Marissa Day (3 page)

Corwin held her closer, carrying her down the steps and out into the blessed, all-embracing darkness. The Mayfair neighborhood where Lord Thayer kept his town house allowed room for large gardens, and Lady Thayer had used it to full advantage, creating a refuge of formal paths, thick hedges and flower beds within the high brick walls. Corwin navigated the edges of the garden to avoid the other guests strolling about in the sultry summer night. All the while, he savored the rounded shape of Miranda’s thighs against his arm. The side of her magnificent breast brushed against his chest with each step. That soft, involuntary caress was a fair way to driving him mad. But he had to get her out the back gate. He’d left enough of a trail inside these walls for those with eyes to follow. Only on the other side could they both have what they so desperately craved.

And then, of course, there was the fact he had promised her Darius as well as himself. It would be ungentlemanly not to keep his word with so rare and wonderful a lady.

The back wall of Lady Thayer’s garden was red brick covered with old ivy. The gate in the corner was entirely wooden, but the lock and chain holding it closed had proved surprisingly complex. It had taken hours of patient work on Darius’s part to get them open. Corwin set his back to the door, eased it open, and spun, ducking through the archway. Miranda giggled and clung more tightly to his neck, which just made him have to kiss her again as he kicked the gate closed behind them. This next garden belonged Viscount Stokley, who had already vacated his house for the summer—thanks to a precisely timed and entirely forged note from his estate manager. It was quite dark here except for the light that shone over the wall, but Corwin did not have to slow down. His night-strengthened instincts guided him, as did the deepening awareness of Darius’s presence.

Miranda laid her head against his shoulder, lost in a daze created by desire and her dreamlike journey in his arms. He wondered if she could hear how his heart hammered in his chest—not from exertion, for this little walk was nothing to a man of his kind—but with a lust that was profound and simple at the same time. He wanted the woman in his arms. He wanted her naked beneath him, or on top of him; he wasn’t feeling particular. He simply and urgently wanted to plant his cock deep in her sheath and he wanted to hear her scream his name.

All the hells, Corwin, calm yourself!
Darius’s impatient voice sounded in his mind.

Corwin bared his teeth in the darkness.
You wait, Darius, until you meet our Catalyst. You’ll roar like a lion.

The quality of the other Sorcerer’s silence was skeptical. Corwin snickered.

This got Corwin’s attention.
A Sorcerer?

I sensed no magic,
admitted Darius.

Just some sneak thief seeing the dark house and trying their luck, then. Nothing for us to worry about.
Corwin lowered his head to breathe in the scents of lavender and desire that perfumed Miranda’s hair.

This, of course, made her lift her face toward his, and he could not resist a third hot, open kiss from her delicious mouth. And even as he tasted her there, opening himself to the tentative explorations of her tongue, he wondered what this mouth would feel like around his shaft. His cock throbbed and his balls tightened.

“No more, no more, dear one.” Corwin pulled back and smiled gently at the confusion in her eyes. “We’re almost to the place prepared for us. There, I promise you shall have all that you desire.”

 

 

All that you desire.
Corwin’s words robbed Miranda of her remaining strength and her head dropped back against his shoulder. Her mouth tingled from his kiss. Her thighs burned from his promise, and from the visions he had shown her.

Magic, he had said. Magic was impossible. Her father had been a man of the Enlightenment. He taught her that magic and superstition belonged to the distant Dark Ages. But how else could she explain what she had seen, much less what she now experienced?

Unless I am more fully my mother’s daughter than I realized.
The thought sent a chill wind through her, threatening the flames Corwin had raised with such ease. The tension between desire and sudden fear tore at her and she moaned again.

“What is it, Miranda?” Corwin cradled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m afraid.” To her shame, she pressed her face against his shoulder. Probably this was a mistake, for she could now inhale his intoxicating scent and feel the soft brush of silk against her cheeks.

