Blythe’s full-body shiver and creative cursing into the pillow told me I’d found my target. The more I ground the spot, the more he accepted my efforts. The third finger slid in without complaint.
Something wild and primal grew deep in my chest, watching this brute submit under my ministrations. All the fearsome strength wound into those muscles was mine to play with, to pleasure myself with. The trust he placed in me wove into every thread binding us together. It reinforced my connection to him, and we were inseparable already. A bestial heat seared my loins with impatience, a drive to bury myself into his depths. Was this the urge Blythe lived with every time we coupled? It would explain the frequency since Delaga House fell.
“Are you ready for me?”
“I’m as good as I’m going to get. Do it.”
He winced as I withdrew my fingers and howled as I replaced them with a different part of my anatomy. The entry was methodical, only giving him my cock in small increments. As much to give him the chance to adjust to the intrusion as for me to ward off a quick end. Blythe’s bottom squeezed me as he rocked his hips. I couldn’t be sure if he was trying to expel me or pull me under. Either way, the ecstasy made my legs weak.
With one hard flex, Blythe forced me into the hot, slippery bliss. A pair of hard moans echoed off the walls. We both held on for dear life: he the sheets, me his hips.
I ground my teeth as I forced my orgasm to recede. “Don’t. Don’t move. Don’t move or this will already be over.”
Had I been a religious man, I would have called out to a higher power to stave off my impending explosion. Blythe’s body strangled and suckled me, shoving me to the edge of heaven while bathing in sin. I hadn’t known damnation would be so amazing. It was so much different from what I’d known until now.
I’d been relegated to the submissive role from the first moment the chastity belt’s lock snicked shut around my hips. My preferences became irrelevant, and I lacked the knowledge or authority to voice my opinion. They bundled my station along with my virginity into a commodity my parents used to ensure my marriage to Rother. And my husband had been so domineering, the idea of switching places wasn’t an option under any circumstances.
Make no mistake, before we’d met, Blythe’s root had plundered more than its fair share of willing men. Tales of his hedonistic appetites would be woven into vulgar limericks and legendary tavern songs for generations to come. No one took advantage of him. While his current position might not have been his first choice, he was willing to indulge me because I asked. I didn’t take such graces lightly.
Somehow I managed not to spill, swallowed in magic as I was. I stayed rigid and unmoving for far too long, until the risk subsided and I could shift my hips without embarrassing myself.
Apparently Blythe had settled as well. “Give it to me. I can take anything you’ve got.”
As a test, I pulled back and drove deep, making sure to aim my cock down against his internal walnut. Blythe quaked and inched his legs a tiny bit farther apart.
I rolled my hips, setting the pace. An effortless glide of mechanical gears at first, but it didn’t take long before the precision faltered and we lost ourselves to abandon. Blythe drove his ass back to me as hard as I sought to bury myself.
The attempt to stretch out the experience began to crumble. Power, centered on my cock, flew rampant into my whole being. Slapping Blythe across the right buttock, I was rewarded with an involuntary squeeze. I shattered. It was as if every ounce of fluid rushed out of me, pumping hard and fast into him, taking my mind with it.
Blythe reared up and bucked me off. With a feral snarl, he threw me onto my back, lifted my legs, and drove home. I was greased and loose from before the birthday present began, but it still stole my breath.
He burrowed with a stern determination the way I liked. Lust-driven and part animal, he pounded me with a cadence that prolonged my aftershocks. A jerking, wet trickle escaped my own member. Filthy words mixed with incoherent noises. Who uttered them, I couldn’t be sure.
Digging his heels into the mattress gave Blythe leverage and it provided power to each thrust, giving me the entire length and girth over and over again. Blythe was fast losing his control. The grip on my ankles tightened, and he slammed his pelvis into me and unleashed. One long, gritty howl of relief surged out of him, pitching up and down with waves of intensity until it drifted off.
Blythe fell forward and caught himself on his arms, not wanting to crush me under his bulk as usual. Linking my hands behind his neck, I urged him down, needing as much physical contact as I could manage. He settled onto me with little coaxing.
I circled my legs around his hips, trapping him in me, on me. “Stay inside as long as you can.”
A gasping nod against my temple answered me.
I wasn’t sure how long we lay connected. The craving was sated for now, but it would return and I welcomed it. I would take every second and extend it into forever if I could. This want, this desperate attachment combined with the dread it might end: Was this love?
A year ago, this liaison would have been unthinkable. A noble did not debase themselves with members of lower social classes. Years before my former marriage, I remembered when young Lady Ashley Pemberton bedded the family’s stable groom in an act of pure adolescent rebellion. Apparently her parents refused to send her abroad unchaperoned. As if any such thing would be permitted for a young lady of marrying age. The scandal ruined her and her family, ostracizing them all and stripping the benefits of a good name.
Here in Marisol, there were no such class distinctions. A hierarchy based on affluence might have existed, but blurring the lines had no significant effect on one’s life. Nothing worth mentioning, anyhow. I’d stopped seeing Blythe as beneath me a long time ago.
