He reached down between them and guided himself along her opening and with one forceful push slipped into her.
The bliss, the fullness of him, the pleasure of his need overwhelmed her and she cried out. He covered her mouth with his and started to pump, so slowly, pushing her up against the door as he fully sheathed himself. * * * * It was all he could do to not come all over her dress when she licked her lips. He couldn't remember the last time sex made him so aroused as to lose control. With her particular kind of palm readings it felt as if he'd tolerated days of foreplay. His balls were already pulled tight.
He braced his hands on either side of her head and looked down where they joined, as he slid in and out of her, her wetness making his cock glisten.
When he looked back at her he realized she had been looking, too, and watching his reaction. The naked desire on her face almost shattered him again, and he stopped for a minute to catch his breath. He found her clitoris and started to tease it, running his fingers around her where they met and circling back up. Her muscles started to flutter around his cock and he pulled her legs open wider as she moaned into his ear.
With an upward thrust she pitched over, her cunt clenching on him, and he pinned her so that he could feel every tremble within her. As her orgasm ended he slid into her again, keeping her spread and open, both of their eyes glued to the sight of his shiny cock pumping.
She rested her head on his shoulder, "I never ever thought it would be like this."
"Between us?" He eased her legs down, slipped out of her, and guided her over to the rug where he laid her down, a feast before him. He agreed. Not for one minute did he think it would be so tense, so explosive. Although she'd been true to character, even now. She never cowered, never accepted his posturing, but met him equally where she knew he was.
"Everything." She ran her hands down her breasts to her stomach, and back to her breasts to pull her nipples while she watched him.
He closed his eyes for a moment at the sight of her tempting him with her own hands. He's always had to coax Bea to do such things and he hated it. It was as if she held herself back from him when all he wanted was a full partner. Pleasure that was mutual.
"Touch yourself." He could barely get the words past his lips and his cock jerked at the anticipation of watching her.
Her face flamed in a blush that went down to her chest, but her embarrassment didn't stop her. He knew he was pushing her a bit, but she matched him, and he was proud of her. One hand left her erect nipple, skimmed the planes of her hips, and nestled her fingers through her sable hair.
He took his erection in hand and started to pump as she curved her finger into her cunt. Her face was still flushed from her orgasm and his desires were inflamed at seeing her dress ruched around her hips, her breasts spilling above her corset. Her stockings were gartered and around her thighs, their paleness contrasting with her dark woman's hair.
She began to move her fingers in and out as he pumped to her rhythm on his knees at her feet.
Her eyes closed as she started to lift her hips, her arches becoming disjointed and jerky. He didn't want her to come again, not without him, and he was still so drunk with the look of her he needed more time to drench himself in her sensuality. "Open your eyes," he said, his mouth tight with concentration. When she did they were heavy and half lidded. "Lick me until it's slipping through my hand." She sat up and opened her mouth, her tongue pink and offering him the moisture he wanted. But with her new order she stopped fingering herself.
"Put your fingers back in your cunt." Her face burned at his words, but she did as he told her. When her small warm tongue kissed his cock with such luscious drags he pulled himself back again and inhaled as deeply as he could.
Her fingers were glossy as she circled her clit, still with her mouth enveloping him as he fisted the base of his erection. "Let me suck your fingers." She blushed again even darker, but brought her hand to his lips and placed her fingers, wet with her cream in his mouth. He slid his tongue over them and sucked as if they held the nectar of a ripe fruit and her eyes glazed.
He couldn't hold back much longer and the slight sizzle became a constant burn. Whatever made her like this, if it was just her latent sexuality, or their combined lust, he knew he wanted more. His mind was already imagining positions that his body couldn't perform because of the scant amount of control he had left.
He leaned back from her, disconnecting his cock from her mouth and nudged her back to lie down. Her taste was a luscious appetizer and he wanted to feel her shake underneath him.
The perfume of her already filled his nose as he leaned down, spreading her knees open so that he could see all of her. So that she was completely open and aware of what he was doing to her. Or more so, to himself. He looked down at his erection, still shiny with her saliva and the drip of liquid at its tip, and wiped it with his finger, placing it in her mouth. Ruby lips closed around it and sucked, letting it fall as she pulled her head back. He groaned and levered himself down between her open thighs. She tasted of musk and honey, and him. And that was the headiest of the three. It was almost feral of him, he knew, but it was arousing just the same.
Whispery mewls escaped her mouth as he darted his tongue deep within her, stabbing her as he held her down with his palm on her corset covered stomach.
With his other hand he tapped her clit until she groaned and rode his mouth, her cunt trembling and quaking against him.
He leaned back up, swathed the wetness from between her legs with his hand, and started to pump his cock again. She watched him with half open eyes, but then braced herself on her elbows as his hips started jerking with the smacking sounds of his fist.
He closed his eyes as the ball of fire sizzled down his spine and up to his cock. His balls tight against his base, he came, bursts of viscous cream shooting from him in long pulses, landing on the underside of her petticoats and disappearing within them.
