Channel: Forbidden Pleasures Part 10

"Once," Emily said. "Only once."

"What happened?" Devlin said.

Emily shook her head. "I guess I'm not his type," she replied.

"Foolish man," he said.

Have you ever really been in love? Emily wondered. Could you fall in love with me? But she didn't dare to voice her question aloud. She didn't want to see the pity in his eyes. It would kill her if he pitied her.

"I have to go to Frankfurt in October," he said. "And I'm going to stop in England on the way back. Savannah and Pruny need a mediator. You could meet me in England, angel face," he suggested. "I know you like England."

"I could stay with Savannah," Emily said thoughtfully. "But it couldn't be any longer than a three-day weekend, Devlin. I'm in the home stretch, and I want this book in on time. I don't want J.P. to have any negotiating room with Aaron. She called him and offered a new contract before he and Kirk went off on vacation."

"What did Aaron say?" So J.P. had been listening to him after all.

"That he'd discuss it with her when he got back from Italy." Emily grinned.

Michael Devlin nodded. It was fair. Aaron was no dope, and he was hedging his bets with J.P.-making her want the new contract more than he appeared to want it.

"Okay," she said, launching herself into his lap. "No more business! You're on vacation. Want to try it in one of the boys' beautiful wing chairs?" Her blue eyes twinkled at him mischievously.

"If I get c.u.m all over the tapestry neither of them will be happy with us," he said seriously. "But what the h.e.l.l, angel face, I've always wanted to try it in a wing chair." Reaching down, he unzipped his pants, and his p.e.n.i.s almost flew out.

"Oh, me, oh, my," Emily said, looking at it. "The big fella is all ready to go, isn't he? Haven't you ever heard of foreplay, Devlin?" She pulled away from him and stood up. " 'Let me entertain you,' " she sang as she pulled off her light green tank top and tossed it carelessly across the room. Then she licked her lips suggestively and shook her b.r.e.a.s.t.s at him. " 'Let me make you smile.' " She began to wiggle seductively out of her shorts. " 'Let me do a few tricks. Some old and then some new tricks. I'm very ver-sa-tile.' " The shorts followed the tank top. Emily was quite naked, and now she began to dance in what she imagined to be a stripper's manner, b.u.mping and grinding across the room. " 'And if you're real good, I'll make you feel good. I want your spirits to climb.'" She wiggled her bottom at him. " 'So let me entertain you. And we'll have a real good time.' Oh, yeah!" She strutted toward him. " 'We'll . . . have . . . a . . . real . . . good . . . time!' "

Reaching out he grabbed her, and impaled her on his p.e.n.i.s. "Oh, yeah! We'll have a real good time," he sang.

"Brute!" she said. "Oh, G.o.d, no man should feel this good, Devlin!"

He reached out and, grasping one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hand, began to lick it. "And no mortal woman should feel this good. You fit me like a glove, angel face. Sit still for a little bit. If you move, I'm going to come. I don't want to yet."

"I'll make it stand straight and tall again, Devlin," she promised him. Bending, she kissed his ear, licking around the curve of it. "I love f.u.c.king you."

"Let's not stay at Lord Palmer's when we're in England," he said softly. "There's a great little inn in their village. I don't want to have to share our pa.s.sion with Savannah, and you know she's bold enough to listen at our door." He chuckled. He released her breast and, finding her lips, kissed her a long and tender kiss.

"The Drake's Head," she said against his mouth. "Yes, let's stay there. I'll make the reservations when you have the dates. Oh, G.o.d, Devlin! I can't take much more."

"I thought you wanted foreplay," he teased, nibbling on her ear.

"Screw foreplay! I want you, and I want us to come together!" Emily groaned. "Let go of me! I want to ride you hard, Devlin. Very hard!" She struggled against him, tucking her legs about him, and his hands released her hips, slipping up about her midsection to steady her. She moved up and down on his hard p.e.n.i.s, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes closing with her sweet desire for him as she leaned back.

He watched her face and was enchanted by her rising pa.s.sions. A pride, almost of ownership, flowed through him. She was his lover. He had taken her virginity and taught her the joys of l.u.s.t. She had proven an apt pupil. No one had ever had her but him. And no man was ever going to have her but him, Michael Devlin determined.

