Bound to Be a Groom (4 page)

Anna stared up at the canopy of autumn leaves, her heart more full than she’d ever thought possible. Pia was hers.

Then thoughts of the outside world began to crowd up against her as she held Pia close.

“What is it?” Pia asked softly, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of tension in Anna’s forehead.

Anna relaxed into her touch and turned to face her. “I don’t want you in stolen moments like this. I want you with me all the time. I want us to be together, like man and wife . . .”

Pia looked taken aback, as if Anna had gone mad.

“I mean . . . Ugh. That’s not what I mean.” Anna shook her head to reorganize her thoughts. “We can never marry in the eyes of the world or the church, of course. I meant I want us to be together as we are now, not furtively.”

“I know what you mean.” Pia relaxed deeper against her chest. “But we both know such a dream is impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Anna said with a bit of harshness that seemed to surprise Pia. “I am a planner, not a dreamer.”

“I suppose if you were able to stay in the convent, rather than go to court in Madrid, we could be together. Sometimes.”

Anna reached out and tenderly fondled Pia’s breast. She felt her own sex flutter in response to Pia’s immediate reaction. They were already part of each other.

“When it comes to you, my darling Pia, I will never settle for
sometimes
. I have a plan.” She leaned down and began kissing Pia’s lips and then her neck and then, for quite some time, her breasts, and then lower, until Anna had her mouth against Pia’s full, wet center, and she brought her to the heights of pleasure again. And then again.

Anna’s own release would come soon enough. Her self-denial was a joy in itself. For that moment, she loved the way Pia melted beneath her touch, the way Pia’s hips rose to meet her lips, the way Pia’s soul flew into Anna’s keeping.

“I will never give you up, Pia. Never.” She licked and taunted and nipped at the swollen lips between Pia’s legs. She brought her to one last climax and finally relented when Pia’s voice was shredded from screaming and her face was covered in tears of ecstasy.

For several months after that, though, they were required to settle for
sometimes
. They planned the occasional clandestine meeting. They carved out a few blessed nights when one of them feigned sickness and the other came to her aid. Pia continued to beg Anna to take what little pleasure they had and be grateful for the crumbs.

But Anna refused to settle for the rest of her life.

Finally, after many weeks of stolen conversations and heated debates, Anna was able to convince Pia that her plan to amass a small fortune—by becoming a courtesan—was the only one that promised a realistic path to an independent future for both of them. Anna hated the idea of leaving Pia in the convent, but Anna’s aristocratic—if tainted—blood meant she was destined to live amongst the upper classes, with ready access to the men who would gladly pay for the pleasure of her company. Pia had no such connections, sullied or otherwise.

Occasionally, Anna faltered, wondering if she should take the less treacherous path, if she should accept the measly life the convent offered. But she never let Pia see those doubts. One of them needed to be unequivocally strong, and that role suited Anna far better than it suited Pia. When their last night together was upon them, the night before Anna was set to leave for the wedding in Badajoz, she tried to keep her spirits high for Pia’s sake.

“If I’m to become a courtesan in Madrid—or if I’m particularly lucky, perhaps the mistress of a wealthy nobleman in Paris or Naples or London—I’ll need more experience, darling.” Anna dragged her hands lazily through her lover’s long, dark hair, Pia’s head resting on her chest.

“I know you do, but I still hate it.” Pia’s hands roamed across Anna’s smooth stomach and then up to one breast. Pia leaned down slightly, taking the pert nipple between her lips.

“Oh, Pia,” Anna sighed. “What else am I to do?”

Pia released her breast and expelled an answering sigh. “You could remain here.”

“If it was always like this—” Anna squeezed her closer to make her point. “—then of course that would be perfect.” The two of them were whispering intimately in the narrow single bed in Anna’s sparse room in the convent. “But I shan’t spend my life hiding, sneaking around behind the abbess’s back, taking a night here or there—like tonight—when one of us pretends to be ill and in need of the other’s aid. We deserve to live together, always.”

