Forbidden Pleasures (17 page)

His arms tightened about her, and he kissed her brow. “You need not speak of it again if it disturbs you, Caro,” he murmured.

“No, Justin, you must understand why I do what I do,” she told him. “The servants were terrorized into telling the most awful lies. A footman was made to say he was the father of my tante Justine’s sons. They were taken from her. They were only three and five. Several weeks later she was allowed to see them. They spit on her and called her a dirty aristo. She never saw them again. Nor her husband, who had been in Paris with the new government, attempting to make order of chaos.

“But that was not the worst. The men in charge began taking the women servants in the night. Some returned; some didn’t. They were being raped, of course. Then one day they came for me. My mother begged the man in charge to take her instead. She told them she was the wife of an Englishman, and that her daughter was English. That my father would pay a goodly ransom for my safe return, but only if I was returned untouched. They took us both, and I was forced to watch while my mother was raped over and over again. And then they brought my
tante
Justine to be raped. Each time I tried to look away they beat me. My mother and aunt both died, and I was dragged back to the cellars to weep with my
tante
Louisa. They came for her several days later, and I was again forced to watch their brutality. My youngest aunt was a virgin. When they learned that, nothing was too bestial for them. She too died at the hands of the Revolution.

“Several more days passed, and at last they came for me again. I thought surely this time it would be my turn to be raped until I died. But instead my father was there with the revolutionary captain who held grandfather’s château. I was a fortunate little aristo, he told me. My father had paid a great deal of money for my safe return, and because I was English—and he spit after the word—I would be permitted to leave. Captain Arnaud. I will always remember him, and his toady, Citizen Leon. And I will not rest until I have revenged my grandfather, my mother, her sisters, and all our family on these wretches. Rescuing others from them is the only way I can, Justin. You must let me continue! You must! They threw the bodies of those they slew into a common pit. There is not even a marker to remember them. My mother’s house was a great and noble one, and now it is gone. They are gone. All gone.” And the duchess began to weep bitterly.

“I will help you have your revenge,” Justin Trahern promised, “but this must end.”

M
ichael Devlin put down the pages he had just been reading. “This is great stuff, Emily,” he said. “Caro’s backstory is particularly poignant. But she should have a little eighteenth-century survivor’s grief,” he suggested. “It will make her more likable.”

“I agree. The coldness is, of course, a shield she uses to hide her grief behind,” Emily said. “I need to show some of that grief to make the reader sympathetic toward her. Do you like the duke?”

“Yes. He’s different from your other heroes. More masculine. He’s got a bit of a hard edge, except where his wife is concerned. It’s a weakness I find endearing, and so will your readers. How do you know so much about love?” He smiled warmly at her, and Emily felt herself melting, as she always did when Devlin smiled that particular smile.

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “I guess I just try to make my characters the way I wish people really were.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” he queried her.

“Once,” Emily said. “Only once.”

“What happened?” Devlin said.

Emily shook her head. “I guess I’m not his type,” she replied.

“Foolish man,” he said.

Have you ever really been in love?
Emily wondered.
Could you fall in love with me?
But she didn’t dare to voice her question aloud. She didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. It would kill her if he pitied her.

“I have to go to Frankfurt in October,” he said. “And I’m going to stop in England on the way back. Savannah and Pruny need a mediator. You could meet me in England, angel face,” he suggested. “I know you like England.”

“I could stay with Savannah,” Emily said thoughtfully. “But it couldn’t be any longer than a three-day weekend, Devlin. I’m in the home stretch, and I want this book in on time. I don’t want J.P. to have any negotiating room with Aaron. She called him and offered a new contract before he and Kirk went off on vacation.”

“What did Aaron say?” So J.P. had been listening to him after all.

“That he’d discuss it with her when he got back from Italy.” Emily grinned.

Michael Devlin nodded. It was fair. Aaron was no dope, and he was hedging his bets with J.P.—making her want the new contract more than he appeared to want it.

“Okay,” she said, launching herself into his lap. “No more business! You’re on vacation. Want to try it in one of the boys’ beautiful wing chairs?” Her blue eyes twinkled at him mischievously.

