“Yes, sir.” She took a very deep breath, straining the blue calico over her slight breasts. A tremor ran up his spine. His balls were as taut as if this morning’s relief had occurred weeks ago.
His eyes swept over her and she met them steadily. Then he stared out at the window shutters for a long time as he fought to think. Could he really do this? On the other hand, could he turn her down? He knew the answer to that: no.
He could hear one of his men whistling in the distance, against the steady thud of barrels being stacked in wagons.
“Very well,” William said finally, his voice far too rough in his ears. “It will take a little time to gather that much cash together. Where would you care to wait?”
“No!”
He stared at her, caught by the first note of fear in her voice. Was she physically afraid of Lennox, not just annoyed by his attentions?
“I mean, we can commence now,” Viola stammered. “I am sure you’re good for the money.”
Their eyes met and anger rose in William. The bastard had done something to her, probably threatened her. He deserved to be hung, even if he was Donovan & Sons’ biggest client in this territory, other than the Army.
William bowed slightly to her. “Thank you for your confidence in me. Very well, we’ll begin immediately.” And give her one last chance to change her mind.
Viola shivered and blushed, looking delectable. He smiled, enjoying the anticipation drumming in his cock. He extended his hand to her and lifted her to her feet, his eyes searching hers for every hint of carnal interest. She trembled again.
William smiled as he kissed her hand, pleased at this assurance. He lingered a moment to savor her sweet, slightly musky scent. “Take off your bonnet, Viola.”
“Yes, sir.” She fumbled with the strings but finally managed to set it aside.
“Beautiful hair,” he murmured as he tucked a stray lock behind her ears. “You’ll wear it down for me often.”
She blinked and nodded, clearly baffled by why he should want such behavior. She was still bemused when he glided his fingers over her throat, across her shoulders, and down her arms. Silken smooth, soft warmth under the skin. Strong muscle and bone from working Ross’s claim. More exquisite than a dream.
His woman. For three months, his faerie queen would welcome only him. It had to be long enough.
He drew her hands up to his mouth and kissed them, fondling her fingers. “Pleasure me with these hands, Viola.” His voice lingered over her name. “Ease me with your mouth before we leave.”
“What?” she squeaked.
“Bring me to completion in your mouth, Viola.”
“I don’t know how,” she whispered.
His blood raced with surprise, then hunger. By all the saints, he’d be the first to fill her mouth…
She blushed scarlet, in vivid contrast to her proper white collar, as she stared at him.
Easy now, boyo, don’t frighten the innocent lady. He calmed his face and gentled his voice. “You’ll find it easy enough to do, sweetheart. And I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Very well.” She swallowed hard, her pulse galloping in her throat. He kissed her trembling fingers before releasing them, then settled back into the big swivel chair.
“You can start by touching me. You’ll need to undress me, too, at least somewhat.”
“Of course.” She came to him hesitantly, her eyes enormous. Had her fool husband mistreated her? Surely not. She hadn’t seemed afraid during their negotiations. And she couldn’t be untouched; she’d bargained too directly, unlike a skittish virgin. Besides, her husband must have taught her something during five years of marriage.
He trembled when she lightly touched his shoulders, and closed his eyes. She froze. Bloody hell, she didn’t even know how to touch a man. He truly would have to guide her.
William took a deep breath, then another, easing his body’s harsh urgency until he could take command. “Open my shirt, Viola. Bare skin to bare skin there first.”
She carefully unbuttoned it and the soft white undervest below. Then she set her palm against him, brushing it lightly against his chest hair. She circled his nipple gently, then rubbed it.
If she was as ignorant as she seemed of men’s pleasure, then she surely had a natural talent for building it, given a few hints.
“Oh yes, sweetheart.” William kept his voice steady with an effort. “Kiss it for me. Use all of your mouth. Lips, tongue, teeth.”
She nuzzled his nipple gently, awkwardly. Hesitated for a moment, until he nearly ordered her to get on with it, then she kissed it. Heaven on earth promptly appeared to him.
He groaned quietly at her lips’ suppleness, so soon withdrawn from him. He needed more.
“Tongue and teeth, too, sweetheart.” He’d build her obedience now, in little things that didn’t threaten her.
She obeyed cautiously. The tentative damp flick set a fiery bolt lancing through his chest. Somehow he managed to stay silent, fighting for control of himself.
Her tongue circled his other nipple before she sucked. He growled, restlessly circling his hips against the chair. “Continue, but do so as you proceed down my chest and stomach, sweetheart.”
He was ruefully proud of how steady his voice sounded. A master, especially one as well trained as he, shouldn’t want to howl over a few minutes’ clumsy licking by a beautiful woman, no matter how often he’d dreamed of her. He distantly wondered what condition his brain would be in when his cockhead first felt her lips.
Viola nuzzled and licked the line of hair down his stomach, opening his shirt wider. He rewarded her with growls and shudders as she learned him, using his voice to lead her. “Ah yes, sweetheart. Very good. Linger a bit longer there. That’s my girl.”
She did so, sending a long shudder of delight through his gut and up his spine. His jaw clenched against the need to moan.
