The Midsummer Auction Part 3

"He whispers in my ear that he cannot wait any longer, that he must taste me, and I understand exactly what he is going to do. I know this will be the ultimate caress, the one that will swiftly push me over the edge, and I am instantly hungry for it. l.u.s.t pools in my belly, and I nod my head to let him know that I want it.

"He withdraws his c.o.c.k and turns me around to face him. He eases my blouse off, and it falls to the floor. He urges me against the windowsill and kneels on the floor in front of me. My skin p.r.i.c.kles with antic.i.p.ation as he parts my thighs and circles his wet tongue inside my s.e.x.

"It is a sensation beyond description. His mouth possesses me, all of me, while his tongue explores inside my l.a.b.i.a, searching, licking, stroking. The touch of his tongue is warm, tender, and so excruciatingly sensual I press my s.e.x hard against his face in a paroxysm of carnal pleasure. The stimulation is so powerful, so intensely sensual it depletes me. My climax, which has been building, picks up speed and every fiber of my being goes on high alert. I can feel the rush of blood to my groin as it prepares for the onslaught of the powerful s.e.xual release that is building in me. All volition leaves me, and my body stiffens and then contracts as my climax peaks and boils over on his tongue. My legs go limp as he continues sucking me hungrily and I sag, shuddering as my climax spends itself in punishing waves."

l.u.s.t incised Anthony like a laser. To taste her on his tongue, make her come like that! It went straight for his gut and took up permanent residence. He clenched his fist, fighting to stay on top of it.

"What happens then?" His voice was low.

"I know he wants to do more, and I want him to."

Anthony uttered a strangled sound, and instinctively, his hand strayed to his throbbing c.o.c.k tenting his trousers, even though he knew it couldn't possibly soothe the ache. Listening to her recount her fantasy was killing him. He wanted to f.u.c.k her so badly that his entire body was shrieking in protest at the delay.

"What does he do after he has made you come?"

"He lifts me up in his arms, carries me to the bed, and lays me down. He whispers my name, but I am unable to respond. He lies over me and inserts his erection just inside my s.e.x, bathing it in the wetness that has welled inside my slit and brushing my nub with its warm wet tip. He does it over and over in a rhythmic sensual torture that makes me drool even though my climax has sapped my strength and left me inert. He continues brushing his c.o.c.k against me there and I experience a tingly sensation that tells me I am on the verge of coming again. But before I do he parts my legs and pushes his c.o.c.k all the way in. I like how it feels, tight and oiled.

"He is on his knees. He pulls my legs up on either side of his body to raise my hips so that he can penetrate me deeper. My body becomes his instrument, something he plays to pleasure himself, holding me still like a vessel as he rams in and out of me. I can feel him getting bigger and tighter, and he is plunging faster now, going deeper. I know his climax is beginning. He grits his teeth and begins to swivel his hips, deliberate and slow. I feel him inside my belly, hot and slippery. My arms and legs surround him, imprisoning him, milking him."

Anthony felt himself tremble from the superhuman effort of staying glued to his chair.

"He begins to shudder, as though he is trying to hold back. He rears back and I see how his face is contorted with the effort. His skin has a sheen. He grimaces as he withdraws his c.o.c.k, and I feel his emissions spraying outside my s.e.x and all over my belly. It feels warm. Once he has stopped coming he remains kneeling over me, breathing hard. Then he bends his head and begins to lick me, licking away his come.

"The touch of his tongue probing my s.e.x, flicking at my nub, makes me come in seconds, and I go on coming because he does not stop. His coaxing tongue makes me come and come, and something in me understands that as long as he keeps licking me I will keep coming. I lose all awareness of my surroundings as my body vibrates under the sweetness of his tongue drawing an unending climax out of me. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss I arrive at a state where I feel rendered and my body can take no more, give no more, do no more.

"It is as if he knows when he has achieved what he wanted, taken me to my s.e.xual nirvana. He stops licking me, takes me in his arms and asks in a whisper if I am all right. I can only nod weakly. He pulls a blanket over us and we are dead to the world."

While relating the fantasy she had become relaxed, had forgotten about feeling intimidated by this man and what he would do to her.

