Where Destiny Plays, page 12
“Sophie is sleeping with Helena tonight. They wanted to gab. That’s why they’ve been retiring early of late.”
Arthur eyed him. “You’re not expecting to sleep with me tonight, are you?”
He quirked a brow suggestively. “Are you inviting me?”
“No,” he shot back too quickly. “I have my own outlets. You’ll have to be satisfied with your hand.”
“Speaking of which, do you have that issue of The Pearl I loaned you?”
That got a chuckle out of him. “And where do you expect to read such salacious material? Surely not in one of the public rooms.”
“I’ve set up the daybed behind a screen in our sitting room.”
“With your daughter just beyond the door?”
“She’s generally not in the habit of wandering about in the middle of the night.” And the exotic nightwear Arthur had introduced him to made masturbating all the more discreet.
Arthur hunched over the fire, one arm on the mantel, and heaved a sigh.
Joseph went to him. “You should try to get some sleep.”
Arthur traced the delicate curves of the carved bellflowers and urns in the marble mantelpiece. “Yeah.”
He tenderly brushed Arthur’s hair behind his ear. Arthur raised his head. The whites of his hazel eyes were tinged pink with pent-up emotion. Arthur was keeping something to himself—or rather someone. His legendary odalisque, most likely, and if he knew who she was by now, it was possible the woman was not what the Richmonds wanted in a daughter-in-law.
Joseph grazed a thumb along Arthur’s stubble-roughened jaw to his lower lip. “I’ll have a talk with Sophie tomorrow and she’ll talk to Helena. Your father practically worships Helena. If anyone can convince him and Lady Richmond to be more considerate of your emotions, it’s her.”
“Thank you, Joseph.” His indebted relief heightened his vulnerability. And his attractiveness.
Joseph leaned in. If Arthur wasn’t in the mood, he’d push him away. But he didn’t. Instead he waited for Joseph’s lips to skim against his then flicked the tip of his tongue along the seam of Joseph’s mouth.
The sign that Arthur wanted a bit of play. And Joseph could do with a bit of brown.
He plunged in, grappling Arthur around the shoulders to secure him for an open-mouth exploration. Arthur relented in his arms, offering himself like a virgin on her wedding night, gripping his torso for purchase, letting Joseph do what he wanted, what he desired. And what he wanted was the feel of hairy, muscular flesh.
Joseph untied the sash of Arthur’s robe then tore away at the buttons up the front of his pajama top, revealing the sculpted form beneath. “I’ve missed this,” he breathed as he ran his hand over the rippled abdomen, around the waist, sliding under the silk of the pajama bottoms to grip his firm butt.
Arthur gave a low chuckle and started in on Joseph’s robe and pajamas, untying and unbuttoning. “Well you certainly know how to raise a man’s spirits.”
“Let’s see what else I’ve raised.” Joseph skimmed his hand along the ridge of Arthur’s hip to find his cock. The smooth shaft was hard as stone.
Just like Joseph’s.
It had been too long since their last fumble in the dark, although if he were being honest with himself it had simply been too long. He let go of Arthur’s cock and rested his palm on the finely honed hip, leaning his bared chest against Arthur’s, the feel of heated skin against heated skin lulling. Joseph muttered a satisfied oath.
“I take it your hand isn’t quite satisfying?” Arthur said in amused sympathy.
“No.” He slowly fisted Arthur’s cock. “I haven’t had a decent fuck in at least a month.”
Arthur stilled his hand then leaned his forehead against Joseph’s. “Look, if this were my house—”
Joseph let go. “Yeah I understand. I wouldn’t want to shock the housemaid.”
Arthur grinned.
“Except the housemaid has already been shocked by the likes of Ravensburgh and Norrington.”
Surprise lit up Arthur’s eyes. “You’re joking.”
“According to Sophia. She heard it from Helena who heard it from Nicholas.”
“They are quite a pair, are they not? Young, handsome, full of adventure.”