In the end, I didn’t care if this was or wasn’t love. Saying the words didn’t make it true or false. My parents were proof. No matter how long this glorious relationship lasted, I would accept it with grace and pray for eternity.
Blythe’s raspy whisper tickled the skin below my ear. “Told you I’d never leave your side again. I’d do anything for you.”
“I believe you.” A small tear of joy welled out of me.
We stayed that way for a long time. Whenever our talk became this personal, we couldn’t look into each other’s eyes or we used the dark for protection. My history made being vulnerable a hard reality to face. Rother had damaged me, and Blythe’s past left him with his own issues. Even so, every utterance, no matter how careful, was honest between us. And that was all we needed because we were free.
Due to the fire, we had little trouble creating new papers for Blythe Cameron Davies. Whoever he was before Marisol was unimportant. Records of his old life no longer existed.
Spending the day in bed sounded wonderful, but one glance at the clock and our grumbling stomachs pulled us into the real world. There would be plenty of opportunities to indulge ourselves. The days of hiding were long gone.
It didn’t take long to dress, but Blythe couldn’t stop fussing with his trousers. “My asshole feels squishy.”
I winced at the crude description, but I didn’t blush. Several months of unfettered contact with him had broken many barriers for me. “It won’t be the last time, so learn to love it.”
“How?”
I leaned in and sucked his lower lip. “Remember how it got there.”
“A birthday request gone wrong.”
Balling up my fist, I thumped him in the shoulder. “If you mention that out loud again, I’ll remind you how you still owe me a gazebo.”
“There’s no place to put one here.”
“Details. Give me time and I’ll come up with a solution.” I turned the knob and Blythe followed me out into the hall.
“I don’t doubt that.”
When Delaga House collapsed, spitting ash and embers into the night sky, I’d found myself surrounded by the surviving staff, clustered together for safety and asking the same question: What do we do n
ow? Our actions had left them all homeless with only the clothes on their backs. I couldn’t abandon them. The transfer of money from my father had completed weeks before, so I purchased the bed-and-breakfast Blythe and I had hidden away in after David’s failed murder attempt. I had a fondness for the place—carnal memories notwithstanding—and was surprised to find it large enough to house us all, even if it lacked adequate garden space. The owner, Mrs. Fiesch, took my first offer, giving her the opportunity to finally retire.
While providing a haven for all the people I’d come to know in Marisol, it had also come with the benefit of bringing Harston under my roof again.
“You’re finally rising? The morning’s almost over. I still need to tidy your bedroom so I can organize the laundry.” Harston followed us to the dining room, shaking his head at me. “You were never like this before you paired up with him.”
Blythe reached over and ruffled Harston’s hair into something unmanageable. “Better give yourself some extra time, Harston. We kinda wrecked the place last night. And this morning.”
Smoothing his hair, Harston fled in the direction of the bedroom. From the adjoining kitchen, Dahvra swooped in and placed two platters on the table. As soon as her hands were free, she swatted Blythe across the back of his head.
“Sit down. Don’t be dirty. Nathan is a good boy and doesn’t do such things.”
I preened. “Thank you, Dahvra.” We both took our seats, and I caught Blythe wearing a comical frown built out of disbelief. I made a point not to look directly at him.
Dahvra planted a motherly kiss atop my head. “Eat. Eat. Before it all gets cold.”
I dug into my plate as Dahvra poured me a cup of tea. The hotcakes were flaky and decadent with the exact balance of sweet syrup. I would forever count my blessings for securing her services after Delaga House.
“Even if they were cold, your meals would be worth the wait.”
Blythe snorted. “Kiss ass.”
“You be good to him.” Dahvra set a cup of coffee in front of Blythe while pointing at him with a scolding finger. I loved it when she was on my side, which for the most part was every day.
“I’m extra good to him. Last night and this morning. I let him bust a nut in my ass and everything.”
I dropped my fork and covered my mouth in shock. Dahvra was agape and scandalized.
“Oh. You’re awful.”
As Dahvra stomped back to the kitchen, Blythe shoveled a heaping spoonful of eggs into his canary-eating grin. He was never happier than when he urged a hard blush out of me. It was much more difficult these days, but not impossible. Satisfied with his success, Blythe ate without another word.
After breakfast, Blythe headed upstairs to replace the wainscoting in one of the bedrooms. It was the latest in a series of remodels to update the decor into something more appropriate. The walls had been plastered and finished last week, so the construction could continue. I loved seeing Blythe use his creative skills.
We might have risen late, but the day was still young, and I hadn’t made an agenda for myself. Perhaps I would start a new clockwork project. The house could use a new music box. Blythe could build the case. The best part was our days were filled with possibilities. Almost a year had passed, and I had yet to absorb the fact that my days were mine. On occasion, I forgot I could step outside and take a stroll without an escort.
Some lessons ran deep.
“Nathan, do you have a moment?”
“Of course, Anna. What can I do for you?”
The fact that Anna stayed on staff after Delaga House made me happy. Since she wasn’t a prostitute, her options were broader, but she admitted the staff were a family to her and she wanted to stay near. My interactions with all the staff had become clearer since moving into the new house. I expected being the owner had something to do with it, but it established our stations without becoming a matter of class. They might have been working for me, but I never saw them as underlings. Everyone in this house had my complete respect, and when they lost everything, I took care of them all.