“I know,” Pia agreed reluctantly.

“It’s a terrible bargain but one we’ve reasoned through so many times. It’s the most expeditious route, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, up here.” Pia tapped her head. “I know it’s the quickest way for both of us to escape, but so much can go wrong. What if you fall in love with someone else?”

“Oh, Pia.” Anna leaned down and kissed Pia’s forehead lightly, then trailed kisses down her cheek until she reached her mouth. Pia groaned, and her strong body softened and bent into Anna’s. “How could that possibly happen? You are everything to me.” Anna reached her hand between their bodies and began touching Pia’s breasts, pinching and toying with her nipples until Pia was squirming and halfheartedly pleading for her to stop.

Anna and Pia had fallen horribly, madly in love over the past six months. They both knew the night might be their last in each other’s arms for many, many months, or even years. The abbess had arranged for Anna to spend several weeks with Isabella in Badajoz, and then Anna was scheduled to travel directly to Madrid to take a position as a lady’s maid in the retinue of the off-and-on monarch, King Ferdinand VII.

As they spoke of the future, Anna did her best to hold fast to the last precious moments of the present.

“You must believe me, Pia. I will prevail.”

“I trust you,” Pia whispered. “I know you can accomplish anything you set your mind to, but it’s quite awful for me to imagine you with . . .
under
. . . some horrible man.” Pia shut her eyes.

“Perhaps I'll learn something that will please you,” Anna teased.

Pia groaned and turned her head into the pillow. “How can you joke at a time like this?” she said into the linen.

Anna sobered. “If it means the two of us will live together eventually, I am willing to do almost anything.”

“Oh, Anna.” Pia looked up and kissed her again. “I know it’s true, but it’s still miserable. I know the sooner you are able to accumulate some savings—with the gems and baubles I’m sure every man will shower upon you—the sooner we will be together. Men will fall at your feet. I know it.”

“I will always be thinking of you. I will always picture you. No matter what they do to me, it will be your lips and hands and skin that I feel.”

Pia was crying again. “I will miss you horribly. Please think of me and know that I am thinking of you.”

“I will. Of course I will.” Anna’s voice was almost stern as she looked down into Pia’s moist eyes. Holding Pia’s chin firmly in her hand, Anna watched as her lover’s sadness turned to beautiful submission once Anna was back in control. It took all of Anna’s conviction not to waver. She was sorely tempted to simply give in to that look, the look that fired Anna’s blood and made her powerfully aware of what the two of them shared, the look that made Anna feel whole.

“May I show you how much I shall miss you?” Pia whispered, always tentative and painfully shy when she wanted to please Anna.

“Yes, my love. Show me.”

Pia worshipped Anna’s body, taking slow, reverent care as she kissed her way down Anna’s lean frame. She was incredibly patient, protracting every moment of their dwindling time together. She licked Anna’s small breasts, and they both moaned when she pulled one firm nipple into her mouth. Anna ran her fingers through Pia’s unbound hair and encouraged her with whispered words and humming sounds of pleasure.

When Pia moved lower, she looked up at Anna, wanting both physical and visual contact.

“I see you, my love,” Anna whispered. “Go on.”

Hesitant and eager, Pia began to slowly lick the seam of Anna’s sex. Anna’s fingers flexed and then relaxed against the back of Pia’s head. “Yes, my sweet girl.”

As Pia’s eyes closed in submissive pleasure, Anna nearly wept, once again questioning her wild plan. During their time together, Pia had proved to be the most exquisite, delectable lover. She moaned, a combination of carnal satisfaction and bittersweet regret. Pia looked up from between Anna’s legs with sadness in her eyes.

“What is it, love?” Anna reached out and touched Pia’s moist lower lip.

“Please don’t let anyone else do this.”

“Men will want to touch me, darling . . .” Anna’s voice trailed off, not wanting to hurt Pia but not wanting to promise something impossible, either.

