The softness in Sophie’s focus challenged Lucien’s ability to look back without squirming.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Lucien cleared his throat. “I’m not used to talking about my father.” At least that was true. “If you’re done eating”—he stood, silently daring himself to keep his arousal suppressed enough not to give himself away—“would you like to take a look at some of the information I’ve collected about the duke and his companion, or would you rather wait until tomorrow?”
Sophie popped up from her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Let’s do it now.”
Lucien couldn’t help it, she made him smile. “I’ll take you back to my study.” He crooked his finger. “Follow me.”
* * * *
As Emma had hinted to Sophie, Lucien had indeed successfully deflected almost all questions designed to get him to give pieces of himself away. Torn between frustration at his masterful skill and her fascination with the wonderful old journals and documents he’d set in front of her two hours ago, Sophie carefully closed the duke’s—William’s—first journal. In it, the man often mentioned his wife, Calliope, as well as her brother, Jude, with affection. If Sophie were to read between the lines, she might be able to stretch and say the man’s words about Jude felt as if they were laced with something deeper than affection and maybe had some longing in them. His feelings toward Calliope, though, were also warm and kind.
The scratch of pen on paper just then caused Sophie to lift her gaze. She looked across the room, and she landed her focus on Lucien sitting very quiet and lordly behind his desk, his nose deep in work. He rubbed his cheek and then pushed his fingers through his hair, lifting the thickness just enough for the light to catch a few strands of silver mixed in with the inky black.
Sophie once again drank Lucien in during these few moments in which he didn’t realize he had an audience. Some might consider his features a little too sharply angled and his skin too pale to be considered traditionally attractive. And if they were just looking at a picture, those people might be right. A photo wouldn’t convey the barely contained power and authority constantly simmering around Lucien. He radiated a self-assuredness and control very few people possessed, and she could not deny that aura about him drew her to him too.
Based on the sexual paraphernalia she’d discovered in those six rooms, Sophie could easily see Lucien Cabot in the middle of an orgy, commanding it and possessing the testosterone and endurance necessary to take every woman—or man—in attendance and leave them all equally satisfied. She could see it, yet something deeper clenched in her gut and told her that just because he could didn’t mean he would.
He’s too solitary for group activities. With that silly thought, Sophie rolled her eyes. You don’t know him, yet you find him intriguing and attractive, so you’re projecting. Sophie knew better than to cross the line into personal involvement just to secure a story. Even as she reminded herself to step back to a place of professional behavior, she couldn’t forget the few hints—tiny, small hints—of chinks in Lucien’s armor. The nightmare he’d professed not to have had earlier. Then, more profound, sharing the loss of his father as a child, a man he clearly adored. His father’s death had obviously shaped him greatly. That slip of information showed a man with more going for him than confidence and a cock.
“You’re part of the story,” Sophie murmured, absorbed by Lucien’s powerful aura. “I just don’t know how yet.”
Lucien slowly lifted his attention from his paperwork. When he met Sophie’s stare, ice chilled his gaze. “No, I’m not.” The same freeze layered his response. “And if you insist upon making me a part of it, I won’t so much as allow a disposable camera on this island, let alone a journalist and an entire crew.”
Drawn to him, Sophie got up and moved to his desk. “I don’t know if I believe you, Mr. Cabot.”
“Lucien,” he corrected, his stare narrowing to amber slits. “And you should. Unless you don’t want the story about William and Jude for your station.”
Sophie planted her hands wide on his desk. “I haven’t decided yet.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she leaned oh so very close to his ear and said, “I might want to risk figuring you out more than I want a yes.”
Lucien reared out of her reach, his chair rolling until it hit a wall of bookshelves. His face went hard as stone.
Good. “Good night, Mr. Cabot.” Sophie grabbed her laptop from the conference table and tucked it under her arm. “I’ll start calling you Lucien when you start calling me Sophie, and when you’ve given me a little bit more about yourself than you have so far.”
