by Brenna Lyons
No servants had been allowed in, save those delivering or removing what they’d been summoned for. Edward had sent word that he’d taken on his father’s work, for the duration.
Alana’s voice dragged him back to the lazy present. “This room. I’ve always disliked it, I suppose.”
He kissed his way up her chest and throat, stretching out over her. “Then why did you accept the designs?”
She darkened but didn’t reply.
“Mother?” he guessed. Perhaps there was more to Edward’s dig about his grandmother than at first it had seemed.
She nodded.
“What would you do?”
Alana looked around. “I rather like the colors of your room,” she admitted. “I was never fond of pastels, though many women are.”
My mother preferred them. Lia wasn’t fond of couples sharing a living space, though. “Why don’t we move you into my rooms then?”
Her look of shock sent a painful twisting sensation through his gut. They’d never shared a room for longer than a night or two at a time. The last three days were the single longest period they’d spent together. Sharing a living space was admittedly one of the things Benjamin envied his son and Amber.
“If you don’t wish to, Alana—”
“I do.” Still, there was something guarded in her expression.
“But?” he prompted her.
“Your rooms are...”
“In need of a woman’s touch, perhaps? I welcome it.” He did. Little signs of Alana around would be a comfort to him.
“Too small,” she blurted out. Her cheeks darkened, and it seemed she had to force herself to meet his eyes.
Benjamin sat up, passing an assessing eye over her room.
“Benjamin?” she asked, clasping her hands tight in a nervous show.
“It could be done,” he mused.
“What could?”
He offered his hand and drew Alana to sitting, fitting her back to his chest. Visions of lifting her onto his cock had him semi-erect.
Benjamin forced his mind back to the discussion at hand. He motioned to the wall that separated their rooms. “Edward and Amber are planning to break through to create an adjoining nursery. We could do something similar...redecorate, change the spaces...”
She drew his hand around her waist. “It would be quite a bit of work.”
“The workmen will be here, either way.” He motioned to the corner of her room that held her closet and the bureaus. “A larger sitting room than either of us possesses now,” he suggested. “My sitting room could become your closet space.”
“And the rest of this room?”
Benjamin slid a hand between her thighs, stroking idly at her clit, shivering at her ragged breathing. “The same thing Edward intends? A nursery and a nurse’s room?”
Alana moaned, moving against his fingers. “Where will we stay while the work is done?”
Something in her tone told him that Alana had an idea for it. “Where would you like to stay?”
“Birchstand,” she gasped out.
That brought Benjamin fully erect. Edward had been conceived at Birchstand; their first days together had passed in bliss in the guest master in that very manor. “For a few days on each side,” he decided. “I’ll have James set up the guest master for us.” Our room.
“Why only a few?” A mewing cry escaped her lips, and she rolled her head against his shoulder.
“Courtesy demands we spend some amount of time with our hosts.”
She nodded, arching against him with a moan that begged more. Benjamin thrust two fingers inside her, smiling as she reached back and grasped a handful of his hair.
“I want you to myself, Alana.”
She climaxed around his hand, a choked cry lighting the air around them.
“I will have you to myself,” he vowed.
* * * *
Alana fussed at her gown, shooting a glance at Benjamin. He smiled, raised her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles softly.
“Why so nervous?” he asked.
Putting that into words was difficult. “A first step,” she managed.
“It’s one worth taking, I believe.”
She did smile at that. “Yes. I think so.”
He started to offer his arm, then stopped and wrapped it around her waist instead. Alana took a moment to snuggle into his chest, then started toward the dining room. She slowed from her usual swift pace, matching Benjamin’s ambling gait, reminding herself yet again to savor the moment instead of rushing through it.
Servants rushed here and there, some stealing a second look though none dared to stop and stare. Alana smoothed her hair, considering that she’d broken with a sense of style she herself had forged. This “new Alana” was sure to cause a flurry of social chatter.
The dining room stood waiting, Edward and Amber already at their places. Her son dropped out of their animated discussion mid-sentence and gaped.
He recovered quickly, launching to his feet and striding to her. He took both of her hands in his own, an informal greeting he’d never used for her before. Perhaps he’d never felt free to do so. A soft kiss to her cheek took her back to his toddler years and raised a lump in her throat.
“You look wonderful, Mother. Truly beautiful.”
Alana laughed, her heart light. “I’m not as young as Amber,” she noted. For the first time, the little lines of maturity didn’t bother her. She felt younger than she had in a decade or more.
“But every bit as beautiful,” Benjamin assured her.
“To you,” she replied, blushing at the compliment. “But forgive me, please. I must speak to Amber.”
The two men parted to let her pass, then fell into discussion of kingdom matters.
Amber started to rise, but Alana waved her down, taking the seat to the younger woman’s right.
“They are correct,” Amber offered. “This style becomes you.”
Alana took her hand. “Because of you, I’m sure.”
“It troubled Christopher, as well.”
Alana glanced at her son. “But he intervened for you.”
