by Alice Gaynes
All other sensation faded away. The sounds of the harp and the flickering torches. The couch beneath her and the warmth of the man beside her. The whole world collapsed to the pressure of his fingers against her pearl. He drew the pleasure out until her every nerve felt stretched thin. About to snap. Screaming for release. And yet as high as she soared, the farther he drove her on. Mercy. She needed release but she couldn’t stand for this to end.
“That will be all,” she said. “Thank you for the dance.”
The women said something—none of the words penetrated her arousal—and then their footsteps retreated across the salon. That left only the harpist and Wortham. And the pressure of his fingers.
He stopped, though. He left her hanging. Close, so close to…something. Unable to speak, she made her hand into a fist and struck it against the velvet.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I won’t leave you this way.”
Please! her mind shrieked.
“Let’s do this properly.”
He turned her onto her back—she couldn’t have managed herself—and pulled her bottom to the edge of the couch. After kneeling on the floor, he pushed her gown up over her hips and spread her legs. For one moment, cool air washed over her before he covered her sex with his mouth.
When his tongue found her nubbin, she gasped in shock. Her hips jerked upward but he caught them, his arms closing around her thighs. His mouth now firmly against her sex, he continued. Licking and sucking. Driving her mad.
Oh dear lord! She couldn’t stand this. She’d shatter, tear apart in thousands of pieces. Too much. And not enough. More please more.
He kept up the pressure. Faster and harder. Something went wild inside her. Deep in her belly, something wound tight. Pressure built and built until it crested and spilled over. Shock waves raced through her, spreading to every part of her body. A scream tore from her throat as her hips jerked upward again. Tremors coursed through her sex and ended in spasms as her cunny contracted. It went on for an eternity and yet ended too soon.
Finally spent, she went limp against the cushions and gasped for air. The sound of the harp returned. Someone had watched her do all that. Disgraceful and yet nothing compared to the miracle he’d just coaxed from her flesh.
Wortham climbed back onto the couch and took her in his arms. “Do you see how it can be, my love?”
Love. The word barely registered and yet, it meant everything.
“I can give you this and much more,” he said.
Still weak, she clutched at the fabric of his shirt.
He sighed. “Come let me take you to bed.”
“Bed?”
“Alone. For tonight. Until you’re ready to come to me.”
* * * * *
Wortham rested against the porcelain wall of the tub in his bathroom, hot water swirling around him. The phallic-shaped spigot might have been mocking him. He’d had a cockstand fully that big and nearly as hard until he’d given himself relief a moment ago. Now his semen mixed with the water but he hadn’t really satisfied his lust. How long would he last this time before the woman made him hard and throbbing again?
Damn what a climax she’d had a few minutes earlier. He’d known a good number of women in his day and he always satisfied them. Always. None of them had ever spent like that. She’d hardly recovered from her stupor by the time he’d carried her to her bed and laid her on it. The moment he’d spread the covers over her, she’d drifted off to sleep with the smile of the fully sated on her lips.
She hadn’t faked it. No one could have faked that massive an orgasm. If only he could have shared it with her. He would eventually. He could hardly doubt that now. But damn it when?
Oh hell. It wouldn’t take long. Now that she knew what he could do for her, she’d become adventurous. She’d ask for more and more until she begged him to join with her. He’d oblige of course. He only needed to figure out how to keep his sanity while he waited.
She obviously had other women working for her, including the one who’d sucked his cock so expertly the night he’d found his way into the cellar. He could probably have her to ease his lust. If he caught her alone one day, he could coax her into his bed. Or the one with the plush figure. Extravagant breasts on that one, she seemed eager for voluptuous play. She’d enjoy a good tumble.
Damn it all to hell, he didn’t want them. He wanted Caroline and her sighs. Her deep, brown eyes and chestnut hair. Even her voice drove him wild. Normally husky and seductive, her cries as she climaxed were unbelievably exciting. He could listen to that several times a night for the rest of life and never grow tired of it. Soon he’d hear his own voice join hers in an ecstatic duet. He’d sink slowly into her and then drive them both until nothing separated them from bliss. Or from each other. If only he could slip into her bed and do it right now. He’d pull her from her sleep with a hand on her breast or between her thighs and make love to her before she could set up any defense against intimacy.
His cock thickened and swelled all over again. Within moments, he was as hard as when he’d gotten into the tub. She’d bewitched his rod so completely, it was always erect and ready for her. Well, tonight she’d get what her body had been asking for.
He climbed out of the tub and slipped into his robe without even drying himself. He’d be hot and wet when he let himself into her bed. She’d be hot and wet soon after.
Barefoot, he went through the bathroom and bedroom then into the sitting room and out to the hallway. Finding his way in the darkness, he walked to her suite. On the other side of this door, satisfaction awaited both of them. He knew now that she was as susceptible to him as he was to her. He only had to prove it to her.
He put his hand on the knob and turned. But the damn thing didn’t budge. Locked. Bloody hell, she’d locked the door. She must not have slept as soundly as he’d thought. She’d gotten up and locked him out. She had no reason to lock anyone else out. She’d specifically rejected him. Damn.
