“Madame didn’t ask for me. And you know as well as I do she would not be pleased if I appeared without her summons.” Martha lay on her side and pillowed her head on her arm. “I need to be here when the new security system is set up. It’s too much for Millie to handle by herself.”
Lucia firmed her lips. “You’re right. I need to do this alone.” She tugged the zipper on her suitcase to close it before she moved off the bed. She climbed up and lay next to Martha, mirroring her position. “I never thought when I came here I would be so reluctant to leave.”
Martha smiled at her and reached out and tucked a lock of Lucia’s hair behind her ear. “I never thought you’d stay.”
Lucia caught her hand and kissed her palm. “I’ll call you as soon as the arrangements are final.” She pressed her face into Martha’s palm. “I don’t know how long it will be.”
“Knowing her, she will wait until she is sure everything is settled. What will you tell her about us? About our arrangement?”
“We have an arrangement?” Lucia raised her head and gazed into Martha’s eyes. “I don’t recall making an arrangement.”
The mischievous look in Lucia’s eyes made Martha laugh. She moved across the bed and rolled on top of Lucia, pinning her in place with her body. She kissed her neck and nibbled along her collarbone. “Don’t we? Or was it some other woman who lay across my lap while I fisted her?”
Lucia laughed and caught Martha’s face with both hands. “It better have just been me or Myfanwy, or there will be hell to pay.”
“Just you, angel.” Martha looked into Lucia’s face. “Just you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
THE HEAT FROM the braziers set about the garden kept the chill at bay, and Martha was comfortable in her suit coat. Madame’s plain black coffin, surrounded by a mix of white and blood-red roses, occupied the center of the room. Martha watched as Lucia greeted everyone, stunning in a simple black dress. Martha rested her hand on the lid of the coffin, closed per Madame’s wishes for the funeral. Are you watching us, Madame? Chafing at not being able to bend us to your will in person? I wish I had been able to tell you thank you. You were right about Lucia and me. But you knew, didn’t you? She’d arrived at the viewing and spent the morning staring at the frail remains of the most powerful woman she had ever known. Martha wanted to open the coffin to see her face one last time. You’ll never truly be gone. I’ll carry your memory on my skin and in the deepest part of my soul forever.
The folding chairs were arranged in rows as the small group gathered. The time for the funeral approached, and her anxiety increased as she waited for Vivian to arrive. She had come to help Lucia with arrangements. Martha had spoken to Vivian the day before, so she was prepared for the arrival of the trio when they appeared. Vivian walked in flanked by Octavia and Bridget. Vivian’s face was a tight mask of sorrow. Martha crossed the room to them. Octavia saw her first, and Martha nodded her head in acknowledgment. Vivian smiled at Martha and reached out to pull her into a tight embrace. The strength in her thin frame surprised Martha. She held tight and waited until Vivian released her.
Vivian reached back and took Octavia’s hand. “I know funerals are fraught with emotion, so let’s get this over with.” She tugged Octavia forward until she stood in front of Martha. Octavia raised her head and looked in Martha’s face.
Martha met her gaze. “You are looking well. And happy.”
Octavia’s broad smile filled her face. “I am, M—” Uncertainty crossed her features as she hesitated.
“Martha. Just Martha.”
“You are looking well yourself.” Octavia met Martha’s gaze. “Thank you for investing for me so well. It made a difference.”
“You’re welcome. I am glad you were able to put it to good use.”
Bridget leaned around Octavia, held out her hand to Martha, and narrowed her eyes. “You here alone?”
Martha clasped Bridget’s hand and released it. “Yes. Cook’s not here.” Martha let the humor show in her eyes.
Bridget quirked her mouth. “I wanted to say thank you. If she hadn’t been so… If I hadn’t worked at Rowan House, I would have never met Octavia, or Vivian.” The realization of what she had said hit her and a blush started at the base of her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t. I…”
Vivian came over and took Bridget’s hand. She smiled at Martha and inclined her head toward Bridget. “Some things don’t change.”
Martha smiled. “It’s fine, Bridget. I’ll be sure to tell her.”
Lucia appeared at Martha’s shoulder and rested her hand on her arm, her demonstration of possession calculated and purposeful. “We need to take our seats.” With a smooth slide of her hand along Martha’s forearm, she took her hand and turned her away from Vivian before leading her to the front row of chairs.
