Fascinated Page 25

“Do you like what you see, Alicia?” asked Edward.

  “Yes.” The word escaped as a moan. “Oh, yes.”

  “Good. Lucien, attend your mistress.”

  Lucien’s hands were hot and strong and they closed firmly about Alicia’s thighs to ease them apart. She opened readily to him and Lucien breathed out, as if struck by the beauty of what he saw. His head dipped down and her hips arched up to meet him. He kissed her pussy, gently, almost reverently and she sighed again. Then his tongue flicked out, sinking into her slit and she groaned.

  “Is it good, Alicia?” murmured Edward. “Is he good?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. Lucien held her hips tightly, keeping her in place as he licked from her entrance to her clit—slowly, thoroughly, maddeningly. She writhed, trying to force him deeper. She wanted him to fuck her with that clever, hot tongue, but he was too strong and he held her down. Helpless.

  “So beautiful.” Edward’s fingers found Alicia’s nipples and began to roll and pluck them in time with Lucien’s merciless licks. “So sweet, Alicia. You want it.”

  “Yes, yes.” Oh, she wanted his hands, his eyes, his mouth. Lucien’s tongue stabbed hard and sudden into her hot sheath and Alicia cried out loud.

  “That’s right, Alicia. Scream. I want to hear you screaming.”

  Edward’s words went straight through her, redoubling her pleasure. “Edward! Oh, Edward!”

  “Are you coming, Alicia?”

  “So close. Oh, God, I want to come!”

  “You hear your mistress, Lucien. Suck her hard! Make her come!”

  Lucien’s tongue delved deep, even as his fingers found her clit and pressed down. Alicia screamed again. Her body tried to arc high, but Edward and Lucien held her down so all her shudders traveled into their hands and arms and she was sobbing for the pleasure of it.

  When the spasms finally eased and Alicia fell limp against the silken duvet, Edward gathered her into his arms. Pleasure suffused her, and she felt content just to be held. She was aware of his hard cock pressing against her, but could summon no urgency at the thought. Lying in the circle of Edward’s arms, all things were perfect, just as they were.

  “Beautiful, beautiful Alicia,” Edward murmured as he rocked them slowly, soothingly. “How did you like that?”

  “Very much.” She nestled closer. “It was so good.”

  “I think we should thank, Lucien; don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She peeped toward the foot of the bed. Lucien lounged against the post, grinning at both of them, magnificent in his insolence and indolence.

  “In fact,” Edward went on. “I think you should suck him.”

  “Suck him?” Alicia’s gaze dropped to Lucien’s breeches. He remained very visibly hard. He also saw her looking, and his grin widened.

  “This repeating me is becoming a habit, isn’t it?” said Edward with mock disapproval. “Yes, my dear. I want to see you sucking on Lucien’s hard, hot cock.”

  “But…but you…”

  “I want you on your knees with Lucien’s cock fucking that pretty pink mouth, Alicia. Now.”

  She’d just come, twice, hard. How was it possible that her desire should rise again? But it did. She wanted a cock in her mouth and in her pussy. She had wanted it for what felt like hours now. She felt she could do anything as long as this would be her reward.

  At the foot of the bed, Lucien had rid himself of his red sash. He undid the buttons on his breeches, freeing his erection. He was beautiful and he was huge—long and thick and very, very hard. Alicia’s mouth watered at the sight of him.

  “Please, Mistress.” Lucien ran his hand down his hip and around to cup his hand under his balls, to lift them, and offer himself to her. “Please suck my cock.”

  Hesitation vanished. With every fiber of her being, Alicia wanted to take Lucien in her mouth while Edward watched. She crawled to the foot of the bed. Silk slid and bunched beneath her hands and knees. Lucien didn’t move, he just smiled and waited. Alicia sat back on her heels and slipped her hand under his, claiming his warm, heavy balls. She met his eyes boldly.

  “Please, Mistress,” Lucien breathed again.

  Alicia leaned forward, displaying her ass for Edward’s view. Her breasts swung free, a new and delightful sensation. Feeling delectably wanton, Alicia licked Lucien’s shaft.