“If I get cum all over the tapestry neither of them will be happy with us,” he said seriously. “But what the hell, angel face, I’ve always wanted to try it in a wing chair.” Reaching down, he unzipped his pants, and his penis almost flew out.

“Oh, me, oh, my,” Emily said, looking at it. “The big fella is all ready to go, isn’t he? Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay, Devlin?” She pulled away from him and stood up. ” ‘Let me entertain you,’ ” she sang as she pulled off her light green tank top and tossed it carelessly across the room. Then she licked her lips suggestively and shook her breasts at him. ” ‘Let me make you smile.’ ” She began to wiggle seductively out of her shorts. ” ‘Let me do a few tricks. Some old and then some new tricks. I’m very ver-sa-tile.’ ” The shorts followed the tank top. Emily was quite naked, and now she began to dance in what she imagined to be a stripper’s manner, bumping and grinding across the room. ” ‘And if you’re real good, I’ll make you feel good. I want your spirits to climb.’” She wiggled her bottom at him. ” ‘So let me entertain you. And we’ll have a real good time.’ Oh, yeah!” She strutted toward him. ” ‘We’ll... have ... a ... real... good ... time!’ ”

Reaching out he grabbed her, and impaled her on his penis. “Oh, yeah! We’ll have a real good time,” he sang.

“Brute!” she said. “Oh, God, no man should feel this good, Devlin! ”

He reached out and, grasping one of her breasts in his hand, began to lick it. “And no mortal woman should feel this good. You fit me like a glove, angel face. Sit still for a little bit. If you move, I’m going to come. I don’t want to yet.”

“I’ll make it stand straight and tall again, Devlin,” she promised him. Bending, she kissed his ear, licking around the curve of it. “I love fucking you.”

“Let’s not stay at Lord Palmer’s when we’re in England,” he said softly. “There’s a great little inn in their village. I don’t want to have to share our passion with Savannah, and you know she’s bold enough to listen at our door.” He chuckled. He released her breast and, finding her lips, kissed her a long and tender kiss.

“The Drake’s Head,” she said against his mouth. “Yes, let’s stay there. I’ll make the reservations when you have the dates. Oh, God, Devlin! I can’t take much more.”

“I thought you wanted foreplay,” he teased, nibbling on her ear.

“Screw foreplay! I want you, and I want us to come together!” Emily groaned. “Let go of me! I want to ride you hard, Devlin. Very hard!” She struggled against him, tucking her legs about him, and his hands released her hips, slipping up about her midsection to steady her. She moved up and down on his hard penis, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes closing with her sweet desire for him as she leaned back.

He watched her face and was enchanted by her rising passions. A pride, almost of ownership, flowed through him. She was his lover. He had taken her virginity and taught her the joys of lust. She had proven an apt pupil. No one had ever had her but him. And no man was ever
going
to have her but him, Michael Devlin determined.

“Oh! Ohh! Ohhh!” Her little cries excited him further.

“I adore you!” he whispered in her ear, his own eyes closing with the intense pleasure beginning to build and build. And then it broke, and his cum flooded her womb with fierce force.

“Devlin!” She sobbed his name as spasm after spasm shook her from the inside out.
Damnation!
She wanted her happy ending! She collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder and neck.

“It just gets better between us,” he said after some moments had passed.

“I have nothing to judge it by,” she said, teasing him gently. But of course she did. Yet had she attempted to explain the Channel to him he wouldn’t have understood. And it did get better between them every time. No man was ever going to satisfy her except the charming Michael Devlin. She could conjure up a host of lovers in the Channel, but no matter how skilled they were, none would ever be Michael Devlin—worse luck.

“I’m glad you can’t judge my performance,” he teased back. “That makes me the best you’ve ever had, angel face.”

“Am I the best you’ve ever had?” she dared to ask him.