"Oh! Ohh! Ohhh!" Her little cries excited him further.

"I adore you!" he whispered in her ear, his own eyes closing with the intense pleasure beginning to build and build. And then it broke, and his c.u.m flooded her womb with fierce force.

"Devlin!" She sobbed his name as spasm after spasm shook her from the inside out. d.a.m.nation! She wanted her happy ending! She collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder and neck.

"It just gets better between us," he said after some moments had pa.s.sed.

"I have nothing to judge it by," she said, teasing him gently. But of course she did. Yet had she attempted to explain the Channel to him he wouldn't have understood. And it did get better between them every time. No man was ever going to satisfy her except the charming Michael Devlin. She could conjure up a host of lovers in the Channel, but no matter how skilled they were, none would ever be Michael Devlin-worse luck.

"I'm glad you can't judge my performance," he teased back. "That makes me the best you've ever had, angel face."

"Am I the best you've ever had?" she dared to ask him.

"Yes," he said, not even hesitating for a moment. "There are still things I haven't taught you, of course, but you are an incredibly apt pupil, my darling." He kissed her brow, and then said with some small humor, "If we are very careful I believe we can manage not to get the results of our efforts on Aaron and Kirk's furniture. Has your research been satisfactory, angel face?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, carefully untangling herself from him. "But I still prefer the bed, Devlin. What else have you got to teach me?"

He hesitated. What he was about to suggest wasn't for everyone, but she should attempt it at least once. "I think it's time you got your little a.s.shole stuffed with my d.i.c.k," he told her, looking carefully at her to see her reaction.

Emily swallowed hard. She had read enough Victorian p.o.r.n to know a little of what his suggestion involved. "Do you like to do that to a woman?" she asked him slowly. She wasn't certain it was something she wanted to attempt.

"Some women enjoy it," he said candidly. "But it's one of those things where you have to trust me completely in order to experience it without fear. You may not be ready. You may not want to do it at all. But then again, you might want to try it just once."

"Would you stop if I said I didn't like it?" she asked him. "I mean, it's not like our first time, where you couldn't stop after a certain point, is it?"

"If we do it and you say stop, I will stop immediately," he promised her. "We probably won't do it entirely the first time. It's important you aren't frightened. Once we've done it you may not want to do it again, angel face, but you will enjoy it. And you will be in total control of our situation, not me."

Emily stood, considering the suggestion. She knew Devlin was trustworthy. And frankly the idea of a.n.a.l s.e.x-the very forbidden nature of it-was intriguing and tempting. Was she bold enough to try? She thought some more. Yes! She did want to try it, if only once. He had said she would be in control, yet shoving her a.s.s up at him to be f.u.c.ked seemed a submissive position to her, and it was considered deviant. Still . . . "I'm game," she finally said. "Scared, but game."

He nodded. He hadn't been certain she would attempt this new form of s.e.xual pleasure, but he realized more and more that Emily was a consummate researcher. And he knew that eventually their play would show up in a book, if not this one, then the next. "Give me a moment more to recover from being ravaged by you," he said wickedly.

"I'll meet you in the bedroom. The guest room where you are staying has the same king-size bed as their bedroom. Do you think they knew I'd been visiting you?"

Devlin laughed. "I think you're probably the only woman to ever stay here, let alone get f.u.c.ked here." He chuckled.

Emily shot him a grin and disappeared into his bedroom. He waited a few minutes until he heard the shower, and then, getting carefully up, followed her. Stripping off his clothes he joined her under the pulsing jets of warm water. She took up a bar of olive oil soap from Italy and began rubbing it across his broad, smooth chest. He closed his eyes with the simple pleasure her touch gave him. Her hands moved the soap across his taut belly.

"Considering your age," she teased, "you are a fine figure of a man, Devlin."

"Ouch!" He groaned. "That was low. I was only forty last month. I loved your present, by the way," he teased back. "But it didn't last."

"You can have more anytime," she offered him, her hands soaping his b.a.l.l.s with such a delicate touch he almost squealed like a kid being touched for the first time. She turned him about and washed his shoulders, her hands sliding down his back to fondle his b.u.t.tocks with soapy fingers. Then she turned him to face her again.