“How we used to be.” Joseph grasped Arthur’s butt and ground his hips against him. He glided his tongue along the heated pulse in Arthur’s neck, the fragrance of arousal filling Joseph’s nostrils.
Arthur gently pulled free. “How we’re not going to be tonight.” He patted Joseph’s cheek before turning back to the fire. “The Pearl should be on the bedside table.” He pointed to the closed door.
He’d definitely need a toss later.
Joseph exhaled his temporary frustration as he opened the door to the bedroom. He crossed the carpet to the nightstand where the magazine lay neatly. The lamp and fire from the sitting room illuminated the unmade bed—
Which was odd, since Arthur hadn’t had the chance to rumple the covers yet.
Joseph looked more closely. The bed wasn’t unmade. There was someone in it. A female someone.
She was curled up in a ball, her back to him, her long dark hair spilling across the pillows. One very shapely leg poked out from beneath twisted sheets.
Arthur, you dog. No wonder he wouldn’t give in.
But who? A servant? Had to be. Nicholas had hired a household full of beauties. The handsome Earl of St. Albans seemed to have attracted the cream of Hertfordshire to work at his estate.
She moved, stretching her nude foot out and in the process pulling down the covers, exposing a stunning curve of a backside and the swell of a breast half-hidden by her bent arm.
His waning cock stirred back to life and he adjusted it down the leg of his pajamas. It had been years since he and Arthur had shared a woman but that didn’t mean they could never do so again. Surely Sophia wouldn’t mind just this once. He could even run down the hall and ask her.
Or he could simply retrieve the magazine from the bedside table and tease Arthur mercilessly.
She stirred again, the arm shielding the breast slipping to her side as she turned onto her back, revealing a gorgeous tit. Shit. She was spectacular, he just wanted to—
“Arthur?”
Holy fuck. Lavinia.
“Joseph?” she squealed. She grabbed the covers and clutched them to her as she sat up in the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” Fear colored her words.
“I could ask you the very same thing, my lady.”
Arthur stumbled in. “Joseph, did you find— Shit.” He stood stock-still then dragged his fingers through his hair. “Lavinia, I had no idea you were in here. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let Joseph come in.”
“Well, Lord Petersham,” she said succinctly, glancing back and forth between the two men, “you could ask him to leave.”
“Ah. Right.” He motioned toward the door. “Joseph, after you.”
Joseph chuckled as he exited.
Arthur followed him to the sitting room and closed the door behind him. “Yes, it is everything it looks like. And no, nobody knows. Well, they may suspect but we’re being discreet.”
Joseph slapped his shoulder. “That is one hell of a woman in there.”
“Oh, God. You saw. How mortifying for her.”
“I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t even tell Sophie.”
Arthur glared at him.
“I won’t, believe me. But I urge you to think about telling her yourself. She wants to know her brother is happy.”
“Yeah, all right. She probably already suspects.”
“So she’s the reason you’re upset with your parents.” Joseph scrubbed a hand down his face. “Geez. Lavinia was right there with all that talk about marriageable girls. No wonder she left.”
“It just about killed me, seeing her reaction.” Arthur sighed. “Joseph, she’s the woman from the masquerade.” There was sorrow in his eyes. “Lavinia’s my odalisque.”
“Of all the women in the world.” Joseph shook his head in disbelief. “Congratulations.” He nodded toward the bedroom door. “What are you waiting for?”
Arthur offered a wan smile as Joseph left. Book in hand, Joseph slinked down the hall to his bedroom, a bedeviling thought needling his brain. What if he had worn a mask to Countess Winthrop’s masquerade? Would he have been so lucky?
* * * * *
Arthur returned to the bedroom. Lavinia was no longer naked under his covers but wrapped in her robe, pacing the carpet at the end of the bed, an oil lamp sputtering weakly on the nightstand.
She practically jumped when he clicked the door lock.
He went to her but did not touch. “Darling, I didn’t expect to see you like this again. You cannot know how happy this makes me.”
She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his. “I apologize for being upset earlier.”
He rubbed his thumbs on the backs of her hands. “No need.”
