His Curious Imp

by Melinda Barron

  “Yes, Mr. McIntyre,” she said. “No biting.”

  “Now, I’m going to demonstrate what you can do with your tongue.”

  Gabby looked up at him. Luckily for her he didn’t send her back to the corner. “It’s different for a woman, of course, because the man does not have something to take into his mouth. That doesn’t mean you should ignore the tongue while you are ministering to my cock.”

  “The way you’re going to minister to my quim, Mr. McIntyre?”

  “For demonstration purposes only,” he said, right before he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her pussy.

  Gabby jumped, and he put his hands on her thighs and squeezed. His tongue ran up and down her inner lips and her insides heated as she tried to keep herself still.

  She failed miserably. Her body quaked and her hips seemed to move of their own volition, moving up to increase the pressure of his tongue against her soft flesh.

  He sucked her bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucked it hard, running his tongue around it. It was all the stimulation Gabby needed. Her nerves burst, and she thrust so hard she fell from the chair.

  When she looked up she saw Fergus leaning over her, his lips wet. She didn’t wait for an invitation, or for him to give her the next part of the lesson. She bolted upright, knocking him over and taking his cock in her mouth when he was flat on his back.

  It felt so large, much larger than anything else she’d ever tasted before, that she gagged. She pulled back and coughed. To her dismay, he laughed.

  “You moved too fast,” he said. “Take it slower, Miss Saunders. Lick first, then take it a little at a time, moving up and down, letting my prick slide in and out of your mouth.”

  “Yes, Mr. McIntyre,” she said. She lowered her head and did as he said, licking his hard prick up and down, the salty taste filling her mouth. The next time she took him in her mouth it didn’t shock her so much. She did as he said, sucking him slowly and taking him little by little.

  His moans filled the room and she knew, while she might not be doing it perfectly, she was having an effect on him. When he pushed her again and turned her until she was on her hands and knees she figured out the ending.

  He thrust into her and she clawed at the floor as he moved in and out, just like she’d done to him earlier. He grasped her hips as he thrust, and when he stiffened and thrust harder she knew he’d come just as she had.

  They tumbled to their sides, and when he left her she felt a complete loss. She loved having him there, loved feeling him there. What would this feel like if they did it in front of people? It would be, to her imagination, an exciting thing. But imagination usually didn’t match reality. It was something they would need to discuss later.

  A soft knock on the door made Fergus swear.

  “Go away!”

  “Sir.” Timmons sounded as if he were in pain. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have a—situation.”

  “Deal with it!” Fergus said.

  “But sir…” Timmons cleared his throat, not once but twice.

  “Out with it!” Fergus yelled.

  “Miss Saunders’ parents are here, sir. Shall I install them in the library?”

  Chapter 11

  “Send them to a hotel, send them to hell in a hand basket, but I swear, Fergus, if you let them stay in this house I will never marry you.”

  “Take a deep breath and relax, Gabriella,” Fergus said. He was wiping his prick off with a wet rag. Gabby wore the robe she’d had on earlier.

  “I can’t believe they’re here!” She started pacing. “How did they find out about the banns so soon? My father is not a newspaper reader. Someone told him, someone specifically made sure he knew.” She stopped walking and snapped her fingers. “He wants money. That’s what this is about. If you give him money, I swear—”

  “Gabriella.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Stop. This. Moment. I want you to get dressed. You can’t go downstairs dressed like that.”

  “I don’t want to see them,” she said, and then she opened her mouth in a wide O. “Wait, I do. If I don’t go downstairs, they’ll think I’m afraid. I’ll show them I’m not.”

  Fergus’ laughter filled the air.

  “What?”

  “You are so nervous that you are talking about nothing.” He took her hand and led her to the chair. “I want you to sit here and calm down.”

  “You said you wanted me to get dressed.”

