Sully's Fantasy

by Pepper Winters

  Turrets and lattice grass wound through stone bricks, hundreds of windows, thousands of arches, gothic downpipes, and a roof designed like an intricate puzzle.

  We pulled apart as the car drove around the huge water fountain and parked at the bottom of sweeping stairs leading to a medieval wooden door that promised pain and power the moment you stepped over its threshold. Every inch of this place from the groomed gravel, immaculately pruned gardens, and hulking hall ensured visitors were well aware that ordinary men didn’t live here.

  Monsters did.

  Eleanor pulled away, her eyes wide as a butler appeared, opening the massive door and standing prim and proper as he waited for us to ascend. “Suddenly, I really, really miss Goddess Isles.”

  I ran my fingers through her hair, letting her climb off my lap as our driver came to open our door. “We can turn around if you want.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re here to see a friend.” Flashing me a smile, she added, “And besides, I’ve never spent a night in an ancient hall before. It’ll be fun.”

  “Fun or haunted.”

  “If there are ghosts in there, they’d better stay far away until we leave.”

  A black crow flew past as we climbed from the car, its midnight wings glistening with a wicked sharp beak that could kill any rodent or prey it spied. My mind instantly went to Pika and Skittles. They’d been pissed we’d left them behind, but at least, they wouldn’t become lunch.

  “Welcome, Mr and Mrs Sinclair.” The butler descended a few steps, his youngish face stern but polite. He kept his brown stare on the driver as he lifted out our small amount of luggage. Just one bag between Eleanor and myself. We didn’t plan to stay long, and Jethro had assured me that the masquerade attire for tonight had been taken care of.

  The butler took the bag, climbing up the huge staircase. “Follow me, please. I will escort you to your room. Mr and Mrs Hawk are otherwise indisposed this afternoon but look forward to seeing you at the ball tonight.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  Eleanor stayed quiet beside me as we followed the butler out of the weak English sun and into the oppressive majesty of Hawksridge Hall. The stone flagons on the floor and the bolts of tapestries hanging from the high ceiling all spoke of lineages, history, and blood-soaked secrets.

  The hall was warm, which I found surprising, considering the age of such a place that still favoured antiquated methods instead of modern conveniences, and the deeper we travelled into the impressive mansion, the more I noticed primeval ideologies were slowly being replaced with the aura of a family home.

  The suit of armour, polished and threatening at the end of the carpeted corridor had a stuffed purple elephant at its feet. The paintings of past Hawk ancestors in their stuffy suits and dresses had the faintest of scribbles from a child’s sneaky crayon.

  Sound echoed and muffled in equal measure the deeper we travelled into the giant homestead, thick rich carpets sat like islands on top of slate tile and stone.

  Everyone stayed silent as we climbed a staircase that swept up with ornate carved banisters and gold carpet stitched with the Hawk emblem.

  “This way, please.” The butler continued down yet another corridor, past floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an impressive orchard and manicured hedgerow maze, past wooden doors and nooks with wingbacks and stained-glass lamps to read by. At the end of the long corridor, the butler stopped and opened another large door, stepping aside with a stiff bow. “Your quarters for the duration of your stay at Hawksridge.”

  Eleanor smiled politely, slipping past him, gasping at the splendour.

  “Thank you.” I shook the man’s hand as he placed our bag on the floor and scooted from the room. With a tight smile, he shut the door, leaving Eleanor and me alone in a bedroom almost the same size as our entire villa back on Batari.

  “Wow.” Eleanor drifted forward. We’d been given a room along the side of the huge hall, granting us impressive quarters.

  A small kitchenette was tucked by the entrance, a doorway led to a luxurious black marble bathroom and a claw-foot tub big enough for four waited for use. Pacing deeper into the space, I skimmed the maroon velvet sitting area complete with chaise lounge down the east end, a small library with towering bookcases filled with classics in the middle, and a four-poster bed with a mattress you needed a ladder to climb into waited with fresh white sheets and rich crimson coverlets toward the west.

