Where Destiny Plays, page 21
A paragon of femininity.
He enveloped her in his arms, kissing her neck, her cheeks, her mouth, she slackening sensually.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand.
He led her to the rock and helped her to lie on the cushion, spreading her arms and legs. He knelt down before her and bound each of her ankles, then stood and curved over her to do the same to her right wrist, his erection rubbing against the damp curls of her motte. She stared up at him, mouth agape, breath ragged. As he restrained her left wrist, she jerked her hips with a yelp and a gasp, her submission to his will releasing her first crisis.
His cock ached to be inside her.
But he wasn’t finished.
He caressed her cheeks, warm from her brief flush of ecstasy, and gazed at her, his shadow obscuring her emotion. He kissed each lid then wrapped a length of black cloth around her head, covering her eyes.
Her mouth opened as if to speak. Instead she licked her lips.
He pulled back to observe her stretched and bound, his beautiful captive awaiting her ravishment. Lust coiled in his groin. He flexed his hands, willing them to remain steady against the urge to touch.
“I’m cold.”
Delicious dark beads atop her abundant breasts illustrated her plaintive words. He leaned over and breathed hot air on one then the other, watching the nipples melt before pinching and twisting each in their turn, her body arcing, thrusting out her chest as if demanding more. He sucked and licked the peaks, leaving them wet in the cool night air.
And then he wrapped a second length of cloth around her mouth.
With her face utterly shrouded, she could be any woman, any woman whose pale skin shone in the glow of the moon, any woman whose perfect form writhed voluptuously against the restraints, any woman who tilted her hips in provocation.
No. It was her. It could only be her.
The sea breeze tickled the hair between her widely splayed legs. He fell to his knees, grabbed her thighs and delved in, his tongue finding its mark instantly. She was sticky, salty, swollen, silently nudging her sex into his rapacious mouth. He feasted, digging his nails into her thighs as his cock rubbed against the mattress. He was utterly hard, painfully so, needing release, wanting hers first.
His mouth and tongue continued their assault as he bobbed and weaved to her wanton undulations. Her frenzy slowed, her hips stilled.
Then with a restricted jolt she came, flooding his mouth with her release, her muffled scream of rapture piercing his soul. He rose and slammed inside her, groaning at her clenching response. He gripped her waist, pulling her forward as he pounded, his knees pushing into the mattress for purchase, her pliant form vanquished under his control.
He came inside her, filling her, then squeezed his stones, the exquisite pain fetching another crisis, milking him of every drop to fill her further still, deep in her womb.
He extended himself over her, his sweat mingling with her sea-dewed skin, their heartbeats slowing to the same rhythm.
He untied the blindfold and gag and pulled them off.
Her countenance was not the one expected but it was still familiar. But she shouldn’t be there. He stepped back and tripped on a low rock. He fell to the ground.
Between her legs the mattress grew wet, a stain growing, reaching the edge where it pooled until it dripped onto the sand. The blacks and whites and grays of midnight dulled further, highlighting the jeweled brilliance of the liquid puddling below. He stared, eyes transfixed, body frozen. She stared back helplessly. Then in one sudden burst the thick fluid gushed from the woman on the rock and surged forth to mingle with the waves.
Crimson.
Julius gulped air as his eyes flew open. He wrenched up from his awkward position on the sofa and tumbled off, falling onto carpet not sand. He was not on the beach but in his study. He shivered against the sweat dampening his clothes and the fear infecting his gut.
No. No. Never again.
Chapter Sixteen
The night after the Roxton affair, Arthur once again found himself in Lavinia’s arms. This time engaged in a waltz in Lord and Lady Hawkhurst’s magnificent ballroom.
Her fragrance was driving him mad, especially as her flesh heated in the overly warm space. His hand molded perfectly to her cinched waist but it took all his strength not to slide it along the satin and draw her to him.
“You look lovely tonight, Lavinia.” The emerald green of her dress reminded him of the green of her odalisque costume.
“I fear you have already complimented me this evening, Arthur.”
Damn. “Compliments and the frustrations of the ballroom are all I have with you anymore.”
She flushed briefly and glanced sidelong. Her rhythm in his arms remained impeccable.
“Please don’t say that. It’s killing me as well.”
Good he wanted to say out loud.
Instead he took enjoyment from whirling her around the dance floor, her body submitting to his lead, the top of her bosom perfectly in his view. As he did almost every night he would fall asleep to a fantasy of her. It didn’t matter what they did. They could read to each other for God’s sake and his cock would spring into action.
He was hard right now just thinking about it.
The music ended and he led her to where she had been standing before the waltz. He’d have to join his mother shortly. She probably had a whole slew of blushing beauties for him to choose from. It was a dreary thought.
“This is where I leave you, my lady.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
His only consolation was that she seemed flustered and kept her arm wrapped around his, her fingers weighty on his forearm.
“Petersham!”
Arthur looked up. “Peel.”
Geoffrey and Anna approached, arm-in-arm, still the picture of marital bliss after almost twenty years. It gave him hope that love was not a fleeting, fickle emotion.
“Mrs. Peel,” Arthur greeted Anna. She always smiled when he called her that.
