Release: Davlova: Book One (20 page)

He reached up to touch my cheek again, beneath my bruised eye. “Do you believe that I’m sorry?”

“I think so.”

“Will you come tomorrow when I send the carriage? Please?”

Somehow, I’d come to feel safe with him here in my room, but idea of being back on his turf scared me.

“I’ll take you out,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “La Fontaine?”

I thought of an upside down sky. I thought about being fucked on a beautiful white table while waiters listened from behind a screen. I found myself smiling. “Do I have to dress as a woman again?”

“You don’t have to, no, although I love it when you do.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Because you’re gorgeous and sexy and mysterious. Because when you dress like a woman, you look like the epitome of debauchery. Because when I lift those skirts...oh, darling.” He leaned down to kiss my jaw, moaning softly as he did. “I love what I find between your legs.” I moaned, too. The only thing keeping me from being achingly hard was my too-recent climax. “I love to look at you,” he went on, still kissing my neck between his words. “To see you sitting there, looking so proper, and to know that my come is pooling between your thighs.” He reached down to hook his hand behind my knee, pulling it up against his hip so that he could wedge himself between my legs. “I wish I was man enough to fuck you again right now.”

“Tomorrow,” I said.

He chuckled. “Am I forgiven then? For now, at least?”

“For now.”

“Good.” He kissed my cheek, then let me go, not because he was tired of me, I knew, but because the mess between us was becoming hard to ignore. We cleaned up, and then he pulled me back down onto my narrow cot. He snuggled against my back. “I can’t stay all night. Just a bit longer, if you’ll let me.”

“If you like, master.”

He smiled. I couldn’t see it with him behind me, but I heard the soft exhale of his breath. He kissed me again. “Good little whore,” he said. Not the way he usually said it, with a hint of malice. This was said almost in jest, in response to me calling him master. I’d done that on purpose, though. I knew this informality between us wouldn’t last. It seemed wise to start putting those boundaries back into place sooner rather than later. His rules gave me a structure by which to frame my wayward feelings for him, and it was a structure I desperately needed. “You’re perfect, in every way.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, doing my best to match his light tone. “It makes me happy to please you.”

“You do please me, little pet. More than you know.”

And despite everything that had happened between us, his words warmed me to my core. They made me feel light and cherished and free.

For tonight, at least, he loved me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It wasn’t until I was getting ready the next evening that I begin to wonder about my bruises. My forehead could be covered by my hair, and most of the discoloration on my cheek and jaw had faded, but my right eye was still stained a deep, angry purple. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry. Tawny came to help me get dressed. She put makeup on my face—some of it a flesh-colored cream that helped cover the bruises, but then she used colored powders on my other eye so that it looked as bruised as the first.

“It’s kind of a fad anyway,” she said. “To look beaten. You may as well make the most of it.”

She styled my hair in a strange, loose twist, then helped me put on a draping, green dress. It was open down the front, almost to my navel, and the back left me bare to the curve of my ass. A thin gold chain across my shoulder blades kept it from sliding off my shoulders.

“Another fad,” Tawny told me. “It’s designed to look like the drapes the slaves wear to auction. Of course, theirs are unbleached cotton rather than silk, and they’re not nearly so flattering, but he wanted yours to match your eyes.”

“He wants me dressed like a slave?” I asked. The thought made my stomach turn tight with apprehension. I immediately thought of Ayo. Was Donato trying to send me some kind of message?

Tawny shrugged. “Like I said, it’s a fad up on the hill. Half the women there will be wearing dresses like this. That’s how those rich folks do things, reminding themselves of how much they have by pretending to be one of us for one night.”

I was given black slippers for my feet. The finishing touch was a velvet cord wrapped around my neck. The rest of it hung down my back like a leash.

The carriage arrived with Donato already inside. “You’re exquisite,” he said when I sat across from him. He took my hand and kissed my fingers.

“Thank you, sir.”

He ran his finger down the opening in the front of the dress, along my sternum. “Tawny did well.”

“I’ll pass on your compliment, sir.”

“Let’s not give her too much credit, love. Making you look gorgeous doesn’t take much.”

He let go of my hand and reached down to lift my skirt. He slid the silk up my legs and my blood began to race in my veins. I’d taken an il, but I didn’t need it at that moment. He got down on his knees in front of me as the carriage began to bump down the road. I slid lower in the seat so that his hand went higher up my thigh. I tried to arch my back, to push my erection toward his hand, but he surprised me. Instead of touching my cock, he slid his hand between my legs and under my ass. I gasped and lifted my hips as his fingers touched my well-greased entrance.

“Sit, darling,” he said. His voice was heavy with arousal, and it made my breath come in short little gasps. I settled slowly onto his hand, letting his two middle fingers penetrate me. My perineum rested in the open part of his hand. He fluttered his fingers. Such a tiny movement, but the sensation made me quake. I arched my back, pushing farther down onto his hand.

“You’re so hot and tight. So perfect. Do you like that?”

“Yes! Oh Goddess, yes!”

“Show me your chest.”

I whimpered, rocking slightly on his hand as I opened the front of the dress. He leaned forward to lap at one of my nipples with his tongue. He was teasing me. Tormenting me. I rocked my hips forward again, thrusting my chest toward his mouth. The carriage hit a bump, and I whimpered again at the feeling of his fingers inside of me, at the tug of his teeth on my nipple, at the urgency I felt in his hands. I pulled the silk gown up out of the way, uncovering my aching cock.

“Please,” I gasped, wondering if I dared put my hand on his head. If I could risk trying to guide his mouth to my groin. “Oh, sir, please!”