“I know.” A single tear trailed down Pia’s cheek. “But not with their lips.” Her expression veered toward anger. “They’ll want to fuck you with their pricks or prod you with their thick fingers. Please . . .” Pia kissed Anna there, then sucked lightly on her clit before speaking again. “Let my mouth be the only one here.” Her eyes were begging.

“Very well. Only your mouth will touch me there, sweet Pia.”

Pia’s eyes drifted shut, and Anna could feel the curve of her smile as she pressed her lips with renewed fervor against the throbbing lips of Anna’s sex.

Badajoz, Spain – June 1808

In the library with Sebastian, Anna tried to conjure the same warmth low in her belly that a look from Pia had always produced and transfer it to this dark-haired, arrogant aristocrat. She hoped to feel even a hint of that kind of passion while he held her in his arms.

Sebastian’s length twitched against her, and she felt her desire fade. Unfortunately, the idea of intercourse—or more accurately, penetration—left Anna cold. It was too invasive, too one-sided. Even the words—
fuck
. . .
prick
. . .
needle
—sounded inelegant at best and violent at worst. Crude.

Not to mention the possible consequences, which led to ruined lives and unwanted wailing bundles left at convent doors. In addition, she dreaded the way the act itself called for her own nonexistent passivity, to be pinned down and poked. Or at least, that’s how it had always seemed to her.

“Come here,” Sebastian said, gently drawing her toward a large velvet sofa in the center of the room. He tried to lean her back into a partially reclined position, but she immediately sat upright.

The buttoned front of his straining buckskins was right at eye level. Quite convenient.

Then he touched her—stroking down her neck—and Anna instinctively reached for the fall of his trousers. When she palmed the straining fabric, he gasped, and she snatched back her hand.

“May I?” she asked, looking down, unsure if his shock was physical or a matter of etiquette. She tried to remind herself to be more polite, but the idea that she was about to make these discoveries in broad daylight, with a willing partner, was more than she could have ever hoped for. If she were to arrive in Madrid with a modicum of sexual experience, perhaps she could secure a position as someone’s mistress more easily. Still, as much as she wanted to learn what she could from this man, the idea of being his acquiescent pupil was anathema. She wanted to be in charge.

As usual
, Pia would have said in that throaty voice of hers that always bordered on a shy laugh when remarking upon Anna’s dominance.

He chuckled and folded his arms arrogantly across his chest. “Do with me what you will.”

She felt she’d been granted free access to El Escorial, with no pricking or poking in sight. She palmed him through the fabric first, wanting to get a sense of his size and what pleased him, and if she were lucky, what pleased her. In future, she knew her control of a lover would derive from her ability to sense his likes and dislikes, but from her time with Pia she also knew her own pleasure could be equally arousing to her partner.

Sebastian’s groan was immediate. She pressed harder, and he pushed his hips toward her. She licked her lips, and the thought popped into her head that this might be entirely delightful.

Keeping one hand firmly against his considerable length, she used the other to undo the surrounding buttons. The front flap came loose, and she slid it down to release his straining cock.

She looked up at him to make sure he was still . . . pleased . . . and the gleam of lust in his eyes assured her he was. She’d been in this position often enough. She loved the feeling of Pia’s frantic hands in her hair when Anna kissed and licked and loved her swollen petals. She loved making Pia wait and wait and then break apart—against her demanding lips—only when Anna finally let her.

She wondered aloud, “May I take you into my mouth? Perhaps you’d like to grab hold of my hair . . . or my neck?”

He looked shocked. Probably a result of her forwardness. She was consumed with a spontaneous terror that she had stepped so far beyond the pale that he’d never—

He dug his fingers into the base of her skull, giving her a fierce tug that only granted her a split second to open her mouth and receive his enormous shaft flush up against the back of her throat. She almost gagged, but he pulled back enough for her to breathe through her nose, then, more slowly, he went deeper. Petting her and gently asking her to relax, he trailed his hand along her neck, occasionally dipping the tips of his fingers into the edge of her bodice.