“Arthur.” She nodded then turned to Lavinia. “Lady Foxley-Graham, always a pleasure to see you.”
“And you, Mrs. Peel. Such a stunning dress.”
“Oh my, what a compliment, coming from you.” The color rose in Anna’s cheeks as she perused Lavinia’s gown. “I think I shall never get used to these affairs. All the finery. On my own person and all around.”
William Peel came rushing up from behind Anna. “Mother, I can’t find her.”
And then he saw Lavinia.
It was subtle but it was there. William colored then glanced at his parents and paled. He recovered quickly. It was all over in a second.
So Arthur wasn’t the only one falling asleep to fantasies of Lady Foxley-Graham.
She acted first. “Mr. Peel, how lovely to see you.”
“And you, my lady.” He nodded to Arthur. “Uncle Ar—Lord Petersham.”
“William, dear, what’s wrong?” Anna asked.
“My next partner. I can’t find her.”
“And who would that be?” Lavinia inquired.
“Miss Penelope Hardcastle.”
Arthur choked back a laugh. Miss Hardcastle was a temptress who used her skill on the dance floor to ensnare her prey. How the boy would manage her…well, he’d like to see that. Apparently so would Lavinia. She smiled broadly behind her fan.
“As the music has already started I guess you’ll have to sit this one out, dear.” Anna offered her son a sympathetic smile.
“What about you, my lady?”
William’s entreaty surprised everyone. Especially Lavinia.
She looked up at Arthur. “If Lord Petersham is willing to let me go?”
Why the hell was she asking him? He had no hold over her. Except their arms were still entwined. “Yes, my lady. I do believe our dance is through.”
She let go of him and offered her hand to a grinning William. As they strode out to the dance floor to join the other couples, Geoffrey sidled up to Arthur.
“That boy has done more growing in the last few weeks than the last few years.” He smiled as he watched the pair merge onto the floor.
“How do you mean?”
“Didn’t you just see what happened? Asking a viscountess, an older woman, a beautiful woman, to dance. Something’s got into him.”
“Darling,” Anna said, “you forget he’s using her library for his language studies. They’ve probably become good friends.”
“What was that?” Arthur asked.
“Hadn’t you heard?” Anna said. “Lady Foxley-Graham has graciously offered the use of her library for William to further his study of foreign languages beyond the Greek and Latin he learned at school.”
Arthur hadn’t heard anything of the sort. “That was generous of her.”
“Especially since we certainly do not have such a library at home,” Anna continued. “If William wants to read classics at Cambridge and join archaeological expeditions, he’ll need a foundation in ancient tongues.”
Tongues indeed.
Arthur watched the pair on the dance floor, easy to spot as William was one of the tallest men in the ballroom. They seemed very comfortable with each other. Perhaps a bit too comfortable. She smiled and chatted while he gazed at her. From his vantage he would have a wonderful view of her bosom. And weren’t they a little close to each other?
Shit. He was jealous of a mere boy, an inexperienced youth who probably was grateful for the opportunity to be in the company of so fine a lady. Surely he was only interested in her library. He was very studious after all.
Arthur thinned his lips. He had to forget about his odalisque or find a way to be with her forever. He was driving himself mad.
* * * * *
William led Lavinia off the dance floor, keeping his eyes straight ahead and not on her magnificent endowments tightly bound in a sort of jacket-like top of emerald-green satin, a ruffle of sheer lace at the neckline only drawing attention to what lay beneath.
“Thank you, my lady. It is always such a pleasure to dance with you.” Or to simply be in your presence.
“And you, as well, Mr. Peel.” Her arm was light on his. “I’m sorry about Miss Hardcastle.”
“She’s a very fine dancer.” And a terrific flirt. She gave him feelings not unlike those he had around Lavinia. “I hope she can fit me in tonight. If nothing is wrong, that is.”
“Why look…isn’t that she with Lord Norrington and Viscount Ravensburgh?”
And there she was, smiling and laughing with “Percy and Bertie”, as Helena called them in private. Miss Hardcastle saw him and waved.
“Would you join me in paying my compliments, my lady?”
“Certainly.”
Miss Hardcastle was all apologies and smiles. “Please forgive me, Mr. Peel. But my dear friends the Marquess of Norrington and Viscount Ravensburgh just arrived. I had no idea they would be here tonight and I always save a dance for them.”
Smiles and greetings were shared all around.
“Where will you travel to next, my lords?” Lavinia asked.
“Southern France,” said Norrington. “Where the Mediterranean is a heavenly shade of blue.”
He flashed a grin at Ravensburgh, who grinned back.
Miss Hardcastle took William’s hand. “I see you found yourself a replacement for our waltz, Mr. Peel. May I be so bold as to request the next dance?”
“I’d love to, Miss Hardcastle. What about your escorts?”
She raised a brow in their direction. “They’ll keep.”
“I see Lady Banbury with her new charge,” said Lavinia. “I shall take my leave, Mr. Peel.” She gave him a friendly nod.
He watched her bustle sway with her steps as she sashayed over to Lady Banbury.