LUCIA SAT NEXT to Martha, her hand gripping Martha’s tightly. Music surrounded them, a blend of Madame’s favorite pieces, finishing with the “Flower Duet” from Lakmé, reminding Martha of the first time she had watched the opera with Madame at La Scala in Milan. A montage of memories, each more vivid than the last, filled her and she swallowed her tears. Be strong. For Lucia. For Madame. Lucia gave her hand a hard squeeze and stood up. She walked to the podium set up beside the coffin. Her hands trembled as she opened the folder holding her notes.
The room fell silent as Lucia started to speak, her voice firm. “Madame was many things, to many people. All of us here have our own memories and precious stories of our experiences with her. She left a letter she wanted me to read to you. Her final command to me was to ensure you all understand she would never have left you if she could have stayed.” Her voice broke on the last words. Lucia clenched the side of the podium, pausing before she continued. “These are Madame’s words to you.” She looked down at the podium and read aloud. “To all who have come here to celebrate my life, thank you. To all of you who have come here to celebrate my death, fuck you.” The crowd laughed. “This is a celebration. No tears, or I will haunt you. Celebrate my life. Live every second. Follow my final command, love each other.”
Lucia closed the folder and lifted her face to the crowd. “I thank all of you for being here. There is a repast in the formal dining room.” She crossed the floor and sat down in the seat next to Martha’s. A fine tremor shook her hand, and her eyes were full of unshed tears. Martha hooked her pinkie over the back of her hand. Lucia turned her palm up and Martha clasped her hand. “Well done.”
Lucia turned and looked into Martha’s eyes. “I need to check on the arrangements.”
“Gia and Alicia can handle it. Sit with me.” The crowd trickled out through the doors to the dining room until they were left alone with Madame’s coffin. Martha tugged Lucia to her feet. “I wanted to do this before, but there wasn’t time.” She lowered herself to one knee. “I pledge myself to you, Lucia Coruso, for life. I am yours to do with what you will.”
Lucia looked down at Martha and quirked her mouth. “Do you think this is the right time for this?”
Martha pointed at Madame’s coffin. “She would say yes. And don’t think for a minute she didn’t plan this. She’s probably sitting up there right now with a big glass of wine, crowing she was right.”
Lucia looked up at the ceiling before she brought her gaze back to Martha’s face. She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. “Will you get off your knees before you ruin your suit? And I accept.”
Martha rose and held out her arm. Lucia rested her hand on it, as elegant as a queen, and Martha escorted her to the dining room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
MARTHA PACED THE front porch and pulled her phone out to check the time.
“It’s one minute since the last time you looked.” Elaine tilted her head. “She’ll be here when she gets here.”
“They’re late.” Martha shoved her phone back in her pocket. “They should have been here by four.”
“A few minutes. Settle down.” Elaine went back to examining the dead
remains of the perennials in the pots by the front door. “When Jeanine gets back, we need to clean these pots up. They’re a mess.” She grimaced.
“She’s coming back Thursday. Along with a few others. The list is on my desk if you want to start assigning tasks. Why are you out here anyway?”
Elaine smiled. “Keeping you calm. Annoying you enough you’ll forget to worry.”
Martha opened her mouth to reply and shut it when she saw the car turn in to the drive. She leaped down the two steps and rushed to the end of the walk. The car stopped dead center of the curve. Millie pushed her door open, but before she could get there Martha had yanked Lucia’s door wide and held out her hand for Lucia.
“Such service.” Lucia smiled as she exited the car.
Martha pulled her into her arms and held fast. “Always, Miss,” she whispered into her ear.
Elaine cleared her throat, and Martha let go of Lucia, already missing the shape of her in her arms.
“Good to have you—” she met Lucia’s gaze “—home.”
“Good to be home.” She inclined her head at Elaine.
“See you at dinner?” Elaine raised her chin. “Robin made chocolate tarts for you.” She looked into Martha’s eyes. “Or should I send Myfanwy up with your food?”
Martha held fast to Lucia’s hand and leaned close, her words for Lucia alone. “What is your pleasure, Miss?”