“If a love affair is all I can hope for, then I’ll take it.” She met his gaze. “But just for the duration of our stay here in St. Albans.”
Arthur suddenly had the notion to never leave the sprawling estate. He pulled her to him. “Darling.” He enveloped her in his arms, gazing at the desire on her face before taking her in a deep kiss.
She kissed him back, her passion laced with desperation as she tugged at his opened robe and pajama top.
Shit. She had seen both himself and Joseph in a state of half-dressed dishevelment. Did she take note? Or had surprise clouded her assessment of the scene?
She pulled his robe off slowly, carefully avoiding contact with his naked torso. “The night is not yet over, my lord,” she said, a devious gleam in her eye.
“I see you have something in mind, my lady.”
“Perhaps, my sultan.” She tossed the robe on the low bench at the foot of the bed.
“And what is it you desire, my lady?” He leaned toward her ear. “Your predilection, as it were?”
Her lips curved at some unspoken fantasy as she removed her own robe and tossed it over his. “I prefer to be seduced, my lord.” Her nipples hardened in the cool air.
“Hmm, like what you are doing to me right now?” It was near impossible to keep up the fantasy with her naked before him.
She bit her lower lip briefly, letting it slip from her teeth plumped and reddened. “Am I seducing you, lord sultan?” She pulled the paisley top from his shoulders then inexplicably put it on herself, covering her luscious breasts. “And what is it you desire? A harem to slake your lust?” She fastened two buttons just below her bosom.
“Just one odalisque with a wicked tongue skilled in the ways of carnal desire.”
She untied the drawstring on his pajama bottoms. “Are you certain an odalisque is what you crave at the moment?” She knelt before him and tugged on the silk trousers, sliding them down his legs to his feet. One by one, she lifted each foot to remove the garment pooled at his ankles.
His erection jutted between them. “Suck me, my lady.” He jerked his hips forward, his cock grazing her lips. “Then I’ll think about fucking you.”
She opened her mouth and flicked her tongue under the shaft, shooting chills of pleasure along every nerve. He sighed his satisfaction and prodded forward a little more. She drew the tip between her lips, squeezing him, her tongue stroking, her fingers teasing the muscles along the backs of his thighs.
He cupped her head in gentle gratitude. No twenty-five-year-old would be like this. Hers was the mouth of experience. A mouth that could make him forget all his cares and worries and send him into bliss.
He rocked his hips gently, fucking her mouth, letting her take him to the moment before the brink, forgetting he really wanted her cunt because he was prepared to spend in her mouth.
But then she drew away.
He looked down at her as she stood, pulling the silk bottoms up her legs as she did so. She stood before him. Dressed.
Like a man.
Except the trousers slung low on her wide hips, the fabric baggy around her legs. Her breasts strained the buttons of the top and her unbound hair cascaded over her shoulders. Far too feminine for a man.
“I think perhaps my lord sultan wants something a little different tonight.” She brushed the faintest kiss to his cheek. “Something Greek. Perhaps a stable boy.”
But not too feminine for a boy.
Arthur swallowed. So she had taken note of his and Joseph’s partial nudity. Instead of being disgusted, she was willing to play the proxy. He had never wanted to fuck her so badly than at that moment.
She climbed onto the bench and positioned herself on all fours, the perfect height for his cock to enter her from behind.
He untied the drawstring and pulled the silk trousers to her knees, the pale curves of her buttocks inviting touch. He knelt behind her, pulling the cheeks apart to expose the crinkled hole of her arse fringed with downy curls. It flexed provocatively.
He fingered the swollen folds of her cunt. She was wet, ready for him in that orifice but not the other.
He scooped the dewy moisture and drew it up, spreading the honey of her excitement to lubricate the forbidden hole, slowly massaging the unyielding muscles to surrender. He leaned forward, touching the tip of his tongue to the aperture.
Lavinia gasped.
