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Authors: Kate Pearce

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BOOK: Simply Carnal
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He worked her sex and then gently hooked a finger around the orbs inside her and drew all three of them out.
“I’d like to fuck you with these still in there, but that can wait until another time. Two cocks at once are enough excitement for tonight.”
Her gray eyes widened, but she made no attempt to speak. Christian took off his pantaloons and underthings, releasing his aching cock. He was wet and as hard as iron. He ran a hand over his flesh, pulling the foreskin back to reveal the thick, swollen crown.
Paul sighed. “Let me lick you, Christian. Just for a moment.”
Christian glanced at Elizabeth. “Would you object if he tasted me?”
She shook her head, and he smiled before moving to her right. “Paul, you can lick me and fuck Elizabeth at the same time.”
Paul responded with a groan and began to lift Elizabeth up and down over his shaft. Christian held his cock ready, and Paul closed his lips around the crown and sucked him. Christian knew he wouldn’t last long and soon pulled free and knelt between Elizabeth’s thighs again.
He was beyond being careful now and pushed himself deep and hard into Elizabeth, loving her gasp and Paul’s as he slid inward, aware of both Paul’s pumping cock and Elizabeth’s tightness. He took over the fast rhythm, making Paul follow his thrusts in counterpart. He slid his hand between their bodies, found Elizabeth’s clit, and pushed hard with his thumb. He wanted to roar in triumph as she screamed his name, and he felt her cunt tighten around him like a vise and continue to pulse. Then he forgot anything else except the force of his own climax and the fact that Paul was joining them.
When he could finally breathe again, he realized he was slumped over both Elizabeth and Paul. He eased himself out of Elizabeth and drew her off Paul. She immediately curled up on the sheets away from them.
Paul whistled and grinned at Christian. “Thank you both. I should really be getting back downstairs. Shall I send Ambrose up?”
Keeping his gaze half on Elizabeth, Christian managed to smile at Paul. “Thank you, yes, but tell him not to come right away.”
Paul dropped a kiss on Elizabeth’s shoulder and climbed off the bed, pausing only to pick up his discarded clothes.
 
Elizabeth kept her face pressed into the pillows as Paul departed. She felt ... How did she feel? Manipulated? She wasn’t sure if that was the right word. Having two men to deal with had definitely prevented her from obsessing over whether she could climax or not.
“Elizabeth.”
She tensed as Christian touched her ankle. In an instant, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her, leaving her with no escape.
“Are you all right?”
She licked her lips and stared up into his eyes. There were signs of triumph there, along with the remains of satisfied lust. Anger coiled low in her gut and only seemed to intensify the currents of desire that still shuddered through her sex.
“Am I supposed to thank you now?” To her relief, she sounded a lot less shaken than she felt.
“Thank me for what?”
“For making me climax.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“I ...” She stopped speaking and just glared at him.
His smile made her want to slap his beautiful face. “I hope you did, because I’m going to do it again.”
His mouth descended over hers and he kissed her, his tongue deep and possessive, his long fingers already touching her aching breasts and relighting the embers of her passion. His cock sought entrance to her wet and swollen sex, but he didn’t push himself deep, just teased her with the thick crown until she wanted to scream at him to either finish it or stop.
Her gaze flew to his face, and she found he was watching her intently, almost as if he could read her thoughts. Her frustration boiled over and she reached between them to grab his shaft. His reaction was too quick and he pulled away, grabbing her wrist. She tried to wrench her hand away, but he held it fast.
“No whores’ tricks, Mrs. Smith.”
“Let me go.”
“Why? You were going to interfere with my lovemaking.”
She twisted her hand in his grasp until she could dig her nails into his flesh and he winced.
“Don’t do that.”
“Then let me go!”
“Only if you promise to behave yourself.”
She glared up at him. “What do you want me to do? Lie still and let you huff and puff over me?”
“I’m not an old man like your husband, and of course I don’t expect you to lie still.” His grip tightened. “I expect you to participate fully.” His gaze slid over her body. “But I don’t appreciate it when you seek to control me.”
Sudden rage filled her and she kicked out, only to find herself flattened beneath him once more.
