A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce (11 page)

The carriage pulled into Greater Scotland Yard and stopped outside the entrance to the lockup. Finn exited the carriage. “Coming, Vivian?” When she didn’t move, Finn reached inside, dragged her across the seat, and picked her up. “Back in a flash.”

Archie put his arm around Fiona. “How do you feel about spending twenty-four hours in protective custody with me? Safe enough? Or shall I request a chaperone?”

“Good God, no.” Fiona snuggled close. “I will be perfectly safe with you, Archie.”

He brushed his lips over the fine hair at her temple. “Not too safe, I hope.”

Finn leaped back inside the carriage and they were off to Whitehall Court in a dash. The very splendid apartment building was the residence of peers, heads of state, and ambassadors from around the world. “Eighty-two luxury apartments—one of them is reserved as a VIP safe house.” Finn escorted them up to the fourth floor and then down a corridor to a paneled door with no number. “The apartment has a hidden entry.” He handed over the keys to Archie, who opened the door. Fiona blinked. “It’s a linen closet.”

“Push on a shelf,” Finn urged gently. Fiona felt under a stack of bath sheets and pushed—there was a click, as if a latch released. The shelves all swiveled at once, on a hinge. Fiona pressed forward. “Almost like a very thick second door.”

The sitting room beyond looked lovely. “Off you go,” Finn said. “I’ll be back to check on you in the morning. I believe there’s a small pantry with refreshments, and a water closet. All the comforts.” Finn plucked back the keys. “By the way, once you’re in, you’re in.” Finn smiled at them. “You both got through this evening with barely a scratch. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Fiona kissed his cheek on tiptoes. “Thank you for everything, Finn.”

“My pleasure.” He winked at her. “Or more likely, yours.”

Chapter Eleven

A
fter a complete tour through the apartment twice, Fiona pronounced the safe house “a marvel.” It had hot running water, a plumbed cast-iron tub, and electricity! She switched the light on and off several times and pinched herself. The bulbs were bare and rather glaring, but she imagined being able to read under a lamp like this. Eyestrain would become an ailment of the past!

She unbuttoned Archie’s frock coat and folded it neatly across the back of a chair. Out of habit she reached up to unpin her hat and remembered it had been ripped off her head and crushed under a thug’s foot. So she unpinned her hair instead. Perhaps there was a brush in one of the dressers.

Archie opened a cabinet in the pantry and found a rack of wine bottles. “Shall we have a glass of wine, Fiona?”

“That would be lovely.” She wandered into the bedroom, as Archie opened one drawer after the other. “Can’t seem to find a corkscrew,” he groused.

A large four-poster stood in the middle of the room, with a highboy and a wardrobe on each wall. Venturing further, she discovered a dressing table and dipped down to look in the mirror. Tilting her head, she found evidence of her capture and struggle: red finger marks on her throat, and her color was a bit pale.

Her gaze moved lower, to her blouse—torn open, ragged and forlorn, but the camisole was stunning and the corset covered in small violets cheerful. Quite suddenly she wanted out of her clothes. She removed her blouse and skirt and stuffed them in a drawer. She untied her bustle and petticoats and left them in a puddle on the floor.

Stripped down to her new undergarments, the cool air soothed her skin and calmed her mind. She sat down at the dresser to finish unpinning her hair.

“I found a basket of biscuits and chocolate, would you like— Fiona?” Archie stopped short. She met his gaze in the mirror, as she let the last of her hair down. Thick curls fell in massive waves down her back. Archie looked as though his heart might stop. She patted the bench next to her and smiled. “Come sit with me.”

He slid in beside her and handed her a glass of wine. “And how was your day, Miss Rose?” He kissed her neck and she tilted her head so he could leave a trail of tingles. “Fraught with demands, Mr. Bruce.”

He applied a gentle kiss to each red mark. “I recommend a glass of wine and more kissing.”

She swallowed from the glass he offered and they did a good deal more kissing. She touched his thigh, and he brought her hand up between his legs. “Show me what to do,” she whispered.

He drained the glass and set it down. “Come to bed with me, Fee.” He held out his hand and led her over to the comfortable-looking four-poster. He paused to look at her in pale lavender hose and matching garters. “Have you any idea how delicious you are and how aroused I am?”

If he only knew how eager she was to have her first sexual experience—and it would be with Archibald Bruce. Her knees trembled at the very thought.

“Before I unbutton my trousers . . .” He took her hand and let her feel the hard length and breadth of him. Then he guided her hand inside his drawers.

