Anew: Book Two: Hunted (25 page)

“If that’s an offer, I have to say no, for now. No one’s
going to watch you give me head.”

“But someone could watch me?”

“No one will see.” He moves swiftly, angling his body so
that I am blocked from the view of anyone who might glance down the alley.

He takes my hand, guiding it to where his was. I feel my own
heat and slickness even as I realize how desperately I need what he is
demanding of me. Even so, I’m not really considering doing as he says. Someone
could step into the alley at any moment.

At the thought of being discovered in such a compromising
position, a spurt of excitement ripples through me. I want to put it down to
the carnal atmosphere but I know it’s really my own wildness, spurred on by the
heat in Ian’s eyes and the challenge implicit in the curve of his so-tempting
mouth.

“Slip your fingers into your panties,” he murmurs. “Imagine
that it’s me touching you.”

I moan at the thought of him doing so. I know his touch so
well. My body has been conditioned to respond to it. Even the sound of his
voice or the scent of his skin is enough to arouse me. My head falls back
against the wall. My eyes close. Slowly, hesitantly, the tip of my finger eases
below the lacy edge of my panties…slides a little lower over my bare mound…and
finds my clit. I’m shocked by how hot it feels, how swollen and slick.
Tentatively, I make a light, circular motion, imagining all the while that it
is Ian touching me. His hard, compelling body pressed against mine, his touch
circling…pressing lightly at first…,a little harder… A few strokes and I’m
struggling not to cry out. I have to stop. But Ian is having none of that.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, stepping closer so that I
feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “The most exquisite, sensual, giving
woman I’ve ever known. No one has ever come close to you.”

Emboldened by his praise, my finger moves more quickly,
circling round and round. Pleasing myself, I am pleasing him. I can hear that
in his thickening voice, murmuring to me gently. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re
close, aren’t you? I can smell that sweet, honeyed musk. I’d like to have my
tongue on you right now, tasting you, making you come--”

At the word, I do, suddenly and violently in a rush that
arches my back and wrings a sob from me. Before I can utter it, Ian is on me,
his mouth crushing mine, his tongue thrusting hard and fast. He catches my hand
in his, replacing my finger, and drives me onward, extending my orgasm until the
world blurs and I slump in his arms, held up only by his strength.

I am at once mortified and stunned by the force of my own
release. My only consolation is that I can feel his massive erection pressing
against my belly. He is as vulnerable to the passion between us as I am.

When I can stand alone finally, he smiles, smoothes the
skirt of my dress down, and brushes a light kiss over my tender lips. “Well
done, sweetheart.”

He slips his jacket from my shoulders and shrugs it on,
straightening his cuffs in the process. The very normality of that action--so
simple yet intrinsically masculine--stands in stark contrast to my own
unbridled behavior. Ian seems unconcerned by what he has just witnessed. He
takes my hand and turns to leave the alley.

“Where are we going?” I ask, still too dazed to fathom the
erotic turn the night has taken.

His grin is cocky, filled with daring. “To a parade.”

Amelia

I
stand in the curve
of Ian’s arms, protected by his body from the crowd. Night envelopes the city
but the stars are not visible. They are eclipsed by the fireworks bursting
overhead and the beams of laser lights dancing across the sky. Throbbing music
fills the air. The crowd is singing along, laughing and shouting.

Tremors of shock still ripple through me. I can’t believe
what I did in the alley any more than I can deny the guilty pleasure that comes
from being so daring. I’m beginning to understand the attraction of Carnival.
But what I really want is to be alone with Ian, just the two of us together,
free from all the complexities of the world and able to concentrate on one
another.

I had a taste of that at the beach house but I want
more…much more. I want to know him completely and utterly with nothing held
back. But for that to happen, I have to get past the rigid self-control that
he’s imposed on himself for so long. His willingness to put aside his concerns
about Davos and actually enjoy himself are evidence that there’s been some
change in him. I don’t know what prompted it but I’m more than willing to take
advantage of it all the same.

A deeper, mechanical sound rumbles beneath the revelry,
interrupting my thoughts. Something large and heavy is coming toward us but I
can’t see it yet. For a moment, I’m reminded of the armored vehicles used by
the Municipal Protection Services but no police are in evidence. The city has
been turned over to the revelers.

One of the many vendors selling food, drink and souvenirs
stops beside us. Ian waves him on but not before I see that he’s also offering
a wide range of recreational drugs, all in sealed packages bearing the
distinctive logo of Cruces Pharmaceuticals. The vendor doesn’t have to go far
to find customers. The little packages sell even more quickly than the drinks.

I’m relieved that Ian has no interest in them even as I
wonder what other surprises he has in store for me. Despite the release I’ve
just experienced, need is building in me again. Being so close to him, vividly
aware of his desire, I feel as though I am melting inside.