And then he saw a vision of loveliness that almost overshadowed Lady Foxley-Graham.
The countess stood next to a young woman who could only be described as a gift from the heavens. Golden blonde curls framed a face so perfect only an artist moved by the hand of God could sculpt a likeness. Her dress was a froth of azure and pure white and clung to her feminine curves like waves and sea foam on Aphrodite rising from the ocean. His cock stirred. Luckily he had bound it tightly under his drawers.
The nymph and Lavinia conversed, obviously friends. He would request an introduction.
Miss Hardcastle sidled up to him and wrapped her arm around his. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
He flushed. His erection waned. How utterly rude of him to be staring at another woman when a decided beauty stood at his side. “Miss Hardcastle, please forgive me. That was terribly impolite.”
“Not as impolite as me leaving you wanting for a partner.”
“Shall we dance?”
As they glided in rhythm to the music, all William could think about was women. The expert dancer in his arms, the lover who was across the room, and the goddess he could not wait to meet.
His body grew heated again. The time had come to seek out a remedy to assuage his desires.
* * * * *
Despite having had only one dance with Arthur at the Hawkhursts’, Lavinia could not stop thinking about him. Fatigue lulled her into a dreamlike state as she lay in bed, staring at the night-darkened ceiling, remembering the sensation of Arthur’s muscular forearm under her gloved hand.
Remembering his naked arms holding her nude body.
Masturbation suddenly seemed so lonely. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, uncertain for whose benefit feigning the act was needed.
Sims knocking lightly on her bedroom door jolted her from inevitable slumber. Wide-eyed, Lavinia glanced around at the still-dark bedroom. She couldn’t have been asleep for very long. It must have been about two in the morning. And Sims’ summons meant something terribly important was afoot.
She put on her dressing gown and cracked the door. “Yes, Sims?”
“Master William Peel is here to see you, my lady.”
“William?” What the hell was he doing at her house? “Thank you, Sims. I’ll be right down. Have him wait in the foyer. No need to rescue me. I’ll be fine.”
“Very good, my lady.”
She shut the door and leaned against it, drawing in a deep breath. Should she scold him? No. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it now. But she should chide him for his lack of discretion at the very least. There could be no other reason for him to be on her doorstep in the middle of the night. No one would believe he needed access to her library at such an hour.
She waited a minute then went downstairs.
William ran to her the moment he spied her on the stairs and knelt at her feet. “I couldn’t stand being away from you, my lady.”
Lavinia had to turn away, unable to look at his urgency, the stuff of poetry and paintings. He should really be on a balcony with a young girl he truly desired. Instead he was before a matron of Society in her entryway, his heart boldly on his sleeve.
“Get up,” she hissed. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the morning room.
She closed the door and motioned for him to sit. He sat but a moment before he popped up and stared at her.
“William, what is this about?” She remained near the door, her only escape.
“I want you, Lavinia. As a man wants a woman.”
He just wanted a woman and she was there.
And she just wanted a man.
She didn’t want to escape.
“It was very indiscreet of you to come to my house at this hour.”
“I know, I know.” He sighed. “Please forgive me.”
He gazed at her wide-eyed and desperate, like an ardent knight swooning before his imperial mistress. And yet, there were his hands at his sides, his long, elegant fingers so learned in how to pleasure her, quivering in anticipation.
She came toward him, steadfastly maintaining a calmness she did not really feel. She took his hands in hers, looked up at him, raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.
He took her in his arms and kissed her back in that wonderful way he knew how to do.
She melted in his embrace. When he kissed, he was not the boy but the man. She curved into him, tangling her fingers through his auburn locks, rubbing her mons against his groin, needing to feel his erection through her flimsy attire.
He broke away, gazing down at her with glassy eyes, a fantasy of their union probably already playing in his head.
She searched his face. “What compelled you to do this now, tonight?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a touch of abashment. “I think I need to experience…everything.”
Restlessness. She understood. “All right, William, but I need you to have a bit more patience for a few minutes.” Well, this was awkward. To have caught her unprepared. “You know where babies come from right? How women get pregnant?”
He blushed crimson. “Of course.”
“Well in order to avert such a consequence, preventive measures need to be taken. You’ll need to give me a moment to prepare.”
“Oh.” He was clearly perplexed.
“I can explain later. I wouldn’t want to dampen the mood. But please wait here while I go upstairs. Give me fifteen minutes.” She pointed to the clock on the mantel. “Then come join me in my bedroom. I’m sure your ardor won’t have waned.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Yes, my lady. Thank you.”
He looked so forlorn, standing in the middle of the room as she left him. She took the stairs two at a time, deciding on a pessary over her Dutch cap.
* * * * *
William paced the rug before the hearth, glancing at the clock far too often. He should feel guilty but he just didn’t. He really did want Lavinia—she was the epitome of womanhood. But he wanted to know what the act was like…needed to know before he did it with a woman with whom he was truly in love.
A woman like his golden-haired goddess.
What was he thinking? He hadn’t even met her and already he was in love with her? He was in love with her beauty, a vapid notion.
Deep in his heart he hoped she would laugh at his stupid jokes and really listen when he talked about archaeology.