He raised a fist to knock but didn’t do it. If she didn’t want him, she didn’t. He could force himself on her but that would only convince her that he was, indeed, a cad.
She hadn’t faked that orgasm. He knew that in his bones. It just hadn’t been enough to seduce her after all. Well hell. He’d have to wait to try another day.
Sighing, he turned and went back to his own room.
* * * * *
Memories of the night before refused to leave Caroline alone. Wortham’s hands on her body—first her breast and then her sex. Many people had touched her but none of them like that. No wonder Cecily had fallen victim to his seduction. Only a woman made of stone could resist. She’d thought herself made of stone. Obviously she’d been wrong.
“What happened after Lord Wortham ordered us from the salon?” Abby asked. She took her breakfast plate from the sideboard and sat down across the table from Caroline.
Caroline sipped her tea. She couldn’t lie to her friend but an honest answer would only start a conversation she’d rather avoid.
“His hand was beneath your gown,” Abby said. “What was it doing?”
“What is it you think you saw?”
“It looked as if he had his hand in a very intimate place and from the expression on your face, he was making a very good job of it.”
“His skill as a seducer was never in doubt.”
“Wonderful.” Abby slapped her palm against the tablecloth. “You enjoyed yourself. Finally.”
If one could call being reduced to a quivering mass and then flying apart in all directions enjoying oneself, yes, she’d enjoyed herself. Enjoy seemed like a pale word for what her body had done.
Abby’s eyes flashed pure wickedness. “So are you ready to take him to bed yet?”
Caroline carefully put her teacup down in its saucer. “There’s one more test he has to pass.”
“Test? What test?” Abby said. “He made you come, didn’t he?”
“This isn’t about my satisfaction.”
“
If it isn’t, it should be.”
Caroline pushed her cup away and leaned across the table to her friend. “He has to pay for what he did to Cecily.”
“Don’t you mean to you?”
“To me too,” she said. “I have to make him obsessed with me to the point where no one else will do. Then I can break him by refusing his love.”
Abby rose and walked around the table to take the seat next to Caroline. She took Caroline’s hands in her own. “He’s already there, darling. Trust me. I can tell.”
“I have to be sure.”
“All right then. What’s next for the poor soul?”
“I want to whip him into a frenzy of lust. Let him think he’s having me until the last moment and then see what he does when he discovers who the other woman actually is.”
Abby’s eyebrow went up. “I’m to be the other woman?”
“If you’re willing.”
“Of course I’ll do it. And if he can’t control himself, I’ll have a jolly good tumble.”
Caroline pulled her hands away and rose. “Abby!”
“You see? You’re every bit as obsessed with him as he is with you.”
She couldn’t pretend anymore. It was true. She’d savored his kisses, the gentle touch of his fingers on her neck. Last night something had snapped inside her when his hand touched her breast. From there, she could only surrender to his fingers—and then his mouth—had teased that powerful response from her. Any man who could do that for a woman would own a part of her. Soon she’d give him even more, something only Oakhurst had had. How much of her would he own after that?
“I’m afraid you’re going to break your own heart with this quest for revenge,” Abby said.
“I don’t have a heart.” But was that true, really? She would have sworn that a few weeks ago. Maybe he’d touched more than her sex.
Abby rose and put her arm around Caroline’s shoulders. “If the two of you love each other, why not call off this game? Have a real affair.”
“I kidnapped him, Abby.”
“Release him. Let him go. I guarantee you he’ll come back to you freely.”
“No.” Caroline took a breath. “I can’t take that chance. He needs to pay.”
Abby sighed. “Whatever you say. What do you want me to do?”
“Pretend to be me and give the best performance of your life.”
* * * * *
Yet another room of Sans Regret Wortham hadn’t seen. Or might the footman have led him around enough corridors to confuse him in the dim candlelight? This space held enough banks of mirrors to deceive anyone. Everywhere he turned, he confronted himself staring back.
He looked over his shoulder toward the footman but he’d already disappeared. He’d done his job by bringing Wortham here, it appeared. This odd salon of reflections held the entertainment for the evening.
A flash of white caught the edge of his vision. He glanced around but only found himself. Someone was breathing nearby though. Very faint, but audible.
“Who’s there?”
Laughter floated to him, deep and throaty. Husky. Caroline’s voice?
“Come find me, my seducer.”
She sounded like Caroline. Not exactly but perhaps she’d been running or doing something else that took her breath. He smiled. When he caught her, he’d make it hard for her to breathe.
“Lady Oakhurst?” he called.
“Lord Wortham.”
“Show yourself.”
She laughed again and this time he got a definite look at something white—a flowing gown. The one she’d worn the night before. She wanted a repeat performance. He’d give it to her and more.
“Why are you hiding?” he called.
“You’ll find me if you try.”
“I need a clue.”
She appeared then, an erotic imp in white silk. Only there were as many of her as there were of him. He reached to the closest one but his arms closed around nothing. She laughed and disappeared again.
“Vixen,” he said.
“Run me to ground if you can.”