He urged her on as she experimented with various touches: hard or soft; push or circle; lips, tongue, or teeth. Blood raced through his veins, building in his cock and chest with the demand for more. He caressed her head, silently urging her closer. She leaned into his touch while continuing her attentions to his torso.
She jumped and stopped when the hot ridge under his trousers bumped her chin. His cock had just declared its objection to waiting for her.
“Open it, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Donovan, are you really certain we should do this?” she stammered, her fingertips still making small circles against his stomach. He had little patience to set against his clamoring lust.
“You gave your word. Now open it.” His harsh voice permitted no argument, all training gone from it until only a man’s hunger remained.
She gulped and obeyed, her fingers fumbling so much it seemed deliberate torture. His cock leaped out of his trousers when the last button parted, as hot and red as if he hadn’t ridden two women into exhaustion the previous night.
Viola stared as if she’d never seen an aroused man before, but she didn’t run even from equipment he knew to be larger than most men’s. Her tongue ran over her lips and she swallowed, a hot flush sweeping across her cheeks. She stayed still, shaking a little.
Willing, he’d call her. Eager, too…but ignorant.
Could Viola be an unawakened sensualist? The blessed saints knew she’d obeyed him sweetly, like a woman ready to yield control of that irritating discipline of planning the next move—in return for the freedom to feel without having to think. Perhaps she felt deference’s complex pleasure, the joy of service mixed with the power of having a man’s delight triggered by her touch.
Time to take her further. If she followed his lead eagerly, then the three months ahead could be better than any dream. William slowed his breathing until he forced his arousal back under control.
Then he lifted his hips. “Take my trousers and drawers off, sweetheart.”
“Yes, sir.” She took another deep breath and obeyed, slipping off his weapon belt and dusty h
igh boots first, then placing the clothing on the desk. She settled onto her knees, waiting for his next instruction.
“Touch me again, sweetheart. Be certain to pay much attention to my cock.”
“Cock?”
So he’d have the fun of teaching her a new vocabulary, as well. He grinned. He stroked the pole rising from his groin, the flesh rippling under his firm grasp. “Cock.”
She blushed again. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of a woman’s rich musk in the air. She must be aroused under that respectable dress, thighs wet with her dew. Exultation roared in his veins, fired up by conquering a woman with only his voice and a few light touches.
She ran her hands lightly up his thighs, then explored another set of muscles and another, clearly enjoying the simple caresses. The last stroke found his pouch snug between her thumb and forefinger. She cupped it instinctively and William moaned. Triumph meant nothing to a man whose woman was fondling his balls.
The little hedonist kissed his cock.
He growled and his hips lifted, pushing himself against her mouth. If she didn’t start sucking him soon, he’d explode in her face like a young fool.
Viola glanced up at him. He stared at her, his hand stroking his chest in a similar pattern to what she’d used on his thighs. “More, dammit,” he snapped.
She smiled a purely feminine smile. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he’d succeeded. He’d taken her past the boundaries of ignorance until she’d had her first taste of a woman’s power. Sherman could keep his march through Georgia; this Irish lad would rather know conquests like these.
“Yes, sir.” She kissed his cock again and again, her mouth moving up and down the hard length while her fingers gently cradled his balls.
“Lick it for me, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “And play with the tip. There’s a point, just under the head, where…Ah!” Her tongue found the spot, and he arched against the chair, his heart skipping a beat. She’s here, she’s ours, she’s perfect, his seed sang deep in his loins.
Viola’s other hand crept behind his balls to bring them forward for more attention. He shuddered, wondering vaguely why they hadn’t erupted yet. His head fell back, even as both hands stroked her braided hair. Next time, he’d have her sweep its silk over his groin.
The little temptress found the one irresistible touch, a circling lick on a single point, and he jerked. She tried it again and he growled. She purred against him, then set to work in earnest.
Would he survive her first lesson?
She licked him up and down his hard length, as his blood thundered under her increasingly sure strokes. Her hands played with him, while her tongue learned to swirl over him. Up, over, and down as he groaned and thrust himself at her for more.
Nothing mattered but this. If Morgan had shouted there was a fire in the powder wagon, he’d have stayed in his office just to feel Viola’s fingers working his cock like a musical instrument.
Soon the only sounds he heard were his rasping growls and her wet slurping as she worked to attend to all of him.
Then she managed to take all of his cockhead into her mouth. He howled at finally being contained in her hot, wet cavern.
She froze, startled.
His hands tightened on her head as his seed, contained for so long, boiled out of his balls and raced through his cock. He saw stars as he poured himself into her, his climax shaking him to the bone.
How the hell would he be able to let her walk away after three months?
Viola swallowed. His essence tasted slightly salty and almost pleasant. Her body ached with frustration but she was proud of herself, content to be the one who put that look of boneless pleasure on his face.
Donovan’s arms reached down. She squeaked as she allowed herself to be lifted and settled on his lap. Her head rested naturally against his shoulder.
“That’s my girl,” he praised softly. She blushed, acutely aware of his chest rubbing her. She wanted more, something to trigger her own satisfaction, but couldn’t speak of it. Her pleasure wasn’t part of the bargain, only his.
