The Price of Desire (18 page)

Dominic clasped Caroline tightly against him as they walked through the dark corridors back to their room. “You did not enjoy the games?” Maybe he had made a mistake in bringing her here. She was gently bred, after all, and had been a virgin until recently. He should have known it would all be too much for her when Mr. Hughes had warned him that the games they played at Sugar and Spice were not for the faint of heart.

Her slippered feet scuffled quietly along the floorboards as they walked. “I had not expected the shadow game to be so…” Her voice trailed off into nothing.

“So amusing? Entertaining? Shocking?”

At each word he suggested, she shook her head. “So powerful,” she confessed in a rush. “Before the game started, my knees were like jelly, shaking with terror. If it were not for my fear of disappointing you, I could not have done it. But then, when I came out from behind the curtain and saw everyone staring at my naked body, I felt like a courtesan must feel when she has kings and princes suing for her favors. I felt strong, powerful, as if I had the world at my feet.”

A disquieting sensation swept over him at her words. “You liked being the center of attention?”

“I am a courtesan,” she said simply. “And tonight I realized for the first time that being a courtesan carries with it a power over men, an ability to make them do your biding, to have them as slaves at your feet.”

“Is having one man at your feet not enough for you?” he asked as he opened the door to their bedchamber and ushered her inside. He deliberately kept his tone light, but it was not an idle question for all that. Had he woken a sleeping dragon by bringing her here?

“Their desire made me feel powerful. And I liked to feel such a power.”

Her words struck him dumb. He had thought to introduce Caroline to some new games to play with him, to keep them both entertained and thoroughly satisfied and excited about each other. He had not expected that she would find another side of herself, one in which she gloried in her role as seducer of men.

Whatever she might say, Caroline was no courtesan. She was his mistress. She belonged to him and to no one else. He did not want her to even look at another man while she was with him. He wanted to be the center of her universe, to be everything to her.

Damn it all—he wanted her to love him.

He was suddenly glad she had pulled him away from the festivities. It was time she thought of him again, not of the other men they had left downstairs. “So, what forfeit shall you demand of me to redeem my shirt?” He was hard as nails just thinking about it. Whatever she asked of him, he would willingly pay.

She looked undecided. “What forfeit do you think they will be demanding downstairs?”

“A similar forfeit to the one that Mrs. Hughes is paying now, I imagine.” Gareth had told him privately that the forfeit for being guessed was one well worth paying, given that it usually consisted of having one’s cock sucked by each of the ladies in turn until you spent in one of their mouths. He had almost been sorry to be dragged away from the fun.

Almost.

With Caroline all to himself as he had her now, what need did he have of any other woman?

Her mouth turned down into a pout. “You do not deserve such an easy forfeit,” she grumbled. “Not when you had all the company spank me. My bottom is still red and sore from their treatment.”

“Ah, but you enjoyed the spanking, didn’t you?” he reminded her. “You liked wriggling about on my knee as your bottom got red and hot. When the spanking was over it only took the barest touch on your pussy to make you spend.”

“You made me spend in the middle of the company.” Her voice was as near to a complaint as he had ever heard it. “I could not help it, though inside I was dying of embarrassment. They must all think me totally shameless, a perfect wanton.”

“Then my forfeit shall be to make you spend again, this time in the privacy of our own room,” he said, unfastening the buttons of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders to pool at her feet. “Will that make you happy again?” It would certainly make him happy—he was so stiff with wanting her all evening that he ached to take her right away, hard and fast.

Of her own accord, she slipped out of her chemise and kicked off her pantalettes until she stood before him, quite naked. “That sounds like an appropriate forfeit to me.” Her words were a challenge to his hot blood.

Hastily he disposed of his own jacket and trousers and pulled her down next to him on the bed. He would have her on her knees and begging him to fuck her before the night was too much older, or his name was not Dominic Savage.

His fingers tangled in her nest of curls and stroked her pussy. She was dripping wet, and she moved demandingly against his hand, wanting more.