“Stop it, Elizabeth.”
She struggled to gain control of her anger and finally succeeded. “You said I could participate. I am sorry if I displeased you.”
He sighed. “Oh for God’s sake, we’re back to that, are we?”
“To what, sir?”
“To the role of dutiful, unshockable doormat.”
She closed her eyes against the bite of his words. “What do you want from me?”
“I want ...” He moved off her. “Let me take those clamps off you. They must be hurting.”
“I thought that was the idea,” Elizabeth forced herself to reply.
He looked down at her. “There are many ways of hurting someone, but pain can also be very pleasurable.” He carefully unscrewed the clamp on her clit. “You should understand that now.” He kissed her mound and moved to examine her breasts.
“Ah ...” She sucked in her breath as he cupped her breast and released her right nipple from the restraint. He bent his head and drew her breast into his mouth, his tongue a wet, warm bath against the heat of her aching nipple. She shivered as he quickly dispensed with the other clamp and then drew her into his arms and held her tight against his shoulder.
She couldn’t stop shuddering, and he seemed to know that, drawing the covers up over them and just continuing to hold her. She found herself cuddling into his warm, muscular body, her mouth pressed against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair. How long had it been since someone had held her after sex? Or simply held her?
“It’s all right. You will be fine.”
Tears pricked at her eyelids. What did he know about anything? She’d given him the last thing she had—her pleasure. Couldn’t he see that meant she’d learned nothing? She knew him well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t be content with a single victory, that he would expect—no,
demand
—that she came for him as often as he wanted.
After a long while, she managed to pull away from him and smile. He smiled back but there was a watchfulness about his gaze that didn’t bode well.
“Are you feeling better now, Elizabeth?” he asked.
“Never better, sir.” Elizabeth sat up and looked brightly toward the door. “Aren’t we expecting Ambrose?”
9
I
n a futile effort to get more comfortable, Elizabeth shifted her position on the hard wooden bench. Apparently being penetrated simultaneously by two men meant one would suffer the next morning. Not that she regretted the occasion. It had been surprisingly erotic in its way.
After she’d expressed her feigned interest in bedding Ambrose, Christian had abruptly picked her up and dumped her back in her own bedroom. He’d told her very politely that Ambrose would be quite happy to wait for another night. Elizabeth sighed. He’d sounded civil but she knew he wasn’t happy with her at all.
She picked up the first of the newspapers and turned her attention to the personal advertisements. Apart from Madame Durand, the kitchen was almost deserted at this early hour. She was glad of that. Christian Delornay was far too formidable to face before she had come to terms with her surprising reactions to the events of the previous evening.
She started reading through the columns of announcements of births, marriages, and deaths followed by society gossip and social events. Christian had made her angry, and that was unacceptable. Elizabeth raised her head and stared at the kitchen door. She’d decided years ago that there was no point in anger. Why couldn’t he be like all the other men she’d encountered and be happy for her to be a mute, smiling doll?
Her gaze caught on her first name. She held her breath and placed her trembling finger under the two lines of text and read the message through twice.
Who was RR? She desperately tried to think of anyone she knew with those initials and could recall no one. But did it matter? She had no real choice. Whatever the dangers, and she was well aware that it was probably a trap, she would have to meet with this person.
She carefully refolded the paper and put it back in the middle of the pile. Her possessions ... what an odd way of putting it.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.”
She looked up to see Christian coming through the door and tried to compose herself. He was dressed immaculately in dark gray and, unlike her, looked as if he had slept well.
His faint smile died. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, sir. I’m just contemplating all the things I need to accomplish today.”
He walked over to the stove, nodded to Madame Durand, and helped himself to coffee. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me, Mrs. Smith.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “If you really want to know, I am a little sore!” she hissed.
“I’m not surprised.” His half-smile didn’t comfort her. “And you’re not embarrassed to see me at all?”
“Why would I be embarrassed, sir?”
He contemplated her over the rim of his coffee until she feared she might be blushing and then sat down at the table. “Because you like to portray a certain image and I undermine you. Naturally you don’t like it.” He cradled his earthenware mug in his hands. “I wouldn’t like it either.”