A half smile crossed Lucia’s face, and she squeezed Martha’s hand. “Have Myfanwy bring us dinner. At eight.” She hugged Martha’s arm close to her as they crossed the drive and entered the house.
MARTHA PUSHED THE door open to Lucia’s room, and Lucia preceded her. She tossed her hat on the bed and unpinned her hair. The loose curls cascaded over her shoulders. Martha stood waiting, watching her, aching to reach out and touch her, to hold her close and not let go.
Lucia placed her large purse on the bed. “I brought a few things back.” She crooked her finger at Martha, and she walked to her as if pulled by a string. She stopped inches away. Lucia pulled her in for a long kiss, the heat building between them. With quick movements she unbuttoned Martha’s shirt and pushed her hands inside. The warm heat of her palms on Martha’s skin made her groan. “I want to feel you. All of you.” She stepped back and pointed to a spot on the floor. “Over there. Back to me. Strip.”
Martha hurried to obey. The soft sound of fabric moving and the click of the wardrobe opening had her imagining Lucia undressing. The denial of seeing her unclothed ratcheted up her desire. The Mistress in her wanted to turn, to take Lucia in her arms, tear her clothes off, and bend her to her will, yet she wanted to give Lucia her submission, to give her what she needed and craved as much as Martha did. She heard the loud hiss of the purse zipper and the rustle of the sheets as the bed was turned down. Anticipation and the cool air of the room made Martha’s nipples hard. She finished stripping off her clothes and placed them in a neat pile in front of her.
“Turn around.” Lucia’s voice, her command voice, sent a wave of want through Martha, and she pressed her legs together to relieve the pressure between her legs. She wore a bright-blue dressing gown, the color intensifying the blue-green of her eyes and her brown skin. Her hair was now clipped high, the mass of curls swept back and up, exposing her neck and the exquisite lines of her face. Martha groaned softly.
On the bed lay a large hank of pale-brown rope. Martha set her feet wide, clasped her hands behind her back, and lowered her gaze to the floor.
Lucia passed around her in a small circle, stroking her hands over her skin. “I’ve wanted you since you left Como.” She paused and pressed a kiss in the small hollow at the back of Martha’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Face the mirror, pet.”
Martha turned and faced the full-length mirror. Lucia lit the candles in the antique wood frame. Their yellow flames cast a gauzy light over the room.
“Look at yourself.” Lucia leaned against her back. The silk fabric of the robe, and the sensation of her breasts, nipples hard against Martha’s back, made her gasp. “Use your hands and expose yourself to me.”
She watched in the mirror as Lucia reached around her and passed her hands over Martha’s stomach. She moved them up to cup her breasts, pulling her off-balance and forcing her to lean back against Lucia’s body. She rolled and pinched Martha’s nipples, bringing them to hard points, sending lightning waves of heat to Martha’s clit. She moved her hands down and held herself open to Lucia’s gaze, the mirror reflecting the deep pink and hard prominence of her clit. She moaned as Lucia tormented her nipples, aching for her to touch her thick clit. Desire flowed, and she squirmed in Lucia’s embrace.
A hard squeeze on her breast stopped her movement. “Be still.” Lucia’s voice was fierce. She continued to torment Martha’s nipples. “Can you come this way, pet? For me?”
It was the “for me” that undid her. “I don’t know, Miss. Maybe if I touch myself?”
“An honest answer, but not the one I wanted.” She kept her attention on Martha’s nipples, rolling them softly, then hard, tugging them in a rhythm. She lowered her mouth to Martha’s neck. She kissed her and bit down, the sharp bite making Martha cry out. “Shh, pet. They’ll hear you,” Lucia whispered. She moved one hand down and feathered her fingers over Martha’s clit, a whisper of a touch. Bringing her fingers back to her mouth, she licked their glistening tips. Martha’s knees gave a little as she watched Lucia’s tongue sweep over her fingertips. Her clit was so hard she was dizzy.
Lucia smiled at her as she lowered her wet fingers and continued her assault on Martha’s nipples. “I think you need a bit more, pet.” She released Martha. “Stay.”
She left her there to consider herself in the mirror, trying to slow her rough breathing and aching for her Mistress’s touch and approval. Lucia came and stood next to her. She was running the rope through her hands. Martha watched, enthralled, imagining Lucia’s hands were passing over her as they fondled the rope. She shifted, trying to relieve the ache between her legs and earning herself a hard look from Lucia. Chastised, she stilled.