“Yes,” he said, not even hesitating for a moment. “There are still things I haven’t taught you, of course, but you are an incredibly apt pupil, my darling.” He kissed her brow, and then said with some small humor, “If we are very careful I believe we can manage not to get the results of our efforts on Aaron and Kirk’s furniture. Has your research been satisfactory, angel face?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, carefully untangling herself from him. “But I still prefer the bed, Devlin. What else have you got to teach me?”

He hesitated. What he was about to suggest wasn’t for everyone, but she should attempt it at least once. “I think it’s time you got your little asshole stuffed with my dick,” he told her, looking carefully at her to see her reaction.

Emily swallowed hard. She had read enough Victorian porn to know a little of what his suggestion involved. “Do you like to do that to a woman?” she asked him slowly. She wasn’t certain it was something she wanted to attempt.

“Some women enjoy it,” he said candidly. “But it’s one of those things where you have to trust me completely in order to experience it without fear. You may not be ready. You may not want to do it at all. But then again, you might want to try it just once.”

“Would you stop if I said I didn’t like it?” she asked him. “I mean, it’s not like our first time, where you couldn’t stop after a certain point, is it?”

“If we do it and you say stop, I will stop immediately,” he promised her. “We probably won’t do it entirely the first time. It’s important you aren’t frightened. Once we’ve done it you may not want to do it again, angel face, but you will enjoy it. And you will be in total control of our situation, not me.”

Emily stood, considering the suggestion. She knew Devlin was trustworthy. And frankly the idea of anal sex—the very forbidden nature of it—was intriguing and tempting. Was she bold enough to try? She thought some more. Yes! She did want to try it, if only once. He had said she would be in control, yet shoving her ass up at him to be fucked seemed a submissive position to her, and it was considered deviant. Still... “I’m game,” she finally said. “Scared, but game.”

He nodded. He hadn’t been certain she would attempt this new form of sexual pleasure, but he realized more and more that Emily was a consummate researcher. And he knew that eventually their play would show up in a book, if not this one, then the next. “Give me a moment more to recover from being ravaged by you,” he said wickedly.

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom. The guest room where you are staying has the same king-size bed as their bedroom. Do you think they knew I’d been visiting you?”

Devlin laughed. “I think you’re probably the only woman to ever stay here, let alone get fucked here.” He chuckled.

Emily shot him a grin and disappeared into his bedroom. He waited a few minutes until he heard the shower, and then, getting carefully up, followed her. Stripping off his clothes he joined her under the pulsing jets of warm water. She took up a bar of olive oil soap from Italy and began rubbing it across his broad, smooth chest. He closed his eyes with the simple pleasure her touch gave him. Her hands moved the soap across his taut belly.

“Considering your age,” she teased, “you are a fine figure of a man, Devlin.”

“Ouch!” He groaned. “That was low. I was only forty last month. I loved your present, by the way,” he teased back. “But it didn’t last.”

“You can have more anytime,” she offered him, her hands soaping his balls with such a delicate touch he almost squealed like a kid being touched for the first time. She turned him about and washed his shoulders, her hands sliding down his back to fondle his buttocks with soapy fingers. Then she turned him to face her again.

In response his big hands fondled her bottom, the edge of one hand moving along the crease between the twin halves. She tensed slightly, but the hand was gone before she could even protest. “Let’s get out,” he suggested.

They exited the shower and dried each other off before returning to the bedroom. Devlin threw back the coverlet, revealing a smooth, pale peach jersey sheet. “They make their beds as in Europe and England,” he said. “I like it. No top sheet just a bottom sheet, and down coverlet.” He fell back, bringing her with him. Then he rolled her off of him and cradled her on her side. “It’s better to begin this slowly,” he said. “We’re just going to make love, but I’m going to concentrate on touching your butt and not your tits, okay? This isn’t the kind of thing where I jump your bones, angel face. I’ve told you that you will be in control. If you say stop, I’ll stop.”

“Do you like ass-fucking your lover?” she asked him, curious.

“It’s an interesting variation,” he said slowly. “It’s no fun if your partner doesn’t enjoy it. I’m not into degradation. It’s like any other aspect of making love: If your partner enjoys it, you are more likely to enjoy it. We don’t have to do this, Emily.”