Emily's Seduction

by Natasha Blackthorne

  He pushed her away gently as he withdrew from her mouth. She registered the loss with a sorrowful moan. He groaned harshly. A second later the warmth of his seed jetted against her breasts. Elation slammed through her, driving her so high on her own excitement and his pleasure that she felt herself to be flying. She was laughing and yet tears streamed down her cheeks. His lips, warm yet fierce, kissed those tears. She touched his silken hair and he kissed a trail to her neck.

  “Houri.”

  The whispered word came out soft and harsh, a foreign word. She knew what it meant. She’d studied the Islamic faith in her research about Barbary. It meant a perfect, pure, modest mate, a heavenly lover. But to European men, it meant something between nymph and a virgin pleasure slave. She didn’t understand Alex using it. It didn’t matter. His shadows didn’t stand between them in this place for she had stepped into them and joined him there. How she knew this, she wasn’t certain, but they were one flesh, one soul. She could feel it.

  Peter. She raised her head from Alex’s shoulder and dared a glance in his direction.

  “He looks lonely, doesn’t he, love?” Alex whispered in her ear. “Why don’t you go comfort him?”

  Did he mean that? She looked down at her state of undress. His semen all over her breasts. She looked back at Alex and he smiled then stretched to the side table. He retrieved a white linen towel and with slow, delicate swipes, removed his claiming seed. He set the towel aside and took his forgotten, full glass of Scotch and another towel from the table. He wet the towel and wiped her down again. The liquor wet evaporated, cooling her skin, making her nipples tingle delightfully. He tossed the towel aside then bent and tasted her tight, pink tips.

  “Here,” Alex said. “Stand for me, my love.”

  She stood and he pulled her gown over her hips. It was strange that Peter was still here and she didn’t object to being stripped in front of him. Yet everything had been strange tonight. In a moment, she was clad only in her silken stockings and garters. Alex’s hands swept over her belly, hips, arse and back up to her breasts. He twisted around and got his glass again. He poured the contents over her breasts. Wet coldness took her breath and she gasped. He bent and soon the warmth of his lips and tongue replaced the coldness. He licked and sucked the Scotch from her then centred his efforts on her nipples, laving them avidly, warming her, reigniting her desire. And there was no sense of shame. Instead she felt free and beautiful. Totally carnal. It was all so very decadent and delicious.

  He dropped to his knees and traced the tracks of Scotch down her belly. And lower still, kissing her mons, flicking his tongue against her erect nub. Sensation sparked and her legs quaked. She gripped his head and his tongue slid deeper into her dripping folds.

  He stopped and glanced up at her, his eyes dark and smoky with desire. “Go to him.”

  Her mouth fell open. Surely he couldn’t mean it…

  “But, Alex?”

  He turned her to face Peter and gave her arse a sharp smack. “Go to him,” he commanded softly.

  She remained still, watching as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  He caressed her back with a sinful, serpentine motion. “It will be all right. He knows the boundaries he must keep.”

  Peter laughed softly. “Yes, Alex has made them quite clear.”

  So they had spoken about this when she had excused herself for the necessary after supper. They must have. The thought sent a wave of trepidation pounding through her heart.

  She raised her head and found herself staring into Peter’s sky-blue eyes. They were warm and kind. And glittering with lust. Her mouth dried even as desire pounded through her veins.

  Peter extended a hand. “Come here, love.”

  She stared at his hand, fascinated by the temptation it posed. Her eyes travelled back up his body. He had removed his jacket and sat in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. His stomach was flat and hard looking, his shoulders broad and his arms well muscled. She turned back to Alex. “Why must I be naked while the two of you are clothed?”

  Alex’s eyes widened and then he chuckled. “Part of the rules, my love.”

  “Oh,” she replied. Heat raced through her, heat she didn’t completely understand.

  Alex nodded and made a gesture that suggested she turn. “Go on.”

  She turned and Peter grinned at her, his handsome face exuding much charm. “I promise, I won’t bite.”