A light blush stained her still-pale cheeks. “Yes. I suppose he did.”
“Thank you. Thank you for asking it.”
Amber nodded.
“Now... How are you?”
“Better. I still can’t handle strong smells.”
Alana patted her hand. “Which leads me to a plan Benjamin and I decided on.”
Amber glanced to the men and back, seemingly perplexed. “Which is?”
“There’s no reason for the pomp and circumstance of a full buffet of choices for each family meal.”
“I agree.”
“Then you and I will be planning a few simple choices for each day. Of course, as the pregnancy speaks to you, the cooks can make whatever you wish.”
Amber considered that. “Very sensible. Organized...and definitely less wasteful.”
“I thought so.” Alana waited for her response. “Will you help me plan the menus then?”
“Of course... If you’ll help me design the nursery.”
Alana’s heart stuttered. “I thought you’d never ask.” She’d had no say in Edward’s nursery. Now she could plan for two of them. Goddess, but I hope we can fill the second.
“Ask what?” Benjamin inquired, settling in the chair to Alana’s right, as Edward returned to the one at Amber’s left. “Oh, what does it matter? If it makes you smile that way, I’m glad Amber asked whatever it is.”
Amber laughed the laugh that seemed to warm the coldest room and squeezed Alana’s hand. “I rather think she smiles because of you, Benjamin.”
He turned Alana’s face back to his. “If so, I am a lucky man.”
* * * *
Her heart skittered, and she stared at him. After a moment, Alana realized she was gaping. “Say it again,” she pleaded.
Benjamin shifted in seeming discomfort. “I love you, Alana. I’ve always loved you.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she pressed both hands to her mouth, trying desperately to control her giddy joy.
He stuffed his fists in his pockets. “Did I say something wrong?” The pain in his eyes made him appear half his age, about the age he was when they’d met.
Alana launched herself at his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck, laughing and sobbing at the same time. “No. Goddess, no. I live to hear it.”
His arms circled her. “Do you?”
Realization struck her momentarily mute. “I love you,” she breathed.
The lack of response had her heart pounding.
“Promise me something, Alana. No... Make a bargain with me.”
She eased away from him, meeting Benjamin’s gaze, noting his starkly-serious expression. “Yes?”
“Swear to me that we will never go another day without hearing those words.”
That did render her speechless. Alana nodded her agreement.
His kiss was a solemn seal of that promise.
Benjamin broke away, burying his face in her hair. “I love you.”
“I love you, Benjamin.”
He swung her in a circle, his rich laughter mixing with hers. Benjamin was still holding her when the architects arrived to discuss the changes to their rooms.
Section III: Stepsister
Chapter Fourteen
Darren sat, sprawled out in the chair the clothier had pulled into the showroom, surveying the latest of the outfits Marquita had modeled for him.
It was a severe cut of short gown that would bare her breasts in an instant and her slit every time she leaned forward or sat, if she wore it—as she did now—without panties. It was a tease piece, the sort of outfit exhibitionist mistresses and wives wore to sexual events.
What happened next was to the tastes of the lord in question. Usually, it was a subtle taunt to other men, a sort of social one-upmanship in the form of their contracted female companions. Occasionally, it became something more, one of the mainstays of voyeur’s row.
“Acceptable,” he decided. “Vincent will see you home with the purchases, Marquita.”
She offered a pout that some men probably found endearing or amusing. Darren found it an incredible waste of time.
“You’ve chosen three dozen, at least,” he reasoned, before she could voice her complaint. “It will do...for now. Go, while you can, in comfort. With your purchases and Kambry’s together, there wouldn’t be room for all of us in the vehicle.”
Her smile returned. “Which would you like to see this evening?” she offered.
“I believe this is Kambry’s day.” Darren was certain she remembered it, though she pretended not to. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to seduce or confuse him into her bed on a day that belonged to her younger sister.
“Of course. It only feels so long ago. Tomorrow, then?” She wound a curl around her finger and struck a suggestive pose.
“The fifth,” he answered. It was given that she’d spend most of the evening struggling to remember which one that was, which might keep her out of other mischief. In truth, Darren didn’t care which she wore. The trappings were more for Marquita than for Darren.
She offered a forced smile, nodded, and left the room to change into day wear.
“Should we begin with the other, Hein?” the clothier asked. “Or would you care for a rest?”
As if I am exerting myself? “Send Kambry in, when she’s ready.”
“She is, I believe.” She ducked behind the drape to check for herself.
A moment later, Kambry stepped through, dressed in a black leather teddy, complete with metal fasteners to be hooked to any number of sexual apparatus. Her blush was deep and her expression tense.
He scowled. “Unacceptable,” Darren decided. “Completely unacceptable, clothier.”
Kambry winced, a sure sign that she didn’t understand his concern. She’d no doubt taken it as a comment about her person and not the clothing chosen for her.
“Have you no feel at all for Kambry’s personality?” he continued.