His strong fingers tilted her chin up. It was harder to meet his eyes, a man she’d just handled so intimately, than to ask to be his mistress.
“You did well, Viola. I’m very proud of you.” He smiled at her and her foolish heart leaped. He was still treating her as a person, not just a possession good only for sensual purposes.
Then Donovan kissed her. Relieved by his acceptance, she opened to him and found herself swept away. He took her mouth expertly, licking and nibbling and sucking, until all she could do was moan and hold on. His tongue played with hers, then moved deeper.
She realized he could taste both himself and her. That thought made the fire between her legs burst into raging life. She shuddered and clung to him, sobbing as he kissed her.
“Darling Viola,” he murmured. “Are you hungry?”
His hand slid under her dress.
“You’re wet, sweetheart. And aching. Open wider for me so I can feel you.”
“Please, I shouldn’t.”
He cupped her breast. She almost shrieked at the jolt that lanced from her nipple to her core.
“Now, sweetheart.” His voice was inflexible.
She whimpered as she spread her legs. His knowing fingers slid inside her drawers and she writhed, arching her back to move closer.
“Take your own pleasure, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”
He caressed her folds, evoking a gush of cream. Every bit of bone and flesh merged into a yearning for completion.
“I can’t. I’ve never, not with anyone else. I mean…” Her head fell back against his shoulder as his hand became more demanding.
“Your body has the knack of it, sweetheart. Give yourself over. That’s my sweet lady,” he crooned.
Viola had no words, only animal sounds, to answer him as his voice and hands lured her on. At that moment, she cared not whether his mouth muffled her or not.
Then Donovan found the little bud only she’d known before. He pressed it hard and rapture shot through her veins. She sobbed a stronger pleasure than she’d ever known as she bucked and writhed against him.
Forever seemed to pass before she could think again, lying there in his arms with his cock hot and hard against her rump. Every muscle in her body was boneless with delight, like a praline still warm from the stove. Her lack of sleep caught up with her in pleasure’s aftermath until movement seemed impossible.
Yawning, she wondered what else he enjoyed doing with women.
Chapter Four
William smoothed a vagrant strand of Viola’s moonbeam hair off her brow. Damn, she had yielded sweetly. What to do next? His cock ached again as it clamored to fill her now, immediately. He bit the image back, willing himself back to discipline.
Viola mumbled something under her breath and shifted. Calico rubbed his groin as her delectable rump found another part of him to torment.
“Viola,” he rumbled, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “Sweetheart, it’s time to…”
A delicate snore glided into the room. Her head turned and came to rest against his shoulder, where her breath ruffled the soft flannel.
William began to laugh softly at himself. She was asleep. In all his fantasies, he’d never imagined this end to their first encounter. She must be exhausted since she’d probably worked late the night before.
He was flattered he’d overwhelmed her, pleased she trusted him this far, and frustrated beyond measure. His cock seemed a burning brand of need. William took one slow breath after another until he could think again.
Sweet Jesus, she’d been desperate. Penniless, homeless, bereft of her family.
The look on her face when she’d come to the depot, a thin veil of polite determination over bone-deep agony, reminded him of his father’s funeral when he, too, had been homeless and alone, desperate to find an alternative.
William stood by the graveside, barely aware of the pouring rain. His suit was fresh bought
from a ragpicker, but so old that its cuffs were shiny from long use. His shoes pinched his feet and built more blisters atop the ones formed on the long walk from Cobh behind the coffin. The cap atop his head did little to keep his hair dry.
Mother, Maeve, and Caitlin slept in this churchyard. Da had spent hard cash to bring Baby Séamas’s tiny corpse here from the field where he’d been born, died, and been buried. So here Da would rest, too, which had cost every penny of their meager savings, the money planned for a start in the New World.
Finally, the priest finished the ceremony and tossed mud clods over the coffin. William crossed himself and left quickly. Cobh was no place to set roots but it was better than this village.
He said a quick prayer when he passed his old playmates’ cottage. Kevin, Donal, and their family lay dead inside, the cottage walled up by their father to provide privacy as they finally died of starvation. A few sheep lifted their heads as he passed, then returned to grazing on the quarter acre that had once provided for a family of nine. According to the law, people living on such a large farm wouldn’t need public relief.
Three days later, after hard walking on muddy roads and sleeping in abandoned barns, William found himself outside Cobh’s main train station, watching a bevy of well-dressed and well-fed English stream past.
A few paces away from William, one of Cobh’s better known procuresses, Mrs. Mulligan, constantly scanned the young arrivals, looking for someone she could trick into becoming a prostitute. She’d approached William once, even though he was taller than most, but he’d promptly refused. He’d never succeed in that trade, since he had no taste for other men.
He wished he, too, had passage out of town. He’d tickled trout once on the journey and eaten at soup kitchens twice. But his stomach still pressed against his backbone like a reminder of his chances without Da: none.
If Da hadn’t swallowed his scruples after the girls died and turned to the family’s old trade of forgery, they’d both have been six feet under the green sod five years ago. Instead they’d made their way here to Cobh and a pretense of life, in which Da forged and drank to escape the memories and William did his best to protect them both.
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