Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr (20 page)

At her cry, the cock plunged deep, anchoring her to receive a series of searing, furtive spurts. “Chiavata!”

Lips dragged across her cheek to meet her mouth. Hips subtly rubbed, helping them both to draw out their mutual climax, to savor it.

She was still relishing the last echoes of her orgasm when the body disengaged and left her.

“Thank Signore Strand for giving you his semen,” Nick instructed from beside the bed. His voice sounded unnaturally low and gravelly.

“I thank you for your semen, Signore Strand,” she managed.

Nick smoothed her hair and jaw. The caress was perfunctory and didn’t linger. “I’m pleased you’re becoming such a talented and dutiful wife.”

She smiled, listening to the comfortable rustling sound of clothing. He was dressing.

“Mistress,” she corrected lazily.

He chuckled. “I find that the delineation between the two is becoming more delightfully blurred with each passing day.”

Her smile widened. Patiently she awaited the removal of the wrist bindings she assumed to be imminent, frowning when her husband’s boots instead moved away.

“I shall see our guests out and return momentarily,” he told her.

It seemed the game wasn’t over.

“Wait! Nick! Release me before you go. Someone could find me like this.”

His footsteps paused briefly, and she felt him studying her. She imagined what a picture she must present, lying bound on the bed amid the rumpled covers, her legs splayed, milky wetness on her inner thighs.

She shifted, closing her legs. “Release me,” she whispered.

His footsteps continued to the door, and she heard it open.

“Nick! At least cover me,” she begged.

In disbelief, she listened to the door creak wider and then shut. She heard his footsteps in the corridor outside, moving away.

“Come back,” Jane whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear. She lay on the bed for long seconds, feeling bereft and far too exposed. A chill drifted over her as her body cooled in the aftermath of heated lovemaking.

Using her feet and legs, she haphazardly gathered and shifted the covers to hide herself.

He deserved to be slain for this.

The muted thunk of two boots hitting the carpet woke her. How much time had passed? Moments or hours? The mattress depressed beside her. Cool air drifted over her as the covers were pulled back.

“Nick?” she murmured. She’d twisted her bindings so she was now lying on her side with her knees curled to her chest. He joined her on the bed, tucking a pillow between her knees and tucking himself at her back.

She tried to turn within his arms, but he forestalled her. Fingers slid from behind to touch her moist triangle of curls. How dare he, after he’d abandoned her!

“For pity’s sake, Nick,” she gritted. “Untie me. Anyone could have found me in this state while you were gone.”

No answer.

“Nick? That is you, isn’t it?” she asked, trying to annoy him into speech.

His finger dragged through her folds, bringing on one last spasming remnant of her earlier orgasm. She tried to tighten her legs and trap his hand, but the pillow prevented her.

Shockingly, she heard him smack his lips, tasting her on his finger.

“Signore Strand asked me to thank you for making him come so adequately,” he told her at last. “I can taste his salty semen on you. Did you find his cock to your liking?”

“Untie me and perhaps I’ll tell you,” she said.

Ignoring her suggestion, Nick dipped two fingers partway inside her, drawing jism. He stroked it over her, toying, until she began to move with his hand.

“Umm,” he murmured appreciatively. “You’re nice and slick with other men’s leavings. I think I’d like to come inside you, too, where those other men have had you. May I?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ between us, Jane. Do you want me?”

She weighed his question. Before, he’d always taken what he considered his right. It seemed a favorable development that he now considered and even needed confirmation of her feelings in the matter.

His arousal pressed against her, already heavy and thick. Why deny what she wanted?

“Yes, always.”

His lips nuzzled her neck, kissing, and then he reached to remove her blindfold. “I would have you certain whose cock you pleasure this time.”

Drawing his hips back, he tucked the tip of his cock inside her and pressed inward. His hand draped over her waist and slid lower to rub and fondle between her thighs. His lovemaking was a gentle rocking this time, his thatch massaging her bottom with each thrust.