He moved over her, unable to resist the temptation to slide his cock into her moist heat.

In he thrust, meeting with no resistance, only a silky, warm welcome.

Tempted though he was to mindlessly pound into her until they both reached their peak, he resisted the loss of his self-control with every fiber of his being. He owed her a forfeit, and he would redeem it in such a way that she would never forget this night of lovemaking.

She had enjoyed the backdoor play in which they had indulged in the train carriage. Maybe she would enjoy more of that, taking more of him inside her than his finger.

Engorged though he already was, he felt himself grow even bigger at the thought of taking her in such an intimate fashion.

She gave a whimper of protest when he pulled out of her, grasping onto his shoulders to bring him nearer to her. “Don’t go. You haven’t paid your forfeit yet.”

Her eyes were half closed with desire as she looked up at him. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Tonight I am going to pay my forfeit in a whole new way.”

“A new way?” Her eyes opened a fraction wider. “How?”

“Bring your knees up and I will show you.” With those words, he took hold of her legs, bending them at the knees until they were pushed up nearly against her breasts, and propped a pillow under her back.

A trickle of juice dribbled from her open pussy. He gathered it up with his finger and moistened her puckered hole with it. “Tonight,” he said, as he inserted one finger gently into her ass, “I am going to fuck you here.”

Her whole body shivered as he played with her, inserting a second finger to join the first. Her eyes were wide and she made no noise of protest. She was ready for him.

His cock was slick with her juices. Slipping out his fingers, he replaced them with his cock, pushing gently into her until the head of his cock was inside her.

She panted, gasping for breath, holding herself still for him.

One hand steadied his cock, helping him to resist the urge to plunge deeply into her, while with his other he reached down and stroked her clit. “Does that feel good?”

“I have never felt anything like this before.” Her voice was full of wonderment.

He pushed a tiny way farther into her. “Do you want me to stop?” God, how he hoped she said no. He could hardly bear it if she wanted him to pull out now.

“I like it,” she confessed, her body writhing against him and taking him farther inside her. “I am so excited I could like anything you do to me tonight. Anything.”

Her muscles were gripping him as firmly as a glove. He withdrew a little way and pushed into her again, reveling in the unaccustomed tightness, the feeling of ownership that it gave him. Wanting her to be as wild as he was, he teased her clit with his fingers, stroking and rubbing her until she was mindless with desire.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” he asked, trying to contain his own excitement as he thrust into her with slow and shallow strokes. “Do you like having me in your ass, while I play with your pussy?”

He got no answer but a cry almost of pain as she convulsed beneath his fingers, her pussy throbbing with her pleasure.

He had paid his forfeit.

His own orgasm was so near he was about to burst. Pulling out of her for the last time, he gave himself a final stroke and his seed splattered in burst after burst of ecstasy over her ass.

Spent, he collapsed beside her and took her in his arms. He had taken her now in every way that a man could take a woman. She belonged to him.

Dominic accepted the cup of tea that Mrs. Bertram offered and put it aside untasted. Heaven knows, he hated drinking the insipid stuff, but he wanted Mrs. Bertram’s advice, and accepting her invitation to tea seemed the fastest way to reach his goal. Gareth Hughes had sworn by the efficacy of Mrs. Bertram’s advice, though he had also warned him that it might seem unconventional at the time.

Mrs. Bertram sipped her tea, smiling over the rim of the cup at him. “What is on your mind, Mr. Savage? You clearly have not come for the tea.”

“What else would it be but a woman?” He shrugged. “Caroline is on my mind. She is always on my mind.”

“She is a very attractive woman. Remarkably unspoiled and innocent for a woman in her profession. Added to her looks and grace, it is quite a heady combination. She will go far, that one, if she chooses. Any man would have his head turned by such a one as her.”

He did not want to hear that from Mrs. Bertram. Not at all. “Caroline is my mistress. That does not make her a whore.”

