The Erotic Dark

by Nina Lane

  “Lovely girl. I thought it would be amusing if we were paired in costume. Save a dance for me, would you?”

  Lydia nodded, but stayed close to Gabriel as they mingled with the guests. Her corset continued to feel uncomfortably tight, her body weighted with the heaviness of her costume. After having spent weeks in thin, cotton dresses—or nothing at all—it was decidedly peculiar to feel so constrained.

  “You must be Lydia.” A petite, young woman dressed in a Cleopatra costume stopped next to her. She wore a black wig with a serpent-shaped tiara, and a gold top that displayed an impressive amount of pillowy cleavage. Her long legs were visible beneath a gauzy skirt, her waist accented by a braided, gold chain. “I’m Helen, one of Gabriel’s friends.”

  Lydia murmured words of greeting, while simultaneously sensing the other woman was laying some sort of claim on Gabriel.

  “I haven’t seen you at any of the other parties,” Helen continued.

  “This is Lydia’s first time here,” Gabriel interjected smoothly, placing his hand on Lydia’s back. “You’ll be seeing much more of her, I’m sure.”

  “Will I?” Helen smiled at Lydia. “What a treat. How did you come to meet Gabriel?”

  “Through Preston,” Lydia answered truthfully.

  Something flared in Helen’s eyes behind her gold mask. “Ah. And how long have you known Preston?”

  “Long enough.”

  “I see.” Helen smiled at Lydia’s evasive response and turned her attention to Gabriel. “Gabriel, I’d love to dance with you tonight.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “Good. Come and find me when you’re ready.” Helen drifted off toward the gardens, reaching out to pluck a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

  Lydia turned to Gabriel to ask him more about Helen, but he had already started a new conversation with another woman.

  With a shrug, Lydia sipped her wine and continued watching the crowd. Kruin was standing near the French doors, looking extremely impressive in a gladiator costume. The two women near him appeared entirely captivated by his dominating physique.

  “Well, aren’t you pretty?”

  Lydia looked up to find a corpulent, older man standing in front of her. He wore a Victorian-style suit, complete with a frilly, lace cravat and cuffs. His thinning, white hair was settled into an untidy heap upon his head, his blue eyes watery.

  Lydia smiled slightly and turned back to Gabriel, only to find he had disappeared into the crowd. She felt momentarily bereft before reminding herself she couldn’t expect him to remain by her side all evening. And she was certainly capable of spending an evening among strangers, even if it was in such a strange context.

  “I’m Wallace,” the man announced, his eyes drifting to her breasts. “I know you’re Lydia. You’re absolutely exquisite in that dress.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Dance with me, would you?”

  Before Lydia could protest, Wallace grasped her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. Lydia caught sight of Preston near the door. He gave her an approving smile as Wallace guided her into a waltz. Although it was difficult to move in her wide, sweeping skirts, Lydia had always enjoyed dancing and didn’t mind several turns around the dance floor with Wallace.

  However it wasn’t long before her enjoyment vanished. Wallace kept pushing his round stomach against her and holding her too closely for comfort, which annoyed Lydia despite the fact that her costume provided a barrier between them.

  “Maybe later we can enjoy another type of entertainment, hmm?” Wallace asked.

  Lydia grimaced. “I don’t think so. And please don’t hold me so tightly.”

  His face creased into a frown. “Preston told me you were attractive, but not very friendly. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Well, he was right, wasn’t he?” Lydia said tersely, straining to pull away from him. “I really don’t want to be held so tightly.”

  She was relieved when another man requested a dance with her, and then Preston appeared on the floor.

  “You seem to be doing quite well, despite your earlier protests,” he said as he swept her into a minuet. “You’re enjoying yourself?”

  Lydia nodded, even though her costume was becoming increasingly warm and uncomfortable. She was beginning to perspire, and the exertion of dancing seemed to have tightened the constriction of her corset. Her feet, crammed into heeled shoes with buckles, were also beginning to hurt.