"When you wake in the morning do you remember the fantasy?" Anthony's throat felt like sandpaper and his groin ached from the l.u.s.t that had savaged it as he listened to her soft voice relating her fantasy, knowing it was turning her on even as she spoke.

"When I wake in the morning I am in my own bed. I feel aroused and tingly, and I have to touch myself 'til I come."

Chapter Eight.

At the sight of her, a dark-haired Venus Rising in his bed, uttering those words as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his restraint disintegrated.

He stood up precipitately and went toward the bed, his movements so purposeful her eyes flew open and she was jerked back to the reality of her situation. This was it. There was no going back, no stopping him.

Gripped by a panicky sensation over what was about to happen, she watched fearfully as he hastily removed his clothing. In the blink of an eye he was on the bed, kneeling in front of her, stark naked. His c.o.c.k, erect and powerful, pointed at her, an unstoppable relentless force that had risen to the occasion and was ready to deliver.

Seeing it a thrill of antic.i.p.ation tinged with fear streaked through her and she tore her eyes away from it to look up at him. As their eyes met she saw his change, darken, and without warning he yanked her dress up, tugged it forcefully over her head, and tossed it away. Seizing her around the waist he urged her into a horizontal position, pushed her hands up over her head and pinned them down with his arm. He lay down beside her, draping one leg over her to keep her from moving.

His hormones, already in overdrive en route to everywhere in his body, speeded up crazily at the sight of her lovely naked body lying next to his, and he fought down a powerful urge to slip between her legs and push his aching c.o.c.k into her up to the hilt. He would, and very soon, but first, there was something he felt compelled to say to her so that when it was finished she would know he had never harbored any romantic notions about what her being in his bed meant.

"You know why you're here," he said, hanging on desperately to the last remnant of his self-control. "I don't need you to try to turn this into something that it isn't. I know what I want and so do you, so there's no reason to pretend it's anything more than that." He stopped, unable to form any more words or even think of what else there could be to say. His mind went blank, leaving him conscious of just one thing-she was there, lying right next to him, and he wanted her. G.o.d, how he wanted her.

Obeying pure instinct he reached for her breast and filled his hand with her tender flesh. The rubbery texture of her nipple peaking against his palm made him long to feel it in his mouth and he gave in. Leaning across her he closed his lips around it, enjoying the shuddery sound of her indrawn breath as he pleasured it with his tongue. The sound was rea.s.suring, because he had sensed some uncertainty in her earlier, although he couldn't imagine why she would put herself up for sale and be tentative about it after the fact.

He reached down, grasped her thong, tugged it haphazardly down to her thighs, and slid two fingers inside her v.a.g.i.n.a. She was wet, as he knew she would be from her fantasy. He began to stroke her, long pressured strokes, his fingers lingering momentarily in sweet, slick collisions against her nub as they slipped easily in and out of her soaked center.

s.e.xual excitation ran helter-skelter through her, blistering her insides with its fevered touch as it raced heatedly down to the little knot of nerve endings and blood vessels bunching around her mound. The sight of her face contorted with acute s.e.xual tension excited him so much his c.o.c.k hurt. There was only one way to soothe the ache. He had to be inside her.

With his free hand he seized the confining thong and drew it down her thighs and off her. He gathered her in his arms, covering her with his body, scoring her nipples with his teeth as he inserted his demanding c.o.c.k between her warm thighs. She wrapped her arms around him and caressed the back of his head, combing her fingers through the fine hair at his nape. She arched to make more of it accessible to his mouth that was now igniting her midriff with a trail of hot, wet kisses. With his lips, he traced the downy path from her navel, tantalizing her with a seductive promise.

She jerked and stiffened as desire arrowed down to the place his lips had just touched. He urged her back down, and then, with his hands hard on her thighs to keep them apart, began to use his mouth, nose, and tongue to acquaint himself thoroughly with the inside of each thigh. She trembled uncontrollably as he worked his way down to her knees and back up again, touching, tasting and breathing her in. His hair feathered her thighs seductively, and her legs twitched spasmodically, antic.i.p.ating the feel of his mouth.

His breath blasted her like the hot wind that precedes a raging forest fire as his mouth swallowed up her s.e.x, licking everywhere, inside her slit, her nub, between her folds, as though eager to capture every last drop of the moisture pouring out of her. Then his teeth seized her nub, nibbling on it so hungrily it forced a tortured exclamation out of her that became a primitive keen because of the excruciatingly erotic pleasure he was giving her as he turned her fantasy into reality.