  Lucien groaned. “Yes. Please.”

  Power surged through her and brought new excitement with it. Alicia opened her mouth, and took Lucien inside. His thick shaft filled her and it felt wonderful. This was exactly what she wanted. She groaned around his cock.

  “That’s right, Alicia. Suck him.” The mattress shifted as Edward moved behind her. She felt his hands claim her ass, squeezing and stroking. “Suck him hard.”

  Oh, she wanted to. She licked him, exploring his exciting contours with her tongue. Her mouth made noises of delight and surprise. At the same time, fire burned unbearably strong in her empty pussy.

  Edward knew. Of course he knew. He chuckled and folded his body over her until his cock nestled between the halves of her ass. Then, he wrapped his arms around her until his fingers found her slit.

  “Fuck him with that pretty mouth, Alicia.” There was nothing teasing in Edward’s voice now. He stroked her hard, commanding continued obedience with the pleasure of his touch.

  Alicia moved her head, up and down, setting a rhythm. Lucien gasped and groaned. His hands petted the back of her neck, her shoulders, but frantically, without real attention. He was weak, helpless, against the pleasure she brought him.

  Edward pulled her closer, thrusting his cock between the halves of her ass. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so hard, Alicia,” he panted. “I’m going fuck you until you come screaming around his cock. Do you hear me?”

  Yes. Yes. She heard, and she moaned. She couldn’t take her mouth from Lucien’s cock to speak. She couldn’t bear to be empty. She felt Edward grabbing himself roughly to press the broad, blunt tip of his cock against her pussy’s entrance. She nearly screamed right then, but Lucien knotted his fingers in her hair, holding her in place until Edward was fully seated inside her.

  “Now, Lucien,” growled Edward.

  Both of them began to thrust; Lucien in her mouth, Edward in her pussy. Together they filled her, hard and hot and glorious. Their hands and bodies and cocks held her trapped between them. She could not move. Volition was entirely gone. She could only take; take the pleasure, take the delicious madness of their uncontrolled fucking.

  Alicia started to come. It was a slow, quaking sensation of pleasure building up from her center, pouring honey into all her limbs, making her lips and pussy clench tight around the sources of her delight, seeking to hold them deep inside. Her lovers cried out. Delirium’s waves burst through her, making her shudder and making her scream. The men called her name but made no allowance for the drowning pleasure they poured into her. They did not let her go, did not stop their fucking of her. Instead, they drove her on, further and further yet, past what she would have believed strength and desire could endure.

  But not for long. Her pleasure was too much for them. They were coming hard, coming together, and she was with them, her passion utterly locked to theirs, wild, maddened, lost to the glory of their entwined pleasure, falling and rising again until the last measure of strength was gone, and they fell together onto the silk covered bed.

  Once more, Edward gathered Alicia to his side. Lucien rolled to the foot of the bed where he closed his eyes and stretched luxuriously. Alicia smiled at this and laid her head against Edward’s chest, delighting in the hard beat of his heart beneath her. She was utterly spent. She could not have moved if their lives depended on it.

  “Edward,” she breathed.

  “Go to sleep, Alicia.” He curled himself close to her.

  Sleep would take her in a minute, but there was something she had to say first. Something Edward needed to know. “After all you have shown me, after all I have done…it is you I crave. Just you. The rest is…indulgence,
luxury. You are the essential.”

  She felt his chest tighten as the steady rhythm of his breath grew ragged. “Sleep now, Alicia,” he whispered. “Just rest.”

  Her eyes were already closed. The warmth and lassitude of Edward’s body underneath her felt heavenly.

  Alicia? His thought touched her so softly she didn’t even stir. She didn’t need to. He was here with her. There was no need to reach for him.

  Alicia. He was wrong. They all were. You are my wife. You alone. I will never have another, not so long as I live.

  I love you, Edward, Alicia sent the thought back to him. It was the first time she’d let the words pass between them and yet it came as easily as if she’d said it a thousand times.

  And I love you, Alicia. Sleep now, and whatever happens, believe that I always will love you.

