Pearl on Cherry (31 page)

“Always gambling.” Tyrone tapped his fingers on his toned thigh, wore a thoughtful expression, then lunged up to standing. “All right. I always beat you before at fisticuffs. Tonight will be no different.”

William removed his coat and cuff links, then rolled up his sleeves.

Clarissa gaped at him. “Sir, this is unnecessary.”

“Oh, it is quite necessary.” He rolled his head, stretching his neck and loosening up his arms and shoulders.

Tyrone did the same, disrobing to a certain degree and cracked his knuckles.

“We will accept bets on a game of fisticuffs,” Tyrone announced.

“No, please.” Clarissa tried to stand, but William gave her a look that said she would not interfere. He was ready to land Tyrone on his ass and prove him to be a detestable couillon.

Lenora swung around the room, encouraging all to bet against William.

“Ready to see me take money against your foul name?” Tyrone grinned, circling him.

“I don’t gamble when it’s overly risky. You know I manage my money better than you will ever handle anything in your life.” William swung his arms back and forth, making them limber further.

“Didn’t appear that way when you were flapping around this little lady here on my stage. You were completely beside yourself and acting like a lovesick fool.” Tyrone pointed at Cherry girl.

She frowned.

“Now who’s the one constantly losing? ‘Tis not I.” William flashed him a grin. “You are the one that has always fought dirty and cheated, so, yes, I lost before, but it’s been years. I’m much wiser now. I know your tricks.”

“Ready us, Jeffries.” Tyrone jerked his head to the side, calling out for his friend to start the fight.

“No hitting in the most private of areas, and avoid breaking noses. Other than that, you are free to dismantle your foe.” Jeffries laughed with a booming weight behind his voice. Obviously another actor, used to being on stage.

William rolled his eyes, and when the fight was declared legitimately started, William waited for Tyrone to swing at him.

Stop! This will ruin Clarissa’s chances at the stage! You will bring her ultimate shame!

He cringed for a moment and then realized with his money, he could buy his own damn stage and put her there himself. Tyrone did not control her destiny.

Papap!

William’s fists lashed out, and he jabbed Tyrone in the ribs.

There was a minor crushing sound, but not nearly satisfying enough.

Tyrone’s stiff carriage collapsed, and he favored his right side now, hunching over a bit.

Perfect.

Papapapap!

William’s fists were unrelenting, finding ribs to snap.

Tyrone’s eyes morphed from his blue to dark gray. The dark gray, disapproving eyes William had dealt with his entire life.

His vision blurred for a moment, and Tyrone’s voice changed too.

“You’re the reason she’s leaving!” he heard in his mind over and over. That deep, booming bass taking hold of his mind and making his forearms, biceps and chest muscles coil tight, then unload with a force he’d missed desperately.

Wham, wham, wham.

His balled up hands hit blindly and repeatedly, anywhere they could.

Crrruuuuuuunch. Snaaaap!

Bones were twisting, and the carnage made his boiling blood shunt into his lungs and fill him with the capacity to breathe again.

This was why he’d stopped. He’d become too crazed with a bloodlust and had grown addicted to the feel of a man’s marrow being crushed out of his bones at William’s hands.

An elbow landed in William’s gut and then a thick-skulled head rammed into his chest, making him fly back a foot or so. He wobbled but managed to keep from falling down.

Clarissa screamed something behind him, pulling him back to this moment.

It wasn’t that hideous voice or vicious gray eyes he remembered and despised. No, it was Tyrone. Another thorn in his side, but far less harmful.

Tyrone grunted, shoving his hair out of the way that was flopping in his eyes.

There was blood on Tyrone’s crisp white shirt, and his lip was busted open.

When had he hit him in the face? And why hadn’t they stopped the fight? Had Tyrone cheated, too, so it all seemed fine to continue on?

“Aaaagggghhhhhh!” William roared and then picked Tyrone up, smacked him down on the ground, making his legs buckle.

He fell on top of Tyrone and rolled away promptly.

“Ferrismore is the winner,” Jeffries declared.

William staggered to his feet, weaved about, wheezing for air.

The first thing he did was step over Tyrone, sitting up, but balled up and muttering curses his way. Then he grabbed Clarissa, yanked her up and kissed her with a brutality that was less than pleasant.

She surprised him when she moaned and sunk into his kiss.

He let her go, sat down on the couch and propped her on his lap.

Next, he grabbed a cigarette out of his suit coat, lit up and smoked as Tyrone skulked away.

“Is there a reason this party’s grinding to a halt?” William called out.

“Um . . . Sir, is there something I can do for you?” one of the servants asked him, hovering next to him.

“No, why?”

“Your temple is bleeding profusely.” The gangly, powder-white man with the gray hair pointed.

William dabbed at it with his fingertips, grinning when he saw the crimson fluid on his hand.

“Don’t touch it!” Clarissa reached over and grabbed a handkerchief out of Tyrone’s suit pocket and used that to staunch the blood flow.

“Do you think they want an encore? I could have gone a lot longer with Tyrone. My stamina’s legendary,” he teased.

“I have no notion of what they want to see, other than us gone. I’m certain I’ve lost my role in the play now,” she said, but her tone was soft and one of understanding.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you suffer the loss of a coveted role. But you know I can always buy you your own stage, give you whatever position you like and make sure everyone sees how mesmerizing my cherry girl is.”

She slipped into French—telling him they should just leave now, and she could always covet some other playacting spot at home just as well as she could here.

He agreed.

Yes, she could do anything at all, as long as she was in his home with him, making his world a better place to be.

