Fortunes Fool
Page 11
He pulled out his time piece and flipped open the lid. Dinner would be announced soon, and he refused to leave without speaking to her. Maybe a few nips and sucks would be in order, too.
Mrs. Drummond came through the French doors, and he watched as Abby's back became ramrod straight. Before she looked at him every few seconds, now she avoided any eye contact.
He waited a few minutes for her mother to leave, but she moved around to the guests standing nearby, making small talk. She was like a bad cold, lingering when you wanted it to leave.
And he needed her to leave. He could never get Abby alone with her mother standing guard. Abby would act all proper with her around, not like the lush wanton she was in his office earlier. That was the Abby he wanted, all pliant and willing.
Her five minutes were up. Enough was enough. He stood up, straightened his jacket, and walked over to Mrs. Drummond.
"Mrs. Drummond, have I told you how much I appreciated the excellent reading your daughter gave me the other evening?" He smiled as her face lit with recognition. "It was very inspiring."
"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Dupree. I've often wondered how she was received." Mrs. Drummond blushed at Caden's praise. She placed her gloved hand on his jacket sleeve, "Was she able to help you understand your purpose more clearly?" "Why yes, I now have a crystal clear understanding." "How delightful. If you need any other guidance, please stop by." She handed him her calling card and smiled as she turned to speak with another woman who had come up to her.
When he looked over at Abby she was staring at him, a look of abject horror on her face. He winked. Her blush was adorable.
"Miss Drummond, I waited so patiently for a moment with you, but I find myself almost out of time. Would you care to walk me to the door?"
"Yes, please Abby. Mr. Dupree expressed some interest in your insightfulness and to perhaps have his hand read again?" Abby's mother offered from the circle of her other conversation. For some reason Abby's mother using him like an advertisement didn't bother him half as much as Michael. Caden offered her his arm. "Well, then I guess I'd better see you to
the door," she said, as he led her out of the room. He led her through the French doors into the empty vestibule,
looked down the hall, and started to go up the spiral staircase. She pulled her arm back. "We can't go up there!" He yanked her to him and kissed her with all the frustration that filled him while he waited for her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and pulling her head closer.
Abby melted into him for a moment, then jerked herself away. He took advantage and yanked her up the stairs, and this time she followed.
Once Michael told him there were eighteen bedrooms, and he was certain he could find an empty one. He led her to the end of a long corridor and up another flight of stairs that looked less used. The floor was silent, and at the third door he paused and turned the amethyst knob as silently as he could. All he could hear was her breathing behind him. He poked his head in and seeing that the room was vacant, pulled her in.
Chapter Six
Abby knew it was wrong. She felt as though they were trespassing, that at the least it was indiscreet. But then, it would seem that Caden had a knack for trysts in indiscreet places, and the memory of what happened in his office made her wet, her wanting of him again, even now, overriding reason. Even though he locked the door behind them, someone could find them out at any time. Someone could have knocked, and her reputation would be destroyed. For some reason she didn't care as much as she knew she should. She only wanted to feel his hands running up her ribs, and his breath on her neck, the weight of his body covering her. Her mother was downstairs. Was this how easy her lusting body ran to ruin? Falling right over
the cliff of reason to the jagged boulders below? "Caden, I have to get back down there, I can't do this. If anyone—" His mouth silenced her last words as he began a sensual onslaught, and she slipped into the enchantment of his touch. His arms pulled her to him and his erection, even through four layers of cloth, branded her skin. She knew what it looked like, what it felt like, how he smelled and tasted, and she wanted it all over again. She snaked her arms up around his neck to kiss him back, nipping at the corners of his mouth and tongue, reveling in the tension between her legs.
He moaned when she did that, exactly the response she hoped from him. She wanted to show him what she wanted to do. And the particulars of where was fading under the knowledge that he was grasping handfuls of dress up to get to her.
When the material slipped out of his hand he groaned and attacked the fabric fortress with both hands. He reached her bustle ties and rested his head on her collar, panting. Her heart pounded, seeming to reach its beat to her sex where she could feel the friction of her need. "These fucking clothes will be the death of me." She chuckled. "You're not the only one tempted to rip them to
shreds." "Just once I'd like you naked. Completely naked for the whole
afternoon." His words hit her like brandy, smooth and smoky with a hot burn. She would do just about anything to have that, too. But not here. She wanted the time to love and explore, and that couldn't be done in other people's guest rooms.
He pushed his erection between her legs and rocked. "I want you. To feel your stomach quiver as I kiss down to where I know you're wet for me."
She inhaled, her eyes closing and rolling back into her head, his mouth hot on her collarbone.
She slipped her hands to his waist, opened her eyes, and started to unbutton his pants, then pulled the tie on his drawers, letting his erection spring free. The anticipation of his passion goading her further than she'd been before, wanting him hot and in as much need as she was.
Just the sight of him, hard for her, made her close her eyes and swallow. If only they could be naked. She wanted him all over her, cupping her breasts, taunting her nipples with his tongue and fingers, pulling them until she shuddered and moaned in his mouth. Next she would take her time tasting him, licking the copper disks with her tongue, the planes and dips of his chest and hips under her palms, his erection in her mouth and his balls cradled in her hands.
