Microsoft Word - FortunesFool.rtf (16 page)

Once Michael told him there were eighteen bedrooms, and he was

certain he could find an empty one. He led her to the end of a long

corridor and up another flight of stairs that looked less used. The floor was silent, and at the third door he paused and turned the amethyst knob as silently as he could. All he could hear was her breathing behind him.

He poked his head in and seeing that the room was vacant, pulled her in.

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FORTUNE'S FOOL

Abby knew it was wrong. She felt as though they were trespassing,

that at the least it was indiscreet. But then, it would seem that Caden had a knack for trysts in indiscreet places, and the memory of what happened in his office made her wet, her wanting of him again, even now,

overriding reason. Even though he locked the door behind them,

someone could find them out at any time. Someone could have knocked,

and her reputation would be destroyed. For some reason she didn't care

as much as she knew she should. She only wanted to feel his hands

running up her ribs, and his breath on her neck, the weight of his body

covering her.

Her mother was downstairs.

Was this how easy her lusting body ran to ruin? Falling right over

the cliff of reason to the jagged boulders below?

"Caden, I have to get back down there, I can't do this. If anyone—"

His mouth silenced her last words as he began a sensual onslaught,

and she slipped into the enchantment of his touch. His arms pulled her to him and his erection, even through four layers of cloth, branded her skin.

She knew what it looked like, what it felt like, how he smelled and

tasted, and she wanted it all over again. She snaked her arms up around

his neck to kiss him back, nipping at the corners of his mouth and

tongue, reveling in the tension between her legs.

He moaned when she did that, exactly the response she hoped from

him. She wanted to show him what she wanted to do. And the particulars

of where was fading under the knowledge that he was grasping handfuls

of dress up to get to her.

When the material slipped out of his hand he groaned and attacked

the fabric fortress with both hands. He reached her bustle ties and rested his head on her collar, panting. Her heart pounded, seeming to reach its beat to her sex where she could feel the friction of her need.

"These fucking clothes will be the death of me."

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She chuckled. "You're not the only one tempted to rip them to

shreds."

"Just once I'd like you naked. Completely naked for the whole

afternoon."

His words hit her like brandy, smooth and smoky with a hot burn.

She would do just about anything to have that, too. But not here. She

wanted the time to love and explore, and that couldn't be done in other

people's guest rooms.

He pushed his erection between her legs and rocked. "I want you.

To feel your stomach quiver as I kiss down to where I know you're wet

for me."

She inhaled, her eyes closing and rolling back into her head, his

mouth hot on her collarbone.

She slipped her hands to his waist, opened her eyes, and started to

unbutton his pants, then pulled the tie on his drawers, letting his erection spring free. The anticipation of his passion goading her further than she'd been before, wanting him hot and in as much need as she was.

Just the sight of him, hard for her, made her close her eyes and

swallow. If only they could be naked. She wanted him all over her,

cupping her breasts, taunting her nipples with his tongue and fingers,

pulling them until she shuddered and moaned in his mouth. Next she

would take her time tasting him, licking the copper disks with her

tongue, the planes and dips of his chest and hips under her palms, his

erection in her mouth and his balls cradled in her hands.

It was as if when she was with him the rest of the world ceased to

exist. Her senses were too full of him to be concerned, and even still she wanted more.

She sunk to her knees and nestled her nose into the skin of his

stomach, his crisp hairs springing under her fingers as she spread her

hands around the base of his penis. The scent of him filled her nose,

marking her memory with her pleasure as she took him into her mouth,

slipping her lips over the silk hard head. She looked up at him while he strained to not push himself further. He rested his hands above her head as if in benediction, and she wanted him to run his fingers through her

hair, but even still she knew he couldn't. Not unless he wanted them to

get caught. If she could have reached herself she would have, teasing her wet slit with her own fingers while he watched all of it from above. Or to have him filling her and her mouth at once.

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His eyes were burning charcoals, heavy with passion as he rested

his hands on her shoulders, begging her for more with the small pushes

of his hips. She kept her eyes on him as she sunk another inch and ran

her fingernails up the inside of his thighs to his sac, circling until he closed his eyes, his balls pulling up. She drew one long nailed finger

behind them and stroked, softly scratching the hidden pucker and smiled

as his eyes flamed.

"Please." The single word came from gritted teeth.

She sucked in another inch then glided back up, around the flared

rim, dipping into the tiny hole with a pointed tongue and going back

down as he swelled in her mouth.

This time she bobbed, her lips swollen and wet, all the way down,

as far as she could, taking him so deep that for a moment she closed her eyes and breathed through her nose.

She slid her fingers around to his firm ass and felt the shaking

muscles underneath, the flexing that made him swell and throb with his

checked need. Her tightened sex wanted him, swollen and slick as she

kneeled, her arched back, and him slipping out of control with small

thrusts.

She backed up and released him with a dip of her tongue and a pop.

He reached down and eased her up by her elbow when she decided to

push him down and back so that he lay cushioned on the thick, Oriental

carpet.

She stood with a knee planted on either side of his hips and started

to sink, her skirts bellowing out as she impaled herself on him. Her

stocking feet curled up under his bum, pushing him in even further,

bumping her womb and grinding into her hardened clit. The rasping

friction of their joining made her fracture with shards of pleasure. She mewled and wanted to lean into him but for her corset, so she sat strait, her insides squeezing him as the rhythmic spasms eased.