  As she looked at Preston’s amused expression, Lydia realized he had chosen the gown for this very reason. He knew quite well that she had become very accustomed to cotton dresses, to feeling unencumbered. Binding her into a corset, stockings, petticoats, and heavy silk only served to enhance the sensation of tightness and cause her to long for her loose clothing.

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” Preston asked conversationally, guiding her adroitly around the other couples. “How different clothes can make you exceedingly aware of your body?”

  Lydia’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what you wanted to do? Make me aware of my body?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  Lydia couldn’t help laughing. “Preston, what makes you think that in the weeks I’ve been here, I’ve ever not been aware of my body? Everything I do, everything I wear makes me conscious of myself.”

  “I know. That is precisely my intention.” He smiled. “One of them, anyway.”

  He pulled her closer, pressing their lower bodies together. Although Lydia couldn’t feel it through her skirts, she knew quite well Preston was heavily erect. An entirely unexpected bolt of arousal went through her at the notion that they were in the middle of a crowded dance floor and he was pushing his erection against her.

  “You do dance well, Lydia,” Preston murmured, his breath brushing against her forehead. “We’ll have to do this more often, don’t you think?”

  He shook his head as another man approached to cut in, then guided Lydia into another waltz. The room began to feel stuffy from the body heat and exertion of so many people. A trickle of sweat ran down Lydia’s temple. She shivered when Preston’s tongue flicked out to capture the salty drop.

  He placed his hand flat on her back, tugging her firmly against him as he bent his head to kiss her. His breath was sweet with champagne, his mouth hot as he urged her lips apart. As his tongue pushed deep into her damp cavern, his fingers went to the neckline of her dress.

  Lydia’s gasp of shock was lost in the depths of his mouth as he pulled the material down to expose her breast. A rush of embarrassment went through her.

  Preston murmured something in his throat as he manipulated her nipple to hardness, twisting it between his fingers. Lydia’s lower body tightened with arousal as sensations swam through her blood to her loins. Preston pulled down the material farther, revealing her other breast.

  Lydia closed her eyes, fighting the urge to protest, fighting her growing arousal. Preston cupped the naked mounds in his hands, kissing her deeply once again.

  Before Lydia could assimilate exactly what he was doing, he lifted his head, turned, and walked away from her.

  Lydia stared after him in shock for a moment before realizing she was standing in the middle of the dance floor, fully clothed with her breasts indecently revealed.

  With a shudder, she yanked the material back up to cover herself, but not before she saw Wallace staring at her with lust-filled eyes. Reddening, Lydia hurried off the dance floor and outside to the gardens. The fresh air brushed against her hot skin, cooling her by degrees.

  Lydia sat on a wrought-iron bench and took several deep breaths. She should have known Preston would not hesitate to display his authority over her, even amidst a crowded dance floor.

  She pressed her hands against her cheeks as she calmed down. The best thing to do for the remainder of the evening would be to avoid Preston as much as possible. That shouldn’t be difficult to do considering the number of people milling about.

  Lydia lifted her gaze to the st
rings of Chinese lanterns. The thin paper burned with a multitude of shapes and colors, shedding light onto the couples meandering through the flagstone paths. Lydia was pleased to see several people pausing to admire the picturesque flower beds, which she had taken great care in arranging and planting.

  A woman wearing a 1920s flapper costume paused next to another woman dressed as a Spanish queen. The flapper whispered something in the queen’s ear, causing them both to laugh. Then, to Lydia’s surprise, the queen turned and cupped the other woman’s face in her hands. Their lips met in a kiss that was both gentle and passionate, colorful light filtering over their pale skin.

  Lydia swallowed hard as her excitement sparked to life again. She hadn’t kissed a woman since her experience with Cassie years and years ago. The sight of the two women evoked a myriad of memories that reminded Lydia how lovely it had been to touch the softness of a female.