Sophie breezed out of the study, down the hallway and toward her room, hoping like heck she looked as light as air. Inside, her heart had jammed itself into her throat, and she thought she might throw up. She’d entered the dragon’s lair and lit a candle that she dared to present to him as something that equaled the wave of fire he could breathe back at her. I might be very crispy by the time I leave this place.
Shaking her head, Sophie wondered what insanity had prompted her to challenge this man. His mouth did. The thought immediately filled her head. Yes, that’s it. His eyes held distance and were sometimes outright cold, but Lucien didn’t have a cruel mouth. He possessed a mouth that had smiled and laughed often, even if Sophie had yet to see it. A mouth that could kiss a girl breathless too.
“Don’t even think about it,” she muttered as she reached her room.
Too late. Sophie had already begun imagining those lips brushing and claiming hers. Doing so automatically again, the visual, the thought of what it would feel like to have Lucien kiss her—to want to kiss her—made Sophie throb deep inside her core. I don’t even know him, and I already want him more than I have any other man in my life.
Shoot.
Chapter Three
Glancing at the bedside clock for the thousandth time since returning to her room, Sophie finally gave herself permission to get up. The storm raged far too loudly outside to detect if anyone still wandered the halls of Ravenstoke, but Sophie had to believe everyone would at least be tucked in their own rooms by now. The time had arrived for her to get up and explore. Again.
And I know just where I want to go.
Yesterday Lucien had walked her down a wing on the opposite side of the castle she now resided in, but he had not shown her any of the rooms. He’d explained to her that he hadn’t yet had a chance to renovate the rooms, and so they not only weren’t presentable but, in some instances, weren’t safe to explore.
Sophie had looked at him sideways those many hours ago, but Lucien had kept his hands clasped behind his back. He’d presented a straight-faced demeanor, so she’d let it go. At the time, she’d thought his explanation odd due to how perfectly refurbished and camera-ready the rest of the house had been. She couldn’t see Lucien as a man who would invite a news crew into his home on the tail end of his renovation project. Now, based on what she’d found in her wing of the house, she had to wonder if those rooms were indeed completed but just not meant for her eyes.
Barefoot but still in the dress and hoodie, Sophie moved down the hallway, across the open meeting area, and into the darkened wing of the house. Using the flashlight app on her cell phone to light her way, she found the first door and wrapped her hand around the knob. Just as she started turning it, a muffled scream carried along the dark hall and snaked straight into Sophie’s ears. What the heck?
A woman’s muted, strangled cry worked its way into the air again, and Sophie started running. As she shoved open a second door, searching for the source of the noises, she barely registered the hazy image of an enormous wood cross centered in the room.
A second noise, this time a deep, male groan, reached Sophie, the sound full of satisfaction. She spun around, her ears pricked and her thoughts racing. If she came across something dark and ugly, she hadn’t thought ahead to how she would be able to help.
Another female shout, much closer and more guttural this time,
shoved Sophie into motion again. It didn’t matter if she had a plan; if someone needed help, she had to move quickly. As Sophie went to shove open another door, a sliver of light just barely seeping through the space under a door at the end of the hall caught her attention. Sophie reached the room in a half-dozen strides. She turned the handle, and as the door swung open, a scene unlike anything she’d ever witnessed revealed itself to her. Oh my goodness. She lost every bit of moisture in her mouth, and her legs locked in place.
In rapid-fire succession, Sophie processed the stark, bright room, with brilliant optic white covering every inch of the walls and sparse furniture. Mostly, though, she absorbed the image of the woman with two men smack center in the room. Emma lay draped facedown over something that looked like a pommel horse. She had her wrists bound behind her back up to her elbows, her fiery hair a brilliant shade in the whiteness surrounding her.
Sophie swallowed, watching as a blond-haired man she didn’t recognize fucked Emma from behind. The man took sure, complete drives into her pussy. Every time he did, Emma cried out, but the sound became muffled when the force of the man’s pounding shoved her forward, and in doing so filled her mouth with Magnus’s waiting cock. Magnus had one hand tangled in Emma’s long hair, the hold keeping her head up for the thrust of his erection. Emma and the blond man did not have on a stitch of clothing, while Magnus was bare-chested and had a pair of jeans riding low on his hips.