It was as if when she was with him the rest of the world ceased to exist. Her senses were too full of him to be concerned, and even still she wanted more.
She sunk to her knees and nestled her nose into the skin of his stomach, his crisp hairs springing under her fingers as she spread her hands around the base of his penis. The scent of him filled her nose, marking her memory with her pleasure as she took him into her mouth, slipping her lips over the silk hard head. She looked up at him while he strained to not push himself further. He rested his hands above her head as if in benediction, and she wanted him to run his fingers through her hair, but even still she knew he couldn't. Not unless he wanted them to get caught. If she could have reached herself she would have, teasing her wet slit with her own fingers while he watched all of it from above. Or to have him filling her and her mouth at once.
His eyes were burning charcoals, heavy with passion as he rested his hands on her shoulders, begging her for more with the small pushes of his hips. She kept her eyes on him as she sunk another inch and ran her fingernails up the inside of his thighs to his sac, circling until he closed his eyes, his balls pulling up. She drew one long nailed finger behind them and stroked, softly scratching the hidden pucker and smiled as his eyes flamed. "Please." The single word came from gritted teeth. She sucked in another inch then glided back up, around the flared rim, dipping into the tiny hole with a pointed tongue and going back down as he swelled in her mouth.
This time she bobbed, her lips swollen and wet, all the way down, as far as she could, taking him so deep that for a moment she closed her eyes and breathed through her nose.
She slid her fingers around to his firm ass and felt the shaking muscles underneath, the flexing that made him swell and throb with his checked need. Her tightened sex wanted him, swollen and slick as she kneeled, her arched back, and him slipping out of control with small thrusts.
She stood with a knee planted on either side of his hips and started to sink, her skirts bellowing out as she impaled herself on him. Her stocking feet curled up under his bum, pushing him in even further, bumping her womb and grinding into her hardened clit. The rasping friction of their joining made her fracture with shards of pleasure. She mewled and wanted to lean into him but for her corset, so she sat strait, her insides squeezing him as the rhythmic spasms eased.
His eyes rolled up and closed, his nostrils flaring in time with his lifting hips. "So good, you feel so good."
He palmed her face and brought his mouth up to her, kissing her as he moved for them. Bringing her with such sweet agony to a precipice without letting her fall off.
He ran his palms up her bodice and found between her corset and neck, a precious bit of flesh which he kissed with scorching lips. They were embers on her skin, burning a trail where they nipped and sucked, and she wanted them on her nipples, drawing them into his mouth.
Tension thrummed her body, her thighs trembling as she moved up and down, wanting to come, but unable to break free. She heard a rustle of crisp fabric and gasped as cool air hit her thighs. His searching fingers found their treasure, her hard clit, nestled in sensitive flesh which he started to caress with long fluid strokes.
A frenzied snapping of wires, white hot, started in her grasping and clenching, drawing him deeper if that were possible. Her breath came in short pants and she came, firing off in sparks.
Even as the last ebbs left her body he thrust up deep, evenly, pausing at her womb and, with her last pulse flexing, lifted her off onto his thighs as he slipped out and spent on her drawers.
Frustration flooded her watching the white fluid land on the material. She wanted him spent deep within her. She wanted to feel his seed fill her, to have it drip down her thighs as she walked home.
Was she greedy in wanting more? Wanting to not have to rush away, straightening clothes and making excuses to appease those who would look after her?
Was it wrong that she wanted days and nights? She needed laughter and quiet times, or an evening out with no one to answer to?
She'd gotten herself into a knot, but even still, she didn't regret it. Sadly, to her, these stolen moments were worth the deceit, if this was all she could have, or all that he might be able to offer. It was stupid and naive, but she wanted to hope. To hold that flicker close to her heart, that somehow they could make a way like her parents had done before her. But, she remembered her father gave up all that he had to marry her mother. Although she knew in her heart though that he never regretted one minute of it.
Caden wouldn't have to give up his money, but for them to have any sort of future would take at the least a chunk of his pride. The question was did he think she was worth the price? * * * * She still sat astride him with her head resting on his chest, trembling from her own orgasms. It was never enough. Never. He'd been with her twice now, and there were always pieces missing, that were held back because of their location.
Or perhaps because they'd never been naked. Only the important parts were bared for access.
That needed to be remedied. He would have to make a date with her and bring her to the brownstone. He could take her out, then back there.
No, not dinner. He couldn't be seen with her, not that way. She was still too much a part of society to be able to secret away with him like that. Not only was she still a part of society, but one of its non-desirables as well. He would have to take her out of town, yes, that would do it. They would want to spend as much time together as possible so it would have to be somewhere close.
Hoping they would have that time together made him almost joyous, but having to plot and plan almost ruined it. Some men might like the games of liaisons, but he was finding it wearisome.
She got off him and started to ready herself—adjusting, tying, pushing her peaked nipples back into the corset. He did the same and they stood, needing to escape, but not wanting to leave.
He turned the knob and peered out the door, guiding her into the hall.