In response his big hands fondled her bottom, the edge of one hand moving along the crease between the twin halves. She tensed slightly, but the hand was gone before she could even protest. "Let's get out," he suggested.

They exited the shower and dried each other off before returning to the bedroom. Devlin threw back the coverlet, revealing a smooth, pale peach jersey sheet. "They make their beds as in Europe and England," he said. "I like it. No top sheet just a bottom sheet, and down coverlet." He fell back, bringing her with him. Then he rolled her off of him and cradled her on her side. "It's better to begin this slowly," he said. "We're just going to make love, but I'm going to concentrate on touching your b.u.t.t and not your t.i.ts, okay? This isn't the kind of thing where I jump your bones, angel face. I've told you that you will be in control. If you say stop, I'll stop."

"Do you like a.s.s-f.u.c.king your lover?" she asked him, curious.

"It's an interesting variation," he said slowly. "It's no fun if your partner doesn't enjoy it. I'm not into degradation. It's like any other aspect of making love: If your partner enjoys it, you are more likely to enjoy it. We don't have to do this, Emily."

"No, I want to try," she said. "The forbidden is always enticing, Devlin." She felt his hands caressing her back, touching her b.u.t.tocks with gentle touches. Why were women so sensitive about their a.s.ses? she wondered. We're all quick enough to flash our b.r.e.a.s.t.s at our men. The edge of his hand was now running along the crease between her b.u.t.tocks. She tensed just slightly, and he immediately moved away. Okay. He's keeping his promise, she thought. But if I'm nervous when he just brushed by, what the h.e.l.l is going to happen when it gets down to the nitty-gritty? Do I really want to do this? Yeah, I do. The unknown is always scary.

Devlin loved the feel of her skin, the curve of her b.u.t.t. His hand moved back to the shadowed furrow separating her b.u.t.tocks. She tensed again, but as quickly relaxed as he followed the line of the crease. His hand pressed slightly, dipping into the fold of the flesh. He rubbed slowly, moving deeper, letting his hand remain there. "Breathe," he told her, sensing her nervousness. The little finger on his hand reached out to caress her a.n.u.s, pressing just slightly.

"Oh!"

" 'Oh' good, or 'oh' bad?" he asked.

"I didn't realize you could be sensitive there," she said.

"It's an erogenous zone too. It's just not used a whole lot," he told her.

"Touch it again," she said, and he did. "Oh, very good, Devlin," she a.s.sured him. Then she gasped as the merest tip of his little finger penetrated her, but barely. "Ohh!"

He held the finger there for a moment, and then removed it. Over the next hour he played with her gently. He had taken a tube of K-Y jelly from the nightstand, but she said nothing. They used it with the d.i.l.d.o, and she could understand the need for it in this situation. He never stopped kissing her, attempting to take the edge off of her nervousness. A single finger, covered with lubricant, pressed gently against her a.s.shole. "It's all right, angel face," he whispered in her ear as he felt her tensing up again. And when she said nothing and relaxed with his rea.s.surance, he pressed a bit more firmly against the sphincter muscle until it slowly gave way and allowed his finger forward an inch, then two inches. He stopped, letting her grow used to this invasion. "What do you think?" he asked her softly.

She was quiet a long moment, and then she said, "I think I could take a little more. It's an interesting sensation. Not uncomfortable at all."

"My c.o.c.k is a lot bigger," he reminded her. "Let's try two fingers and see how you manage, okay?"

"Okay," Emily agreed nervously as she felt the single finger being withdrawn. Then she felt the pressure again against her a.s.shole. Slowly, slowly, and with great care he now inserted two of his fingers. The sensation was, to her surprise, exciting. "Oh! Oh, good. Oh, interesting." she told him.

He was surprised at how well she was handling this. He had a.s.sumed they would not manage this style of intercourse in one session, but now he considered she might very well be ready for it. "Want to try going all the way?" he asked her, kissing her shoulder.

"Yes," she answered him. "Yes, I do."

