On the floor in front of him, Sophie pressed her hands into the rug and spread her thighs, offering herself to him, and Lucien’s sheathed length somehow expanded with more blood. “Take me, Lucien.” Sophie reached back to finger the plump, red folds of her waxed-smooth pussy, and her breath caught with one touch. “I’m so wet for you.”
Everything raw inside Lucien took over. He slammed forward with one rough, knifing motion and drove his cock into Sophie straight to the hilt. Sophie jolted and cried out at the deep, first penetration, but her willing body smothered his dick in a tight, clutching grip, and Lucien lost himself to the need to dominate. He grabbed her arms and yanked them behind her back, holding them prisoner as he thrust all the way into her snug, slick channel once more. The position forced her shoulders and the side of her face into the Persian rug, but she groaned a deep, low “Yesssss,” and let her legs part even wider for his fucking.
The picture she made, so willing and eager to submit to his aggression, only ate even more at everything volatile festering in Lucien. He locked her arms behind her back and drove his length into her welcoming cunt with repeated, sure thrusts, and lost himself in her essence. His anal muscles flexed with this fast, hard fucking; they clutched around the dildo still buried inside his ass with each cant of his hips and stole even more of Lucien’s sanity. Every time Lucien took Sophie forcefully, with every inch he had to give, he pushed her thighs farther and farther apart. Soon Sophie was facedown, spread-eagle on the floor, but still moaning Lucien’s name with every slide of his cock into her hot little body.
With a growl, Lucien let go of Sophie’s arms when he could no longer get inside her deep enough to satisfy his needs. Rather than yank her back up, Lucien came down on top of her, covered her completely, and took total ownership of her from top to bottom. He tucked his cock into her to the base and switched to pumping his hips with quick, sharp bursts, moving with lightning-fast strokes within the tight confines of her wet-as-hell pussy. A wonderful little whimper escaped Sophie, and her body clutched his length with exquisite heat and strength, much as his own passage did the toy shoved in his ass.
Lucien pushed Sophie’s arms high over her head and pinned her hands to the floor. He licked the whorl of her ear and let her honeyed scent intoxicate him. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.” Breathing her in, he fucked her with shallow pulses and slipped to a place where only mating with her mattered. “In the end”—he scraped his lips down her cheek, craving everything about her, his chest hurting as much as his buried cock did—“it’ll be you who kills me.”
Beneath him, Sophie strained against him, and she twisted her hands until she twined her fingers with his, clutching him to her. “No, Lucien…” He bucked deeply within her right then, and she grunted, but then looked over her shoulder, right into his eyes, and whispered breathlessly, “God help me, but I’m already falling in love with you.”
A rough, “No,” ripped through Lucien’s very being, and his heart surged into his throat. Just on top of that guttural display, though, he crushed his mouth down on Sophie’s, stealing even more of her ethereal life, and rammed his cock into her pussy until he touched her core. Another cry tore out of Lucien, but Sophie took the terrible sound into her body, kissing him back with equal desperation, and annihilated his last vestiges of control.
No time to feel the end bearing down on him, Lucien shuddered as orgasm rushed through him. His entire frame seized; the muscles in his ass squeezed down on the toy still tucked in his passage and threw more pleasure into his system. Lucien took Sophie’s mouth with a brutal kiss, losing his soul, and spilled himself deep inside her body. With each pump of his hips, spurt after spurt of seed filled the condom, bringing him nearly unbearable physical joy, but also stabbed at his heart with the wish that they didn’t need protection between them.
The thought of taking Sophie bare one day wrenched a hoarse shout from deep in Lucien’s gut. With a surge of power, he tucked his arms around Sophie while rolling onto his back, keeping her fused to his chest, stomach, and cock. He wrapped an arm across her breasts, holding her to him, and dived down with spread fingers to take ownership of her clit.
With her face tucked in his neck, Sophie trembled with first contact against the nerve-rich bead at the top of her sex but spread her thighs open and pleaded against his skin for more.