  A sound echoed in the chamber, husky and almost wicked. A woman’s carnal laugh. It was hers. The realisation shocked her. “Won’t you?”

  His grin widened and he shook his head. “It’s against the rules.”

  Something unfurled in her belly. Resistance she’d only dimly been aware of. In its place desire flamed. She found herself walking over to Peter. His eyes were as blue and kind as ever.

  His grin softened to a warm, welcoming smile. He opened his arms. Excited heat flushed her face, her nipples drew into peaks and her lower belly went taut. But her mouth was dry with nervousness. She paused and glanced over her shoulder at Alex.

  His eyes glittered with arousal. He winked at her. “This is safe for you. Peter is my dearest friend.”

  She licked her lips and swallowed. Then she continued towards Peter. She expected to stand or perhaps sit beside him. Maybe she didn’t know what she expected. He reached out and pulled her into his lap.

  He was breathing hard and his cock pressed against her bottom. She fancied she could smell musky, male excitement. He was gazing at her face now, though earlier, as she had walked towards him, his eyes had been riveted on her nakedness. Though his body was very masculine, almost rugged compared to Alex’s, his facial features were nearly feminine in their fine handsomeness. He lacked Alex’s strong, stubborn jaw, his cheeks were smoother as if he needn’t worry so much about shaving daily. So different from Alex. His lashes and brows were pale blond, making his eyes all the more startlingly light.

  But it was his mouth that drew her interest. Well shaped, full and sensual. She couldn’t take her eyes from it.

  “May I kiss you?”

  She started. “What?”

  “May I kiss you?” He ran a finger over her lips. She caught her breath and suddenly she wanted him to kiss her. Very badly.

  She glanced back at Alex. “Is it allowed?”

  Alex’s features were sharp with excitement. He nodded. “He knows what’s allowed, trust him.”

  She turned back to Peter; his eyes were bright cerulean with desire. Shyness consumed her and she dropped her eyes to his cravat pin, watching as its diamond lustre caught the candlelight.

  “Well, my valet will be pleased to know you approve of my cravat.” His deep, masculine voice, so close to her, vibrated through her bones.

  She laughed, again that worldly, wicked woman’s laugh that seemed to belong to someone else. Her hand found its way to press against his chest. His heart beat strong and quite fast. His body heat radiated through the pale grey satin and she could feel the coiled strength of him tensing under her touch. Her cunt clenched. Her body jerked with the shock of it. A sexual reaction to a man other than Alex. This man. Kind, sweet Peter. Who knew she could feel this way?

  Peter took her other hand and linked her fingers with his. “Is that yes or no, gorgeous?”

  She laughed. No one had ever called her gorgeous. “Yes—” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat softly. Her gaze flickered back to his mouth then hurried back to her lap. “Yes, I should like it very much.”

  He released his breath as if he’d been holding it in anticipation of her answer. As if it had mattered a good deal if she would allow a kiss. And then he touched her cheek and tilted her face up to his. His gaze was as heated and piercing as Alex’s had ever been. He wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted it. That shocked her. She had never guessed that he desired her. She had thought all his teasing was to be kind.

  His lips touched hers. Strong yet soft. And he kissed very differently from Alex—not seeking domin
ation but communion. He held both her hands now, tenderly, almost romantically as he continued to kiss her with a soft intensity. When she returned his pressure, he released her hands and let her take over the kiss.

  The realisation of her power was heady. She pressed his chest and then let her hands slide up to his broad, powerfully muscled shoulders. She opened her mouth and allowed her tongue to trace the seam of his lips. His mouth opened and in the next second their tongues were touching. She thrust hers at him and he answered her with light, feathery, unhurried strokes, warm, velvet moisture that sent pure fire down her belly and into her cunt. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, his crisp, starched linen shirt crinkling under her hands. God, he kissed like an angel would. She couldn’t get enough of it. She turned her head to get a better angle and she plunged deeper and it was sweeter yet. Wetness surged from her quim and she moaned in her throat.