“Tomorrow morning, when you’re bound up chastely in your tight laces and layers of dresses and petticoats…and when your legs are primly pressed together hiding your secrets as a well-bred wife should…I’ll be thinking of this,” he whispered. “Of the fucking we’re doing now. Of you like this….”

T
he next morning, Jane could barely look Nick in the face when he entered the breakfast salon. Since her gaze refused to rise above his collar, she quickly noted he was attired for his day in a striped jacket of superfine. Its restrained design was uncommonly plain considering his usual taste, as though he had been thinking of other things when he selected it.

Her cheeks pinkened, and she poured her tea with unusual concentration.

He chose his repast at the sideboard and sat across from her, opening a journal. After a moment he lowered it. “You pleased me last night, Jane,” he admitted stiffly.

She blinked at him. “And you me,” she whispered.

He nodded, beginning his breakfast.

Jane sipped her tea without tasting it. Her stern husband was back. How could he alter his demeanor so greatly between day and night? It was confusing.

Across from her, Nick was even more confused than she. The sight of her dining on tea and toast with jam had him hardening in his trousers after he’d just spent an entire night in her bedchamber. He’d always known himself to be depraved, but now his body was insatiable. It yearned to spend both day and night fondling, tasting, fucking. And not fucking just anyone. It was she—his wife and only his wife he craved.

Desire was something to be controlled and compartmentalized. He couldn’t allow any woman to weave a spell around him. He would rule his feelings and rule her, taking her as he needed.

Jane pressed a linen napkin to her lips and spoke to the maid, who brought in a new teapot.

He tamped down the threatening erection and forced himself to form a coherent reply when Faunus appeared with a question on a business matter. Her voice and scent tortured his senses. His arousal strengthened. His cock would soon be peeking from his waistband.

Intolerable!

He slammed his chair back and stalked from the room, leaving Jane, Faunus, and the maid staring after him in surprise.

What he needed was a distraction, he decided.

The journey to the villa the Covas had leased in Florence took less than an hour on horseback. When Nick was shown into the salon, only Izabel awaited him.

Refusing her offer of a seat, he got to the heart of his business with her. “I’ve come to petition you again to allow Emma to make her home with Jane.”

From her seat on the dais, Izabel studied him where he stood at the hearth. “Why come to me? Why not ask the girls’ father?”

“Signore Cova obviously defers to you in such matters.”

She inclined her head regally. “I’m loathe to let Emma go. I fear we will see little of either of my nieces if we allow both to live apart from us. Her father would miss her, and so would I.”

“Perhaps I can offer solace for your loss.” He picked up a small jade figurine from her mantel and turned it round and round in his hands. “What would induce you? More jade? Gold? Jewelry? Lands?”

Her eyes swept him. “Shall I be blunt?”

“Please.”

She rose and moved to stand before him. “I’m a lonely widow,” she told him. “With needs.”

“Needs.”

The word hung over the room, like the stink of smoke left from a dung heap fire.

Izabel interrupted the silence. “I invite you to discuss the matter of Emma with me in a more intimate setting.”

“Your bedchamber?” Nick guessed.

She smiled up at him. She was still an attractive woman.

“And will your opinion of my suitability as a guardian for Emma alter in any way through my visit to your bedchamber?”

Her smile turned flirtatious. “That depends upon how obliging and persuasive you show yourself to be.”

Nick kept his distaste from his expression. “So, to put things plainly, you want me come upstairs with you now. To fuck you. And if I fuck you well enough, you will then turn your youngest niece over to Jane’s care? I may take the girl with me when I leave here this afternoon?”

She eyed him, toying with the fringe of her wrap. “No.”

“No?”

“In exchange for so great a boon as Emma, you must enjoy my hospitality throughout an entire night. A special night. When the moon is full.”

Unease prickled Nick’s spine. She knew. But how? And what to do about it?

He straightened. “I believe I have had all the hospitality I can tolerate for one day.”

She cocked her head. “Come now, are you refusing?”

