by Lacy Danes
Whatever trait the brew heightened, he hoped Hannah’s host had experience and could ease her before pain arose. If he used the wrong ease or did nothing, things would slowly get worse. Shit. The idea of Hannah in pain because of him…He closed his eyes. He couldn’t handle that. Piercing pain sliced through his temple.
He needed to see Guss. The old gardener would know an antidote to whatever the hell he ingested. He was no good to anyone in this state. He clenched his fists. He was going to kill whoever did this to him.
Glancing into the ballroom through the sea of bodies, his body heated. In the midst of all that debauchery stood a slice of angel he intended to savor.
Red cloaks bobbed among the field of naked flesh. They were readying for the theatrics the selection would follow.
Half an hour, no more, and the ceremony would begin. That wasn’t a lot of time. Guss would be in the kitchen on the opposite end of the house. Shit.
He reached down, rubbed his hand along his cock, and called to mind Hannah’s deep crimson cunt with black lace. His tongue ran along her flesh as he lapped her juices, her sweet aroma filling his nose. His mouth watered. He needed that smell on him again. On his cock, on his hands, on his mouth. Damn, he even wanted the scent on his toes. He squeezed his crotch and gritted his teeth. Come on, damn it. All he needed was a slight rise.
Stroking firmer, he recalled her sweet exquisite scream, her body quivering, as she locked her knees to his head and spent. Bloody hell. Not a damn thing. If he entered the ballroom now, he would be no use to her. His cock would not stand. He turned on his heel and ran for the kitchen.
“Wantons and Wickeds, the festivities are to start with an instructional theatric of Aretinian postures of pleasure.”
The first of the entertainers—a young couple—wandered out onto the stage. Timothy stood beside Hannah and watched her intently. The woman, dressed in a long white silk robe with black hair that hung loose down her back, smiled at her partner. The man, one of the striking hosts who escorted women into the masked event, flexed his arms and shook out his legs.
Before tonight, Hannah never knew sexual events like this existed, and now she and fifty or so other guests would watch instruction on how to mate. How to pleasure. She shook her head and blinked. She really was here watching this. Heat seeped through her body as the man turned, and the woman untied the feather covering his sex.
His short phallus, covered with thick veins, jumped as she stroked the length with her hand. Then the woman placed a skin on the tip of the man’s sex and rolled the letter down. So that was what a sheath looked like. How strange. Would a man’s heat penetrate that skin? The man then helped the woman disrobe.
“Position fourteen,” Rupert called out.
The man lay down on his back, then pushed up onto his hands and feet. Hannah could see under his back and bum as he created an arch.
His ass clenched in the most fascinating way, like what she imagined it looked like during futter. Hannah’s hands fisted, as she squeezed his bum in her mind. Her nectar dewed her sex and her flesh throbbed. She gasped as the woman straddled the man facing away from him, then slid her fingers around the man’s hard phallus and pulled his prick toward her bum.
“Don’t pull the cart, dickhead of Cupid.”
Hannah jumped and sighted a second man speaking on stage. He read the Italian text from the I Modi.
“Because I want to enter by way of the pussy, not in the rear,” continued the man onstage.
The woman placed the phallus between her engorged red nether lips and sank down on the man. Everyone moaned. Applause rang through the room, snapping Hannah’s attention to the others in the room. This couple on stage pleased the entire crowd. She closed her eyes as her chest tightened, the ache within her homing in on her blissful place. Her hands slid down her body to between her thighs. She needed to ease the ache. Her finger slid easily into wet and engorged lips.
Hannah’s body tingled painfully. The words combined with the sight caressed her. She longed for Kenny’s phallus to spread her sex as slickness slid down the hard shaft and he filled her, pressing deep. Like the woman onstage, she would ride him until they both cried out in pleasure. Her fingers slid into her opening. Why wasn’t this working? Instead of the pleasure she created when alone, pain filled her womb and burned her skin.Timothy’s mouth twisted in what looked like concern, but he did nothing but watch her.
