The Price of Desire (15 page)

Finally the throbbing of her orgasm subsided. She wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the floor of the carriage and sleep off her satisfaction and her lassitude, but he was not yet finished. His cock, still hard as a wooden post, twitched with need deep in her pussy. “I have one more position I want to show you. Stand up for a moment.”

Doing as she was bid, she stood up and stretched in the sunlit carriage, knowing he was looking at her with pure lust. She turned in a full circle, then faced him as he stood up, too, his erection hard and jutting from his firm, smooth stomach.

He pulled her over to the window, where a couch was conveniently placed, the lace curtains barely shading the view of the green countryside flowing past. “Kneel on the couch,” he instructed her, standing behind her, his cock nestled firmly in between her buttocks.

She knelt, and steadied herself from the rocking of the train by grabbing the backrest. Her breasts spilled out over the backrest, pressing against the glass of the window. If they were to pass a village now, everyone would see her naked in the carriage. They would see Dominic, naked behind her. They would know that she was kneeling on the couch in the carriage being fucked from behind. The thought did not bother her, indeed it felt so gloriously wicked to know that anyone could see her like this, and yet she was safe from their sidelong glances and nasty whispers. They would never know who she was, and she would never see them again. To the people who caught a glimpse of her bare breasts, she would forever be the unknown naked woman on the train. No one would ever know her as Caroline Clemens.

Dominic’s hands were on her buttocks, and she sensed him kneel to look once more at her cunt.

He breathed lightly on her very wet opening, touching it lightly with his fingers, spreading her open for his view. “What a joy to behold women are. So pretty, so much like a flower.” He admired her for a few moments more before standing up and without warning rapidly thrusting his cock all the way into her.

Her breasts pressed against the window and her fingers gripped the backrest of the couch.

This time there was no hesitation in his movements as he relentlessly took her from behind. Farmsteads and barns appeared in view and disappeared again as the train traveled on, while each time he plunged into her it brought a cry to her lips and drew her one step closer to another orgasm.

His pace quickened and his grip on her buttocks grew more powerful until suddenly he pushed harder than ever into her. He held her still while his body quivered as the tremors of his orgasm washed over him with a roar.

She felt his hot seed pumping into her, and the knowledge that he was spending deep inside her tipped her over the edge. The world outside diminished to a pinpoint, and she cried out once more in an abandonment of delight.

“My God, Caroline, if that had been any better, I would be a dead man.” He collapsed over her, his cock slowly losing its hardness inside her. “I don’t know how much longer I will survive having you around.”

His words put a chill into her soul. She had not thought she could delight him so much that the pleasure got too much for him. Was he already thinking of letting her go? “Am I too much for you?” How long did most men keep a mistress? She did not know for sure, but surely it would be longer than a month or two. Especially given the price that Dominic had paid to enjoy her company. He would surely want her a year or more, just to recoup his investment.

“You would be too much for half a dozen men, but I would not give you a chance to prove it. You are mine, and mine you will stay.”

The racing of her heartbeat steadied. He was not tired of her. Not yet. His idle words were nothing but that—they meant nothing. “Even if it kills you?” she teased.

“Then I will die a happy man,” he said as he eased his weight off her.

She collapsed onto the couch, no longer mindful of her nakedness. Too satisfied to move, she watched his fine muscles as he walked over to a cupboard where he selected a warm blanket and returned to the couch.

Lying down next to her, he covered them both and nuzzled close, breathing in her scent. “You are mine, Caroline,” he murmured sleepily as he hugged her to his chest. “I will not let you go. Not ever.”

Lying there in his arms, she hugged her own to her chest. He did not mean anything deep or lasting by his words, she was sure of it. She belonged to him for now, and that was all that mattered to him.

The present was all that mattered to her as well. The future would have to take care of itself—she had no breath to waste worrying about it. It would come soon enough.