He moved close to tower over her. “Emma’s affections already lie with Jane. I’m willing to pay her bridal price when she comes of age and to settle any amount on you. You could have the finest of villas, a castle. All in exchange for releasing Emma into my care.”

She placed a palm on his chest over the fabric of his waistcoat. “You’ve heard what I require of you. You have slain hundreds of women with your cock if the legends are to be believed. What is one more?”

“And if I say I’m now true to my wife’s bed?”

She gave a snort of laughter, which quickly faded as she read the sincerity in his face.

Nick wasn’t sure who was more shocked by the truth of his claim—he or dear Aunt Izabel.

Sudden rage filled Izabel, spilling through her veins, inciting her to destruction. But she merely gave his shirtfront a pat, and turned away. “I see. I didn’t realize my niece had so thoroughly bent you to her will.”

“And now that you’re aware of it, may we speak more reasonably regarding the disposition of her sister? Jane pines for her, and it pains me to see it. I have the wealth to buy you other men—anything you desire.”

“I ask for one night together with you under a full moon. There’s no other price. If you don’t meet it, Emma stays here.”

“I can apply to the courts for her. They will be interested to know of Signore Cova’s nocturnal wanderings when you last visited Blackstone.”

Izabel sucked in a breath.

“And failing that, in a few years Emma will be of an age to choose for herself,” he went on.

“Before you could convince the courts to intervene, I would see Emma wed to the most despicable of men.”

He stared at her, not understanding her determination. “Why?”

She turned to the window, giving him her back. “You’ve heard my terms. Until you’re prepared to meet them, we have nothing more to say. Good day, signore.”

J
ane scooted a stool over so she could reach for a book on the library’s highest shelf.

Here it was at last! The book of herbal curatives she’d sought. It had been in her husband’s splendid library all along.

Nick was at his desk behind her, attending to business while she browsed. She’d taken his books before but wasn’t sure if he was aware of it or if he approved.

She held the herbal out for his inspection. “May I borrow this?”

“My library is your library,” he told her.

She hesitated, and his expression turned curious.

“My father says women should be kept ignorant,” she explained. “He believes too much information would taint our minds and render us barren.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, an indulgent expression on his handsome face. “I’m sufficiently confident in my ability to sire children. You may make free with my library.”

Jane shrugged away the niggling guilt that always accompanied the mention of children she knew were not forthcoming.

“Thank you. Another husband might not be so generous with his literature.”

“You must remember to thank me properly later,” he told her. “Toward that end, you may want to take special note of my collection of erotica.”

“You’re too kind,” Jane said, refusing to blush. “But I believe I will stick to your botanical tomes for the moment.”

“Perhaps you’d enjoy my botanical erotica?” he commented, drawing her startled glance.

“Is there such a thing?”

He came close and reached over her head for a slender volume. Gilded letters on its spine read
Sermo de structura florum
by Sébastien Vaillant.

“Vaillant’s early comparisons between the sexual reproduction of plants and human reproduction are believed to have influenced Carl Linnaeus to later make more robust comparisons,” he told her.

“I’m familiar with Linnaeus’s theories.”

“Then you’re aware he studied flowers intimately,” Nick went on, “procuring thousands to learn their methods of procreation. He examined their genital organs—both stigmas and stamens—and made conclusions regarding their sexual reproduction, which both shocked and repulsed his contemporaries. He even claimed that simple marigolds kept both concubines and wives.”

“Linnaeus’s work has always been of interest to me. But I admit to surprise at learning you know it so well. Tell me, do you skim the text for titillating carnal references or study it more thoroughly for the benefit of your vines?”

He grinned, setting the book aside. “Both, truth be known. However, I can’t take full credit for my library’s contents. As with most of my collections, it was begun by my ancestors. I merely continue their work, adding items of interest when I can.”

“Out of a sense of familial duty?”

“That may have sparked my initial interest, but collecting has become a passion.”

“Your passion for collecting encompasses a great many objects. Glassware, pottery, artwork, swords, books.”