“When have I ever succeeded in undermining you?”
His enchanting smile flashed out. “You’d be surprised, Mrs. Smith. You inspire certain ... emotions in me that I thought to expunge from my memories.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands to her bosom. “Are you suggesting that you are in
love
with me, Mr. Delornay?”
His warm laughter flowed over her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Pleased that she had diverted his attention away from her, she curtsied and hurried toward the door.
“I must speak to Marie-Claude. I will see you later, Mr. Delornay.”
He half rose and she fled the kitchen before she said anything to make matters worse.
 
Christian’s smile died as he finished his coffee.
“Madame Durand, what was Mrs. Smith doing just before I came in?”
Madame didn’t bother to turn around and speak to him directly but continued stirring her pots. “She was reading the newspaper, Mr. Delornay.”
“Thank you.”
Christian stared at the pile of newspapers on the table. Was Elizabeth simply keeping up with current events, or was her purpose more complicated?
“Good morning, Mr. Delornay.”
He looked up to find Ambrose smiling down at him.
“Good morning.” Christian drew the stack of newspapers toward him. “Does Mrs. Smith always read the papers in the morning?”
Ambrose sighed. “Yes, she does.”
“Would you say that she looks for anything in particular?”
“Yes, I would, and before you ask, she wouldn’t tell me what she was looking for, because she didn’t trust me not to tell you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” Even though Ambrose wasn’t revealing anything unexpected, Christian still didn’t like it.
“I assured her that we could help, but she didn’t believe me.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Smith is the trusting kind, do you?”
Ambrose sat down and smoothed a hand over his short hair. “Considering that she ended up on the streets, she has no reason to trust anyone, does she?”
“You trust me.”
“But it took me several years to do so.” Ambrose separated out the papers and handed half to Christian. “She only reads the announcements and advertisements.”
Christian turned the first newspaper over and began scanning the tightly printed text. Madame Durand placed a plate of eggs, ham, and a croissant at his elbow and he thanked her before resuming his search.
After a while, Ambrose cleared his throat. “This might be it: ‘Elizabeth S-B lately of France. Re your possessions. Contact the above office, yours RR.’ ”
He looked up at Christian. “It certainly sounds promising. I wonder what the
S-B
stands for?”
“Certainly not
Smith
.” Christian took the proffered newspaper and read the message again. “The question is, what do we do about it? Do we wait and see if Mrs. Smith asks for our help, or do we take that decision out of her hands and simply follow her when she visits the newspaper offices?”
“You think she’ll go, then?”
“If she’s been obsessively reading the papers ever since she arrived here, of course she’ll go.” Christian frowned. “I wonder what possessions are being referred to. Perhaps it is a well-wisher who has retrieved her belongings from France and wants to pass them on to her.”
Even as he said it, he didn’t like the thought of someone else stepping in to help Elizabeth. He wanted her to ask for
his
help and confide in him. And when exactly had that happened? When had he started feeling so possessive about another human being? He was famous for his detachment from his lovers.
He tossed the newspaper back onto the table. “I’ll leave you to handle the details, Ambrose. If she does confide in you, I’d appreciate it if you tell me what she says.”
Ambrose carefully refolded the newspaper and slid it back into the pile. “I doubt she’ll tell me anything. But if she does, she already knows I’ll share that information with you. I made that quite clear.”
For some reason that didn’t make Christian feel any better. He got up and Ambrose rose as well.
“I’ll be out this afternoon,” Christian said.
“Then I’ll let you know of any developments when you return,” Ambrose replied. He followed Christian back to his office. “In the meantime, I must find Mrs. Smith and consult with her about the finishing touches for the room of desires.”
“Is it nearly done, then?” Christian asked, unreasonably glad for the change of subject.
“It is, and I think you will be very pleased with it.”
“Excellent.” Christian headed for his desk and paused, his back to Ambrose. “And if you and Mrs. Smith wish to
experiment
in the new setting, that would be helpful.”
“Are you suggesting I fuck her?” Ambrose asked quietly.
Christian sat down and faced his friend. “That was the idea, wasn’t it?”