The other guests fondled each other. From the corner of her eye hands groped, cupping breasts. Mouths fused in kisses. Pain shot through her womb, and she breathed in through clenched teeth. Hunching, she pressed her hand to her stomach as her pulse vibrated through her. Each thrust, each groan, tightened her like an overwound violin, stretching her need to the point of pain, to the point of breaking.
Her legs trembled as her breath puffed in and out with the rhythm of the mating onstage. Blast. Where was Kenny? She needed him. Why hadn’t he come for her?
“Oh, Ass of Milk-White and Royal Purple, if I weren’t looking at you with such pleasure, my cock wouldn’t hold up worth a measure,” the man on stage called out.
The woman bit her lip and whimpered. Her body convulsed as the man groaned and thrust up hard once more, his hips pulsing as he spilled his seed.
In her mind, gush after gush of Kenny’s hot fluid coated the walls of her sex. Hannah’s sex contracted and crippling pain shot through her womb. Blast, she needed to leave.
This wasn’t right. Something was wrong. She reached out for Timothy’s arm and glanced around the room.
“Artemis!” He grasped her.
Where was Kenny? Where was he? Only he could ease her desire, ease this pain. Pain sliced though her body. Good Lord. She doubled over, her fingers digging into the flesh of her rounded stomach. Timothy lifted her into his arms and darkness met her.
5
Declaration
“I use it myself. Makes the limpest of man hard as a bull,” Guss’s voice crackled as he stirred the steaming broth.
Kenneth chuckled. “The maids all flock to your room, Guss. You have no need for such an herb.” He shifted his stance and leaned on the rough wood table in the large kitchen. Make haste, Guss. Make haste.
The old man handed him the cup and raised his gray eyebrows. “Precisely why I need it. You think a man as old as I can stay up all night on his own. Things work differently when you age, and this cures any cock stand ailment.” Guss winked.
Kenneth’s smile broadened—Randy old man—then he stared into the cup filled with green herbs and steaming water. Any woman Guss bedded ran giggling back for more. Maybe these herbs were the reason behind his legendary staying power.
He raised the cup to his lips and in one swallow drank the sweet anise-flavored liquid down. Disgusting. The fluid stung his tongue and burned a trail down to his gut. He shoved the cup back at the old man.
“Now what?”
“Now you get back to the festivities so you can enjoy your new strength.” Guss turned back to chopping herbs on the kitchen table.
His new strength? Hannah. Kenneth turned about with haste to head toward the ballroom. She needed him. “Good night, Guss.”
Guss grunted, but Kenneth paid him no mind.
He left the kitchen and ran down the darkened hall, his heart pounding in his chest. The serum would be the only reason he would make it.
Hopefully.
Not quarter an hour passed as he traversed the black halls, back to the main ballroom.
A woman groaned as he passed a couple deep in futter in the darkness and his cock tingled with warmth. Thank God the herbs worked. He picked up his stride…Hannah…and bloomed in his pants.
The agonizing ache spread through his head, and the burn in his eyes lingered, but his cock could perform, and that was what he needed to ease her with.
A smile curved his lips. He would finally sink into her velvet warmth. His loins grew heavier. Oh what a sensation.
Please don’t let her be in the first group.
/> He skidded around a corner. If she was…Good God, he didn’t want to think about another man fucking her. The idea of a husband bedding her drove him mad. For a man who had less right than him to touch her…Shit. To feel the clasp of her velvet skin…He shook himself. No, he couldn’t allow another to fuck her.
Turning the corner, he stopped. Chants came from the ballroom, and the sweet smell of incense hit him. The selection had already begun. His stomach twisted. Please let him find her well. Well and unselected.
He straightened his shoulders and entered the room. First he needed to find Hannah; second he would find out who had drugged him.
Everyone faced the stage. The masters formed the circle for selection. Bloody hell. Hannah knelt in the circle while Greyington paced her. Damn. He was too late. His heart lurched in his chest.