And in the meantime she would strive to be sensible, as sensible and hardheaded as any gay girl who walked the streets to earn her supper. She was one of them now, and she must remember her position in life. It was sheer foolishness to let the flower of hope blossom in her chest that maybe, one day, Dominic would come to care for her, maybe even to love her.

He would never love her. How could he, when she did not—when she could not—love him in return? Simply put, she could not afford to. He would leave her eventually, when he found a woman who enticed him more than she did, or when he fell in love and decided to marry.

He would never fall in love with her. Men did not fall in love with courtesans. Courtesans were for fucking. Wives were for loving.

She was a warm body for Dominic to sink his shaft into whenever he felt like coming—nothing more than that. Men did not need to have softer feelings for a woman to enjoy fucking her.

Nonetheless she was cozy under the blanket next to him for now, as the train rattled on.

She looked at him uncertainly, wondering what he was thinking, but he had already fallen asleep under the warm blanket, a peaceful boyish look on his face.

By the time she woke again, they were nearly at their destination. Her dress had dried while they both dozed, but the front was marred with an ugly stain. Caroline clambered back into it with a moue of distaste, feeling horribly disheveled. It was hardly the way to make a good first impression on arrival.

Dominic stayed her with a hand on her arm when she moved toward the door of the railway carriage. “I have not been exactly forthcoming with you as to our destination,” he murmured.

She looked at him, puzzled. What did he consider so unforthcoming about telling her they would be staying at a house in Cornwall by the sea? What else did she need to know?

“We shall be staying in a rather unusual house, I fear,” he said, as if reading her mind. “A house for the entertainment of married couples.”

His words rang uncomfortably in her head. “Are you taking me to a bawdy house?” she asked slowly. It was his right to take her where he pleased, she supposed, and she knew she was his whore, but she did not like it. Not at all. Though she was his mistress, she still deserved to be treated with some respect.

“No, not that. But it is a place where we can explore our sensuality in the company of other like-minded couples.”

A sudden suspicion flashed across her mind. “Have you been there before?” she asked as casually as she could manage. “With other women?” Not that it was her place to care—she simply wanted to know.

“No, this is all as new to me as it is to you. My friend who lent me the railway carriage told me about the place. He highly recommended it. In fact, he will be there with his wife at the same time as we will be. Mrs. Hughes is a very fashionable woman. I hope you will like her.”

Caroline groaned to herself. Dominic did not know English society very well or he would never even think of introducing her to the wife of one of his friends. She was nothing more than a whore. Mrs. Hughes would not deign to talk to her, she would despise her.

So much for her hopes of a peaceful holiday in Dominic’s company without the strictures of rest of the world to worry about.

Dominic did not seem to notice her uneasy silence during the carriage ride to the house where they would be staying. It soon came into view, an imposing manor house set in the middle of some glorious gardens. If nothing else, she would at least enjoy exploring those.

To her relief, their hostess immediately noticed the state of Caroline’s gown, and without saying a word about it, detached her from Dominic’s side and led her to her room, where she could change.

A half hour later, freshly washed and in a clean new gown, Caroline left the bedroom with some trepidation to rejoin Dominic. Much as she would have preferred to, she could not hide out alone in her room all week.

The room she had left him in was empty, but the French doors that led outside to a pretty paved courtyard were open. The fine weather and the beauty of the garden tempted her outside.

Not until she was outside did she see the woman reclining on the wooden bench, her eyes closed and an expression of utter peace on her face.

She tiptoed past, not wanting to wake her, but as she passed, the other woman’s eyes opened and she sat up with a cry of delight. “Hello. You must be one of the new guests who arrived today. Come, sit down and say hello. I’m Cora, Cora Hughes. My husband and I have been here for most of a week already. We visit here as often as we can.”

Caroline felt a flush of red creep over her face. In all fairness, she could not force her acquaintance on an unsuspecting woman. “I don’t think you would want to make my acquaintance,” she said, her voice brittle. At that moment she almost hated Dominic for putting her in such an awkward position.