  “I want you calm and if Ellie comes in here and helps you dress while you’re as nervous as you are now, you won’t calm down. I’m going to finish dressing, then I’m going to send for Ellie. By that time you will have calmed down. When you’re dressed we’ll go down together.”

  “It’s been years, and the idea of facing them makes me sick to my stomach,” she said.

  “Gabriella.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re a strong woman who has taken care of yourself for years. I love you because of your strength. Don’t fall apart because of them.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and nodded. “You’re right. I’m a strong person. I will behave myself, I promise.”

  “See that you do, and I’ll give you a present I bought the other day.”

  “Besides the clothes?” she asked. “You’re being very generous.”

  “Calm down and I’ll send Ellie in. Then we’ll discuss my generosity after we’ve dealt with your parents.”

  * * *

  Her parents were drinking tea when Gabby and Fergus came into the library. Her mother put down her cup and rushed up to Gabby, wrapping her arms around her.

  “Darling.”

  “Stop it, Mother,” Gabby said as she pushed her back. “Fergus knows the whole story so you don’t have to pretend that you love me.” She brushed past her and sat down in a chair opposite her father. “What do you want?”

  “Our daughter is getting married,” her father said.

  Fergus stepped closer. “Before we get into an argument, may I introduce myself? Fergus McIntyre, and you are?”

  “James and Victoria Saunders,” her father said. He offered his hand and Fergus shook it.

  “You can understand why we’re surprised to see you, since you’ve been less than supportive of Gabriella in the past,” Fergus said. “Surely, you understand what I’m saying.” Before anyone could speak he continued, “Of course, her first lover was not the son of a baron, was he?”

  Gabby watched as her father bristled. Her mother wiped fake tears from her eyes and Gabby rolled her eyes.

  “If you’re looking for money, you won’t find it,” Fergus said.

  “What if I go to the papers?” Gabby knew the dark tone of her father’s voice. He was the type of man who didn’t do well when he didn’t get his way. “What if I let them know your future wife is a whore?”

  Gabby clenched her hands into fists, and then she stood. “Go ahead. I don’t care. Do you, Fergus?”

  “Not in the least,” he said. “Of course, your business might face some backlash when I counter with a story about the way you kicked your daughter out in the middle of the night.”

  Fergus stood. “You may leave now. If you desire to talk to a newspaper, why don’t you go to a good gossip sheet? It will increase our stock in town, and we’ll attend many parties that will be great fun.”

  Fergus called for Timmons. When the butler was there he said, “Please show Mr. and Mrs. Saunders the door, and don’t let them come back inside if they return.”

  “We will see about that,” her father said. He didn’t look at her, didn’t even say goodbye. Instead, they both stomped out the door.

  “Something tells me that’s not the last we’ve seen of them,” Gabby said. “That was too easy.”

  “Your father is a bully,” he said. “He expected me to fold at the idea of your past getting out. I really don’t care, Gabby. If he goes to the papers, we’ll make the best of it.”

  “Thank you.” He took her in his arms and kissed he
r. He cupped her breast and said, “Shall we go back upstairs?”

  “Sir?”

  “What is it now?” Fergus said at the sound of Timmons’ voice.

  “Inspector Wilcox is here,” Timmons said.

  “For the sake of all that is good in the world, send him away,” Fergus said.

  “If you’re in such a good mood, it doesn’t surprise me that you upset the people who were just leaving,” Wilcox said. He brushed past Timmons and sat down in the spot her parents had just vacated. “We need to talk.”

  For a moment, Gabby thought Fergus was going to throw Wilcox out. Instead he sighed heavily and said, “Timmons, please tell cook we’d like a full tea for three.”

  “Yes, sir,” the butler said.

  Gabby and Fergus sat down and then Wilcox said, “We have a problem. And I need your help. We still have a killer on the loose.”

  * * *

  Gabby felt like a princess as Fergus twirled her around the dance floor. She was wearing a beautiful white gown in Egyptian style. Ellie had wrapped her hair around a fake crown like one Cleopatra would wear. She felt exotic, and loved.