He slid his hands along her ribs, caressing. “I enjoy possessing beautiful and curious objects. And I’m fortunate to have the wealth to indulge my whims.”

Jane crossed her arms over the herbal and pressed it to her chest, a barrier between them. “Is that why you married me? To add to your collection?”

His hands stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

“It occurs to me you had an available space in your castello museum marked
WIFE
, and so you sought to fill it.”

“In a sense that’s true. Yet, not any woman would have filled the position so adequately. Of all the items in my collections, you are the one that gives me the most pleasure.”

Warm fingers traced up her spine to toy with her hair.

She tilted her head and studied him curiously. “Pleasure. You use the word to divorce yourself from any stirrings of love.”

He released her. “You grow sentimental.”

“And you remain intentionally distant.”

“I recall a distinct closeness between us in your bedchamber on regular occasions. We may retire there now if your memory needs refreshing.”

“You seek to compartmentalize our lovemaking as sport or a meaningless bodily function incapable of touching your heart.”

He shot her a look meant to belittle her notions. “Pleasure can be had between two people who don’t love.”

“Can’t it also be experienced between two people who do?”

“Don’t love me, Jane. I cannot reciprocate.”

She sucked in a breath and shoved the pain of his words into a small compartment to be pulled out and examined later. “Cannot or will not?”

“It wouldn’t be safe for either of us. I must concentrate on keeping my heritage and this land intact for generations that follow.”

“And if I want more? If I say what you offer isn’t enough?”

“I apologize if you object to the manner in which my body must use yours. You did agree to the requirements of wife and further request the duties of mistress. Are you reneging?”

“No,” she mumbled. Never.

His eyes slid over her clothing, and suspicion dawned. “You’ve been out. Speaking to other ladies who have colored your view of our arrangement. Did they tell you it isn’t proper to enjoy the touch of a man who doesn’t proffer protestations of love?”

She stiffened. “I haven’t been out. But since you bring it up, I imagine most ladies would take my side in this.”

He snorted.

“It’s just that I’m not certain how to be what you require in a mistress and also remain a lady.”

“You can’t help but be a lady, Jane, even when you’re performing the tasks of a mistress. It’s in your nature to be kind, intelligent, and giving in both spirit and body. These are the traits of a true lady, not fabricated societal manners.”

Jane searched his expression, weighing his sincerity.

“I do need you, Jane. You, no other.” He pulled her against him, and she felt the bulge between his thighs.

“Your apparatus needs me certainly.”

Nick smirked. “My apparatus? Come, cara, you must learn the proper terminology. A mistress must apply more titillating words for the appendage between a man’s legs. Try cock. Prick. Belino. Grillo. Uccello.”

“I know what it’s called in lower circles.”

“I assure you it is called by those names by many in the upper classes as well.”

She shrugged, unwilling to admit her naiveté.

“You think yourself worldly?”

“I have certainly become more so since falling into your clutches.”

His chin nuzzled her hair, and a teasing note entered his voice. “Thus far, I have played nice with you. I believe it’s time now to further open your eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come.” With a hand at her waist, he led her upstairs. Her heart began to pound when she saw their destination. His bedchamber.

Once he shut the door, he strode to the large mirror on the far wall. To her surprise, it opened, revealing itself to be a portal that connected his room to a hidden chamber.

He lifted a candelabra and beckoned. “Enter. I will show you more of what I truly am.”

The intimate compartment was smaller than his bedchamber but more lush. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that small statues and other antiquities adorned it. But, here, they were more blatantly lewd than those in the rest of the house.

“They’re relics from an ancient temple fallen to ruin in the Satyr forest,” he said, noting her interest. “Do they shock you?”

“Is it your intention to shock me?”

“Their intention isn’t to shock but rather to instill thoughts of a lustful nature. You must let me know if they succeed in their purpose.”

