lydia enjoyed tossing barbs back and forth with Devon, knowing that at some point later in the evening he would make her pay dearly, and she awaited it with delicious anticipation.

  As the morning waned into early afternoon, Lydia was sitting in the family parlor with Olivia and Lady Lesley. She yawned discreetly as she worked her needle over a delicate hummingbird suspended over a flower. Embroidery wasn’t her strong suit, but it was one of the mindless tasks drilled into her as a suitable pastime for a young lady. A knock sounded on the door, and a maid entered with tea and scones. She stopped before Lydia and Olivia, who shared a settee, and curtsied.

  “I have a note for Lady Olivia and a letter for Lady Lydia.”

  Both women looked up curiously, as they were each handed their items. Lady Lesley looked up and raised a brow in question as Olivia hurriedly opened the sealed parchment.

  “Oh, it’s from Chance! He has visited with Lilly, and she is well. He will see us at the Stillwort ball and give us the details then. What a relief!” Olivia smiled brightly.

  Lady Lesley frowned deeply. “Olivia, need I remind you how unseemly it is to receive notes from gentlemen?”

  “Oh, Mama, it’s just Chance, Lord Armstrong. You know he is a dear friend of ours, isn’t that right, Lydia?”

  Lydia nodded absently as she read her letter. It was from her mother. Her aunt was on the mend, and she would be arriving home tomorrow. She went on to say that Lord Caverly had sent the loveliest bouquet and offered to escort them to the Stillwort ball. It seemed they had been corresponding frequently, and Lord Caverly was earnest in his pursuit of Lydia. The news was like a cold bucket of water dumped over her. She had quite frankly forgotten about Lord Caverly and his pursuit, but it went on without her, encouraged by her mother.

  Her heart felt heavy in her chest. Her affair with Devon would soon be at an end, if things went as her mother planned. Lydia would be engaged before the season’s end and by summer, she would be married. A strange panic overcame her. There was a peculiar buzzing in her ears and she felt odd. Her hands and face began to feel cold and clammy as she brought her hand to her brow and saw that it was shaking. Lady Lesley and Olivia stared at her with wide, concerned eyes.

  Olivia reached over and took her hand. “Your hand is like ice, Lydia.” She rubbed it frantically. “Is it bad news from your mother?”

  “Child, you are looking quite pale. Maggie, fetch the smelling salts!” Lady Lesley bid the maid and came to kneel before Lydia. She put her hand to Lydia’s brow in a very motherly fashion, and Lydia almost smiled.

  “It’s all right, I just…assumed the worst, I guess, but actually the news is good. My aunt is on the mend, and my mother will be returning home. I think I will head to my room and rest for a bit, if that is permissible.”

  “Certainly dear, if you feel able. Olivia, help her to her room.”

  Olivia took her elbow as she stood, and Lydia followed her direction. The letter felt rough and heavy in her hand, as if its contents were far more sinister than a mere detailing of events and happenstance. They walked quietly to her room with Olivia shooting her concerned glances but saying nothing. When they reached the door, Lydia stopped and turned to her. “Stay with me, I need to talk to you.”

  Olivia nodded and they entered her room. They both climbed onto the bed and arranged themselves comfortably across from each other. Lydia handed her the letter, and Olivia read it quietly.

  “I see.” She looked up at Lydia. “That was quite a reaction you had downstairs. I take it marriage with Lord Caverly is not something you want?”

  Lydia scowled at her. “Clearly, it isn’t. Would you want to marry a man old enough to be your father?”

  “At the garden party, you seemed resigned to it. What has changed?”

  “I’m not sure. I just… The idea of it… I don’t think I could bear it now,” she said tensely. She was feeling better physically, but the sense of loss was still acute. When did she change? She’d known what her fate would be, but after experiencing what she had with Devon… Could she give it up? She pictured Devon in her mind, the way his hands felt on her skin, the way she stroked the little V of skin and dusting of hair at his collar when she removed his cravat, and the way he smiled down at her when she re-tied it for him after they drove each other mad with pleasure. Her cheeks felt warmer already.