Lucien fingered her aching pearl again and whispered against her temple, “Come on me, honey.” He ran his middle finger down her swollen folds and pushed it right into her pussy next to his cock. “Don’t hold anything back.” Inside her snug entrance, Lucien crooked his digit over a nubby patch of hidden nerves and rubbed.
On top of him, Sophie jerked and screamed as loud as any person Lucien had ever heard in the throes of release. She jammed herself against his penis and finger, bore down against the double penetration taking over her cunt and, with one body-racking convulsion, flooded Lucien with her sweet-scented female cum. Lucien reveled in her shaking. He held her to him for long minutes in the aftermath, absorbing everything that was Sophie while he still could. For once she discovered the true reason behind her time at Raven Island, any fantasies she had about loving him would grow cold with bitterness before they died.
As quickly as every part of Lucien had gone lax, he went tighter than a ball of rubber bands. Not even the torpedo in his ass elicited a shiver of pleasure now. He just felt tender and uncomfortably full. The goddamn least of my discomforts right now. He’d gotten what he wanted out of Sophie’s visit to Raven Island—the poison of self-hate leaking into his blood with rancid precision reminded him of that—but he didn’t know what in the hell to do with her now.
Lucien strung a line of foul words together. Sophie immediately rolled over on him and slammed her hand over his mouth. “Don’t, Lucien,” she told him, showing him a brightness in her eyes it hurt to see. “Don’t get tense and clever and sardonic and ruin what just happened in this room tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to withdraw behind your desk and address me as Miss Emerson as a way to keep distance between us. Tonight”—removing her hand, she brushed her fingertips over the hard line of his clamped lips, soothing him like an expert in his breed of animal—“just take a shower with me, then put me in your bed, and pull the covers over us with the promise that nothing outside these doors matters until tomorrow.” Draped lustily on top of him, Sophie dipped down and grazed her lips to his, lingering. “Can you do that?”
Every inch of Sophie’s warm body and sweet kisses sucked Lucien deeper into a place of wishes and longing he could not afford to go. He needed to get her out of here with a reminder that Ravenstoke was all about sex without emotional strings, as he’d already told her more than once. Just smack her on the ass, smile in that way he already knew worked her last nerve, and send her back to her bedroom alone.
Instead, with a groan, Lucien clung to Sophie’s kiss and kept her tucked in his arms as he got to his feet. He didn’t take his hands off her once during their shower, and he almost came again when she gently removed the torpedo dildo from his sore ass.
As he put Sophie in his bed, he told himself she was much too small for its grand size, and that he needed a tall, Glamazon woman to properly fill it.
Lucien climbed in next to her and tugged her to his side, knowing he was a liar.
Chapter Thirteen
Hair tickled Lucien’s nose, and he blinked his eyes open to a riot of blonde hair brushing against half his face. Sophie. In my bed. For just a moment, Lucien sank into the lush bedding and grinned against the top of her head. He ran his hand down the side of her tight little body, snuggled right up close to his. A sexy hum vibrated through Sophie, and she burrowed deeper into him and the covers.
Long, narrow beams of light streamed in through the windows, and one glance at the clock on his nightstand had Lucien swearing under his breath. Still early for most people, but for Lucien, he’d slept a good portion of the morning away. Not so surprising. Once more during the night, he�
�d woken Sophie up, tied her to the bed on all four corners with luxurious silk, and had taken her with such slow precision she’d come three times before he’d reared up and shoved his cock down her throat to her pleas to come in her mouth. His Sophie had a wickedly base side to her desires, and he could only imagine what kind of play she would beg for when she became truly comfortable with her sexuality.
She’s not your Sophie. The ever-present voice in his head, the tone so much like Josh’s, clawed its way into the forefront of Lucien’s thoughts. Don’t abandon your family and think you’re going to become some kind of star-crossed lovers like William and Jude.