  He answered with a groan, his hands cupping her face. She moved her hands from his shoulders to twine them in his hair. It was as soft as thistledown. She pulled back for a breath and his tongue followed hers, caressing it outside of their mouths as they both gasped for air. At the pure sensuality of the moment, she moaned. The sound echoed loudly over the steady thudding of her heart. She caught her breath. Then she returned for another taste of his kiss.

  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

  It was so unbearably sweet. Like wine and honey and the smell of a May afternoon. Like ripe strawberries during that one week in late spring. She turned her head again and drank even more deeply from him.

  His hands were shaking on her. His cock throbbed beneath her. Her inner lips swelled and wetness flowed between them. She moaned again and squirmed in his lap. He touched her breast, his trembling fingertips lightly grazing her excited peak and then moving to the other one. Her arousal reached painful proportions. The wetness was pouring from her now; she knew she was wetting the leg of his breeches. He had to know it.

  He broke their kiss. “Touch your pretty quim, sweetheart.”

  “What?”

  He kissed her, deeply yet swiftly, then tore his mouth away. “I can’t touch you there, it is against the rules.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t think she could do that. Not here.

  His hand moved in a circular path on her belly. Her flesh quivered.

  “Go on, give yourself pleasure. I would dearly adore having you come in my arms.”

  His fingertips traced along the inside her thigh. Knowing now that he wouldn’t, couldn’t touch her where she most wanted to be touched made her need it all the more. Her nub grew erect and throbbing. She rocked herself on his leg, feeling the corded muscles beneath the wool, and it only increased the ache, increased the wetness.

  She slid her hand down to caress her lower belly, as if she could ease her rapidly growing tension by doing so. His hands teased her nipples again and the ache in her cunt became pain. Her whole body quaked with hunger.

  Almost of their own accord, her fingers brushed her nub once. Pleasure and relief washed over her and she drew in a shuddering breath. She did it again and again and soon she was rubbing herself with firm, steady pressure. Practically bouncing up and down on his leg. His hands were still on her breasts, tweaking her nipples harder now. His breath sounded as harsh. Her tension rose to unbearable levels. Her cries, sounded like some feline in an alley.

  Oh, God, it was always so hard to come this way. It wasn’t exciting enough. She needed a man’s touch, a man’s tongue, a man’s cock.

  Peter’s mouth covered hers, open, moist. She opened her mouth and let him kiss her. His taste, oh, his taste—

  Her inner walls began to contract, hard, fierce contractions. Swift, sweet sensation raced through her, and her whole body shook as she cried out into his mouth as she came. Oh, damn, it wasn’t—it wasn’t nearly… She worked herself furiously and then she was coming again. His mouth lifted from hers and her cries echoed in her ears.

  She leaned forward, falling on to his chest, and her hand fell limp. The aftershocks were slow to ebb in the intense yet not quite deep enough way of an orgasm achieved by only stimulating her nub.

  And it left her crashing, like when she was a child at Christmas and had eaten too many sweets. She had desired Peter—for those moments his kiss had been her whole world—but now that sensation was suddenly gone. She could easily leave him and go crawl into her bed and go to sleep and not regret the lack of him beside her.

  So this was the difference between lust and love. She had never felt this way with Alex. She always wanted to curl into him and never let go after lovemaking. What a shock to discover it, but she must have loved Alex from the start…

  Peter gently pushed her to the edge of his knees and began to unbutton his breeches. Once his fall was open and he pulled his cock out, she found herself fascinated anew at his difference from Alex. He was not as big. She might even be able to swallow him completely. But it wasn’t going to be necessary apparently, for he wrapped his hand about his shaft.

  “Stroke him, my love.”

  Alex’s voice startled her but she obeyed instantly, touching Peter, taking over from him.

  Peter groaned. “Oh, Christ, you do that sweetly. Alex has taught you well.”

  “Well, just don’t forget yourself. Don’t come on any part of her body.”

  Peter sounded pained. “Oh, Alex, it is like having her but not having her.”

  “You’re a lucky bastard tonight and you know it.”