"Do you know the correct position to a.s.sume?" he asked her. "Is it in those books of yours?" he teased mischievously as he withdrew his fingers from her.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Emily told him, rolling over, drawing her knees up beneath her, and resting her arms on the pillows.

His p.e.n.i.s was more than ready. He slid on a well-lubricated condom and rubbed her a.n.a.l opening lavishly with the jelly. Then, kneeling behind her, he positioned his c.o.c.k and began an insistent pressure he knew would force the little ring of muscle open. It gave, and he moved forward, inserting himself slowly, slowly, slowly into her a.s.shole. She gasped as he began to fill the very tight pa.s.sage, but she didn't cry off. He didn't know whether to be surprised or proud. Her trust in him was obviously total.

Oh my G.o.d! Oh my G.o.d! Oh my G.o.d! Emily whispered silently in her head. The feeling of him, of his thickness, of his ma.s.s sliding into a place she had never really considered a p.e.n.i.s should be, was incredible. There had been a slight pinch of pain, but she had held herself very still, and he had been extraordinarily gentle. Now fully sheathed, he stopped, letting them both experience the sensation of his throbbing c.o.c.k in her a.s.shole. It was certainly unlike any sensation she had ever experienced before. "You don't even have to move." She gasped. "It's not going to take much to make me come."

"Just a little of this," he said, reaching beneath her to tweak her c.l.i.toris with a skilled and very wicked finger.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Emily screamed softly, and then her o.r.g.a.s.m exploded, leaving her almost breathless.

He pulled his engorged c.o.c.k from her deliciously tight a.s.shole, pulled the condom from it, and, rolling her over onto her back, slid into her v.a.g.i.n.a. Then with slow, deliberate strokes of his p.e.n.i.s he began to again rouse the fires within her until her head was thrashing back and forth, and he could see nothing but a haze before his own eyes. Sensation! He could only feel sensation: the muscles of her v.a.g.i.n.a squeezing him hard, the heat and wetness of her. His l.u.s.t grew in intensity as he sensed she was ready to erupt again. And when she did, her second o.r.g.a.s.m even greater than the first, his pa.s.sion met hers with equal force and determination as his own juices burst forth.

Neither of them spoke for several long minutes. Finally he asked, "Well? What do you think, angel face?"

"I don't think I would do it again, Devlin, but it was a trip," Emily admitted candidly. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow, looking down into his face. "Thank you for being so gentle. I imagine with the wrong lover that would have been a very painful experience."

"It's not my favorite thing to do either," he admitted, "but some of the women I have known can come only when they've got a c.o.c.k in their a.s.shole." He pulled her into his arms. "I have to say you've got a cute one."

She felt her cheeks growing warm. "Shut up," she told him.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. His thumb brushed across her lips.

"I can't. I left all my lights on. If I don't come home until the morning someone will notice, and trust me, in Egret Pointe there will be questions, if not a cop car checking to see if I'm all right. I like that what we have is private, is ours alone."

"What do we have?" he asked her, wondering what the h.e.l.l had possessed him to voice his own insecurities.

"Whatever you want, Devlin," Emily answered him. She slipped from his arms and, getting up, went into the bathroom.

He lay quietly listening as the shower ran again. A few minutes later she returned, dressed, and, giving him a quick kiss, was gone from the bedroom. He heard the cottage door close behind her, and then the vroom of her Healy as she pulled away and drove off down the long driveway to the two-lane country road that would take her back home again. He loved her. Oh, yeah, he loved her. He had tried, but he couldn't get a handle on how she might really feel about him. Were there still women in this world who could fall in love with the first man who boffed them? Or was he merely a research helper to Emily Shanski? The thought of any other man making love to her set his pulse pounding with anger. He loved her, but could he reasonably expect her to love him back? He didn't know. Michael Devlin had never before found himself in this kind of situation.

And as she drove Emily was wondering the same thing. He had said at one point, "I adore you." Did that mean love? He had asked her what they had. Was he testing her to be certain that she wouldn't embarra.s.s him by girlishly declaring emotions for him that he could not reciprocate? For the first time in her life Emily Shanski regretted her lack of experience with a man. With love. She had never had a crush on anyone growing up. She had never had her heart broken, even once, because she was so busy trying hard not to be like her mother and her father. Maybe just once she could have thrown caution to the wind, but then the thought of the grans disappointment had always stopped her.