No longer relaxed, Lucien crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Sophie. Christ knew he couldn’t deal with any questions she would have for him right now. Not when he could no longer answer crucial ones with certainty for himself.
After pissing and taking a quick shower, Lucien glanced Sophie’s way as he walked to his dresser for underwear and socks. Still asleep, she certainly had no idea the beguiling picture she created as she lay naked, deep in slumber, in the tangle of his bedding. As he studied her, his chest swelled with something far more powerful than sexual need, and he knew he could easily get used to seeing her in his bed.
No. Stop it. Lucien forced himself to look at Josh’s photo, his heart twisting with regret and a sibling bond that would never go away. He’d left Josh to rot for far too long with a man who had fucked terribly with his mind. Lucien could not do his brother a second injustice by falling for the one woman he should never let get anywhere even close to his heart. He would not abandon his revenge.
Sophie stirred right then and captured Lucien’s immediate attention. Rather than open her eyes, she shifted, hugged Lucien’s pillow to her breasts, and tucked the lower half between her thighs. Good Christ. Lucien’s cock immediately stiffened, and he could only see himself tossing that pillow aside and settling in between her legs for a long day of fucking that would leave them both weak and exhausted.
A chance at a new beginning warred inside Lucien with the gut-wrenching drive to make right wrongs of the past. With a curse, Lucien put on his clothes and left Sophie in his bed. Alone.
He hated his life.
* * * *
The soft click of a door tugged Sophie the rest of the way out of sleep. She groaned and rolled onto her back, stretching, as her entire body reminded her of the many extracurricular activities she’d participated in last night. Regular exercise kept her just shy of actual soreness; rather, she had an awareness of her body she had never known before. When she pressed her inner thighs together, her pussy—definitely tender—reminded her of how many times and how aggressively Lucien had pushed his cock into her in just one night.
And if I hadn’t slept through his waking up and starting his day—Sophie spread her arms, knowing only cool sheets existed on either side of her now—I would have welcomed one more round.
Sophie’s fingers didn’t run into Lucien on the bed, but she did bump into something cold and hard. Rolling onto her side, she touched over a laptop sitting on a pillow, with a sticky note attached to the screen.
Check your e-mail. I think you’ll find a very nice start to your day in there.—L
Squealing ridiculously, Sophie got the computer’s power going, impatient to read the specifics of what she already knew would be in her inbox. Something about William and Jude. Very little else would jumpstart her day in such a way, and Lucien knew it. Like a teenager, Sophie stuck her face in the man’s pillow, and her belly did a little flip-flop when she inhaled his warm, woodsy scent. You already know me very well, Lucien. She smiled to herself, a bit sardonically, as he often did. Or maybe just better than you wished you did. After what they’d done last night, or much more importantly, after the conversation they’d shared, she knew he cared about her. He trusted her with his secrets. Whether he fought it or thought it smart or not.
After clicking in to her e-mail account, Sophie whooped. Right there, with attachments, was an e-mail from Jane’s ancestor, with the subject line: Letters from Her Grace, Calliope, to Lady Jane. In the e-mail, the young woman stated her family would not part with the original letters, but that her grandmother had made copies many years ago. Attached were scans of each copied letter. Only a handful had survived the test of time. After reading a few, Sophie sucked in her breath. This was the one she’d felt certain existed. Touching the screen as if her fingertips felt the original, Sophie read the text again.
My dearest friend Jane,
I am afraid I cannot reply in the same to the question in the missive I received from you today. All is not well at Ravenstoke at this time. I pray our friendship is as true as I believe it is, as I need to confide in someone I trust. I have trusted no person more than you from the time we were girls.
I have witnessed something many days ago I do not know how to comprehend. My dear friend, I saw William with Jude in an intimate way a man should only act with his wife. The scene quite shocked me into silence and into remaining like a statue for longer than I should have done. In this time I stayed in place, I witnessed passion and tenderness between my husband and brother. I fear I saw two people deeply in love.