  Her entrance with Fergus had caused tongues to wag. Fergus, after all, was a very eligible bachelor and mothers were unhappy to see him aligning himself with a nobody. Worse than a nobody, really. A woman who’d worked for a living. Many of the young ladies shot daggers at her, and she just smiled back.

  “You look very beautiful,” Fergus whispered in her ear.

  “Thank you, Fergus. Again.” She giggled as he lightly brushed his lips against her cheek.

  It felt wonderful to be in his arms, to see his eyes darken with desire as he looked at her. Of course this party would, hopefully, bring their killer out of the cold, so to speak.

  Wilcox said it was either Phillips, or Robert. Fergus didn’t think it was Robert, but he wanted to try and draw him out. Both men had been invited, and were here. Gabby wanted it all to be over with, because Fergus had refused to give her the present he’d bought for her until after the party was over, and the murderer had been arrested.

  While the men were here, Wilcox and his constables were searching the newspaper office and the museum. Hopefully they would find something. Gabby really wanted to know about the present.

  She glanced around the room. Robert was talking with the Buxtons. He had a glass of wine in his hand and he seemed happy, and not at all nervous. Of course, he was used to talking with people.

  On the other hand, Phillips sent out reporters and stayed in his office. She located him standing near the food table. He was chewing on something and looking around the room as if he were trying to find a place to hide.

  “You’re hurting my pride,” Fergus said. “Stop staring at our suspects and pay attention to me.”

  “You’re the perfect escort,” she said.

  “Flattery will get you everything you want,” he said. He put his lips next to her ear. “Tell me what you want, Gabriella.”

  “I don’t suppose the answer you’re looking for is another glass of punch?” She giggled and put her head against his chest.

  “Tell me a naughty story,” he countered.

  “Here?” She glanced around the room. Was it not bad enough that people were staring at them? That they knew she was living under Fergus’ roof?

  “Let me tell you a story then, since you’re unable.” He pulled her closer. “One night, pharaoh decided he wanted to take his concubine in front of everyone. He called them all together and brought her in, naked for all the world to see.”

  Gabby shivered. She wanted to pull away, but she was mesmerized by the words he was whispering in her ear, in a room full of society people.

  “He had her bound between two columns.” Fergus nibbled on her ear before he continued, “Her breasts were firm and up high for everyone to see. He’d had her mound denuded, for he liked it that way, soft and smooth while he fucked her.”

  “Fergus, what if someone hears?”

  “Only her arms were bound,” Fergus said.

  “Stop.” Her heart raced as he pulled her closer.

  “Because her legs were loose he put his hands on her hips, pulled her back and slammed into her. She cried out in a mixture of surprise, pain, and pleasure.”

  The music ended, but he kept her in his arms. There was a smattering of applause from the dancers, and then another song started, and Fergus picked up the story right where he’d ended it.

  “He fucked her hard as the crowd cheered and clapped. He pounded into her, her large breasts swaying with each thrust. Harder. Harder. Harder.”

  “Fergus.” She wasn’t exactly sure what to say next, but she knew something needed to come out of her mouth. Her quim was wet, so much so that she worried the people dancing around her would pick up on the scent of her arousal.

  “Come with me,” he said. He led her to the stairs. On the way she passed Phillips, who nodded and smiled. He was still standing by himself, but as she moved she saw Ellington and Buxton approach him. Gabby looked back as they mounted the stairs. She could see the three of them talking and laughing.

  Fergus led her to a room where the door was open. He pulled her inside but didn’t close the door. “Go to the table, lift your skirts and bend over.”

  “Here? Fergus, we can’t.”

  “Do as I say.”

  “But, Fergus.”

  “Now, Gabriella.” He was undoing the stays on his pants.

  Gabby felt as if the world were spinning around her. Sounds of the party drifted around them.