The rumbling gets stronger, as does the wave of cheers
accompanying it. A float comes into view, carrying what looks like an ancient
temple. A dozen or more young women are posed against white columns. They all
wear elaborate masks with feathered head pieces and nothing else apart from the
sheen of gold that covers their naked bodies. As the crowd cheers, the young
women toss favors to them. Men and women alike scramble to collect them.

“What are they throwing?” I ask.

“Tokens,” Ian says. “Most are good for drinks, drugs,
whatever. A few are…worth more.”

I turn my head, looking at him over my shoulder. “What are
those for?”

He hesitates, then says, “The floats are previews of the private
parties that take place during Carnival. A few people will get tokens admitting
them to one or another of them.”

I could ask what goes on at those private parties but given
the appearance of the young women, the answer seems obvious. Another float appears
as the cheers swell. Most of the people on it are men, dressed as Roman
soldiers holding naked young women captive between them. Several of the men
have reached under their tunics, taken out their cocks and are stroking them.
More tokens fly through the air. I see two women fighting over one and look
away.

The overflow of shocking sensory input is becoming too much.
I close my eyes for a moment, only to open them again to the sight of
half-a-dozen very large, muscular men naked and wearing the horned heads of
bulls. Minotaurs. A gasp escapes me as I realize that one of them has hold of a
woman wearing just a few diaphanous veils that conceal nothing. She is standing
on one leg with her back to him. He grasps the other leg, pulled up and away
from her body at an angle that starkly reveals her bare sex to the crowd.

I realized almost from the moment that I arrived in the city
that its elegant, sophisticated veneer overlays a culture of decadence and
indulgence that may be unequaled anywhere else. But I’m still unprepared for
the full extent of it. Or its effect on me.

Ian draws me closer so that I am standing with my back
pressed to his front. The hardness of his erection against my bottom makes my
breath quicken. I can’t stand still, I have to move. But the moment I begin to
sway, brushing the cheeks of my ass along his length, he grasps my hips
tightly.

“Behave,” he murmurs in my ear.

Now he wants me to behave? Infuriating man. I stop,
determined to show that I have at least as much self-control as he does. But
the effort is a moment-to-moment struggle and what is passing in front of me
doesn’t help.

One float follows another to the din of music, the flash of
strobe lights, and explosions of pyrotechnics revealing scenes that hint at
unbridled license. The frenzy of the crowd mounts. A few more fights break out
but most people seem too transfixed by the carnal show to care about much else.

Finally, the last and by far the largest float approaches.
It comes in two parts, the first depicting a tableau of naked men and women,
all wearing golden masks and standing in what appears to be the interior of an
elegant mansion. Until now, the only sex has been simulated or suggested but
not here. On this float, the women are openly servicing the men in a variety of
ways. One is kneeling to suck the cock of the man standing in front of her.
Another is bent over the end of a plush couch being penetrated from behind as
several others watch.

Before I can even begin to grasp what I’m seeing, the crowd
roars its approval. A chant goes up--“Misrule! Misrule! Misrule!”

The last section of the float passes. All the figures on it
are cloaked and hooded, their faces concealed by distinctive masks unique to
each of them. I think they’re all men but I can’t be certain. Their bodies as
well as their features are completely hidden.

One in particular catches my eye. Whereas the others wear
gilded masks of gold and silver, his alone is red. The face it depicts is harsh
with furled brows, empty eyes, a sharp blade of a nose and a mouth open in a
ferocious scream.

I tell myself that it is my imagination but he appears to be
looking directly at Ian and me, never taking his gaze from us until the float
passes completely by and is gone.

The crowd follows behind it, revelers still grasping for
tokens, as the music swells and more fireworks burst above us.

“Who are those men?”

“The Lords of Misrule,” Ian says. He keeps me tucked close
against him as we make our way through the crowd. “Patrons of the parade and of
Carnival in general.” Glancing down at me, he asks, “Have you seen enough?”

“For a lifetime.” I’m beyond shocked, feeling as though my
eyes need a good bath along with the rest of me. But at the same time, I’m all
too vividly aware of how aroused I’ve become. Some primal, instinctual part of
me is drawn to at least some of what I saw.

 “Let’s go then,” he says. His eyes are dark and
compelling as he looks at me. With a smile I can’t decipher, he adds, “I have a
surprise for you.”

I’m not sure how many more of those I can take but I give
him my hand. He clasps it and brushes his lips over my knuckles in a slow,
gentle caress. A jolt of longing spools from his touch. I feel it in my hot,
slick core. The need for him becomes even more urgent.

In the cab that he hails a block or so away from the avenue,
he touches me lightly, repeatedly, small caresses on the curve of my cheek, the
swell of my lower lip, the hollow at the base of my throat. So innocent
compared to what I have just seen yet so provocative.