  The scent of jasmine wafted in the space, and what was left of the afternoon sun spilled into the entire length of the room, thanks to the ten huge windows giving us a view of the meadows toward the stone stables in the distance.

  Eleanor stopped by one of the large windows, drinking in the view. “Well, it’s not the sea, but the vista is spectacular.”

  I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her close. “It’s impressive.”

  “Wonder if the stables are used or—” Her hand swooped up, pointing at a sudden movement within the willows beyond. “Horses.”

  Three horses, to be exact.

  Two adults and one child cantered from the treeline, all competent and carefree. The man rode a black horse, leading the way, a woman followed on a dapple grey with a small toddler sitting in front of her, and a tiny boy charged ahead on a fat little pony.

  I smiled. “I’m guessing that’s our host and hostess.”

  “The Hawks?” Eleanor tracked them as the family swept up the meadow and over the ridge beyond in a flurry of hooves. “They ride?”

  “I think Jethro even plays polo. While we were trialling certain drugs, he admitted that being on horseback was the only relief he could find before his wife came along.”

  “How did they meet?” Eleanor twisted in my embrace, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Do they have a story like ours? A kidnapping turned fairy-tale? Or perhaps an arranged marriage turned into love? Or even a forbidden romance where they had to overcome so many things?”

  I smirked, kissing her back. I’d never asked Jethro point-blank about the rumours I’d read online. After all, I had my own fair share of gossip and slander painting me as a murderer and ruthless bastard. And where rumours existed, truth was never far away.

  Therefore, the whispers surrounding the firstborn Hawk son had a grain of honesty.

  “They say that Jethro was given Nila as a present on his birthday.”

  Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “She’s a person, not a gift.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a gift. More like a test.” I let Eleanor go and strode toward the garment bags waiting to be unzipped on the back of the couch. “If she’s wearing a diamond collar tonight, I’m guessing there’s more truth to the tale than I thought.”

  “What tale? What collar?” Eleanor came up beside me, staying close as I unzipped the largest of the bags.

  “Tale of debts, diamonds, and death.” Pushing aside the black covering, I revealed a ball gown. And not just any ball gown...a dress fit for the most regal of queens.

  “Oh, my God.” Eleanor reached out to touch the exquisite creation. “Where on earth did this come from? I’ve never seen anything so...gorgeous.”

  “Jethro’s wife is a seamstress.” I held up the hanger, slipping off the rest of the garment bag.

  I grew hard the longer I stared.

  My lust ignited just imagining Eleanor in this dress. She wouldn’t just be irresistible to me; she’d be the most stunning creature at the masquerade.

  And she’s mine.

  Plucking a matching mask from the bag, she murmured, “She isn’t just a seamstress; she’s a magician.”

  “She’s made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself tonight.” I swallowed back a growl full of possession and need. “If any other man looks at you, I can’t promise I won’t drag you into the nearest closet and tear that thing off you.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “I doubt there are closets in this place, my love. More like dungeons.”

  “A dungeon will do.”

&nbs
p; “You’ve got that look in your eyes again.”

  “What look?”

  “The one that says you own me and want to show me in every explicit detail how much.”

  I licked my lips. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No problem.” She laughed. “In fact, I’ll keep a lookout for a dungeon, just so you can have your wicked way with me.”

  I grinned. “And that is why I love you, Eleanor Jinx Sinclair. You’re as obsessed as I am.”

  “Forever obsessed.” She raked her hands through my hair, pulling me down for a vicious kiss.

  Grabbing her around the waist, I dragged her toward the bathroom. I needed her naked. Now. “Guess we better get ready for the ball, wife. After all, the sooner we mingle, the sooner we can be alone.”

  Chapter Five

  THE HEAVY WEIGHT OF my ball gown swished and clung to me.

  Every layer and detail gave me power and mystery, ensuring I became unrecognisable. My mask hid my forehead and eyes, the cut so perfect it looked as if it was a part of me and not a disguise.