“I was wondering if I could have the evening off. I was hoping to purchase tickets to the theater. There’s a show I’d like to see. It’s the last performance.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem, but remember Alexandra handles scheduling and organizing. In the future, be sure to check with her. I’ll let her know. Have a nice evening.”
Anna beamed as she nodded. “Thank you.”
Moving farther into the house, I left Anna to her chores. Since I’d given her permission for her outing, it would be prudent to find the only person who might find offense in it. I found her in the foyer checking a supply list.
“Good morning, Alexandra.”
She assessed me with a raised brow, her gaze riding me from shoes to head. “You look… rested. Late mornings suit you.”
A faint warmth colored my cheeks, although not so bold as the one that resulted from Blythe’s earlier outburst. Alexandra’s omniscience for lustful behavior bordered on sacrilege. Wearing a lavender silk gown with black lace brocade, she’d recently foregone the bright vermillion tresses to opt for the most luscious shade of merlot. The effect was stunning.
“I never thought I’d learn to sleep in.” I dropped a brief kiss to her cheek, which curled her lips into a broad smile.
“You just needed the proper motivation.”
“Anna asked me for the night off to go to the theater. If there’s no conflict, I’d like to let her go.”
The smile flattened as she saw through my attempt to soften the news. “I suppose.”
“Be kind to her. I ran into Anna after breakfast; she didn’t seek me out. I also reminded her to check with you for such requests from now on.”
“Thank you.”
“I may own the place, but you are better suited to keep it running smoothly.”
These were simple moments I cherished. Where we all knew our place in the world. We’d all come out of Delaga House with wounds, seen or not. Living under Rother, it was inevitable. Yet somehow we came through better for it, in spite of it all.
There had been an investigation after the fire. With multiple deaths and given the transfer of fortune and property prior to my divorce, it was to be expected. I told the truth when Worthingfield questioned me, providing him the answers he sought. Although Rother’s death was at the hands of Avaston as far as anyone was concerned. Alexandra deserved her anonymity and peace of mind. She’d saved my life. I would never be able to repay her in full. In the end, Rother’s penchant for blackmail had won him no friends, so once he was beyond the veil, few people cared.
A pleased sigh slipped out of Alexandra. “You never cease to impress me.”
“Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I would have never imagined the young man Rother brought home would ever be comfortable enough to own and operate his own house of ill repute.”
I shook my head, trying to picture it. “I wouldn’t have either. I’m not even sure that man still exists.”
“Oh, he exists. I still see hints of him at times. He’s there, but he doesn’t rule you. You’re a much better person for it.”
“I’ll take your word for it. And as far as this ‘house of ill repute’ is concerned, I prefer the term bordello. It has a nicer ring to it. I may be a wealthy man, but I learned enough to know it can’t last forever without some kind of income.”
Some of the men and women from Delaga House moved on and found other employment after the fire, but others had more difficulty. A career in prostitution in Marisol was accepted yet carried a stigma many might never have shed. It made sense to change the hotel’s purpose. There wasn’t sufficient room to bring in new guests with all the current occupants, and I had no intention of sending anyone out on the street. I had a cadre of trained individuals who understood how to cater to the demand left behind within the industry after Delaga House’s demise. It made good business sense.
“I still
wish you would reconsider the name.”
“I like Pirate’s Cove. The customers aren’t complaining, are they?”
“No.”
“Then it’s settled. The name stays.”
Alexandra’s sultry chuckle was lyrical. I’d worried I might never hear it again after Rother’s death. In spite of all the circumstances, she took it hard. Deep down, I believe she hoped Rother would become once more the man she’d devoted herself to, and not the tyrant he became. I made it my mission to rescue the woman who’d given me a lifeline when I nearly drowned in Delaga House’s foreign morality, and to bring her back out of the darkness. It took months to find her once again, but it was worth every moment’s struggle. I’d refused to give up on her.
Amused, hopefully with me, she stepped close and fawned over me. “Your hairstyle and clothes are so much more relaxed now, yet flattering in a sensual way. Something unheard of when Rother brought you home. You were so sweet, yet strung so tight when you arrived.”
“I couldn’t possibly have known any better. Look where I came from.”
“Do you miss home? Have you considered visiting your family?”
I shook my head, but no sadness filled me. “There’s nothing for me in Deilia. My father wouldn’t allow me within a hundred miles of the manor, and that’s fine with me. Their lives and the way they live them is false. As soon as they discovered I’d become divorced…. No, I don’t think I could stand to be around their snobbery for five minutes anymore. I prefer my new family.”
The ease with which I washed my hands of my former life was telling. I found more comfort in the company of pirates and whores than I ever had from twenty years of blood relatives. Each morning I waited on the first hints of guilt for casting my family aside, but then I remembered how easily they’d discarded me in the name of saving face. I preferred a more genuine sort of cutthroat these days.
Innocence and Carnality Page 39