His fingers dug into the flesh of his palm. Shit. Shit. He ground his teeth together to hold back a frustrated scream. Who did this to him?
He inhaled and skirted the edge of the room, muscles tense, ready to pummel anyone who got in his way. Hannah was not only the first person he invited, but she was the woman who had never left his thoughts for twelve years. And someone snatches her from him. Fuck. Why would someone do this?
Greyington’s tastes in women ran the same as his; a night with a woman on occasion connected them. He couldn’t blame him for wanting to taste Hannah’s charms. But she was intended for him. Greyington didn’t have the personality to dose a member. He was not his delayer.
A tall blond woman stepped in front of him and dropped to her knees. Clasping his foot, she placed her lips to his thigh.
“Master, how may I please you?”
Bloody hell. He couldn’t deal with the formality of the selection right now. Hannah knelt as Greyington chanted and dropped wax in a circle about her. He needed to reach Hannah. He couldn’t let Greyington have her, not this way. Glancing down, he met blue eyes staring up at him beneath blond lashes.
“Good evening, Jennifer. Please rise; there is no reason for you to yield to me. You are not mine.” His teeth clenched tight.
“But I could be.” Her lip jutted out in a pout as she unfolded herself. As she stood, her touch trailed up the sensitive flesh of his thigh. His hand shot out and snagged her wrist, stopping her from reaching his cock.
“Good God, woman.” He pushed her hand away from his body. Jennifer had been pleasant but by no means his best. Though she seemed to think she was the cat’s cream. She, like his mother, only found bliss going from one man to another. One man alone would never satisfy her. She thought he could.
On the other hand, one man would satisfy Hannah. He needed to get to her. His shoulders tensed, and he shook off the exclusive thought.
Jennifer ran her finger up his arm. “But—”
“You were a delight, dear, and you agreed to my terms when I took you to my bed. Once and only once.” He inclined his head. “Have a good evening.” He stepped away from her, breaking the contact of their skin. She cursed under her breath.
He strode up the steps and made his way to Rupert, who stood in his dark red robe at the head of the ceremony. Heat flooded his tense muscles, and his blood boiled.
Anger, disappointment, and guilt twitched his limbs. Rupert had better have answers, or he would strangle him. The muscles in his cheek jumped as he came up alongside him.
“Where you been, chap?” Rupert glanced at him, then back to Hannah in the circle.
“To the devil, Rupert,” he ground out, wanting to shake him—no, wanting to punch him. But he held back; otherwise, half the masters in the room would be on him. He needed to figure out a way to get Hannah. “You even put her in the first pod to make sure I had little chance.”
“What are you talking about, chap?”
“Hannah, she is in the circle with Greyington.” The selection rituals said that once chosen, you belonged to that person until they said otherwise. Nothing. No holes. It could be hours, days, weeks before Greyington gave her up.
He closed his eyes. Good God, he wanted to fuck her for weeks, for longer. Never to let her go. Cool sweat ran down his back, and his heart beat wildly. Bloody hell. He wanted her wholly.
No. He rolled his shoulders. It was just this situation. He couldn’t possibly want to give a woman the power to turn him into the slobbering lump his father had been when his mother left. His hands fisted.
But Hannah was different. He hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind for years.
Rupert turned to him. “Greyington did her a favor. He chose her because of the pain.”
Pain. His gaze shot to her. Her eyes closed, a pinch between her brow. Lips that were usually in a smile now frowned. Bloody hell, she was so white. How could he have missed…His stomach tightened and sweat pierced his brow. He caused this. If he hadn’t invited her…His breath hitched and his stomach rolled.
“Shit. What the hell happened, Rupert? Why herb me? You knew I wanted her.”
“I didn’t dose you, chap.” His green eyes softened. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you can still claim her. Just intervene. Make a declaration.”
A declaration. He closed his eyes and sighed. It was the only way for him to get her now. If he declared her his, the group would bind them. Forever.