They had given up their middle years and their old age to bring her up. To love her and raise her to be the kind of person they had wanted Katy and Joe to be. But their own children had, in one foolish action, thrown aside the morality they had been raised to have. Only the grans cool heads and logic, along with the respect of all of Egret Pointe, had saved the day for them all. Had saved her, Emily thought. Yes, her parents had been married when she had been born. But they had been given a quick annulment with the cooperation of a local judge before Thanksgiving vacation. And everyone in town knew why they had married. If it weren't for the grans, Emily Shanski would have had a far more difficult life.

Emily didn't even dare consider what her grandmothers would think of these past three months. My G.o.d, after tonight, what hadn't she done with Michael Devlin? The thought, though sobering, still brought a grin to her face. It had been exciting in a taboo sort of way, but a.n.a.l s.e.x wasn't something she was anxious to repeat-even with her duke. Was she up to the Channel tonight, after what had happened? No, she was not. She was going to go home to bed, and go to sleep. After she had some Forbidden Chocolate ice cream. For some reason she suddenly needed chocolate in the worst way. She turned onto Founders Way, and drove straight down the street into her driveway. Her cell phone began to ring as she got out of the car. Smiling, she answered it. "I'm just home. Do you have radar, Devlin?"

"Are you in the house?"

"I'm opening the kitchen door now," she told him as she turned the key and walked into her house, closing and locking the door behind her. "I'm in and locked."

"Can I come over?" he asked her plaintively.

"No. I want a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's a workday for me. Good night, Devlin. Sleep tight. My p.u.s.s.y and I will be thinking of you." She made kissing noises into the telephone.

"My c.o.c.k and I will be thinking of you both too," he promised, and made kissing noises back at her. "Good night, angel face." He clicked off.

Emily sighed. Why did love have to hurt so d.a.m.ned much?

August seemed to fly by. It was a hot and dry month. Devlin was at her house for breakfast on the mornings she hadn't been at the cottage overnight. They swam together at the club. He rented a small catboat for the month, and they spent afternoons out on the bay. They celebrated her birthday in bed with champagne, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. It was clear on the peak night of the Perseid meteor showers. The moon was new, and had set by after midnight, which was the prime viewing time. They lay in a double lounge chair down on the cottage's narrow beach, watching the shooting stars. Afterward they made slow, leisurely love, dozed, and swam in the bay as the dawn broke. Emily could not remember a time in her life when she had been so utterly and completely happy.

And neither could Michael Devlin, although it was a thought he kept to himself.

Labor Day weekend Rina Seligmann insisted they join her and Sam for dinner at the club. "You've been hiding out all month," she told Emily. "You don't even answer messages, and you gave Essie all of August off, paid. How am I supposed to get my gossip if Essie isn't there?"

Emily laughed. "You aren't. This has been a private time, and even I'm ent.i.tled to one of those at least once a century. What time do you want us? Devlin is going back Sunday night to beat the Monday traffic."

"Sat.u.r.day night. Eight p.m. Have you heard from Aaron?"

"I got two postcards from Capri. The last one complained that Kirk wouldn't let him stay longer, but insisted on returning to Tuscany," Emily replied.

Rina chuckled. "My brother is such a gadabout," she remarked. "I don't blame Kirk. When are they back?"

"Sunday afternoon," Emily said. "See you Sat.u.r.day night."

"Do we have to go?" Michael Devlin wanted to know.

"Yep, we do," Emily answered. "Rina's my mother figure, and her brother is my agent. She's practically family. And you liked her, and Dr. Sam will keep her under control, I promise. I'm surprised she called. I thought she'd be up at Camp Cozy this weekend. Sam must be on call at the hospital."

"What's Camp Cozy?" he asked, curious.

"Rina and her neighbors on Ansley Court bought a big old house up in the mountains on a lake twenty-five years ago. The women used to go up every summer with their kids. The kids named it Camp Cozy. The men would come on weekends, or for a week or two in August. At least they won't all be at the club Sat.u.r.day evening," she said.