Heat blanketed her like lava spilling through the fissures of a volcano, liquefying her belly and flushing down to wash over her s.e.x. A heavy la.s.situde overcame her, sapping her strength and banishing any thought of resistance. She was his, his to suck, lick, bite, and f.u.c.k, for as long as he wanted. Whatever he wanted to do to her, however and whenever he wanted to do it, she would let him.

"I want you to do it. Put it inside me," she panted.

All at once, he stopped what he was doing, becoming so still he seemed to have turned into stone between her legs. Becoming aware that something was amiss she raised her head off the pillow to see what was going on. Her eyes encountered his, and their coldness confused her. Using her elbows she pushed herself into a sitting position, knowing only that something was very wrong. But before she could speak he was off the bed, backing away with both hands upraised, palms facing out like a stop sign, as though to keep her at bay, distance himself from a situation that was suddenly not to his liking.

She stared at him, puzzled. "What is it? What happened?"

"I can't do this," he replied tersely. "It's not going to happen. I want you to go back to your room."

s.n.a.t.c.hing up his trousers he pulled them on, strode to the door and held it open, waiting for her to leave.

"But why? Did I do something wrong?"

His face twisted in an involuntary grimace, as though from a sudden sharp pain. "Yes! No!" He exploded then exhaled, visibly attempting to regain control of himself. "Look, this isn't working for me anymore, okay?" he said roughly. "But there were never any guarantees, so just go. Now!" His face was hard, implacable.

She stared at him in disbelief. She had done nothing wrong. In fact, she had done everything he asked. Whatever was eating at him was not her fault. He was dismissing her as if she were an unsatisfactory slag, and her face flamed with embarra.s.sment. She felt angry tears forming and refused to let them fall. Who the h.e.l.l did he think he was? The king of f.u.c.king Siam? She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She would leave with dignity if it killed her.

Outwardly composed, she got off the bed, picked her dress and thong up off the floor, and put them on. As if she had all the time in the world she looked around for her sandals, found them, and stepped into them. His impatience for her to be gone was a live presence in the room. Conscious of his eyes on her she went to the dresser and tidied her hair, her movements purposely unhurried just to annoy him. Finished at last, she walked to the door and stood in front of him. She looked up at him and before she was even aware of forming the intent, her hand came up and smacked him in the face.

"Your behavior was uncalled for," she informed him levelly, "and you seem to have forgotten that we made an agreement. I have no objection if you wish to back out of it, you're allowed to do that, but please have the decency to go through the proper channels." Head held high, giving no indication that she was at the breaking point, she walked out the door.

Back in the privacy of her room she dropped all pretense of dignity. Throwing herself face down on the bed she let the tears come.

Chapter Nine.

She awoke around ten and sat up abruptly, the sudden movement making her momentarily dizzy. As she pushed away the blanket she saw she was still wearing the dress from last evening, and it was an immediate reminder of how miserably the evening had ended. He had summarily dismissed her-sent her out of his bed, out of his room like a common tart. How could she ever have thought that this was the way to get the money she so desperately needed? Nothing was worth such humiliation.

Her head felt heavy. She lay back, wondering what would happen now. He hadn't told her the deal was off. He had ordered her out of his suite, sent her back to her room. But then she had slapped him. She hadn't meant to. It just happened. And on top of that she had insulted him, criticized his behavior. She doubted he'd ever want to see her again. It was over and she was back to square one. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She had counted so hard on that money! Dad was right. If something seemed too good to be true it probably was.

After a while, she threw aside the covers and got out of bed. Lying in bed crying wouldn't solve anything. If he wanted her gone, she might as well know now and get on with it.

After splashing some water on her face she changed into navy slacks and a pale yellow sweater and went out of the room. She paused in the corridor, listening. The house was very quiet, not a sound, not a voice to be heard. She hesitated then walked quickly down the corridor. As she started down the stairs she heard a door open, and she tensed but kept going. But it was only Hodgett, who suddenly materialized from one of the rooms on the ground floor.

"Good morning, miss," he said, when she arrived on the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, Hodgett," she replied. "I...I'm afraid I overslept." She dug her nails into her palm, steeling herself to take the plunge.

