Finally she reached him. Without saying a word, she untied his robe and swept it off his shoulders. Locking her gaze with his, she ran her hands down his chest, across his stomach, and to his cock. She squeezed him, stroked him, and caressed the length of him.
He would come any second with just her hands on him, no better than a schoolboy with his first woman. Then she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth.
Micah used every bit of willpower to keep from tumbling with her to the floor. Her mouth was hot and her tongue never stopped teasing him. His balls drew up, preparing to ejaculate into her mouth and down her throat. Micah recited the contents of the contract he would take to Sacramento the next day in an effort to distract himself. Siobhan hummed a low moan near the base of his cock, and the sound resonated throughout his body. No amount of dry business details could distract a man that much.
He reached down and tugged her to her feet. She looked up with glazed eyes and full, red lips that appeared eminently kissable. He took advantage, slanting his mouth over hers and controlling her mouth with his tongue. Her scent, her taste, and feel overwhelmed him. Unthinking, he wrapped his hands in her hair and pulled back on her head. His hungry mouth sought the alabaster column of her neck and then her breasts.
Through her barely-there nightgown, he licked and suckled her. Wet from his saliva, he heated her skin with his breath. She moaned, holding tightly to his shoulders. She arched her back, giving him permission to ravage her breasts with his mouth, one breast and then the other, while his free hand traveled over her hips and to the apex of her thighs. There he felt the same heat she generated in him.
Micah swept Siobhan off the floor and to the bed. He laid her on the edge and then pushed her wrap to her waist. Using his hands at the backs of her knees to spread her legs, he buried his head between her thighs and licked her furrow from ass to clitoris. He sucked the nubbin into his mouth and laved it with his tongue.
“God! Oh, God!”
Her screams were music to his ears. Leaving her clit for the moment, he mined her cunny for cream. She came with a vengeance, jerking her hips off the bed, her hands on his head pressing him deeper into her pussy.
Her scent filled his nostrils at the same time her cream coated his tongue. He stroked her thighs, both seeking the silkiness of her skin and pushing her legs farther apart.
His senses, too overpowered, failed him, and he went on instinct alone, stroking, licking, kissing, nipping, touching. He didn’t realize what he did, where he was, who he was. He knew only Siobhan. Her very essence branded him. It took some time, therefore, for him to recognize that she said his name over and over, and was trying to pull him up her body.
He stood. Her legs fell off the edge of the bed. She breathed heavily, her eyes nearly closed, her skin flushed from sex. She had never looked lovelier.
Micah took the negligee at the collar and ripped it down the front. Showing some effort, Siobhan pushed herself up on the bed and then held out her arms.
Settling between her legs, Micah thrust into her with one drive. Her passage stretched, enveloping him in her silky fire. Siobhan bent her knees and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heels pressed his butt, encouraging him to probe deeper.
She groaned when he once again took her nipple in his mouth, and when he bit down lightly at the same time he drove into her, she screamed again and came. Her contractions grabbed him, the ripples of her climax hitting every inch of his length. His balls ached with the need to release, and he let go, filling her with himself.
Grasping for each breath, Micah dropped his head on her shoulder. “I’m too heavy for you.”
“I like your weight on me.” She poked his ass with her heels again. “I like you inside me.”
How had he gotten so lucky? She might not love him now, but if she enjoyed sex with him, deeper emotions would follow. He believed it. Breaking the hold of her legs, he moved partially off her.
“Do you remember the first time we made love?”
She rubbed her palm over his shoulder. “It hasn’t been that long ago, silly. It was on our wedding day.”
“You said you were marrying one of the Berwick twins, remember? You said, who knew which one—that no one could tell us apart.”
“I was teasing.”
He caressed her breast, using his thumb to circle her nipple. Even after the series of orgasms he’d brought about, her nipple peaked. What a remarkable woman he’d married, this Southern belle.
“What if I told you that I’m not Micah, that I’m Drew.” Did he imagine it? Did she gasp with excitement? Did she flex her hips? The aroma of sex filled the air, but he could swear that she gave off a fresh wave of scent.
“Are you?” She whispered the words.
“I could be. Would you like it?”
She hesitated. “You’re two sides of the same coin. Andrew is serious and focused. Micah is fun and carefree. Both of you have good minds, good bodies.” She raised her brows at him. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, a woman can tell things about a man, even when he’s fully clothed.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I revealed that I’m Drew Berwick and not Micah, your husband?”
She stroked his head. “I wed Micah and I fully intend to obey my vows. I do so willingly and not out of obligation. I respect my husband, I care for him. I would never do anything to hurt him.” She gazed into his eyes. “But if he gave me to his brother, to please him as well as myself, I would go to Andrew’s bed.” He began to speak, but she stopped him by holding up her finger. “But only if my husband blessed such a union. I would do nothing to cause him pain.”
“You’re the woman I love and your being with Drew would not cause me grief. He’s part of me, maybe the best part of me. If you want him to be part of your life, too, I understand and give my blessing. Drew and I are partners and brothers in all things. You and I are partners in life. I love both of you.”