“It feels like velvet,” she gasped.

“Even though I might die from desire, I believe I will encourage you to explore on your own,” he rasped in a husky voice. He shrugged off his waistcoat and braces, and pulled his shirt over his head. “Unbutton the rest,” he urged her, and she exposed his penis, which sprang to life, angling up toward the ceiling. “Take hold and stroke the shaft.”

Fiona stared for a moment, and then curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out again, grasping him gently at first. “Do you like this? Might I hold you tighter?” she asked.

He nodded his encouragement, showing her how to hold him firmly and circle her fingers around the tip of the shaft. Gently, he moved her fingers up and down—and she continued on her own until he was panting very hard. “Not yet,” he gasped, and took her hand away. She didn’t quite understand.

He coaxed her to lie back on the bed while he untied his shoes and pushed off his hose. His back was broad, and narrowed down to a vee with slim hips and muscled buttocks. She shivered a bit and sat up, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her cheek against the smooth surface of his back as her fingers wove a dance over his chest and down his torso. “Fuzzy,” she murmured against his skin. She very much liked the way Archie was built—hard—but not overly muscled in the arms and chest, with long, athletic legs. And that mat of chest fuzz, oh my! A single finger traced the trail of small hairs past his navel and sent a shudder through his body. She knew this because that untamable penis bobbed about with her every touch.

He turned to her. “We are going to take this slowly.”

Fiona leaned back on her elbows. “Why?”

He tried to muffle a chuckle and failed. She arched a brow and waited for an answer.

Archie crawled over the bed to her. “Because it will be more . . . erotic.” He propped himself against pillows and placed her between his legs. “Now then, may I remove this beautiful corset?” He loosened strings. “How is it ladies spend a good deal of cash on clothes that a man can’t wait to remove?” Fiona helped unlace, and soon both the corset and camisole were off—flung into another puddle of discarded underthings on the floor. He fell back just to look at her.

“I suppose that is the point of it—silly as it may seem.” Fiona could feel the heat of her blush under his admiring gaze. He kept his touch light, sweeping his fingers over round mounds and nipples, down the curve of her waist and belly. Her hips answered him with a wanton, lusty thrust.

“As tempting as a naked forest sprite in a painting,” he whispered almost reverently.

Fiona sat up and straddled him. “Erotic?” she mused aloud as he cupped her breasts and used his thumbs to graze the tips, teasing at first, then adding more pressure. Arousal erupted inside her and she thrust her breasts out and lay her head back against her shoulders. He twisted a nipple between his thumb and finger, causing a tremble of pleasure as she poised a breast over his mouth. He rolled his tongue over the hard peaks and suckled until she answered him with a deep moan of pleasure.

Archie rolled her under him as his fingers delved between her legs and caressed slick, perfumed petals of flesh. On her own initiative, Fiona opened wider and he asked, “More?”

“Yes, please.”

Somehow, he found this magical place and circled slowly at first and then faster. He slid one finger inside her, drawing wetness and swirling it over this swollen spot of pure pleasure. Her breath grew harsh and her words more pleading as her hips thrust against him. “God, oh Archie, please, yes.”

“My darling, shall I ease you back from the brink or let you fall past the edge of no return?” She let her cries tell him everything he needed to know. Something wicked and extremely pleasurable was building inside her—taunting and crying out for more. At times it seemed as if he was barely touching her. She growled in protest, brazenly lifting her breast to his mouth. His light touches only served to arouse her further, and before she could ask for more, her body thrust upward and began to shudder uncontrollably. Her hips rocked against his open palm as she wailed with pleasure. By the time Fiona uttered her last moan, she was quite positive the entire fourth floor of Whitehall Court had heard proof of her gratification.

“With love cries like that, this will not be a safe house much longer,” he whispered against her lips. Fiona grinned and exhaled a deep sigh. “Will you do that again, Archie?” Her senses were still alive, tingling.

“Again and again. So many times, in fact, that you will eventually lose count. I hope.”

A sudden new awareness revitalized Fiona. She straddled his torso, and his penis brushed up against her moist womanly parts. Could this man get much harder? “I wish to give you pleasure as well.”

Perched above him, Fiona appeared ready to mount his cock. Her nude body glistened with a lovely sheen of perspiration and she arched her back and thrust her hips forward—a nymphlike goddess ready for some lusty fornication. “Might this be called erotic?” Her delightfully naughty smile teased.