  She broke her gaze from the women and went back into the house, scanning the room for Gabriel. The strangeness of the costumed guests, the tightness and weight of her costume, the disquiet of Preston’s display, the exertion of dancing, even the wine flowing in her blood—all were beginning to make Lydia feel off balance. She wanted to compose herself in Gabriel’s quiet presence, but she was unable to locate him.

  She paused in the dining room, where silver platters and dishes of food had been laid out. A man and woman were whispering to each other at one end of the room before he began plucking bits of food from his plate and feeding them to her with his fingers.

  The woman made an erotic display of eating, her tongue swirling around her companion’s fingers as she sucked them into her mouth. The man watched her hotly and before long, their lips were locked together. He began pulling up her hoop skirt, his damp fingers seeking out the crevice between her legs. As if returning the favor, she started massaging the bulge in his trousers.

  Lydia watched them in shock, wondering how far they intended to take their evident attraction. They appeared oblivious to the other people in the room. For that matter, the other guests took little, if any, notice of the heated couple.

  As she continued through the rooms, Lydia realized that a distinctly libidinous atmosphere was beginning to pervade the party. The guests were shedding the more excessive accoutrements of their costumes, revealing provocative expanses of skin. Several other men and women were engaging in blatant kissing and groping, and the women weren’t the slightest bit concerned about having their naked breasts stroked in full view of everyone else.

  “There you are, darling.”

  Lydia turned to find Wallace beside her. His mask was askew, his collar open, and he had taken off his coat to reveal the swell of his belly. Lydia stepped away, disliking the predatory look in his eyes.

  “I’ve been looking for you all evening.” Wallace moved in front of her, backing her up against a wall.

  “I’m sorry. I have to leave.” Lydia put up her hands to prevent him from coming any closer, but he moved with surprising quickness to grasp her wrists.

  “Come, dear. You haven’t been very friendly, have you?”

  “I don’t want to be friendly,” Lydia said tightly, straining to pull herself from his grip. “Let go of me.”

  His belly pushed her hard against the wall as his mouth descended on hers. Lydia froze with shock and revulsion when his tongue pushed into her mouth, forcing her to taste the vinegar flavor of his breath. She managed to yank one of her hands from him, bringing it up hard against his face.

  To her further shock, the slap only served to elicit a deeper flash of excitement in his beady eyes. His mouth curved into a lascivious smile.

  “A little cat, are you?” he breathed heatedly. “Just what I like.”

  Lydia twisted her face away from him, a hint of panic rising in her as she realized that no one was likely to pay much attention to them. Wallace’s bony fingers began shoving up the folds of her skirt and panniers.

  “Get away from me!” Lydia snapped, pushing at his chest with a renewed flood of anger. She brought her knee up at the same time, making hard contact with his groin.

  To her relief, Wallace yelped in pain and doubled over, enabling Lydia to break away from him. She hurried off without sparing him a second glance. She wasn’t particularly afraid of Wallace, but she didn’t like anyone thinking she was fair game.

  As she looked at the other guests, Lydia wondered with a start if that was the intention of the party. Were the guests here to enjoy the delectable pleasures of each other in hedonistic abandonment? Was everyone expected to participate?

  Lydia took a measure of solace in the idea that surely Gabriel or Kruin would have informed her if she was expected to allow men like Wallace to grope her heedlessly. Preston would enjoy shocking her, but the other men weren’t that cruel.

  Thinking she could find solitude in the library, Lydia went through the corridor to the closed, oak door. She opened it, then stopped to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  Her heart leapt when she heard the unmistakable sounds of copulation emerging from the room. She was just about to turn and leave when she saw the light shining from the desk lamp onto the heaving couple.

  Gabriel had Helen bent over the desk, her gauzy skirt flipped over her hips to bare her taut bottom. Her legs were spread to reveal her lightly haired sex, into which Gabriel was thrusting his impressive phallus. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, his skin damp with perspiration as he pleasured both himself and his companion.

  A bolt of unadulterated jealousy went through Lydia, so strong she had to grasp the doorjamb to steady herself. Her heart thudded wildly as she stared at the couple.