She kissed him, and when he invaded her mouth with his tongue, which had been inside her cunt moments before, she sucked it the way her pussy had rippled and drawn on his cock. Not quite limp, he grew hard again. He pulled her over him and entered her with renewed vigor. She took him with equal enthusiasm. Thank God he could doze on the train for some of his journey tomorrow, for he didn’t think he’d be getting much sleep tonight.
Chapter Eight
Micah said he didn’t mind. Micah said he didn’t mind.
She repeated the mantra as she dressed for the opera. One of the many things she still didn’t know about her husband were his likes and dislikes about things like theatre, opera, and dance. Over breakfast, he suggested that as a break after their hard work, Andrew check and see if some sort of entertainment weren’t available. Andrew asked if she enjoyed opera, and Micah exclaimed that for God’s sake if they were planning to see “some tragic Italian melodrama” to do so while he was away.
In fact, while selecting her trousseau in New York, she had attended her first opera, Aida, in preparation for becoming a Berwick. She had loved the performance, so when Andrew sent word that they would attend a performance of Carmen that night, she’d been beside herself with excitement. They would dine after the performance, his note said. Alone. They would dine alone, and then come home alone. And then… Would they remain alone? What would the night bring?
“This necklace, I think, Ching Li,” she said, pointing to a simple gold chain with a ruby cabochon suspended from it. Smaller rubies dangled from her ears and encircled her wrist. Mai had outdone herself with the gown, a high-waisted design of black silk. Lace interwoven with slivers of cut glass covered the bodice and capped sleeves, making them sparkle in the candlelight. A sheath of black silk fell to the floor without further adornment.
Examining herself in the mirror, she smiled in approval. Serious Andrew would appreciate simplicity, whereas she would have worn color and a style with flair for Micah. The accountant and the artist. In some ways they were different as night and day. In others, they were as though one
man, one soul.
“That’s perfect. Thank you. There’s no need to wait up tonight.”
Ching Li bowed. “Yes, Missy.”
Siobhan retrieved an envelope from a drawer in her dressing table and then stood. “And please do not wake me at the usual time tomorrow. I have no appointments until after noon. But you may take this contract to your friend. Like Mai, she’s a real talent. I think she will be a fine second seamstress.”
“Thank you. She will be very happy.” With another bow, she left the room.
“Time to face the lion,” she said out loud.
She walked down the stairs thinking Andrew might meet her at the foot.
“He hasn’t come down yet, ma’am.” Martin, the butler, stood in the entrance hall with her wrap in hand.
“Thank you, Martin. Would you be a dear and run up and tell him we will be late if he doesn’t hurry?”
“No need. Here I am.” Andrew came down the steps tightening his tie.
“Here, let me do that,” she said, when he came to a stop beside her. She reached up and straightened it, an intimate gesture not wasted on either of them.
She allowed Martin to help her with her wrap, and they descended the outside steps to the waiting carriage.
“Have you ever seen Carmen?” Andrew asked as they bumped over the streets.
“No, have you?”
“Once, in New York. I went with Mother while Micah went off to a museum.”
“You two are very unalike in some ways.”
“I suppose we are. Yet even in our differences we shared with each other. When he was really entranced, truly concentrating on a subject for a drawing, I always knew what it was—the shape and color of it—before he told me.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Conversely, when I struggled with a math problem, he discerned enough to help talk me through it.”
She stared out at the passing street scene, musing. “That must be strange, having someone know your mind almost as well as you do. I have three sisters and they’ve never come close to knowing who I am or what I want.”
“And what is that, Siobhan?” He said it softly.
She faced him squarely. “Security. I want to be safely secure, yet in control of my life.”
“Did you think marrying a Berwick would do that?”
“Yes.” He quirked his head. A flash of streetlight showed the interest in his eyes. She said, “One sister ran off and married for what she thought was love. The emotion didn’t keep him alive or give her money to live well. My next sister accepted my father’s wise decision of an older, wealthy man. He’d be steady, Father assured Anya. The filthy old man cornered me in a closet and tried for a kiss before they’d been married three days. So in the examples of my two sisters, I discovered that love doesn’t last and steadfastness can be faked. I prefer to live a good life in good style, but control my heart and mind, thank you.”
“Did you tell her?”
He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew what he meant. “I should have, I suppose.” She frowned and bit her bottom lip. “But there could be no annulment and they were leaving the next day for Atlanta. How could I make her unhappy in her choice before she had a chance to assert herself as a wife?”
He seemed amused at her rationalization. “And is she happy?”
No, she didn’t think so, not if a letter they’d received before she left for New York was any indication. She lifted one shoulder in question. “Who knows what happiness is?”
The carriage slowed. “Oh, look! We’re here.” She couldn’t keep excitement from her voice.
Andrew jumped out when they stopped and helped her down. After dismissing the carriage and making arrangements for when the driver should return, he offered his arm.
He’d dressed in a tuxedo for the wedding. But since then, she hadn’t seen Micah or Andrew in anything other than suit and tie for dinner. She didn’t believe in formal wear for family meals, but seeing Andrew now, in proper black tie, could change her mind.