Her eyes wild, Emma didn’t look as if she could take much more, yet the man behind her continued to fuck her relentlessly. He pushed her to accept both men repeatedly invading her body. Emma’s stare held such brightness as she took the assault Sophie thought tears looked ready to fall.
No way. Sophie took a step into the room, ready to scream this entire castle down. Just as she opened her mouth, someone from behind wrapped an arm around her waist and clamped a hand over her mouth. She screamed against the fingers smashed against her lips but produced no sound. Her heart raced like mad. With thoughts of what might become of her next flooding her mind, Sophie felt sickness churn in her belly. She kicked at the person dragging her back into the hallway. She landed a jab to a shin, satisfied when the person grunted and cursed softly.
It’s him. Sophie immediately stilled. No matter how quietly spoken, she recognized the deep, smooth tone of Lucien’s voice.
Lucien put his mouth to her ear. “Do not interrupt them.” As he took his hand away, the pads of his fingers snagged on her lips and pulled a shocking squeeze from her sex. “Just observe.”
In the room, a dozen feet from Sophie, Emma squeezed her eyes shut as the blond-haired man claimed her cunt once more and shoved her face-first into Magnus’s enormous penis.
“But she’s almost crying,” Sophie whispered, tugging against Lucien’s hold. “They’re hurting her.”
Lucien tightened his arm around Sophie’s waist and yanked her back against his front. “No, she isn’t, and, no, they’re not.” His tone held utter confidence. “That is lust and pleasure in Emma’s eyes, not pain.”
Attempting to look over her shoulder while still trapped in his hold, Sophie glared as best she could. “You can’t know that for sure.”
Sophie couldn’t swear it, but she thought Lucien chuckled softly. “Emma has a safe word. She is not using it. She wants to be pushed. As Cale takes Emma, he is always observing her and will know if he needs to pull back. Emma loves restraints and being double-teamed.” Unmistakably, right then, Lucien’s cock swelled against the small of Sophie’s back. “Watch and listen.” His voice suddenly a little less smooth, Lucien turned Sophie’s focus back to the room. “You will see I’m right.”
Sophie had thought it would be impossible to concentrate, what with Lucien so close, not to mention half erect, but the tableau before her held her rapt. She couldn’t tear her attention away.
The thickly muscled blond man—Cale, Lucien had called him—held on to Emma’s bound arms as he shoved his cock deep into her cunt. He then held there, leaving her stuffed full of what Sophie had seen was an incredibly thick prick. Fully tucked inside Emma, Cale rocked his hips in a slow, circular motion again and again. In response, Emma moaned low around Magnus’s shaft, making Magnus groan too.
From where Sophie stood, gawking at a private moment, her pussy pulsed in a way she imagined Emma’s must be doing right now. Oh gosh. Sophie squeezed her thighs and continued to stare.
“That’s my Emma girl.” Cale let go of Emma’s ribbon-bound forearms, ran his hand up between her shoulder blades, and pressed her into the modified bench. “Slow your senses down and let yourself feel everything.” The man lifted his chocolate gaze to Magnus, and the sheer light of wonderment in his eyes did battle with the brightness in the white room. “She’s fluttering around my cock like you would not believe.”
Magnus withdrew his length from Emma’s mouth, pushed her long hair out of her face, and tipped her head back to what looked like an uncomfortable angle. “Her eyes are glassy with her need. I don’t think she can hold back coming much longer.”
A tender, indulgent sound hummed softly from somewhere inside Cale. “Tell me, baby.” As he withdrew his fat dick from her pussy, allowing Sophie to see the sheen of Emma’s juices coating his shaft, Cale glided his hand up to join Magnus’s in Emma’s flame-colored hair. He rubbed his thick erection all over Emma’s pale ass. “What do you want?”
Vibrations visibly rolled through Emma. A base noise escaped her, and her pupils dilated with something that went well past desire. “Don’t leave me empty,” she begged. Clearly desperate, she tried to push her ass and cunt backward to feel more of Cale’s cock. “Fuck me and make me come.”