He dived in, lapping, licking, prodding, swirling, loosening…her breathy moans and rolling hips encouraging him. Slowly he inserted a finger, finding the tightness within, stroking until it relaxed. He removed the digit, the tightening upon his exit a reminder of the snugness that awaited him.
He stood, his iron-hard cock prodding impatiently. He stared at the forbidden hole, wet and glistening. There would be pain at his entrance, the muscles would feel as if they were being torn apart. But the pain would be exquisite. He knew that from experience.
And if they were going to end their affair with emotional pain, at least the physical would be remembered otherwise.
He fingered her cunt, so deliciously ready for his prick. He plunged inside, moving in and out until he had lubricated the shaft thoroughly. At his final withdrawal he aimed at the tighter hole, pressing in slowly, excruciatingly so, as he reached around and thrilled her clit.
Her breathing quickened then hitched with a gasp and continued raggedly.
He focused on her pleasure as he slowed his own. “Breathe, love. Relax on the exhale.”
He pushed forward with each release of breath, murmuring praise as she worked through the agony. And then he was embedded to the hilt, the exquisite tightness almost his undoing. He commenced the rhythm of lovemaking, furiously rubbing her clit, willing her toward climax.
She cried out her orgasm, her cunt clenching air, the contractions reverberating in her arsehole, her wetness drenching his hand. He bent over her, burying his head against her shoulder, slamming inside her, no longer holding back, intending to make his mark deep within her so she would never forget him.
With one final thrust, he emptied himself, snarling his satisfaction into the night.
His heart pounded in his head but could not drown his thoughts. There would be no other like the woman beneath him. Did he really have to compromise? Did he really have to doom himself to a lifetime of unfulfilled desires, of bitter disappointment?
He slackened, falling from their joining, and she fell forward. He lifted her in his arms and lay her on the bed, under the covers, holding her, kissing her hair as she cried silently.
“Shh, shh. Darling, was I such a brute that you shed tears?”
She wrapped her arms around him, clinging desperately. “No. No, Arthur it was wonderful.” She sniffled and wiped her face on the sheet. “Too wonderful.”
He understood. “We’re good together.”
“We are. Let’s make the most of it during the remainder of our time here.”
And after that? He knew she’d save a dance or two for him during the Season. April would be interminable before he would see her again in May.
Chapter Ten
London, April 1880
Julius turned to a fresh page in his patients notebook. It was out of the ordinary for Clarisse Chadbourne to have made an appointment. He had no record of ever having seen her before, except at the occasional social event he felt compelled to attend. She was the wife of his colleague, Dr. Gilbert Chadbourne, a surgeon, a well-made man still of a vigorous age. Perhaps despite his good looks and apparent virility he lacked the ability to please his wife. Perhaps she sought Julius’ talents in relieving frustration.
But when Mrs. Chadbourne arrived, her countenance suggested not sexual deprivation but just the opposite, mixed with a bit of panic. She wore a dark, hooded cloak, only taking down the hood and removing the garment when she was in the examination room and the door had been closed behind her. Her dress hugged her generous curves perfectly, hinting at the sensual woman within, but its high neck and dark plaid were at odds with the spring weather.
“Mrs. Chadbourne,” Julius said, indicating she sit on the examination table. “How can I be of service?”
“Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Christopher. I hope I am not being too forward when I say I have heard you offer unusual treatments for women.”
He lifted a brow. “I wouldn’t call them unusual. My practice is in step with current medical theories.”
She met his gaze briefly. “Yes, well, I have heard that you are of a more modern disposition than some,” she said quietly.
“I take that as a compliment. How does this apply to you?”
“Dr. Christopher, I’m pregnant—”
She did not look happy about the news.
“And I do not want this child.”
A chill prickled his spine. It had been a long time since he had heard those words. The last time it had not been a woman who uttered them.
“Gilbert and I have a vigorous intimate life. And we already have four children. Neither one of us wants any more. We’ve been using various methods of…of prevention.” She hushed the last word as if it were iniquitous. “It appears one of those methods failed not too long ago.”
Ah. “And how long has it been since your last menses?”