  To be honest, I felt freer than I’d ever been and also terribly lost. I liked the sensation of wearing a dress designed for a princess, but I also scrambled to remember the simple girl within me. The girl who could spend an entire week wearing different coloured gemstone bikinis and nothing else. The girl who drank coconut water straight from the nut and frequently had dirt under her fingernails from helping in the vegetable gardens on Lebah.

  As much as Sully’s wealth allowed us to live a life of utmost luxury, we were simple in our tastes. The money we spent was on animal welfare, medicine, and rehoming.

  As long as we were safe on our island together, that was all we ever needed.

  And this? This gown made me look as if I’d stepped from one Eden into another. One full of decadence and danger.

  Sully strode beside me, his arm looped with mine, his back straight beneath the smoky grey tux that shimmered silver in lamplight and unforgiving metallic in the darkness. I studied him out of the corner of my eye. His mask covered his entire head, leaving only his nose and jaw exposed. His blue eyes glowed behind the grey disguise, harsh and delicious.

  White beads decorated where his eyebrows would be, twining in a complex design up and over his skull, leading to two horns that were ridged like a goat’s.

  He could be a devil or a demigod...or both.

  He was the most magnificent man I’d ever seen, and...he’s mine.

  As we glided past the windows, opaque and reflecting like mirrors now that night-time had fallen, I caught glimpses of myself. I saw a delectable woman on his arm that was every bit as impressive and imposing as he.

  My gown matched Sully’s tux in infinitesimal ways. The bottom of my skirts was smoky grey—as if I’d stepped in clouds and hadn’t fully shed their cloying colour—but beyond that...I was iridescent.

  A snakeskin pattern etched the fabric, growing from faint lines into bold patterns the higher up the bodice it went. From my hips to my shoulders, the fabric was almost sheer, allowing opalescent scales to hint at my flesh beneath. Two fabric trains fell from my shoulder blades, adding to the swatches of material following me down the sweeping staircase toward the murmur of voices and the crush of crowds below.

  As we’d prepared for the masq, we’d heard more and more guests arrive. The crunch of gravel as limousines pulled up and deposited their partygoers, and the occasional roar of a helicopter landing on the grounds.

  Once again, a window refracted my appearance, revealing that my dress might be based on a snake’s sinuous, silky poison but also garnered inspiration from other creatures too.

  The long gloves I wore went up my biceps, intricately detailed with beadwork in the shape of bees and butterflies. Stitched over the iridescent snakeskin fabric were the tiniest of seashells and within the smoky grey swirling around my feet were the starched lace embellishments in the shape of feathers and fronds.

  My mask had matching horns to Sully’s, only on a smaller scale, along with diamonds over my brow and along my cheekbones.

  The entire ensemble was a mismatch of reptilian, avian, sea life, and ground dwellers. All animal themed in high-end couture.

  Reaching the bottom of the staircase, I clung to Sully’s arm as we braced ourselves and headed toward the hum of voices. Flutters of my orgasm that Sully had given me in our shared shower continued to tease between my legs.

  It’d taken two attempts to get dressed, thanks to Sully’s insatiable desire the moment I’d slipped into the gown.

  We didn’t need to talk to know that tonight would be enjoyable but also a struggle to mingle with so many strangers. As long as Sully stayed close by, I would be content to smile and chat, despite missing the serenity of our shores.

  Brushing past a few couples, we stepped into the giant ballroom.

  It took my breath away.

  Pillars and tumbling velvet curtains. Wainscoting and plasterwork ceilings. Six ginormous chandeliers drenched gowned and tuxedoed guests in fragmenting rainbows.

  The room was crowded but not overly so, all attention upon the small podium where a band had paused in their playing. A man in a black tux with a black mask stood beside a woman in a raven and swan dress, black feathers blending into white with a half-mask covering one eye.

  They spoke, but we were too far away to hear exactly what was said. However, Sully nuzzled my nose, murmuring, “That’s him. Jethro and his wife. See her necklace?”

  I nodded. How could I miss the huge diamond collar around her throat? “She’s beautiful.”