His jacket and trousers were as black as his hair. His blue eyes blazed from under long, charcoal lashes. His shoulders appeared broad as the Bay, tucked into his jacket. She imagined two Adonises like this on each side of the dining table. She would never tire of the sight.
They took their box seats just before the lights dimmed. Another couple shared the box with them, and hasty introductions were made. Then Siobhan found herself lost in the performance.
The time flew by. Intermission allowed her to chat with Mrs. Hamilton, their box companion, while Mr. Hamilton and Andrew went for refreshments.
“Isn’t the performance wonderful?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.
“Absolutely. I’m going to ask Andrew if we can secure season tickets next year.”
“Your husband? What does he do?”
Siobhan smiled. “Andrew is my brother-in-law. I’m afraid my husband doesn’t appreciate opera. Andrew and Micah, my husband are in transportation. Berwick Transport. They make the finest wagons in the country.”
“Oh. I hope he tells James, my husband that. His company delivers seafood to the restaurants in the city. These hills do shorten the life of wagons and carriages.” She stared at Siobhan a moment. “I have to ask, and I hope you won’t be offended, but I must know where you found that exquisite gown. Did you receive it from Paris?”
Siobhan smiled inside. “A small shop right here in the city,” she said. “It’s a block south of Market Street. A shop called Wild Orchid. They do extraordinary work.” She made an arrangement to have lunch with Mrs. Hamilton later in the week, and to introduce her to the shop’s manager, another necessary hire since business continued to increase. Then the gentlemen were back with champagne and the second half began.
When they settled back in the carriage and headed for the restaurant, Siobhan found no end of things to talk about. The same was true all through their dinner of cioppino served with sourdough bread. But on the journey home, she suddenly fell silent, consumed with thoughts of the night ahead. Would she spend it alone?
Andrew seemed content to let her be, as though he had his own thoughts. The carriage pulled up at the house. The driver set the brake, and Andrew climbed out to assist her down. Martin had the door open before she reached the top step. She handed over her wrap and started for the stairs.
Siobhan didn’t know what she wanted. The thrill of making love with two men, or the knowledge that she’d taken a safe path through a dangerous situation by sleeping alone. Micah might say he didn’t mind her sleeping with Andrew, but that was all in concept. Would he mind the reality? Would she? This action went against everything she’d been taught since childhood.
“Good night,” Andrew said from behind her. She must have let her indecision consume her. She hadn’t heard his step.
“Good night, and thank you for a wonderful evening.”
He grinned. “We’ll have to let Micah fend for himself on opera night. Now that I’ve found someone who enjoys it as much as I, I won’t be talked out of attending.”
“Nor I,” she said with a smile.
“Well,” he said. “Good night.”
She nodded. Then she opened her door, closed it behind her, and the decision was made.
* * * *
Damn it! He had been the one to say good night, without giving her a chance to suggest a drink in the study or a last comment about the performance.
All night, he’d noticed nothing but her alluring beauty, simplistic in the style of her dress and hair, yet complex in her many gestures, smiles beneath downcast eyes, and nuances of speech. Her accent charmed him. Her knowledge about so many things completely undid him in trying to keep up. Throughout dinner he stared at that ruby cabochon, singular in its color against her alabaster throat, wishing his mouth was there instead. He wanted to kiss her, from her pouty, red lips to her hips, and then cover her pussy with his mouth while he dipped his tongue into her cunt over and over until she came. He wanted to run his fingers over every
inch of her and suckle her breasts like a baby while driving into her.
Drew hadn’t exaggerated about the connection between Micah and him. Growing up, they had seemed to know when the other was in trouble or hurt. But evidently their twin bond didn’t extend to sharing physical experiences like sex with Siobhan. He wished it did. If so, he might already know how Siobhan’s body acted in the throes of passion. He’d know how satiny her skin felt beneath Micah’s hands, and the way her hot mouth caressed Micah’s dick when she knelt before him.
As it was, he could only imagine the taste of her cream or the bliss of stroking her nipples while she rode him like the bull she made him feel. Last night those imaginings had driven sleep from his bed and peace from his mind. Now tonight would be the same.
He trudged to the end of the hallway where his empty room waited. He took off his jacket, but even in his distracted state he hung up his clothing neatly in the cupboard. Aching like a stallion without a mare was no reason to be careless with one’s things. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Micah, throwing caution to the wind and abandoning himself to wild adventure without analyzing each step.
He sat to remove his shoes and then pulled off his suspenders and tie. Next came his cuffs and collar. He stared at himself in the mirror. A buttoned-up man—literally—stared back. A man who lusted after his brother’s wife, who felt empty without her, and who knew that fucking any other woman would leave him just as empty.
Hell, he needed a drink. In rebellion, he removed the studs from his shirt. He would go to the study in dishabille, and to hell with the rules.
He walked up the hall, making no noise in his stocking feet. When he opened the door, he sensed right away that he wasn’t alone. Sure enough, Siobhan sat in a leather chair, her head back. She held a whiskey glass with about a three finger’s worth of amber liquid, and she wore a negligee wrap, similar to the one she wore that night in Boston, the night when he knew he was a man lost, wanting a woman he’d never have.
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