  Helen’s back arched as she pushed her white bottom toward Gabriel, moans of pleasure coming from her parted lips with every thrust of his penis. The pert mounds of her buttocks bounced as he increased his pace, his hands clutching the slender curves of Helen’s waist to strengthen the impact of their union.

  Lydia pressed a hand against her chest, unable to take her eyes from them. She stared at the slick root pumping so vigorously into Helen’s oiled passage, feeling her own sex moisten with envious desire. Gabriel’s tight, firm sacs rammed with a juicy rhythm against the other woman’s pleats as she spread her legs even wider. The swollen bud of her pleasure peeked out from between her fuzzy lips as if to draw attention to the magnitude of her excitement.

  Lydia let out a breathy sigh and pressed her thighs tightly together. Ah, how she had longed for the sensation of Gabriel stroking his heavy stalk in and out of her body! Ever since the night he had come into her room, she had wanted him to fill her until her body felt completely saturated with him. Their interlude in the stables had only served to intensify her desire.

  Yet even her jealousy over Gabriel’s lust for another woman could not quell Lydia’s strengthening arousal. Her body quivered with it, her sex pulsing with a heady beat that appeared to mimic the rhythm of Gabriel’s thrusts.

  She wished desperately that she was the one spread over the desk in the same posture she had assumed during her first interlude with Alex Walker. She imagined Gabriel’s hands gripping her sweat-slicked bottom cheeks, his thick, veined shaft stroking her inner flesh, his fingers seeking out the fissure between her legs and massaging the straining knot…

  With a soft moan, Lydia gathered her skirt and petticoats as she fumbled to reach the valley of her sex. She pressed her thumb against the damp crevice, feeling her body quicken with a surge of carnal excitement. Unable to help herself, she began rubbing the cotton of her petticoat, parting her thighs farther to give herself access to her most sensitive areas.

  “Well, well, well, whatever are you doing?” An amused voice, laced with menace, cut into Lydia’s haze of desire like a hot knife through butter.

  She froze in her incriminating position as Preston appeared in her peripheral vision. He reached out to silently close the library door before looking at her.

  “For shame, darling,” he said with a mocking shake of his hea
d. “After all we’ve told you and all the pleasure we’ve shown you, you still find it necessary to touch yourself shamelessly. How often have you done that without my knowledge?”

  Lydia let her skirts fall back to the floor, protests rising automatically in her throat.

  “I haven’t,” she said. “I swear, Preston, I—”

  “Never mind,” he interjected smoothly, his blue eyes glimmering with expectancy. “I’m sure you’ll learn your lesson before long. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you. Come with me, please.”

  Knowing better than to question him, especially now, Lydia followed him toward the drawing room.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Go in, my dear.” Preston opened the door of the drawing room and urged Lydia to precede him.

  The swirls of desire evoked by the sight of Gabriel and Helen vanished the moment Lydia stepped into the room. At least fifteen people were lounging around the room, their clothing in disarray, but their masks still firmly in place. An air of anticipation hung over the room, as if the seated guests had been waiting for her.

  Lydia’s heart thudded as she heard the click of the door. She thought Preston might have left, but then she felt his hands settle upon her shoulders. His breath brushed against the side of her neck as he bent to whisper in her ear.

  “Do you remember, darling, when you slapped my face?” he murmured.

  The memory flooded Lydia’s mind like a tide. Part of her had hoped Preston might have forgotten the incident, but another part knew he would never forget—or, indeed, forgive—such a rebellious act.

  His teeth nipped hard at her earlobe. “Do you remember?”

  Lydia nodded, unable to speak.

  “And do you remember when I said that I might choose to carry out punishment at any time?” Preston continued smoothly.

  Lydia nodded again as dread rose to fill her chest. She had no doubt he planned to humiliate her now in front of all these strangers. She felt the simultaneous gazes of the guests as if they were burning into her skin.

  “So when do you think I might punish you for being such a disobedient little wench?” Preston asked.