“Very.” He was struck by the thought that he indeed might be the luckiest man in all of London, possibly the world. He had found a woman who was his match in every possible way—student, scientist, as well as siren, for it appeared she enjoyed these lovely, pleasurable intimacies as much as he.

She gasped a small giggle and whispered again. “Erotic.”

He watched her play with the word in her thoughts. Archie swept his hand through soft waves of hair that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Absently he pulled a few dark-blond strands over her breasts. “You are almost a woman of the world.” He had taken up her hand in his and moved it to his cock.

“May I kiss it? That would be erotic, would it not?” Fiona was not entirely innocent about what she was asking, and the suggestion alone brought his phallus to near-painful attention.

“Not that you have any experience in these matters,” he teased.

“Of course I have heard talk of it. Read something of it.” She softly stroked him. “There was a popular manuscript at university everyone checked out.”

“Ovid?”

His cock felt the hum of her acknowledgment as her lips opened to cover the tip.

“I do believe in the education of females. Full university credits . . . degrees . . . oh God . . . please do proceed, Fiona.” Very soon thereafter, he found that his own speech had abandoned him, replaced by the guttural, inarticulate sounds of a growling, wild beast. She kissed parts of him that he would have never dreamed she would touch so early on in her instruction. Archie was in a near stupor of lust, all he could think about was how easily moved to pleasure she was and how much he enjoyed her. “Good God, Fiona—lick it—that’s it.” Christ, he was going to climax. He withdrew his cock and rolled her onto her back.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his trousers off the floor and dug in one pocket, then the other. “Ah, here you are.” He removed the small packet and climbed back in bed. “As I recall, you are quite accomplished at unrolling one of these.”

Fiona sat back on her heels, fully nude, with the exception of her unruly curls. Archie smiled. “You look like a woodland fairy in a painting.”

“Keep him still, please.” Archie snorted a laugh and held on to his unruly prick while she covered the tip and rolled on the rubber goods.

He laid her back on the pillows and he moved his fingers inside. Greeted by her soft moan of pleasure and a flood of wetness, he gently stretched her. His fingers delved deeper, then pulled out—playing at the edges of her opening, while his thumb engaged in circling and teasing. Hovering above her, for just a moment, he enjoyed the look of pure desire in her slightly glazed eyes. Firmly, he pushed his cock inside the moist warm sex of her.

“Slowly,” she whispered.

“Is it very painful? I can stop if you wish.” His voice was husky with need, and he knew full well he was barely in control.

“Don’t stop.” She wrapped her legs up around his body and began to moan. Her opening was tight and yet slippery with her excitement. Condom or no, he was aroused to the point of wanting to pound into her, and he mustn’t—not tonight. With one fingertip he stroked softly along her inner folds. Barely rubbing—circling the place that made her shiver and arch upward. The more pleasure he could bring her while he inserted his cock, the more she would enjoy this first encounter. Dipping his head, he was happy to nip at her nipples, while using his fingers to circle and tickle her favorite place. The place that caused her pleasure to soar and made her praise God and cry out for more.

Using firm, deliberate thrusts he concentrated on her arousal while his own fervor continued to build. Archie pressed deeper and withdrew. Without missing a single thrust, he pulled out enough to rub her pleasure spot with the tip of his cock. His fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks, as he brought himself deeper inside. And she responded with the blissful gasp of her release.

This time he could not stop to cuddle and soothe her—this time, he was out of control. His breath was ragged, and his heart pounded out the need for his finish. “Good Christ, Fiona.” His thrusting grew rapid as he edged closer. He threw back his head as a violent shudder ended in the start of an explosive climax. With a low grunt he began to come, and he held fast to the rubber goods as he filled the receptacle tip with spurts of his semen. He rolled them onto their sides and rubbed out the last of his climax against her. She wrapped her legs around him and he ran his hands down the small of her back and over the curves of her bottom. After a short interlude, which allowed them both several additional moments of bliss, he suckled and released a rosy pink nipple. “Better, my young goddess of love?”

In so many ways, Fiona was a brave and honorable young lady who was his equal in both wisdom and maturity. For his part, Archie reminded himself that she was experiencing this kind of sexual arousal for the first time in her life.

Suddenly, his mind filled with the essence of a most agreeable epiphany. Archie realized that she was an inspiration to him. This ungovernable beauty made him feel like he was amongst family. And perhaps he truly had found his home with this extraordinary young woman. He tucked her in his arms and she exhaled softly against his shoulder. Absently, she stroked his chest.