When he finished he fell at her side, exhausted, wanting to undress her and curl her body into his so that they could sleep. And he wanted to wake up with her, still there, and start all over.
One thing was certain—he now knew what was lacking in his relationship with Bea. Equality. He wanted it from her, practically begged her for it for five years, taught her, and even went so far as to as to lay the blame of their lackluster relations on himself. He even had enough affection to take care of her. He didn't wish her harm, but he wasn't passionate about her either. And he'd more than had enough the last few months. Work held more appeal than Bea did by the time he let her go.
Abby perplexed him. He'd seen more of her character in their last two meetings than some friends he'd had for years. She came here to give the money back. It astounded him. She astounded him. Most people thought he wiped his ass with twenties. He knew the five dollars he gave her, although paltry to him, was enough money to ease the bills for a few months. He knew what needing every penny was like, it was scored into his being.
After he got a job after school as an errand boy and worked himself into a better position he was eventually able to go to college with the help and support of those who believed in him. But he never forgot.
Chapter Five
To say she was confused would be a vast understatement. All she wanted to do was to give Caden his money back. Having it in her bureau all week sickened her with guilt, on top of her sister knowing about it. Of course she had to give it back after Camille said something, and she intended to. She just didn't intend to toss up her skirts in his office while she did.
Could generosity be seductive? Because it was when she overheard Caden's conversation with that woman that her chest squeezed and her sex got wet.
But she never planned on having sex with him in his office, let alone the first time they were alone. Not that she felt guilty, not in the least. She wanted to skip home. When she was younger there were stolen kisses at dances and parties. Some innocent ones under the holiday mistletoe, she'd even gone as far as a letting on
e admirer kiss her breasts that mounded above her décolletage. When she was twenty-five she gave up hope and slept with a male friend, someone she'd known throughout her younger years, whom she could trust because they were equal in keeping one another's secrets. They'd come to an unspoken agreement for their relationship and took advantage of its intimacy when the mood hit them. She was no prize in the marriage mart, and she never deluded herself that she was. She had no breeding to speak of, and no dowry to dangle as a worm on a hook. In some ways it was restricting, in others it was a freedom. Men were able to make careers for themselves, but she never would. So, she took what life gave her, and made the best she could out of it.
But this afternoon with Caden…no, she wasn't sorry for it at all. She was thrilled. Ecstatic.
She wanted to do it again. But he never said anything about their relationship.
She could offer herself as a mistress, but that wasn't what she wanted. If he ever married she would be right back to where she was now, her only gain being the years she aged. And the position of mistress didn't help her family, rather it would shame them. It was all too thick to think about just now.
What she would like was a bath. At least that way her mother and sister would give her some privacy. Camille teased her about being so clean, she didn't realize it was the only way Abby could escape them and just ponder things.
She went up the walkway and stepped onto the porch, where the door opened before she could even put her hand on the glass knob.
"Abigail, I'm so glad you're home. We were worried; you've never been so late." Her mother pulled her in and kissed her as Abby walked into the vestibule.
Mother took her hat and hung it up. "Hurry and get changed, we have to leave soon. Camille knows you like to freshen up before these things so she drew you water and got your bath ready."
Abby hung her coat on the hook, "Where are we going?" She had wanted a bath, but to take the time to ponder her new skin, not to be rushed out to mingle with people. Or worse, be stared at and pitied all evening.
"Judith got us invitations to the Preston's for Genevieve's birthday dinner, and Mrs. Preston would like us to give readings. I'll do Genevieve's; you and Camille can take anyone else who asks." She shooed Abby up the stairs, "Hurry, we need to leave in two hours."
Abby slammed her hat onto the bench and stomped up the stairs and even harder when they creaked under her feet. Her mother sighed at the base, and Abby didn't even bother to turn around. She pulled her bedroom door shut with a satisfying thud and started to yank her clothes off.
As her petticoats fell in a circle around her the smell of Caden floated up to her and her stomach gave a flip. She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the reminder of her afternoon. Images of what they did flashed in her mind and just like that, she wanted him again.
She leaned down and picked up her petticoats, bringing them to her nose. It was overwhelming, how his scent made her giddy and sad all at once. She wanted to run her hands over him again, feeling him twitch and shudder.
What she did not want to do was to get all dressed up and go to a party where she had to pretend. She knew her talent enough that none of her readings were faked, but she just didn't want to make polite chatter. She wanted to savor her afternoon.
Caden had loosened her corset just enough for her to take a deep breath and open the busk. Her chemise was all askew and her corset cover had been torn a bit on the seams. They were all folded, and she stacked them into the bureau drawer and pulled a robe on. Then she folded her petticoats and placed them under her pillow.
She padded to the door and peeked out, making sure no one was there before she went into the bathroom. After she slipped in and dropped her robe, she went to stand in front of the full length mirror.
Her neck was a little red from his rough chin, and her nipples were proud and chafed with circles where his mouth had been. She ran her hands down the soft plane of her stomach and over her mound. It still burned a bit and her thighs ached but it was a good feeling, making her happy and content. It reminded her how deeply he'd been inside her and how wide he spread her.