"Shhh." She slipped her hand into his and walked down the stairs behind him, so close to him that he could feel her breasts touching his jacket. He angled himself so that he protected her from any eyes that would spy them sneaking down the back stairs. With the house having eighteen bedrooms, two sets of servant's stairs and two grand staircases, he doubted anyone would venture over to where they were, especially now that everyone would be removing to the dining room.
The dinner bell had rung moments ago, just as they were coming out of the guest room, and he decided that they would split. She, her mother and sister were leaving now anyway and he would be gone by the time they walked out the door.
He tugged her ear and walked out the opposite way, slipping out the side door into the crisp winter night leaving her to wind her way to the parlor.
He stared at the brilliant stars in the sky. He hated sneaking about. It was for youths and their clandestine meetings, not for the likes of him. Whom was he kidding? Not five minutes before he was trying to figure out how to get her to spend the evening with him. Like in finances, everyone had their price, and he just found his. Still and all, she was a mystery to him. Maybe that was why he was so enthralled? Perhaps the newness of her coupled with learning her subtleties was a heady aphrodisiac. He wanted to know what made her so strong as to shoulder the labels people gave her, the loyalty she had for her family that made her take up the burden of being a pariah. And why she allowed him to break that loyalty.
Even with having just been buried deep inside her as she rode him, he would have her again, right now, and his cock agreed, but Michael's comments nagged at him even when he didn't believe the rumors.
Better then he should make some arrangement with her and set her up in the brownstone. He would be close, then at the main house, but not too far away that her couldn't hail a hansom and be there within ten minutes.
The Prestons lived in town not far from his main house on Knob Hill and he walked a few blocks more considering his circumstances. By the time he reached the club he hadn't come to any conclusions except for the fact that he wanted to sleep with her despite her profession, and he needed a cognac with a cigar. Not that those items would be a problem here, the cigars were on a silver platter on the welcoming table and the bar was open. He had his favorites available to him at all times.
He checked his coat and hat, lifted the top cigar off its pyramid and smiled as it was immediately clipped by the waiter.
The bar was long and a dark wood with an old brass railing and glasses hanging upside down like some queer chandelier. There were club chairs scattered about with cast iron scrolled reading lamps and side tables. Off in the back the card tables were filled, smoke coming up from them like chimneys.
He scanned the small crowd and found Charles Fernald and Robinson Fletcher playing poker with a few others.
He wove through the tables and pulled a chair out next to Fletch who glanced up at him and threw out a card.
"Slumming?" Fletcher asked, the cigar clenched between his teeth, his face shrouded in a blue-grey haze. "Not hardly. Dinner at the Prestons, but I slipped out." Charles ribbed Fletch in the ribs. "I thought you would be looking to replace Beatrice. Trolling the market district looking for a wayward milkmaid?" "No, he's aiming for a palm reader." Michael walked up behind him. All three men stared at him until Fletcher and Charles began to
laugh so hard tears started to roll down Fletcher's face. Caden nodded at Michael. "Ditch your party?" Michael shrugged. Charles took a deep breath and calmed for a moment. "Did she see it in her future that she would be fucking the Vice President of Boston Trust?" Fletch started howling again and slapping Charles's shoulder. Michael stood watching them and then turned to Caden, "See. I to
ld
you so." "Which one, eh? Camille?" Fletch got back into the game and
pushed out five chips. "No, Abigail." Michael pulled out a chair and sat down. "The old one? Man, the least thing you could do is take the younger one. The older one must not be a very good fortune teller if she hasn't found herself a benefactor by now." Charles counted his chips, "I see you and raise you two."
"Cheap tonight, Charles? Maybe I can loan you a few." Caden was as angry as the tip of his cigar. Fletch chuckled. "Put on the banker now, why don't you." Caden decided he hated the three of them. Michael snorted. "You didn't think she hasn't pulled this before have you? Why do you think her mother whores out her daughters to every party?"
Fletch shot back the last of his scotch and plunked the glass on the table. "Haven't you heard anything about their family?"
"No." He should have left already, but it was as if his feet were cemented in the floor. Dreading to hear what he would be told, but needing to hear it all the same.
Michael waved at the table with a flourish, "Sit while we tell you a few stories."
His hand rested on the back of the captain's chair as he looked at the three of them deciding if he would even entertain what they had to say, and how much he would allow himself to believe. Knowing that tales would be told whether he were there or not, he yanked the chair out and sat.
"So, we were saying that the mother whores out her daughters." Michael leaned back in the chair, his arms across his chest. Not Abby, he wouldn't believe it for a minute. "Not only does she whore them out, but she taught them all that psychic crap so they could rub around high as they could. Women love to spend their husband's money on that shit." Fletch threw down three cards and beckoned Charles, who was dealing, for more. "S'all lies, if you ask me."
So Caden had thought, too, until Abby had told him truths about himself that no one but him could have known.
"Sluts, all of 'em. Even the mother," Fletch continued. "'Specially now that the husband is dead. I've seen her at almost every party. She's always looking for those girls to match up with someone in our set." He nodded, pursing his lips over his cards.