  There was something wrong. Something was missing from the touch of his thoughts. But she was so tired, so overfed with pleasure, she could not rouse her mind to do more than wonder at it before sleep laid its comfortable claim to her thoughts.

  Twenty-five

  Carstairs rested his head against the pillows and measured the seconds in the ticking of the clock, his thundering heartbeat, and the deepening of Alicia’s breathing as she settled into sleep. If he reached out the smallest amount, he would graze her drifting dreams and sense the echoes of sated desire.

  “You may go now, Lucien,” he said.

  “If you wish it, sir.” Gracefully, Lucien rose from his place at the foot of the bed, utterly unconcerned for his nudity as he bowed. “And thank you for the privilege of joining you.”

  Carstairs nodded absently. He did not look up as the man took his leave. He watched Alicia in his arms. She cuddled close and pressed her cheek against his chest, right over his heart. He did not need to glance at the clock on the mantel to know that the hour was growing late. Soon the sun would begin to set. He was out of time, and so was she.

  One careful motion at a time, Carstairs slid himself out from under Alicia, until at last he cupped her head in his hands so he could lay her gently onto the pillows. He wrapped the duvet around her so she would not grow cold. The smile that formed as she unconsciously burrowed deeper into the silken cocoon was as painful as any wound he had taken in his life.

  Carstairs decided he had better dress himself. Neither one of them would want to remain here…afterward. He should be ready to leave. He might buy them a few more precious moments by waking Alicia now and insisting she dress as well. But no. If he woke her, if she turned to him and smiled again, he would only be able to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her and hold her and look to see how her eyes filled with love.

  But that was over. For her own safety, Alicia must be concealed from those who would use her. He would shelter her and care for her. She would want for nothing. He would never cease to love her. But her love for him…that was over.

  The room’s wardrobe had a broad drawer at its base. This was normally used for storing any extra appurtenances the guests might need to enhance their sport. Carstairs pulled it open and removed the iron-banded strongbox he’d retrieved from Captain Smith earlier that morning. He set the box on the table where he and Alicia had so recently enjoyed their supper. They’d talked pleasantly of everyday matters, a little of politics, a little of books, and of travel. Alicia spoke of a wish to see Paris, and Florence. He wasn’t even sure how he’d answered her. All he remembered was the clear realization that this could have been his life, their life—sharing the comforts of companionship as well as the delights of passion.

  On the bed, Alicia sighed, and silk rustled. Carstairs did not look at her. He did not have the strength.

  Carstairs turned the key in the lock. The hinges on the strongbox were well-oiled, and made no sound as he lifted the carved lid. The brooch lay inside, like a puddle of old blood obscenely framed in gold. He picked it up. The ends of the white ribbon dangled over the edges of his hand. The catch that Alicia had broken had been replaced. Smith had been planning on using this again. He had seen the necessity might arise, and planned for it.

  A deep loathing for his captain and for himself rose so strongly in Edward that for a moment he thought he might be sick.

  It is my duty. If I do not do this, I risk so much more than either one of us. I might be giving them the whole of Britain and the world beyond that. Nick’s death will have been for nothing. Carstairs closed his fist around the amulet. I cannot fail.

  It was three steps from the table to the bedside. Alicia breathed four times, in and out, as he crossed to her. His shadow fell over her sleeping form. Her skin glowed rose and gold in the lamplight. Alicia stirred. She murmured something to whatever dream walked in her mind, and rolled over onto her back. The duvet’s cocoon fell open, leaving her naked to his gaze. She was beautiful. She was perfect. And he had to destroy her in order to save her.

  “Forgive me, Alicia.”

  But there was no forgiveness, and there never would be.

  There was a small space between the curve of Alicia’s neck and the featherbed underneath her. He could slide the end of the ribbon easily through that. She would feel nothing as he wrapped it back around her neck. She would not even wake.

  He leaned over her. He couldn’t breathe. The thunder of his own heart all but deafened him.

  I must do this. I must. I cannot leave her to the Fae. I cannot leave us exposed. I cannot be weak now. Not now, not ever.