“Without you being there?”
Christian shrugged. “My presence isn’t necessary. You just need to become accustomed to each other.”
Ambrose just looked at him, and Christian raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”
“You are her lover. Paul and I are just ... acting.”
“I’m not sure what you are implying.”
Ambrose leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “You really wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.” Christian busied himself selecting a pen and opening his inkwell. “I might be her lover, but I certainly don’t own her, nor would I wish to.”
“She is very beautiful.”
“Beauty is easy to find, my friend.”
“And she is strong, intelligent, and likable ...”
Christian forced a smile. “She certainly can portray all those attributes.”
“You think her false?”
“How can I not? She doesn’t even use her own name, for God’s sake. Why would any man trust a woman like that?”
Ambrose studied him carefully. “Sometimes a man has no choice in the matter.”
Christian realized he was glaring. “If you feel that strongly about Mrs. Smith, I’ll stop fucking her and hand her over to you. To her, one man is as good as any other.”
“I doubt that. And she isn’t a possession to be handed around.” There was an edge of anger to Ambrose’s reply that Christian couldn’t mistake, but for once he didn’t give a damn about his friend’s feelings about ownership.
He took out a piece of paper and slammed the drawer shut. “May I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself?”
“I’ll—” Ambrose suddenly straightened and looked out into the hallway. “Good morning, Mrs. Smith. I didn’t see you there.”
Christian watched as Elizabeth swept past Ambrose and came to a halt in front of his desk. She curtsied to him, her smile bright and her gray eyes completely guileless. He concentrated on keeping his expression just as bland.
“Mr. Delornay.”
“How much did you hear?” Christian asked bluntly.
“Of your conversation? Most of it.”
“Well you should know that eavesdroppers never hear good about themselves.”
Her eyes widened. “I heard nothing that offended me, Mr. Delornay.”
“Good.” He realized that he was glaring at her. “Then enjoy your afternoon with Ambrose.”
“I intend to, sir.” She turned away from him and smiled sweetly at Ambrose. “Are you ready to go up to the room of desires with me?”
“Indeed I am, Elizabeth.” Ambrose bowed low, which made Christian grind his teeth. “I’ll speak to you later this evening, Mr. Delornay.”
Christian was left sitting at his desk as the happy pair disappeared down the corridor, laughing and talking to each other as if they had not a care in the world. He looked down at the letter he was attempting to write, screwed the paper up into a ball, and threw it toward the fireplace.
“Damn their merry souls to hell,” he muttered. “I think it’s time I visited the Demon Club again.”
 
As they rounded the corner and Christian’s office disappeared from view, Elizabeth let out her breath and Ambrose patted her hand.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”
“For what?”
“For discussing you in those terms.”
She smiled up at him. “You have nothing to apologize for. In truth, you were very flattering.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I wish I deserved it. But I was deliberately goading Mr. Delornay.”
“Goading him?”
Ambrose held the door open for her, and she started to climb the stairs. “Most people believe Mr. Delornay is a cold-blooded, amoral man.”
“I can see why.”
“He is much more than that,” Ambrose said softly. “I occasionally have to remind him that he is allowed to show he cares about people.”
Elizabeth swallowed as she recalled Christian’s dismissive words about her person and his casual insistence that Ambrose should hurry up and fuck her. It hurt more than she had anticipated. Perhaps she should see it as the warning it was and harden her heart against everyone and everything at the pleasure house.
“Mr. Delornay didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I am here under false pretenses, and I am willing to participate in the sexual games.”
Ambrose produced the key to the room of desires and unlocked the door. “Elizabeth, you are almost as bad as Mr. Delornay about sharing your feelings. No one likes to hear themselves spoken of like that.”
“Perhaps I’m used to it,” Elizabeth replied lightly.
Ambrose cupped her face with his fingers. “No one should have to get used to that.”
She moved away from him, toward the new pale gold drapes, and turned to survey the room. “It looks so much better in here, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. You have an excellent eye for color. The gold and brown palette work very well together. It looks warm and welcoming but also quite mysterious.”
BOOK: Simply Carnal
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