Her eyes darted around the interior of the room, finding something strange and illicit in every corner. Metal rings were attached at intervals high along one wall and in the ceiling. There were leather straps, knotted scarves, feathers, strands of pearls, a pommel, a bed of furs. There were devices whose purpose was unclear but whose delicate menace gave her an uncomfortable shiver.

“What is this place? Another museum?”

“Of a sort. A very private one created by my ancestors in which to explore mutual pleasures.”

He pressed a panel in a red-lacquered cabinet, and a drawer jutted forth. “Now,” he said, “tell me what you think of these.”

Jane moved to his side and peered into the drawer, where a series of cylinders ranging in size and shape lay neatly lined in a row. She gasped when she realized what they were.

“Phalluses?”

“Some. Others are dildos, designed to closely resemble phalluses.”

“Are they intended to be ogled or utilized?”

“Both, I suppose. Viewing them is a stimulation in itself.” He selected a small column with a tanned, mottled surface and held it out to her. “It’s the phallus of an ancient beast that no longer lives. Touch it.”

Hesitantly, Jane brushed its surface. It vibrated under her fingers. She snatched her hand away in surprise.

“Even after centuries, it still hums with the warmth of the beast. The vibration provides a strong stimulation when inserted into one of the lower orifices.”

One
of the lower orifices? Whatever did he mean?

“It seems cruel to kill an animal simply in order to use its parts in such a narcissistic way.”

He shook his head as he replaced it in the drawer. “The humming would cease forever if the beast had been murdered. Only when they die of natural causes is the phallus removed to create such a rare instrument.”

“I see.”

“It is said to have the power to bring an immediate orgasm upon its insertion inside a woman. If it isn’t removed promptly, the user can suffer a fatality from successive orgasms. Never use it alone,” he cautioned. “I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself, even in the throes of orgiastic delight.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “I promise to bear that in mind.”

Her gaze fell on an elaborately carved stool with a suspicious hole in the center of its wooden seat.

Noting her glance, Nick took another of the dildos and inserted it from below the stool so it protruded upward through its middle.

“A woman wears such ridiculously wide skirts that a man could easily work such a device beneath them while she was seated on the stool next to him. Imagine, in polite company, having to pretend calm while such a cylinder was thrust through the seat and into your body. Imagine it briskly working, stimulating you. You would have to remain so quiet and motionless. No one must know the truth, save you and your sequestered tormenter.”

Moisture pooled between her legs. She swallowed and looked away.

Peering into the drawer, she lifted the largest of the phalluses from it. Its silver-veined, marble surface begged to be touched, and Jane slid a finger along its cold smoothness.

“That one is purported to have been chiseled from the stone of a sacred altar and polished by a goddess.”

It was so outsized she shuddered, imagining. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit jealous?” she teased.

“It would fit inside you,” Nick assured her. “With enough prior stimulation and lubrication.”

She replaced it in the drawer and took a step back. “Impossible!”

“The body is more elastic than you think.”

She stared at him in fascinated horror. “But why would you wish me to consider such a thing?”

“It gives me enjoyment to explore the limits of a woman’s pleasure.”

“Will you require me to find pleasure here in this room?” She made a sweeping gesture with one hand.

“On occasion, I hope to introduce you to some of these utensils and their intimate uses. The question is, would you allow it?”

She surveyed the room. Something about it repelled her. Something about it thrilled her as well.

Slowly she nodded. “But not all at once,” she quickly amended. “And not all of them.”

He smiled. “Most certainly not all at once. And not all of them. Only those to your liking.”

“How will I know which are?”

“Over time, your curiosity will grow, and we will experiment. You will find me a willing partner, open to any suggestion. You have only to indicate an interest in any direction and I will try to satisfy it. There is no rush. We have a lifetime to explore such things.”

“What if a whim takes me to explore your body with some of these devices?”

“I will accommodate you, within reason. It’s difficult for me to give up control.”

“Perhaps we can work on that. Here in this room.”

“Perhaps.”

He broke eye contact, but her heart had lightened at his admission. It felt like the beginning of trust. And maybe something more.