A wife. A partner. A slave. And he hers.
He would have every right to fuck her as she walked in the door. His cock stiffened, tenting his robe.
God, could he do it? His shoulders tensed.
The commitment would mean no other woman, none without Hannah’s participation. There was so much they did not know about each other. Would she want to stay?
He wanted to know her, to hear about the years they spent apart, and to tell her of his. She would want to listen to the hell his mother put his family through when she left.
But would she care she was bound to a bastard? His cheek twitched. He had never told anyone that, and he wanted to tell her. His chest swelled.
She was not his mother. Quite the opposite, in fact, and he wanted her despite all the pain she could cause him.
Hannah whimpered as Greyington pricked her finger to let her blood flow. Kenneth winced. Bleeding her would ease her pain by letting the brew out. But, not enough. An intense spend would be the only way she would find peace, and he couldn’t sit back and watch another man sink his cock into her velvet warmth.
Not after dreaming of her, wanting her all these years.
Declaration, it didn’t matter if she left. He would have her. Hannah knelt on the stage, arms trembling as her blood ran down her fingers.
“Rupert, what is her desire? Do you know?”
“To please.”
He closed his eyes. Sweet, sweet, Hannah, I never intended to hurt you. He ran a hand through his hair and breathed out through clenched teeth. “Bloody hell.”
“Yep, the declaration ceremony could put her in further pain. The level of pain all depends on who she is with. Can you make worshipping her pleasurable to you? More so than it is for her? I say, a fitting challenge for you, chap.”
Of course he could do it. Pleasuring her would be the most exquisite thing he had ever done.
Kenneth stepped forward into the circle, and Rupert smiled. Whether Rupert dosed him or not, it pleased Rupert that he decided to make this transition. He and Emma both urged him to go to the next level of sensuality, and he couldn’t go there without a declared partner to experience the ritual with.
Hannah knelt in the circle, unable to move. The pain slicing through her womb stole her breath and made her legs shake. Why had Kenny not found her, come for her? She did not know. This pain needed to stop, and Timothy said the only way was to follow her urge. To please a man.
Then she would leave. What a fool she had been. Her eyes squeezed shut on tears welling to the brim. Why would she think any man would want her more than once?
Kenny had his taste just as her husband did, and that had been enough. God, he probably lay in one of the special rooms wit
h a wench who did exquisite things to him.
She was inexperienced. She closed her eyes. Too inexperienced.
You’re a passionless fuck, Hannah. I made a mistake marrying you. Simon’s voice rang through her head.
Oh God. A passionless fuck. She cringed. It was because of her aunt’s instructions: Lie passively, dear; don’t move, don’t make a sound or your husband won’t like it.
What did she do wrong? Following that instruction with Simon hadn’t done her any favors, and following her body’s desires hadn’t helped with Kenny either.
It was surely her screams. Simon always told her to be quiet. Her body shook. She would never achieve giving a man pleasure. Burning pain pierced her stomach and darkness loomed again. No more. No more.
Chants went on around her as the man with black hair and soft caring eyes knelt. He wanted to help her. He realized her pain. “Please,” she whimpered.
Warm fingers wrapped about her hands, which were clenched to her stomach, and pulled them from her. He ran his finger up her hands and gripped her trembling middle finger. Gold metal flashed in the light as pressure traced a line into the flesh.
Her eyes bulged as he pinched the flesh, and warm red slid down and dripped to the floor. He cut me. She yanked at her hand, but he did not release her.
Her muscles tensed, awaiting more pain, but it never came. Warm tingles of pleasure swept her. Her womb tensed, then eased. Amazing. Letting her blood flow eased her. The blood ran off the tips of her fingers and spattered on the floor. Her heart pounded, and her body trembled as desire flooded her anew.
His lips moved and he stood, dropping her hands. What did he say?
Blood rushed so loudly through her veins she had no idea. A sharp twinge slashed through her. Oh please. She dug her fingernails into her palms, and warm stickiness coated them.