  But as Carstairs’s hands held the amulet over her throat, memories flashed through him; of Alicia in the music room, in the park, in his house on that first day when he’d been the one to carry her off.

  Edward, help me!

  I will, Alicia. I swear it.

  His hand trembled. She had fought so hard to win understanding and freedom. She’d trusted him with body, soul and self, and he was about to take it all away.

  No. Edward’s fist closed once more around the amulet. No. I cannot. I will not.

  He had to find another way. There must be some way. But as Carstairs drew back, the ribbon’s dangling end brushed against Alicia’s throat. She swatted at it sleepily, and her eyes fluttered open. She saw him, and she smiled.

  Then she saw his hand, and what he held.

  Alicia screamed. She scrabbled backward, clutching the sheet to her, her eyes wide and frantic.

  “No,” he stammered. “Alicia, please…”

  “What are you doing!” she cried, grabbing for the duvet to cover herself, to hide herself from him. “Get away from me!”

  “I…”

  But he could not make any answer while Alicia stared at him in such horror. As he had never done before man or Fae, Carstairs turned and fled.

  The echo of the slamming door reverberated through the room. Alicia huddled against the headboard disbelief freezing breath and thought.

  Edward had the amulet. She’d seen it in his hand. He was going to lock it back around her throat. Edward had planned to use its enchantment to imprison her again. He would have done it, if she hadn’t woken.

  “Edward,” she whispered. “Oh, God. Edward.” Alicia buried her face in her hands. If her thoughts had been frozen in place a moment before, now they tumbled over one another. How could this be? How could she have been so mistaken in his heart and hers? She’d been so certain. No. She’d been so naive. She knew nothing of the world of sense and feeling, and she’d let herself be goaded into trusting her own ignorance. She’d given herself into the hands of a man who meant from the first to betray her.

  No. No. That could not be. Edward had loved her. She had seen it; she had felt it. In their passion, in the magic, yes, but also in the little things: the exchange of glances, the conversation, the simple ease she felt beside him. That had all been real too.

  Except it did not seem to matter. She loved him but she did not know him. She’d let herself be carried along by the whirlwind of events and the heady discovery of desire. She’d allowed herself to be content with only what Edward decided to show
her, and told herself there would be time for the rest later. Now time was up, and Edward was gone. Fled.

  As this word sounded in her mind, Alicia’s sobs stilled. She lifted her face. He had fled. Taken to his heels as quickly as any coward discovered in a shameful act. But Edward was no coward. If she knew anything of him, she knew that. He would not shrink from what he believed to be right, no matter what the act or the cost. He certainly would not run from it.

  Alicia took a deep breath, and another. Something was not right. Something more was happening than she had seen. But what? She had to think. She had boasted of her good mind to Edward once. She must use it now.

  He’d had the amulet. If he didn’t mean to imprison her, then what? Alicia forced her mind back over what she knew of the enchantment. When the White Knight had given it to Mae Margaret all those years ago, he had told her it would hide a soul. When Mama had permitted Aunt Hester to place it around Alicia’s throat as a child, it had been to hide her from the Fae who might come to fetch her back again. When she took it off, the White Knight did come back. And he was still out there. She’d known it for herself.

  What if Edward had meant to hide her again? What if he’d been ordered to by his captain to keep her from the Fae? Had they been warned that the White Knight was coming yet again to try to take her away?

  No. Alicia stopped herself. Edward would never leave her alone if he believed her to be in danger. But he just might go to confront the danger before it reached her.

  Alicia kicked the duvet back and scrambled out of the bed. The room had a wardrobe and she tore its doors open. As she hoped, several of frocks hung inside. She dressed herself quickly, her mind racing.

  Edward had taken himself into danger for her sake, and she could not leave him alone. She had to find him. But how? Where could she turn for help? There was Lady Jane, but Alicia did not have the direction of her house. There was this Mrs. Rathe who was Lady Jane’s friend, and the mysterious Captain Smith, but she knew even less of where they might be found. She was utterly alone and without help of the ordinary kind, let alone the magical kind.