  Peter chuckled but the sound came out halfway as a groan. He pulled a snowy white handkerchief out of his pocket. In a matter of moments, he was coming into it and moaning his pleasure openly.

  Emily started at the touch of large, strong hands seizing her waist. She was lifted up and off of Peter and then she was in Alex’s arms, held against his hard stomach and muscled chest. His body hair tickled her bareness. He had undressed. She wrapped her arms about his neck and the bookshelves and other furniture of the study whizzed by in a blur. Her laughter echoed in her ears. She landed on something soft and her bottom slid over its cool, satiny surface. The other settee. Alex loomed over her, his face fierce as he covered her with his body. His hardness touched her entrance.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, writhing frantically. “Oh, dear God, yes.”

  He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. He kissed her.

  If Peter’s kisses had been wine and honey and strawberries and sweets, Alex’s kiss was ale and roasted beef and hot, black coffee laced with rum on a cold January morning and all things nourishing and strengthening. Sustaining. Everything she could ever need. With a moan, long and lingering deep in her throat, she gave herself up to him.

  He plunged deep within her. She cried out his name and wrapped her arms and legs around him at the same time. He pulled back and thrust deep again and she screamed his name. His lips fastened into the curve of her neck and then he was fucking her with savage abandon and she soared with the incredible pleasure.

  * * * *

  She opened her eyes. What was she doing in the study? Oh yes, right. Dear heaven, she didn’t remember anything past the astounding orgasm. At the sound of Alex catching his breath, she turned. He sat beside her. Had he? Of course he had. He must have. The smell of their sex and sweat permeated the air. She shifted and his seed gushed from between her legs. So much of it the settee would be ruined. She caught her breath and, frantically, reached beneath herself and made contact with a folded linen towel.

  Thank God.

  Heavy-lidded, Alex looked down at her and then gripped the base of her throat lightly. His eyes were glowing with love. “Damn.” He breathed the word like a prayer.

  Joy filled her and overflowed. She laughed, the sound broken by her still panting breaths.

  He tightened his grip just a bit. “Nymph, you nearly killed me.”

  She glanced at the other settee. It was empty. “Peter?”

  “I think he went home, my love.” He removed his hand from her throat.

&
nbsp; “Oh,” she said. “Do you think we should have… Were we rude?”

  He laughed softly and traced his fingertip on her cheek. “I don’t think there are any standards of deportment that cover this situation, love.”

  “Yes, of course.” She felt foolish. What did she think—that Peter would stay and crawl into bed with them? How silly. She wouldn’t have even wanted him there. Not now. Was it callous to feel that way? Had they used Peter? Did Peter even care?

  “In any case, it’s a moot point.” Alex’s voice cut into her worries. “Once I saw you come so totally undone, so beautifully uninhibited and lost to yourself, no force on Earth was going to stop me from taking you. I have never been so insane to have a woman. My cock was so hard, I thought it might break.” He caressed her lank, sweaty hair with a reverence as if it had been the most treasured silk.

  They remained quiet, all the while her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal.

  Finally, he stood. He put his arms behind her back and she remained limp as he lifted her into his arms. “Shall I carry you up to bed?”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms loosely about his neck. She could never have walked—her whole body was weak. Spent. “Yours…not mine.”

  “My bed is not as soft as yours.” His deep voice vibrated through her.

  “Don’t…care.”

  He began walking. But then he paused and buried his face into the curve of her throat. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  His whispered words sent warmth all through her.

  Something had broken between them. A barrier. She could feel it. She didn’t understand it completely, but this had been something he’d needed and now things were different between them. They were closer than ever now. Almost one person.

  Triumph rushed through her.

  She had won.

  Chapter Four

  Alex lay atop her, and, aside from the bandages on their feet, they were naked. His soles had been medicated but he could feel the fiery pain still burning under the numbness. However, he was young and she was flawlessly beautiful. The kind of woman a man dreams of having as a wife. He put his lips to her ear, touching her golden hair. “I am sorry, I am sorry.”