  “At least close the door,” she said.

  “Gabriella, I’m not going to say it again.”

  One part of her mind told her to run, the other said to do as he said so he could fuck her. The latter part won out. Gabby crossed to the table and lifted the dress above her hips. She wasn’t wearing any underclothes so she didn’t have to worry about baring her bottom.

  “Get into the same position as the concubine,” he said.

  Since there were no columns, Gabby put her hands on either side of the table. She moved backward, her legs spread. He was in her in seconds, grabbing her hips and fucking her hard and fast. Once again she was painfully aware of the noises from the party, of the fact that anyone could walk in and see her bent over, with Fergus taking her from behind.

  Her body quaked with excitement, despite her fears, and she came within moments. He followed seconds later.

  “Well, that was good,” he said.

  “Good?” She giggled. “How about unbelievable, astonishing, extremely naughty.”

  “I’ll go for all of those.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, probing her mouth deeply. “Now, let’s go downstairs and see if our friends are still here, and if Wilcox has sent us a message. Then, tonight, you’ll wear that outfit again and we’ll make sure of it one more time.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Gabby crept from the bedroom as Fergus softly snored. They hadn’t made it home until late, and hadn’t fallen asleep until after five. She flushed as she remembered his lovemaking and how wonderful it made her feel.

  She was exhausted, true, but she was too excited to sleep. Her mind was working overtime on ideas for the mummy story. She wanted to write it for a newspaper, wanted to see her name on the line that said the story was by a reporter, wanted the ink leaking onto her fingers as she read her own words.

  Wilcox had sent them a note to say they hadn’t found a thing during their search. They were at the end, he said. Unless someone found more information.

  She went to the library and examined the books. Nothing caught her interest so she sat down on the couch. She considered going upstairs and waking Fergus. They could make love again. The idea made her blush. She shook her head and as she did so she spied the box of items that Phillips had brought from the office, the things that had been on her desk.

  She opened the lid and lifted out the boxes. Several newssheets were on the bottom and Gabby read the headlines that t
outed trouble in Parliament and criminal activities in the stews.

  Then she narrowed her eyes at a scrap of paper that was nestled among the newssheets. She pulled on it and a whole sheet of paper came loose. McNutt’s handwriting came into view and Gabby’s eyes widened. His notes, they were his notes.

  She gathered all the papers in her hand and went to the divan, separating the newssheets from the notes. When she was done she had six pages that contained McNutt’s handwriting.

  She examined the first four pages and found that, like herself and Fergus, McNutt had figured out the pickpocket scheme in St. James Park. More than likely he wanted her to transcribe the notes because he wanted her to know what he’d found out.

  She read the fifth page and her eyes widened. The words statue, fakes and museum jumped out at her. McNutt was smarter than she thought. The words Blimpton Road were circled. A line drawn from that circle to another circle with the words Turner Avenue caught Gabby’s eyes. Turner Avenue was in the warehouse district, near the docks. If someone had wanted to hide crates full of relics the warehouse district would be a perfect place to do so.

  She thought about Turner Avenue. It wasn’t a long street and sat about three blocks back from the Thames. She stood and made her way upstairs. She had to tell Fergus what she’d found.

  When she reached the top of the stairs a voice inside her head yelled and demanded attention. Don’t tell him. You made such a mess of interviewing him that he laughed at you. Do this on your own. You can make the discovery. You can do this. You can.

  She smiled. This was her big break. If she went to Turner Avenue herself and found the crates, then she could write the story. The Times would surely purchase that information, even from a woman. She looked down at her dress. She couldn’t go like this. She was wearing one of the colorful day dresses Fergus had bought for her. She’d stick out like a sore thumb.

  Her smile brightened as she remembered where Timmons had put her old clothing. Half an hour later she was changed and headed toward the docks. Finally, she was going to be a real reporter. Finally, she was going to crack open a big case.