With exquisite care, Corwin set her on her feet. They stood on a gravel path. Behind him, Miranda could see the bulk of a large town house. Beside it stood a small trellised bower hung with grapevines. Blankets had been laid on the ground and cushions piled about to make a lover’s nest. Miranda turned her face away, because she did not want Corwin to see the doubt in her, after she had come so far, had said such things ...

But Corwin touched her cheek, turning her face toward him and tipping up her chin so she had to meet his gaze.

“Listen to me, Miranda,” he said. “I swear by all that is holy, you will take no harm from what we do in this place. Nothing happens here but what you desire, and nothing will be taken that you do not freely give. Here, there will be only pleasure, and all that will return home with you is the dream of pleasure.”

Moonlight shone in the depths of his eyes, and his warm fingers were gentle beneath her chin. He’d drawn back somehow, damping the flames of desire, giving her space to breathe and to think. She could pull away if she wanted. She could run back through the gate to Lady Thayer’s.

It was understanding she was free that removed the last of her fears. Miranda threw herself into Corwin’s embrace. His arms closed around her, crushing her against his chest. She could feel him against the whole length of her, but most especially she could feel the rock-hard swelling of his cock as it stroked the softness of her belly.

Miranda was a virgin, but she was not naive. She knew about the act, the bare physicality of it at least. What she had not known before this moment was that it was possible to want it so much.

“So, Corwin,” a man’s deep voice growled from the darkness. “Let us see this extraordinary woman you have brought us.”

Miranda turned in the shelter of Corwin’s arms. A man emerged from behind the grape arbor. Miranda sucked in her breath. It was him—the man of red-gold dawn-light from the visions she had been granted in the ballroom. And he was completely and magnificently naked.

“This is Darius,” said Corwin, running his fingertips down the length of Miranda’s throat and kissing the tip of her ear. “He also is here to answer your desire.”

Memory of her sensual visions assailed her: of one man in front of her, and one behind, of hands and mouths and her caught in the middle, helpless in a storm of pleasure.

Miranda trembled. Her heart hammered within her chest as if seeking escape, yet she could not tear her eyes away from the man in front of her. Her previous visions had not conveyed to her the power of this second man, the command with which he carried himself, naked as he was. He was stronger than Corwin, more controlled, and much more dangerous. Like Corwin, Darius was tall. As she had seen in her visions, he was fair. Even in the moonlight, she could see his hair’s reddish glint and the golden dusting of stubble on his chin. That same gold glinted on his chest, and made a tangled nest for the thick, dark cock that hung indolently between his thighs. Miranda forced her gaze back up to his face. His eyes were deep and smoky blue. They bored into her, seeing, she was certain, every spark of desire she carried inside.

“Run away, little girl,” Darius purred. “If you do not want this, want us, run away now.”

But Miranda did not move. She could not move. She was too swollen with want. Her lips parted, already yearning toward this man’s kisses, and whatever else he might bring to her.

“You see?” Corwin lifted Miranda’s unresisting hand and kissed her gloved fingertips. He ran his hand across the back of hers, up to the hem of her long glove, tucking one finger underneath to touch her skin there. “There is no fear in her. She wants what we have to offer.”

Darius lifted one golden brow, his gaze burning her as it raked up from the hem of her gown, and lingered on the flushed swell of her breasts. “More than that, I’ll be bound. I do believe she needs it.”

“Yes,” Miranda whispered. She barely knew what was to come, and yet she knew for certain if she did not take it, something inside her would snap in two.

Darius stalked forward, and Miranda let him come. Each movement he made seemed more graceful and intriguing than any dance. Corwin was a sheltering wall at her back now, his hands resting on the curve of her hips, spreading warmth across her belly up and to her breasts. Miranda tilted her face up for Darius, knowing he would kiss her, impatient for him to do so.

But Darius was in no hurry. Like Corwin, he lifted her hand, gliding his fingertips across her satin glove. He took her feathered fan from her wrist and opened it. Softly, he drew the feathers across her lips, and across her bosom where it swelled above her low neckline. The soft, teasing touch made her shudder back against Corwin.