“My apologies,” the clothier offered. “I thought the style would be to your tastes.” She seemed honestly perplexed.
“On Marquita, it would be. For Kambry... Silks, lace...soft and feminine, flowing. She is not the exhibitionist. She is...” Solace. Private moments. Whispered words by candlelight.
The clothier’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “Angel to the exhibitionist?” she suggested.
Darren considered that. “Yes. Very much.”
A shy smile lit Kambry’s eyes.
“I have just the thing,” the clothier assured him. She waved a stunned Kambry out before her.
It seemed forever before they returned.
Kambry was dressed in a long, dark-green silk gown that made the red in her hair stand out all the more. It was modest, clinging to the curves of her breasts and hips, drawing his eyes to her assets. He hardened forcefully at the sight.
“Hein Darren?” the clothier asked.
“Excuse us for a moment, if you please,” he managed.
“Of course.” She started to withdraw, most likely anticipating a lengthy break in the proceedings while he sated himself.
“Clothier!”
His bark of command stopped her halfway through the drape. “Yes?”
“Take a careful inventory. I wish to see every piece of its type.”
She smiled. “It pleases you then?”
As if she cannot tell. “It most certainly does.”
She departed, and Darren waved Kambry closer. When she reached the space between his knees, he drew her onto his lap.
He traced one breast through the silk, watching her eyes go unfocused in pleasure, the nipple making a beautiful show of it through the fabric.
Darren drew her mouth to his, parting her lips and enticing her into a deep, exploring kiss. He pushed the strap off one shoulder, cupping the breast and using the silk to arouse her further.
Breaking the kiss, he found himself trembling in anticipation. “You will wear this tonight.”
She nodded.
“Go. Dress in something that will make the hunger keener.”
Kambry stood, straightened the strap, and made for the drape with a backward glance at his lap.
Outfit after outfit accomplished just that. He’d approved nearly five dozen when his control was shattered.
The outfit was a sheer white, layers overlapping to make a maddening pattern of indistinct lines and exposed flesh. And...
“Are those panties crotchless?”
The clothier smiled. “They are.”
“Leave us. Start packaging the purchases. How many have I not seen?”
“A dozen.”
He met Kambry’s eyes. “How many of them do you favor?”
Her blush darkened slightly. “Four.”
“You know which four?” he asked the clothier.
“I believe so.”
“Wrap them, as well. Kambry can surprise me.”
If the unconventional request shook her, she gave no sign of it. The clothier disappeared through the drape with a murmured assent.
Darren didn’t waste a moment. He unfastened his trousers and pushed them to his knees, settling back in the chair.
Kambry was nearly to him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, stopping her descent. Obviously, she thought he wanted her mouth, but he didn’t.
Their gazes locked, Darren pulled his legs back and thrust them between hers, forcing her thighs wide. He pulled her astride him in a smooth motion, and she gasped, her hands pressing to his chest and her back arching.
“Take me in,” he ordered.
Kambry pressed up on her toes, using his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock up for her, moaning softly at the material of the split panties taunting him.
Then he was inside her, gripped in her heat. The panties nestled to his sac, the added sensation nearly sending him over.
Darren managed to focus
on her face. Kambry was in ecstasy, enjoying his length buried inside her as much as he did...or more. The first tremors of her climax said she was even further along than he was.
He didn’t question that she loved the feel of his cock. He’d been with women that faked a response; he knew Marquita had...at least once. Women faking didn’t make the sweet noises and expressions Kambry always had.
He rocked his hips, and she gasped out something unintelligible. In just a few minutes of this, they were both going to climax.
“You’re wearing this home under your dress,” he informed her.
“Yes.” Kambry joined in the gentle rocking.
“I’ll be removing that dress.” He considered it. “In my bed, while the servants unload the car.” Neither sister had come to his bed yet; he’d always gone to them.
“Yes.” It was louder that time, a sign of her rising excitement.
Darren grumbled a curse. He wanted her deeper, harder. “Off. On the carpet. On your hands and knees.”
Kambry complied, moaning as he dropped down behind her and wrapped his hands around her hips. He brushed the mouth of her womb with the first thrust...and the second and third.
There wasn’t much Darren was conscious of after that, beyond the rippling silk of Kambry’s body around his length, their rising sounds, and the certainty that he was going to feast sexually with her until the sun rose...at least. He wasn’t certain he was going to make it home with her without claiming her body again on the way.
On that thought, his thinking mind scattered, drowned in sensation as Kambry climaxed. He joined her, his shout mixing with hers.
She collapsed beneath him, panting hard, smelling sweetly of female musk and sweat and sex gone right. Darren had never smelled anything half so enticing. They lay together, Darren buried to the hilt in her.
There was no hurry to dress. The clothier would have heard their sounds and didn’t dare disturb them. It wasn’t the first time the showroom had been used to test the wares, and it wouldn’t be the last. The clothiers considered it good luck to have a patron so pleased with the wares as to demand an immediate test.