She turned away and stepped into the bath. She lowered herself an inch at a time, pausing as her sex met the steaming water, letting the hot licks of water envelop her as his mouth had. She wondered how she should go on from this. How, once your life had been irrevocably changed, did you pick up and move forward as if nothing had happened?
Seeing him again would be excruciating. How did women act when they met their lovers in passing or at events? If she ran into him at an event? He probably would go to any cost to avoid her. At least, if she kept telling herself that, she wouldn't be disappointed.
She begrudgingly washed him from her body, but she had her petticoats hidden under her pillow, so she could reminisce when she had some private time.
When she was done she got up, dried herself as fast as she could and, pulling her robe back on, she went to her room to dress. * * * * Caden lifted the knocker on the Prestons' house, and moments later Michael Preston ushered him into the oak paneled vestibule. A turned finial banister accented the spiral stairs, and dark green acanthus leaf wallpaper complimented the dark wood. Caden would have to have a decorator do something like this to his vacated brownstone. It reeked of old money, which is what the Prestons' were.
Going to their daughter's birthday party wasn't high on his list of evening entertainments, but gossip told him that Abby would be here. He'd received the invitation weeks ago and hadn't planned on coming. Then again, he hadn't planned on having sex with her in his office, either. Spontaneity had its rewards.
Michael went off to get them both drinks and came back with two short ice filled glasses and by the color, a good Scotch. His hair was heavy with pomade and he still smelled like barbers' talc.
"Glad you came. I was hoping we could talk about a venture I've been considering." Michael led him into the parlor where, beside a blazing fire, Abby sat at a table. She looked even more beautiful than earlier in his office.
Her flushed face was intent on her client's hand as she traced the lines on the woman's palm. Her hair was up in a chignon with soft loops falling on her neck, where just hours before he had kissed.
When he looked back, he realized that Michael had been watching him.
"You don't want her, Caden." Michael gestured with his drink to Abby. "Her, right? I heard you'd given Beatrice the heave ho and by the look on your face I assumed you were thinking of taking on Abigail there."
For some reason the thought never occurred to him. He considered the idea for a moment, but then thought no, she wouldn't like that. For one, she would never leave her family when they depended on her so much. Secondly, she was too proud.
But that didn't mean that he couldn't do his best to convince her that it was the best route. Maybe if he helped with her family's needs she'd be more inclined to agree. He'd have to think up a proposition that was too good for her to pass up.
"Why not Miss Abigail Drummond, Michael?" He spoke low over the rim of hisglass so that their conversation remained private.
"Her family, man. Not only would her mother not tolerate it, but everyone knows that they're …well…peculiar." "Well, what about it?" For some reason Michael's statement rankled. "I guess if you don't mind that kind of thing." Caden stared at him pointedly. "That kind of thing?" Michael had the wisdom to become flushed, but clapped Caden on
the back anyway. "Why don't we go into the library and talk about my new idea?" Michael nodded in the direction of the hallway. "No, I think I'll wait for Miss Drummond to finish with her client,
I'd like to get my palm read." Michael jerked his head back, then gathered himself and raised his
eyebrow. "For spiritual comfort?" "I'm not after anything, Mr. Preston, I'm here to pay respects to your family for your daughter's birthday and socialize with your guests. If you want to pay a call to Frist at the bank I'll make sure he gives you an appointment. We can talk about your new venture then." Caden nod
ded and walked away from his host to go stand behind Abigail's client.
He'd about had enough of Michael's grandstanding because of their friendship. He never hesitated to pull it out when he came upon the opportunity, and Caden hated that. Riding another man's shirttails never gained respect the way hard work and due diligence did.
He didn't come here to talk about business, he came to say hello to friends, mingle a little bit, and start a seduction. Of which object looked to be avoiding him.
Caden gave a slight cough and waited for her to look up. Her brows knit and she kept speaking with the puffy pink woman at the table.
He coughed again behind his fist and waited for her, as if he could will her gaze to him. This time she huffed but still kept her full attention on her client.
Fresh chit, not even giving him the time of day after she came in his mouth just a few hours ago. Then it dawned on him. He was jealous of a pink, puffy frou-frou woman. Even though he saw her in her naked splendor, right now, sitting at the table with her unfashionable dress and upswept hair, she was even more enthralling. The curve of her face was becoming familiar to him, and that knowledge was comforting. And equally horrifying.
She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing in genuine surprise and happiness, but when she looked around and realized her situation she looked guarded. Whatever those glances meant, he knew they weren't all good. Guilt or regret hopefully wasn't on the list, because he felt neither.
In the corner by a chinoisere screen was an unoccupied settee and wingchair, so he made his way past the few occupants of the room to sit down. He couldn't, and refused to take his eyes off of her. Not that she would disappear, but it was as if they were the only people in the room and he felt her, in some way, connected to him.
This time when she went back to her clients hands she kept peeking up at him, which for some reason he found endearing, even though the look on her face that followed was frustration and not happiness. If she gave him the chance he'd like to change that back to the happiness he first saw there.
Fortunes Fool Page 10