Darius tossed the fan aside. He caressed her throat with his fingertips as he dipped his head down to finally claim his kiss. His lips were smooth and strong, and more yielding than she had anticipated. His scent was lighter than Corwin’s, yet sharp, like the smoke that warns of hidden embers. His heated touch went straight through to her veins, loosening her, opening her mouth so he could slide his tongue more deeply inside. She moaned as the pleasure of Darius’s invasion took her, and she pressed closer and opened wider. She wrapped her hands about his neck as he cupped the back of her head, holding her still so he could slide his tongue against hers, stroking firmly and confidently. Corwin’s broad hands moved against Miranda’s hips and sides, caressing, almost as if he meant to soothe her, but the dizzying warmth of their sensual attentions blossomed through the whole of her body.

“By the gods!” Darius gasped, breaking the kiss and looking over Miranda’s head to Corwin. “What have you brought us?”

“A dream,” Corwin replied, turning Miranda to face him once more. “A perfect dream of Miranda.”

Corwin kissed her again, hot and deep, and she opened fully to him. He cupped one hand under her ass, drawing her to him. With the fingers of his other hand, he traced her skin at the plunging neckline of her dress, dipping beneath it to draw his fingertips against her breast.

She moaned and writhed against him. He chuckled into their kiss and closed his hand around her breast. The sensation made her gasp, and then made her melt against him.

“You are not one for subtlety, are you, Miranda?” Darius said as he moved close behind her. “I think we can dispense with these trappings right away.”

His strong, broad hands glided up her back and pressed her against Corwin, driving her breast into the darker man’s palm. Corwin massaged her there expertly, all the while continuing his searing kisses. Darius speared his fingers into Miranda’s hair, lifting away her feathers and her jeweled pins so that her curls tumbled down around her shoulders. Then he drew his hands down to the tapes that held her gown, opening them one at a time.

Corwin’s mouth moved from hers, and he kissed his way down her cheek to her throat. Miranda’s head fell back against Darius’s bare chest and he growled again. Her skin brushed his, the crisp hairs rasping deliciously against her cheek. With one hand, Darius pushed down the shoulder of her dress. With the other, he traced her lips, parting them with two fingers and sliding those fingers into her mouth.

Miranda’s mouth seized eagerly on this new treat. Her tongue swirled around Darius’s hard fingers and she sucked strongly, hardly knowing what she was doing, only that it felt wickedly good. Darius’s third finger pressed next to the other two, and she took that one as well. He tasted of salt and wine, and the way he filled her mouth made her sheath feel hollow.

Cold air touched her breast, causing her nipple to harden abruptly. Miranda moaned again. Corwin seized her in his hot hand and plumped her breast, letting her ruched nipple slide between his fingers and squeezing it between them.

“Yes, you like it hard, don’t you, Miranda?” said Darius. He drew his fingers out of her mouth, and then plunged them in again so that she could continue sucking them. “You want it hard and deep.” He pulled his fingers out all the way this time, and slid his hand down to her other breast, seizing her nipple in his dampened fingertips. “Say that you want it hard.”

But before she could speak, Corwin took her breast into his mouth, and sucked it deep. His teeth grazed her; his tongue teased her. None of which made Darius cease his attentions on her other breast with his hard, wet fingers. The twin sensations poured liquid heat into her veins and she bit back a moan.

“Oh, no.” Darius slapped her breast lightly. “None of that. Let us hear you, Miranda. Or we might have to stop.”

Miranda let out a shriek at the suggestion—half in fear, half in anger—and jerked backward, grinding her hips against Darius, who was now as fully hard as Corwin. Corwin grasped her hips, pinning her in place, so that he could catch the tip of her breast with his tongue and lap at it. Miranda writhed, caught between their bodies, one cock pressing against her belly, the other at her back, each movement heightening the burn of her pleasure. She moaned again—this time holding nothing of the sound back—twisted again, rubbing harder, seeking something she did not comprehend, but knew she must find.

“Ah, yes, Miranda,” said Corwin, his lips and hot breath brushing her nipple with each word. “You must show your lovers how well they please you. You must tell them how you want them.”