His eyes rolled up and closed, his nostrils flaring in time with his

lifting hips. "So good, you feel so good."

He palmed her face and brought his mouth up to her, kissing her as

he moved for them. Bringing her with such sweet agony to a precipice

without letting her fall off.

He ran his palms up her bodice and found between her corset and

neck, a precious bit of flesh which he kissed with scorching lips. They

were embers on her skin, burning a trail where they nipped and sucked,

and she wanted them on her nipples, drawing them into his mouth.

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Tension thrummed her body, her thighs trembling as she moved up

and down, wanting to come, but unable to break free. She heard a rustle

of crisp fabric and gasped as cool air hit her thighs. His searching fingers found their treasure, her hard clit, nestled in sensitive flesh which he started to caress with long fluid strokes.

A frenzied snapping of wires, white hot, started in her grasping and

clenching, drawing him deeper if that were possible. Her breath came in

short pants and she came, firing off in sparks.

Even as the last ebbs left her body he thrust up deep, evenly,

pausing at her womb and, with her last pulse flexing, lifted her off onto his thighs as he slipped out and spent on her drawers.

Frustration flooded her watching the white fluid land on the

material. She wanted him spent deep within her. She wanted to feel his

seed fill her, to have it drip down her thighs as she walked home.

Was she greedy in wanting more? Wanting to not have to rush

away, straightening clothes and making excuses to appease those who

would look after her?

Was it wrong that she wanted days and nights? She needed laughter

and quiet times, or an evening out with no one to answer to?

She'd gotten herself into a knot, but even still, she didn't regret it.

Sadly, to her, these stolen moments were worth the deceit, if this was all she could have, or all that he might be able to offer. It was stupid and naive, but she wanted to hope. To hold that flicker close to her heart, that somehow they could make a way like her parents had done before her.

But, she remembered her father gave up all that he had to marry her

mother. Although she knew in her heart though that he never regretted

one minute of it.

Caden wouldn't have to give up his money, but for them to have any

sort of future would take at the least a chunk of his pride. The question was did he think she was worth the price?

* * * *

from her own orgasms. It was never enough. Never. He'd been with her

twice now, and there were always pieces missing, that were held back

because of their location.

Or perhaps because they'd never been naked. Only the important

parts were bared for access.

That needed to be remedied. He would have to make a date with her

and bring her to the brownstone. He could take her out, then back there.

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No, not dinner. He couldn't be seen with her, not that way. She was

still too much a part of society to be able to secret away with him like that. Not only was she still a part of society, but one of its non-desirables as well. He would have to take her out of town, yes, that would do it.

They would want to spend as much time together as possible so it would

have to be somewhere close.

Hoping they would have that time together made him almost joyous,

but having to plot and plan almost ruined it. Some men might like the

games of liaisons, but he was finding it wearisome.

She got off him and started to ready herself—adjusting, tying,

pushing her peaked nipples back into the corset. He did the same and

they stood, needing to escape, but not wanting to leave.

He turned the knob and peered out the door, guiding her into the

hall.

"Shhh." She slipped her hand into his and walked down the stairs behind him, so close to him that he could feel her breasts touching his

jacket. He angled himself so that he protected her from any eyes that

would spy them sneaking down the back stairs. With the house having

eighteen bedrooms, two sets of servant's stairs and two grand staircases, he doubted anyone would venture over to where they were, especially

now that everyone would be removing to the dining room.

The dinner bell had rung moments ago, just as they were coming out

of the guest room, and he decided that they would split. She, her mother and sister were leaving now anyway and he would be gone by the time

they walked out the door.

He tugged her ear and walked out the opposite way, slipping out the

side door into the crisp winter night leaving her to wind her way to the parlor.

He stared at the brilliant stars in the sky. He hated sneaking about. It was for youths and their clandestine meetings, not for the likes of him.

Whom was he kidding? Not five minutes before he was trying to figure

out how to get her to spend the evening with him. Like in finances,

everyone had their price, and he just found his. Still and all, she was a mystery to him. Maybe that was why he was so enthralled? Perhaps the

newness of her coupled with learning her subtleties was a heady

aphrodisiac. He wanted to know what made her so strong as to shoulder

the labels people gave her, the loyalty she had for her family that made her take up the burden of being a pariah. And why she allowed him to

break that loyalty.

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Even with having just been buried deep inside her as she rode him,

he would have her again, right now, and his cock agreed, but Michael's

comments nagged at him even when he didn't believe the rumors.

Better then he should make some arrangement with her and set her

up in the brownstone. He would be close, then at the main house, but not too far away that her couldn't hail a hansom and be there within ten

minutes.

The Prestons lived in town not far from his main house on Knob

Hill and he walked a few blocks more considering his circumstances. By

the time he reached the club he hadn't come to any conclusions except

for the fact that he wanted to sleep with her despite her profession, and he needed a cognac with a cigar. Not that those items would be a

problem here, the cigars were on a silver platter on the welcoming table and the bar was open. He had his favorites available to him at all times.

He checked his coat and hat, lifted the top cigar off its pyramid and

smiled as it was immediately clipped by the waiter.

The bar was long and a dark wood with an old brass railing and

glasses hanging upside down like some queer chandelier. There were