Chapter 17

“Sweetheart, ‘tis me,” William’s deep voice whispered in the stillness.

“William?” Clarissa stretched a little, and her groggy mind was in a slight haze. It was too dark to see anything.

A soft purring snore at her right jolted her awake.

“I have a dire need of you.” William continued to press.

His hand was under the covers, gripping her arm.

“Please, come with me.”

“But the rules,” she began.

“The rules of propriety can hang tonight. I’m sore and tired, and I cannot sleep without you at my side.”

“Wha . . . Is there something the matter?” Pauline asked, waking at her side.

“What the devil is she doing in your bed?” William yanked Clarissa clear out of the covers.

She stared at him, bleary-eyed and failing to blink, then directed him out into the hallway so Pauline could go back to sleep.

“Why is that woman in your bed when I’ve told you what her proclivities are?” He gripped her by the shoulders. “Did she advance on you or put her hands anywhere on your person?”

“What? No!” She glared. “She sees me as a friend, nothing more, and she was frightened, so I admitted her into my bed. We kept each other company. She helped me to sleep as well since I was missing you.”

“Why then? Why do you keep me away if we both struggle to sleep when all we need is each other?” He shifted his cock over to the side with his hand.

Her stomach fluttered at that simple motion.

“William, let me tell you something—she is in need of a friend, and I want to be there for her. Elizabeth is too busy anymore to listen to me, and you have business matters to attend to as well. I help Pauline do laundry.”

“Why are you helping her? You have your own duties . . .” He grabbed her right hand with both of his and his thumbs caressed on the outside, moving chills up her wrist and forearm.

He was so warm to the touch, and she knew precisely how comfortable his bed was.

She shook those thoughts away. This was her last chance to exert some independence. Soon, she would be his wife, and she would never know what it meant to strike out for herself without the constant struggle of lack of funds.

Now was her time to find her way, before her path was swallowed up by his.

“I do all my work and then I go in search of her. She has many worries. I don’t mind listening to her. She’s a good woman who’s had a life full of struggles through no fault of her own.” She dipped her head, crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s through helping others I feel better about myself. Don’t you want that for me?”

“Of course I do.” His hands drifted up her arm. “Only be wary. You’re discernment may be faulty since you are overly trusting.”

She swallowed and stepped closer to him. “But I have you to protect me, so I’ll be saved should I make a false step, correct?”

“Yes, but what if my timing is off? What if you’re harmed even a tiny bit? I couldn’t bear it.” He huffed. “Please, let’s get out of this drafty hallway. Come with me to my bed.”

“We can see each other in the morning, and I’ll sit on your lap, let you feed me and whisper naughty things in my ear all you want, but I won’t leave her. She told me she needed me first.” She grabbed his hand on her arm that was squeezing her. “Please, understand that I do care about you both.”

“Only her more than me.” His jaw tightened, and his eyes pleaded with her. “That’s what I live with—the people I care for most choose someone else over me. Change my fortune, I beg of you. Show me I matter.” He pulled her into him, circling his arms loosely around her waist. “And don’t even tell her why or where you go. Just come with me. Be mine for the night.”

“You are quite the persuasive fellow in the dead of night.”

He chuckled. “That’s always when I’m most charming. Have you forgotten so soon?”

Her nipples tightened, and her belly squeezed at the hint in his voice of dark and forbidden sexual acts.

“No—I could never.”

“Then come.” He dropped his hand, extending it for her take.

She did and followed along, her body filling with this warmth and peace she could not account for.

It was the small moments like this that meant the most to her—when he was vulnerable and telling her how much he needed her.

“Get in my bed. Naked though,” he said, ripping his shirt and trousers off with a few forceful tugs on his clothing.

She watched him as she shrugged out of her nightgown.

“The panties, too—though, I love that you wore them to bed, rather than those ridiculous large knickers.” He patted the bed, expecting her to climb in.

“William. May I show you something first?” Her shoulders crept up on her. Could she do this? She wanted to. She’d wanted to talk to him about this for a while.

“Certainly. I’m not really tired anymore after touching you in the hallway. And do not think we’re discussing Pauline being in your bed.” He offered a small smile.

“I need some source of light for you to see this.”

His brows rose. He pointed to his personal washroom. There was good electric lighting in there, something she frequently forgot.

All these electric amenities continually shocked her—especially the warm water. That still made her gasp with delight.

“We talked over the last few days about how you hide, and how I want to be sought after. Well, I was thinking after the last time I put my mouth on you”—he straightened at the mention of her oral attentions on his cock—“that you’re most beautiful when you’re out in the open. I want you to see what I do.”

“Sucking on me and my tip taught you something—gave you clarity?”

She nodded, smiled and then slanted her head to the right as she stared at his bobbing length.

“Can you sit on the toilet for a moment?” she asked.

He moved to where she asked, plopped down on it and set his palms on his knees.

“This will only take a moment, but I think it will help.” She grabbed her big fluffy towel hanging on the hook, folded it and set it on the ground. She kneeled on top of it and got as close to him as she could. She grabbed him at the root, then slowly pumped him a few times.

“God, that feels good, Clary. Keep going. Only faster—could you, sweetheart?”

“No. That would defeat the purpose of what I want you to see.” She dragged his foreskin up to the tip, covering his pink, swollen head, then kept her hand there, keeping it tight and stretched. “See this right here?” She ran a fingertip along the trace of light bluish veins. “That’s your life’s blood under there. It feeds you—makes you rigid so you can seek me out, get inside me and tunnel a way into my life.”