“She is not a kept woman, then? My apologies, I seemed to recall she had told me–”

“I rescued her from the workhouse and she became my mistress in return,” Dominic interrupted. “She has known no other man than me.”

“She has reason to be grateful to you, then? She has certainly taken a pleasing part in the entertainments the house has to offer. Remarkably accepting and enthusiastic for a newcomer, I thought, and absolutely made for the sport of love. Some women are, you know.”

“Grateful is not enough.” He slammed his fist down on the flimsy tea table, causing the cups and saucers to rattle dangerously. “I want her to feel more than gratitude toward me. When she looks at me I want her to see more than a wealthy man who has rescued her, a rich man who shares her bed. I want her to see who I really am. I want her to know me.”

“You want her to love you?”

“She is everything that I thought I wanted in a woman. Accommodating, eager to please, obedient. I do not regret making her my mistress, not for a single moment. But I cannot get to the heart and soul of her. Her spirit is too elusive to be captured.”

“You want her to love you,” Mrs. Bertram repeated—a statement this time rather than a question. “And what will you give her in return? Your heart?”

He wasn’t talking about himself, he was talking about Caroline. “I want her to open her thoughts and feelings to me,” he said stubbornly.

“She is a courtesan. You will not get through to her as easily as that. Her livelihood depends on her mystery.”

He had to restrain himself from overturning the tea table, cups and saucers and all, in his frustration. Clearly Gareth Hughes had grossly overestimated Mrs. Bertram’s abilities to assist a man to win a woman’s affection. “Is that the only advice you can give me?”

“Not at all. I am merely warning you that there is no magic solution. If you want to win Caroline’s heart, you will have to work at it. And you will have to convince her that her love will be safe with you. The position of mistress carries little security with it.”

The thought of another man’s hands on his Caroline made him growl. “I will never let another man have her.”

Mrs. Bertram gave a small smile. “It is not me you have to convince of that, but her. Now, if you want Caroline to open up to you, I suggest you first open up to her. Show her something about your previous life, something that will let her see into your heart and soul. You lived in India, did you not?”

“For most of my life.”

“Show her what India meant to you. Show her why you loved the place, how it has made you a different man than all the other men she knows.”

He steepled his hands together in thought. It was worth a try. Maybe Caroline would be entertained by learning more about the place he had spent his boyhood. “The music is what I miss most. The music and the dance—the sensuality of the movements and the very Indian harmonies that one never hears in England. Could you perhaps arrange for such a performance while we are here?”

Her brows knitted together in a frown. “I do not know of any Indian musicians in Cornwall, or good Indian dancers, either. Would you know of any Indian natives in London who might be willing to perform?”

The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. “I will telegram my valet immediately,” he said, getting to his feet, his mind already running on the upcoming entertainment. “If anyone knows, he will know.”

Later that week, when Caroline and Dominic stepped into the large public room used for entertainments, they found it transformed into the likeness of an Indian palace. Delicate silks hung over the walls in casual opulence, while colorful throws of scarlet worked with gold were spread over the sofas, which now hugged the central carpet. Incense and perfumed candles burned on the sideboards, infusing the room with a sweet, spicy scent.

Caroline looked about wide-eyed at the decorations. “Is this what it was like in India?”

“I thought you might like a glimpse of what my life there was like. Not the usual day-to-day business of living, but the culture and beauty of the people. Tonight we are going to be treated to dance and music from southern India.”

He led her to a sofa covered in silk woven with pictures of elephants and sat next to her, his arm around her shoulder.

Caroline ran one hand over the material, clearly enjoying the texture of the weave. “I cannot imagine what the dance will be like,” she said, her voice full of barely suppressed excitement.

“This style of dance is known as Bharata Natyam, and is one of the oldest dance forms of India. It is famous for its grace, purity, and tenderness, and is also supposed to be spiritually uplifting. I have always thought it one of the most beautiful of the classical Indian dances.”