I do not know what to do. Although they are quite so unalike no person should expect it, William and Jude are never at a loss for conversation. You have seen this as well. I’ve often sat in front of a fire with them in the evenings and marveled at how they are never reaching for topics on which to speak, or ever shy to share an opinion. Often they are quite loud and disagreeable, but always they come together as friends the next day. Now I see it is more than friendship. Much more.
From the moment I witnessed this intimacy between William and Jude, I have done nothing but consider what should happen next. I have not confronted them. I confess that I do not know what to say or do. I have begun to think I should make an excuse and return to England. I would tell William I plan to come back to Ravenstoke but in fact remain in England forever. As much as I believe he and I have a true friendship, he has never been so passionate with me as I witnessed him with Jude seven days ago. Jude has always been my favorite sibling. And while I do not know what to do or how to face him during this time, my love for him and my memories of the support he has always given me as a sister who often disagreed with our parents remains strong. Perhaps it is better to let them be together at Ravenstoke, and I return home to find something of a new life there. Perhaps to find a clandestine love one day for myself, as now I know it can not only exist, but flourish.
I am in great need of your council, Jane. Of the two of us, you were always the one to think clearer and remain calm in a moment of crisis. I pray this letter does not disgust you and that I never hear from you again. I await your sage advice.
Your desperate friend,
Calliope.
“Wow.” Sophie had to read the letter a third time and then a fourth. Like Calliope, she didn’t exactly know how to feel. On the one hand, it was quite wonderful that these two men had found each other in a time when such an attraction was not only scandalous but also illegal. All the same, how heartbreaking for Calliope to discover her husband had not given her passion because he was in love with her brother.
From other historical documentation, Sophie knew that Calliope had taken her friend’s advice and remained at Ravenstoke. Now Sophie wondered if the woman—very pretty, according to two drawings Sophie had seen—had been able to find someone in America to love her the way she deserved. She had to have been a kind and empathetic person, as she’d never revealed to the authorities the relationship she’d discovered between William and Jude. Back then, with the beliefs people held about homosexuality, as well as discovering her husband was not only cheating on her but doing so with another man who was her brother, she easily could have sold him out, and nobody would have judged her for doing it.
Wide awake now, Sophie let her mind wander as she shut down the computer. Do I have to research you next, Calliope? Her heart hurt for the solitary l
ife of the wife as much as it did for two men who had to keep their love in hiding. Did you find a man for yourself? By the end of her life, had Calliope understood what it was like to be passionately in love and loved equally in return?
Sophie had yet to go through all of the documentation pertaining to Ravenstoke. Perhaps an answer already lay hidden in that information. Or maybe, just maybe, Lucien already knew the answer. No time like now to ask. Sophie hopped out of bed, revved up with adrenaline for this new day. One look at herself as she passed by a mirror—not to mention got a whiff of herself—and she screeched to a halt. Naked, beyond disheveled, bruised in a few places from what she’d participated in—reveled in—last night, and ripe with the smells of sex once again, and Sophie changed her plans.
While pulling on her shirt and skirt—Lucien had torn her panties beyond repair—Sophie decided a shower and a fresh set of clothes were first on her agenda. Then, after having breakfast, or more accurately, lunch by now, she would gather up her Ravenstoke files and go find Lucien in the study.
Whether he was ready or not, she was coming at him for round two.
* * * *
Sophie had just stepped out of the shower, still slick with moisture, when “Lucien! Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch!” thundered through the castle.
In Royce’s voice.
What the heck?
Royce roared for Lucien again, clearly at the top of his lungs. Rage filled his voice, and Sophie started moving with lightning speed. She grabbed the first dress from the wardrobe she could pull on over her head, tripped over her feet, and thudded to the floor as she tried to yank on a pair of panties. She got herself back upright and didn’t bother with anything else.
A Perfect Storm Page 22