After exchanging a glance with Magnus, Cale grabbed hold of Emma’s bound forearms and reared her upper body off the bench. With her shoulders pulled back so far due to the restraints, Emma was held at an angle that thrust her ample breasts out with even more prominence. The pale orbs, tipped with brown, pebble-tight nipples, swayed with the quick motion.
Oh God. In response to the raw, lush visual, Sophie lifted her hand and got this close to touching her own breasts to confirm her tips were as pointed with arousal as Emma’s were. At the last second, she shoved her hand back down to her side. She hadn’t forgotten about Lucien for one second, she couldn’t with his erection digging into the small of her back and his arm still around her waist, but she couldn’t believe she’d slipped so far into the frank sexuality of the scene before her that she hadn’t cared if Lucien saw her touching herself. Lucien remained silent, but his hold on her tightened for the barest second, and she knew he’d picked up on what she’d almost done.
Right then, though, Magnus straddled the bench and put his long, hard length right in front of Emma’s mouth. He teased her lips with the tip, just a hint, and Emma moaned and stuck out her tongue. With one more quick visual exchange between the two men, Cale speared his hips forward and knifed his dick deep into Emma’s body, taking her to the furry hilt. At the same time, Magnus thrust his cock past Emma’s lips, all the way into her mouth, filling Emma so completely the reddened tip of his penis had to be far down her throat.
As Sophie watched, she grew even wetter between her thighs. Her mouth watered, and the instantaneous thought of Lucien’s penis taking over her mouth the same way Magnus’s did Emma’s rocked through her being, shocking in its intensity. She hadn’t been with anyone sexually in such a long time, and this scene before her, as well as Lucien so very close behind her, heated her body to overflowing with arousal in record time.
In front of her, Emma started shuddering from top to bottom, clearly in the throes of a shattering release. Behind Emma, Cale shouted and jerked as he surely slipped into the clutches of his orgasm too. Magnus withdrew his dick from Emma’s mouth and immediately began dragging his hand up and down his rigid shaft. With his other hand, he held Emma’s jaw parted. It didn’t take but three strokes for Magnus to become stiff all over, and then he spilled himself on Emma’s waiting tongue. Magnus silentl
y milked line after ropy line of cum from his cock, and Emma lapped up everything he had to offer.
Finally both men stepped away from Emma, and she slumped into a heap on the padded bench. As soon as she did, Cale scooped her up, her arms still tied behind her back, and carried her to a low-slung, Asian-inspired bed. He kissed her gently and touched her in the manner of someone full of starry-eyed love, but then arranged her on her knees in front of him, slipped his arms around her waist from behind, and moved his hands up to cup her breasts.
“You’re not done, baby.” Cale kissed her shoulder just after sharing this news with Emma. “I know you can give me one more.”
Trembling, Emma looked over her shoulder at Cale. “I can’t.”
He brushed his mouth against hers and then kissed across her rosy cheek to her ear. “You can.” He said it softly, but Sophie heard him. “Do it for me.”
Her eyes still bright, Emma nodded against Cale’s cheek. Cale then signaled to Magnus, and the intimidating man with the shaved head and birthmark moved to kneel on the floor in front of Emma.
Magnus ran his big hand across Emma’s belly, the touch seemingly soft, and then dipped his fingers into the thatch of red curls between her thighs. “Just a quick one, honey.” Emma had her legs parted enough for Sophie to see Magnus run two fingers along her slit. “Okay?”
Looking to Cale again, Emma shivered once more. “I want it so bad.” Her thighs slipped even wider apart across the white bedding. She rubbed her pussy lips against Magnus’s two fingers, but she said to Cale, “Don’t let me go.”
As Cale pressed a kiss to Emma’s shoulder, he wrapped his arm under her breasts. “I never will, Emma girl.” The absolute sincerity in his tone squeezed at Sophie’s heart. “Have your fun.”
Emma turned back to Magnus. “Please.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and spread herself farther open to reach for Magnus’s touch. “Don’t tease. Just make me come.”
A Perfect Storm Page 4