Holding his arms out to prevent collisions with mirrors, he moved through the dim space around him. No matter how many glass obstructions he left behind, he encountered more. Each time he found a glimpse of white, the sound of a wicked laugh, even the scent of her perfume. The game reminded him of the chase she’d led him through Blakeley’s. That night, she’d escaped. She wouldn’t tonight.
Again he reached for her image. This time, he got his fingers on silk but she slipped away. Suddenly she appeared everywhere. Each of the dozen or so mirrors held its own Caroline, Dowager Countess of Oakhurst. No Dowager this image, though. No Countess, either. She was a nymph in white, a figure out of mythology. A siren whose laughter made a song to drive a lusty man mad. His own lust had reached the boiling point, his cock rigid and aching.
He reached for the nearest nymph but his hand encountered glass. “Why do you torment me?”
“Because I can.” Again the voice sounded like Caroline’s but the throatiness seemed forced, contrived. Another trick in the masquerade?
Before he could solve the puzzle, her image disappeared again, trailing taunting laughter behind. Enough games. He’d find her if he had to break every mirror in the hall and when he did, he’d bury his cock into her until they’d both spent.
Bulling his way past any obstacle, he went in search of the source of the laughter. When his shoulder bumped something solid, he shoved it aside. One of the mirrors no doubt, it shattered when it hit the floor. Good. He found another and another as he went. Each hit the floor with a satisfying smash and his shoes crunched over glass.
“Such a beast,” she said, still hidden. “Those are expensive.”
“You don’t want for money.”
She sighed. “No that’s true.”
He pushed aside another obstacle and met a faint illumination. Candlelight—enough to show the frame of the next mirror. The scent of perfume grew stronger. He’d reached his goal.
Once past the final glass, he found her. She lay on a low couch with candelabras on stands behind her. Masked again, as she’d been the night he met her, she held the air of mystery that had enchanted him from the first. He approached slowly, shrugging out of his jacket as he did. She didn’t move as he drew nearer, but only watched him from unreadable eyes behind the mask. He removed his collar next and then his tie then ripped his shirt open, letting the studs fly where they wished. They hit the floor with a clatter but she didn’t flinch. She might have been made of marble except for the woman’s musk her body gave off.
After bending to remove his shoes and socks, he stood only feet from her couch. He held his breath, his whole body rigid, as he undid the first button at the front of his pants. If she meant to run away, she’d do it now. She’d seen the dimensions of his sex, and she’d have to know his intent as soon as she saw its turgid state. She didn’t rise or speak, though, but only rested back against her couch and smiled.
Victory. She’d given him permission to know her. After all the waiting and wanting, all the times he’d masturbated when he couldn’t have her, he’d finally join their bodies. His long-suffering cock—would drive itself himself home. Heaven.
Trembling in earnest now, he unfastened the rest of the buttons and let his rod free. It stood straight out from him, tingling with anticipation.
“Caroline, I’ll make this good for you. I swear it on my life.”
“I know you will.”
The note of discord sounded in the back of his brain. Something wasn’t right here. Something didn’t fit. He couldn’t worry about that now, not when every nerve in his body screamed for release. He ached and burned, from his heart all the way down to the bottoms of his feet. So close to its goal, his cock needed to plunge into her. Nothing else could satisfy it.
She pulled up her gown and spread her legs, inviting him. He could see her sweet cunt now, almost sense it growing wet for him. Scarcely able to breathe he rid himself
of the rest of his clothes and moved nearer and then stopped dead.
No this was wrong. The curls between her thighs were red, not dark. He’d seen Caroline naked. Her pussy hairs were almost black.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I’m your love.”
“The hell you are.” He moved to the bed, grabbed her hip—none too gently—and flipped her onto her stomach. She had a mole just above her hip. Caroline had no such mole, but one of the women who’d danced the night before did.
“Damn it, who are you?” he demanded.
“Does it matter?”
“You’re bloody right it matters.” He reached to her hair and found coarse strands, not Caroline’s silken curls. He tugged and the wig came off in his hands. More red hair underneath. The woman rolled over and removed her mask. Caroline’s friend looked up at him.
“What have you done?” Damn his own voice sounded as if he might kill someone. “What in hell have the two of you done?”
“We only meant to entertain you, Lord Wortham.”
“Liar!” He rose from the bed, trembling again, but this time with fury. She’d tricked him. Again. He’d only tried to please her, which was damn decent of him considering how he’d arrived here. He’d coaxed the ultimate response from her at great cost to himself. He’d treated her gently and she repaid him with trickery. She’d kidnapped him, perverted his lover, set her dogs on him and now this. No man should have to tolerate this treatment and he’d be damned if he would.
He tipped his head back and bellowed. “Where are you?”
No answer, but the redhead jumped up and skittered away. Wise move on her part.
He clenched his hands into fists by his side and quaked with rage. “Show yourself, damn it!”
Still nothing but the flickering of the candles.
“You’re a bloody coward,” he yelled. “I thought I cared for you but you’re nothing but a coward.”
A flash of light from the wall above. He glanced upward and spotted it. A small window revealed itself near the lofty ceiling. A candle shone there briefly and then a pale arm reached out and pulled the window closed. He’d found her.