  Sully grunted, his eyes not on our hosts but the head of his security, Radcliffe.

  Radcliffe and a few of his team from Quietus—his old mercenary firm—now lived on Goddess Isles with us and protected whatever needed protecting. He’d travelled with us, staying discreet and unseen.

  Radcliffe nodded once in our direction, spoke into his cuff to the rest of his team, and faded back into the crowd.

  A round of applause sounded along with a roar of laughter, dragging my attention to a man in a white tux standing beside a woman in a gorgeous gown sitting in a wheelchair.

  And then the speech was over, and the Hawks vanished from the stage. The band struck up a romantic, soulful serenade, and the party began.

  “Want to dance, my lovely goddess?” Sully asked, turning to me with a graceful bow.

  I placed my hand in his. “I can’t dance, but if it’s an excuse to touch you, then definitely.”

  He grinned, pulling me through the crowd to the dance floor where other couples had fallen into a waltz.

  I’d never ballroom danced in my life. “Eh, what do I do?”

  Sully gathered me close, angling me correctly and spreading my arm out with his. “Just follow my lead. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing either but just follow the music. Who cares about the proper steps.”

  Biting my lip, I allowed him to glide me forward and back, my dress swaying and train pooling by my feet as we swept around the floor.

  To start with, self-consciousness kept me highly aware of other more talented couples. But then the song changed to a more passionate rendition, and masked men clutched their women closer, spun faster, encouraging lust to mingle within the finery of decorum.

  My own need struck a sizzling match.

  Sully’s touch went from comforting and familiar to laced with that heady electricity that always got us into trouble. My breath came quicker as I did my best to ignore the crackling chemistry and copy others, focusing on mastering my dancing instead of pouncing on my gorgeous husband.

  Unfortunately, Sully felt it too. Nuzzling his nose against my throat, he sent another scattering of fireworks through my blood. “You’re flushed, my love. Is it from my dancing or perhaps something else?”

  I moaned.

  I couldn’t help it.

  My breasts grew heavy. My core liquefied. My fingernails dug into him as I fought rapidly building desire. Sully had always trig
gered my primordial nature. From the moment we’d met, our bond had transcended conversation and even emotional connection. It was raw and violent and—

  “I need you, Sully,” I breathed. “Dancing was a bad idea.”

  He gripped me hard, swaying me to the beat. With him pressed so close, I took liberties that would guarantee retribution. My hand snaked from his waist and around his muscular thigh. My gown blocked others from seeing as I wrapped my fingers around his impressive erection.

  He jerked. His quick gasp making me wet and tingly.

  “Jinx...” His growl wrenched my head up.

  His blue eyes glowed like the Java Sea as he cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my mouth. His touch instantly ignited a thousand kisses and a million touches we’d shared over the years.

  And I lost myself to him.

  Another song began, and our bodies melted into each other. My fingers stroked him through his silky tux trousers. He clawed at my back and cupped my chin with dominance. His head came down, mine tipped back, and our lips connected without any care of people watching.

  My hair had been left loose, draping down my back where Sully tangled his fingers within the strands and pulled.

  I forgot how to breathe as he kissed me deeper. Our masks grazed each other’s, goosebumps covered me beneath glistening snake scales, and I forgot that we weren’t free to do whatever we wanted.

  Living on an island meant we had privacy to indulge in our lust whenever the hell we wanted. If Sully wanted me over his desk, he could. If he wanted me when walking back to Nirvana, we could be as loud and as wild as needed.

  I hated clothing.

  I hated that I couldn’t climb him right now and have him plunge inside me.

  “God, Sully.” I moaned into our kiss as he guided me around the perimeter of the dance floor. Our lips nipped and connected. Our blood crackled for more. Our tempers ignited to be alone.

  While we danced, our hands roamed.

  Our tongues tangled.

  Our hearts possessed each other.

  As another song began, we were once again on an island. Only this time, we were in a sea of strangers instead of the wide-open ocean.