  “Well, your color is coming back, at least,” Olivia stated. “It’s not really all that bad, is it? You wanted a husband who would not betray you or cause you unpleasantness in any way. I’ve never seen you have interest in anyone else… Or perhaps there is someone else? It wouldn’t surprise me if you had a secret lover.” Olivia giggled.

  Lydia’s mouth popped open in shock. “Livie how could you—” She stopped, for indeed Lydia did have a secret lover. “That is absurd.” She feigned annoyance and looked down to hide her eyes lest Olivia see how right she had been.

  “I think you would do well as a spy, Lydia. You never show any emotion other than what you want to show. You’re very controlled.”

  “And cold, some would say,” Lydia said morosely.

  “Only those who don’t know you think that way. Would you rather wear your heart on your sleeve, like me? I’m considered quite the ninny at times and foolishly romantic.” Olivia smiled proudly.

  “There is nothing wrong with that, although I have not seen you give your attentions to any one man, either. Perhaps you should be a spy with me.” Lydia smiled.

  “Have you not?” Olivia questioned. “I always thought I was being quite obvious, even to him, although he treats me the same as ever. It would be nice if he could at least acknowledge me, and let me down gently.” Her smile was sweet but a little sad.

  “Olivia, I had no idea.” A memory suddenly came to mind. Devon usually hogged all her thoughts, but there was a moment not too long ago when she noticed the way Olivia looked at a certain man. “Captain Colton.”

  Olivia nodded shyly. “To him, I’m still the little girl who tailed him and Devon with worship in her eyes. Sometimes I think I will die an old maid, still wanting him.”

  Lydia was stunned into silence. Never had Olivia confessed such a wanton thing, but Lydia understood what it meant to want someone now. She wanted Devon with an almost constant ache, and yet all too soon, she would have to give him up. If Lydia could not marry for love, she would make certain Olivia did. Olivia’s heart was too big to tolerate a marriage of convenience, and she deserved a man who would love her just as fiercely.

  “I don’t think he is as immune to your charms as you think. That night we were all in the conservatory together, I saw the way he looked at you. In fact, I told your brother that we should not leave the two of you alone.”

  “Yes, I remember, but you did leave us alone, much to my delight. We waited for you two to join us. What kept you?” Olivia eyed her carefully.

  “I’m sure we were arguing, as usual,” Lydia fibbed.

  Olivia didn’t look convinced so Lydia quickly changed the subject back to Captain Colton. “Would your parents accept him as a suitor?”

 
“Of course. He may not be a peer, but his family is very distinguished. He is the best man I have ever known. I excuse his lack of judgment in befriending my brother, due to lack of options in the area at the time. He is a good influence on Devon. He is always kind and considerate, and very grounded despite growing up with the best of everything. He will take over his family’s shipping business one day, but until then, he captains his own ship. He would make a very handsome pirate.” Olivia giggled again.

  “I hope you catch your captain, Olivia.” Lydia smiled and wished it with all her heart.

  “I hope he catches me, preferably alone, and has his way with me!”

  “Livie!” Lydia scolded halfheartedly, but they both broke out in laughter. Lydia was feeling much better, although her situation remained the same. It was the beginning of the end for her and Devon, and she would have to make every second count.

  Later that evening, Lydia sat fanning herself in the back row of the Lexington musicale. Three young girls were bowing to applause as the crowds stood and began to make their way to the drawing room for refreshments and dessert. She breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the much cooler hallway. She felt someone tug her hand, and as she turned, she saw a pair of broad shoulders fading into the shadows of the hall in the opposite direction of the crowd. She felt a jolt of excitement as she watched him disappear. She slowed her pace, allowing guests to separate her from Olivia and Lady Lesley. She leaned against the wall and pretended to examine the toe of her slipper while the last of the guests filed out of the music room and down the hall. She inched back into the shadows, watching to make sure no one noticed. Turning into the shadows, she felt along the wall until her hand met a warm body. She stifled a giggle as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her against him.

  “How did you know it was me and not some other good for nothing rakehell?”

  “You are the only good for nothing rakehell who would dare to touch me,” Lydia replied.