He wiggled his fingers inside of me, causing me to whimper, but he didn’t move to swallow my cock. “Aw, love. I can’t decide if I should let you come now or make you wait.”

“Now,” I begged. “Now, now, now.”

“Look at me.”

I did, although it took some effort. It was hard to focus when all I could feel was this insatiable need for gratification. I rocked on his hand, moaning pitifully, my own fingers clenched in the lap blankets on the seat to keep myself from grabbing him, or from touching myself, because I knew that wasn’t allowed.

“I love it when you’re like this,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my chest again. “I could come just looking at you.” But to my dismay, he pulled his fingers free.

“No!” I cried.

He smiled at me. “It pleases me to watch you squirm.” He got off his knees and sat back in his own seat. He smiled over at me as he used a scrap of cloth to wipe his fingers. He pulled a small jar out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“Put more on. I want you to be ready as soon as I decide to take you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take your time.” He touched the bulge at his groin. “But don’t come.”

The first part was easy. The last part was difficult. It was so tempting to reach deeper as I greased myself. To nudge that bundle of nerves that would send me over the edge, but I didn’t. Still, it felt good to touch myself, especially when I saw the way he watched me. The way his eyes grew dark with desire as he fondled his erection through his pants.

The carriage lurched to a stop, and he handed me the towel to wipe my shaking hands. He smoothed my hair back from my face, then helped me down. He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and led me toward La Fontaine. I felt both more refined and more wanton than at any other time in my life. I couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck me.

“What if I pull up that skirt and take you right in the lobby?” he asked, as if reading my thoughts. “How would it be if I stripped you bare for everyone to see? Would you like that?”

“Yes.” I’d be embarrassed about it afterward but, at that moment, I would have traded embarrassment for release.

“Good answer,” he said as he led me through the door. “But I intend to make you wait.

Tawny was right about the dress. Several of the women wore similar styles. Many of them wore leashes, too.

“You put them all to shame,” Donato said to me as he handed me a glass of champagne.

I didn’t point out that I was the only one whose dress was tented by an erection rather than breasts.

This time, Donato didn’t seem inclined to talk to the other guests. He didn’t show me around or introduce me to anyone. He angled us into an empty spot near a wall. He slid his hand down my bare back, stopping on the curve of my ass. It made me tingle. I moved closer to him, wanting to feel his hand move lower.

“Patience,” he chided. “I intend to make this last a while.”

I was afraid I’d collapse into a sobbing bundle of nerves before he decided to stop teasing me. I gulped the first glass of champagne. It was sweet and tangy. A bit fruity. Was I imagining it, or did I detect the same drug he’d given me on the yacht? Was it my imagination that my blood began to race in my veins, that my limbs felt heavier than normal, or that my senses suddenly seemed heightened?

He immediately handed me a second from the tray of a passing waiter. “Slower this time.” There was a warning in his voice. “As I said, I intend to make this last.”

I caught the undercurrent of his warning. If I was drunk, I would ruin whatever he had planned, and that would upset him. I took a deep breath and tried to quell my arousal. “Yes, sir.”

“Good little whore.”

I sipped my drink and looked around me. The first time at La Fontaine, I’d been concentrating on remembering names in order to report back to Anzhéla. This time, I let myself really look. First, the fountain. I’d barely glanced at it on my first trip, but now I had a moment to study it. It was carved of white marble. It took me a moment to sort out the tangle of limbs, but when I did, I smiled. It was an orgy. Gasping mouths and grasping hands. Lots of breasts and a few erect cocks. At least a dozen naked people locked in eternal ecstasy. Above them, the Goddess stood, one breast bared. Water flowed from her hands, blessing their copulation.

Around the fountain stood little clumps of people. All of them were dressed impeccably, waiting to be blessed as well. They smiled too big. Laughed too loud. They were trying too hard to be seen.

I looked away from them, taking in the rest of the room. There wasn’t much to see. A simple room, although strangely shaped. All around the periphery were large potted plants, forming small little pockets of faux privacy.

And that was when I noticed exactly what was going on around me. Those little alcoves weren’t accidental. They were the point.

I watched a man lead a leashed woman into a space against the wall, mostly hidden by one of the large plants. I saw him push her to her knees, out of my sight. I saw the way he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes when she began to suck him.

I looked quickly away, feeling the blood rise in my cheeks. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Not after being fucked on a table in this very restaurant. Still, how had I missed it before?

I looked around again, checking the shadows against the wall, amongst the plants. In one corner, two women were locked in a frantic embrace. In another, a man had a woman pinned face first against the wall. Her skirts were bunched around her hips. He had a handful of her hair and held her head drawn back as he took her from behind with quick, hard thrusts.

I turned away. My blush grew deeper. I set the champagne down with a shaking hand.

“You really could fuck me here,” I whispered.

“Of course. Would you like me to?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. He stepped behind me and wrapped one arm around my neck. The hand that had rested on the small of my back disappeared for a minute, and I felt him fumbling—in his pocket? Or was he fighting to undo his pants?—then suddenly he was touching me again, sliding his hand down my bare back, under the drape of my dress. I felt his fingers groping between my cheeks, and I moaned, wondering if he really was going to fuck me.

Something cold and hard touched my entrance. He tightened his other arm around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Push, darling. Let it in.”

I did, relaxing and bearing down, and something cold and slick and bulbous entered me, making me gasp. The plug slid into place, and still he held me. “You’ll wear that,” he said into my ear, “until I take it out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s nice and flat on the outside, so you shouldn’t have any problem sitting, although I will love to watch you squirm.”