Lucia finished preparing the rope. “Clasp your forearms behind your back, pet.”
Martha obeyed. The maneuver shifted her shoulders back and thrust her breasts forward. Lucia’s hands gripped hers, then the rope caressed her skin. Her fingers twitched, as she wanted to reach out to touch her Mistress’s, a small connection to her, but she resisted, remembering her training. The weight of the rope on her arms was soothing. Lucia worked quickly as she tied Martha’s hands. She reached around and passed the rope over the top of Martha’s breasts, and again below, forming a band.
“Turn to me.” Martha obeyed, averting her eyes from Lucia’s gaze, watching her hands from under her lashes as she finished her work. “Turn back.” And they continued in a steady rhythm. Each time Martha turned back to the mirror, her body was further bound, wrapped in ropes with intricate precision, the knots down the front of her body in a clever purposeful pattern. The knot above her clit shifted each time she moved. The one between her legs pressing against her rim was maddening with the hint of a touch, just enough she wanted to gyrate to increase the effect, to get what she wanted.
“Face the mirror, pet. Do you see how exquisite you are?” Lucia’s eyes were intense, a stormy blue, dark with desire. She tugged the end of the rope behind Martha’s back, sending a shock wave of pleasure through Maratha as the knots moved against her. Lucia grasped her from behind. With one hand she teased Martha’s nipple, engorged from the binding of her breasts. Her skin was exquisitely sensitive, an effect of the pressure of ropes. Lucia’s touch sent her spinning toward orgasm.
“Oh. Miss. Please. I’m going to come. Please let. Me. For you. Miss.” Martha panted on the edge of her control.
A wicked smile lit Lucia’s face. “Not yet, pet.” She licked the tip of her finger and touched it to the tip of Martha’s nipple, rubbing in slow circles as she tugged the rope. Each swirl of her nipple, each press of the knot over her clit, made
Martha groan. She braced herself, panting, lost in the sensations filling her. She kept her gaze fixed on Lucia’s face. Her eyes were sharp and her mouth was open as she teased Martha, Lucia’s excitement evident. She withdrew her hand from Martha’s nipple, making her cry out from the loss of her touch.
Lucia pulled the tie of the dressing gown open. A red leather harness stretched over her hips. Martha’s gaze was drawn to the thick phallus jutting out from the harness. Lucia took a small bottle from the pocket of her robe, flipped the cap, and dripped the clear liquid over the toy before she palmed it and smeared lube over the thickness between her legs. Sweat trickled down Martha’s back. “On your knees, pet. Head on the floor.”
She slid her hand along the rope, giving Martha enough slack to comply, steadying her. Each movement was a sweet torture as she placed her forehead on the floor, her hips in the air. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and met Lucia’s gaze. She knelt behind her, the rope leash in one hand, phallus in the other. She set the tip against Martha, dragging it through the wetness between her legs. She held Martha’s gaze as she sank into her slowly with a soft murmur of satisfaction. Her lips parted as she pulled back and sank in again. Martha closed her eyes against the pleasure of being filled, and the movement of the soft rope against her clit and her rim.
Lucia gripped her hips. The rope in her hand pressed into Martha’s flesh, her fingernails digging into Martha’s skin. “Hold on, pet. No coming until I say.” And she fucked her, slamming her hips into her, taking every bit Martha had to offer. The sound of Lucia’s breathing shifted. Martha clung to her control, waiting for her Mistress, desperate to obey.
“Now, pet, now.” Lucia’s harsh command as she came, the sound of her Mistress’s release, sent Martha spinning into her own orgasm. Waves of pleasure crashed over her as she came hard, her gut clenching, shouting. Lucia continued, and she came again, the pleasure blinding as each shift, each movement caused another avalanche of pleasure to course through her. Finally, Lucia stilled, and withdrew. Martha collapsed to her side. Lucia began unwrapping and untying the ropes. Martha wanted to reach out to stop her. She hated the loss of each turn of the rope as Lucia took her time, moving Martha when she lacked the strength to move herself.
Knotted Legacy Page 20