“Why ever not?”

“My father was a bankrupt,” she stated baldly. “I came here with Mr. Savage. I am not…we are not…Mr. Savage is not my husband.” Truly, she did not feel shame for herself, but she hated having to explain her position. What would women such as Mrs. Hughes know about poverty and desperation and the lengths to which they could drive a woman? It would not take much for her to hate Mrs. Hughes, too, with her easy manners and her air of wealth and privilege. Mrs. Hughes would never have known what it was like to feel crippling hunger pangs, or the agony of seeing her family waste away to nothing in front of her.

Mrs. Hughes waved one hand airily. “Oh, who cares about little things like that anymore—such straitlaced morality is terribly outdated nowadays. I certainly don’t care about such trifles. Besides, you might not want to talk to me if the thought of scandal bothers you. Gareth and I created a huge to-do last year but nobody except for a couple of malicious old biddies even remembers it now, let alone cares a fig about such an old piece of gossip.”

Caroline’s mouth fell open in shock, her hatred evaporating to nothing. “You truly do not mind that I am a…a gay girl? When you are respectably wed?” Truly, Mrs. Hughes was nothing like she had expected. “Will your husband not object to you keeping company with me?”

Mrs. Hughes patted the bench next to her in an invitation to sit down. “What gives me the right to cast stones at you? I am hardly guiltless myself in that regard. And Gareth knows better than to try and choose my friends for me. Now, come sit down and introduce yourself properly.”

Too surprised to do anything but obey, she dipped into a light curtsey. “I am Caroline.” She sat down on the bench as far away as she could from Mrs. Hughes, still not convinced of her welcome. “Caroline Clemens.”

“You are Dominic’s friend, I think you said?”

“I am.”

Mrs. Hughes reached out and stroked her hair, making Caroline feel like a child to be comforted or a skittish horse to be gentled. “You’re quite the beauty. A real unspoiled English rose type. He’s a lucky man to have found you.”

A genuine warmth flowed from Mrs. Hughes, a warmth that melted away all Caroline’s embarrassment and discomfort. “The luck was all on my side. He rescued me from…from a rather unpleasant situation.” She did not see the need to expound on her miserable days in the workhouse, or to explain just how desperate she had been before he took her under his wing.

“And you became his mistress in exchange?”

She nodded.

“I thought as much.”

“It was my choice,” Caroline said hastily, not wanting Mrs. Hughes to get the wrong idea about the sort of man Dominic was. “He did not pressure me for anything. I could have become a governess or a nursery maid if I had wanted, and he would have helped me find a position. I chose the life I am living of my own free will. And I do not regret it.”

“You do not have to justify yourself to me. I am the last person who has the right to judge anyone else. But come, it doesn’t do to dwell on the unpleasant things in life. Not when you have arrived here at Sugar and Spice and are ready to enjoy all the delights on offer here.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Mrs. Hughes’s eye as she spoke. “Would you like me to tell you more about them?”

Buoyed by the unexpected hand of friendship that Mrs. Hughes held out to her, Caroline faced the prospect of dinner that evening with reasonable equanimity. The activities at the house, Mrs. Hughes had assured her, were all absolutely voluntary. No one was ever asked to participate in something that made them feel uncomfortable, and they were all free to leave at any time.

Of course, Mrs. Hughes had confided to her with a throaty giggle, it would be a real pity if Caroline and Dominic did not want to join in the fun. Her visits to Sugar and Spice were the highlight of her year. Nowhere else did she fell so free to explore the boundaries of her sensuality and to learn the particular likes of her husband. Her visits here, she assured Caroline, had done more than anything else to teach her how to keep Mr. Hughes her willing slave.

Those words had convinced Caroline to stay and partake, if she could, of whatever games were played at the house. She would be willing to do pretty much anything within reason if she could learn just a few tricks to keep Dominic interested in her, learn how to please him just that little bit better, and find out what enticed him and drew him in and what left him cold.