We are traveling uptown but not to Pinnacle House. As we
pull up to the curb, I see a tall stone building in the Art Deco style.
Engraved above the entrance are the words, “L’hôtel Perle.”

“Why are we here?” I ask as Ian helps me out.

His smile is enigmatic. “You’ll see.”

His eyes are dark, the pupils dilated. A shiver of
apprehension runs through me but I ignore it. I trust Ian, for all that this
evening has come as a shock. He must have a good reason for being here.

The lobby is a magnificent display of marble and gilt
softened by small forests of potted palms placed to discretely shield sitting
areas. We pass directly through it without stopping at the registration desk.
Ian also bypasses the main bank of elevators and instead leads me down a
carpeted hallway running off to one side. A small plaque reads: The Towers.
Guests Only.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Call it a hotel within a hotel,” he says. “For a very
private clientele.”

I don’t understand. Ian owns a luxurious penthouse, a
magnificent country estate, and a charming beach house, as well as quite
possibly other properties. Yet he’s brought me to a hotel?

“Why are we here?”

He presses a button for the elevator that only serves the
Towers. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

The elevator comes and we step inside. Past the sliding
mahogany doors, the elevator resembles a cage with lattice work walls and a
domed glass ceiling. Perhaps because I’m so intensely aroused, I find myself
thinking suddenly of the golden cage in the Cabinet of Secret Delights. At
once, my inner muscles clench.

The doors shut behind us. Ian slips a key card into a slot
and we begin to rise. The moment we do, he reaches for me, his hands sliding
down my bare arms to close around my wrists. His face is taut, his eyes
glittering. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him quite like this.

“Turn around,” he orders. He lifts my arms, stretching them
above my head. “Take hold of the bars.”

I obey, too aroused by all that has happened to deny him.
Even so, I’m unnerved. The metal is cold and hard in my hands, and I have no
idea what he intends in the few moments before we reach our floor. I gasp when
skirt of my gown is pulled up, exposing my bottom, and start to let go of the
bars.

“Don’t,” Ian warns. His voice rasps in my ear. “I’ve been
hard for you ever since I watched you come in the alley.” Before I can gather
my breath to respond, his fingers stroke up and around my thigh to skim my red
silk panties. “I’m not waiting any longer. Open your legs.”

My scattered reason finally reasserts itself. He can’t
possibly be serious. There’s no time and besides, I won’t allow it. “No! We
could stop at any moment. Someone could see us--”

He reaches to the side, jerks open a panel, and pushes a
button. At once, the elevator’s ascent comes to a shuddering halt. We are
hanging in a steel cage suspended within a shaft in a century-old building. The
smell of old stone wafts upward on drafts of cool air from the basement far
below. In contrast, Ian feels blazing hot against me. His erection presses
against my bottom.

Leaning close, he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you,
sweetheart, right here, right now. Try letting go of those bars again and you
won’t sit down for a week.”

What
? He can’t be serious. This is a game, part of
Carnival, nothing more. We’re both painfully aroused by our need for each other
and the spectacle we’ve witnessed. But even so--

“Wait--” I begin.

The palm of his hand smacks my ass. I yelp in surprise. The
pain is short and sharp, more of a shock than anything else. In its wake, heat
spreads from my reddening skin to my core.

Before I can begin to recover, he yanks my panties down
around my knees and thrusts his thigh between mine. His arm wraps around my
hips, holding me in place. He uses his other hand to free himself. The hot,
velvety smooth tip of his cock strokes around my opening and up along my clit,
again and again. The pleasure quickly becomes unbearable. A groan breaks from
me as I arch back against him, offering myself. Ian grunts in response and
gives me what I crave so desperately. With a single thrust, he buries himself
in me.

All the breath goes out of my lungs. I cling to the bars of
the elevator, struggling to stay upright as he begins driving into me with
deep, long thrusts. His teeth grazing the tender skin of my throat, he growls,
“Don’t ever deny me again.”

I’m beyond speech, overwhelmed by disbelief at this game we
are suddenly playing and equally by the insidious but irresistible spiral of
pleasure that is building in me. I try to fight it but Ian won’t allow that.
His fingers spread the lips of my sex, finding my clit wet with my own desire.
He gives a low groan and begins to stroke me, first slowly, then more quickly
until I am writhing against him.

“Ian!” I don’t know whether I’m demanding that he stop or
begging him not to.

He hears me or he doesn’t, it hardly matters because he
continues remorselessly driving into me, holding me captive to his will as the
pressure builds and builds inside me beyond bearing. Whether because of pride
or anger I resist my inevitable surrender to him, fighting to hold it off but
the effort is useless. This is Ian, and whether I want to admit it or not, he
is as much the master of my body as my heart.