"Yes, miss?" Hodgett said encouragingly.

She took a deep breath. "There is a matter I need to discuss with Sir Anthony. Could you ask him to see me for a few minutes? It won't take long. I'll wait here."

"I'm sorry, miss. I'm afraid I can't do that. Sir Anthony left for London early this morning."

"Oh," she said, looking at Hodgett nonplussed. "Did he say when he would return?"

"He didn't, miss."

"I see. Thank you, Hodgett." She turned and started back up the stairs, feeling unaccountably let down.

"Would you like to have your breakfast in the morning room, miss?" Hodgett called up to her. She paused on the stairs, turning to look down at him. "It's the second room on your right, up the corridor. There's a nice fire going. You can make yourself comfortable while I prepare a breakfast tray for you. I'm sure you must be hungry," he added, observing her intently.

She realized she was hungry. And besides, hadn't Dad always said it was better not to make decisions on an empty stomach? She came back down the stairs. "Thank you, Hodgett. That sounds lovely."

As he had said, there was a lovely fire going in the morning room, and she sank gratefully into one of the two comfortable armchairs flanking the fireplace. Hodgett disappeared and returned within minutes, wheeling a trolley laden with covered dishes and cutlery, which he placed on the desk. There was a small round table between the two armchairs. He pulled it closer to her chair and laid out the dishes on it.

"Enjoy your breakfast, miss," he said. "If you need anything, just ring the bell." He indicated a bell pull hanging near the fireplace, pushed the trolley against the wall, and left the room.

After she had eaten she sat gazing thoughtfully into the fire. Her invitation to join Sir Anthony at his country house had stipulated that she would be there for an indefinite stay. He was at liberty to change his mind at any time, but his bid for her would stand whether or not he wished to continue his liaison with her. If, on the other hand, she failed to live up to the term of their agreement that she be available to him for the next six months, she would receive only a fraction of the bid, prorated to reflect the time she had spent with him. The rest of the money would be returned to him, provided that his treatment of her had not been unreasonable. But according to Henrietta Colefax, thus far nothing like that had ever happened. She dreaded the thought of being the first woman to fail and causing Henrietta to think that inviting Nicola to partic.i.p.ate in the Midsummer Auction had been a dreadful mistake.

He had left for London this morning, giving no indication as to whether he wanted her to leave or to stay. Common sense dictated that she should wait, let him be the one to make the decision. If he sent her away, the money would still be hers, whereas if she chose to leave she would get almost nothing. She couldn't possibly claim that he had been unreasonable to reject her at the very moment his lovemaking had taken her to the peak of fulfillment. It was his prerogative to decide when and where he would have s.e.x with her. Walking out because he had decided not to simply wasn't an option.

She knew from Henrietta that he had bid ninety thousand pounds for her, so her share would be well over sixty thousand pounds. That amount of money would more than solve her problems. She would easily be able to repay the loan and the interest, and the estate would be hers and Em's, free and clear. And then, then, with what was left over, she could start working toward realizing her dream.

But first you have to earn it. When she heard that little voice inside her head, her nostrils flared, the tips turning white. Her love for the land had ensnared her in a trap and there was no other way out. All right. I'll stay until he asks me to leave. I may be selling my body but at least I'm doing it for something worthwhile. What's his excuse? He had outbid everyone else, paid a fortune for her in cold hard cash. Why? Feelings didn't enter into it, she knew that much because he had certainly made that clear. Had he been willing to pay so much just for the thrill of winning? Fine! For whatever reason, whatever sick fantasy he needed to fulfill, it seemed he wanted to fulfill it with her. Something had gone wrong last night, but if he had second thoughts and wanted to continue the game she'd give him exactly what he wanted, hold up her end of the bargain. Eyes on the prize, Nicola!

She got up, marched over to the bell rope, and tugged on it.

Within seconds, Hodgett appeared. He looked at her approvingly, noting the empty dishes and that the color had come back into her cheeks. "You're free to tour the house if you like, miss. And to use the swimming pool if you care to," he said, picking up the tray.

"I'd like that," she said eagerly. Then her face fell. "But I didn't bring a swimsuit."

Hodgett regarded her inscrutably, and she blushed, understanding.

"Oh," she said.

"There are cover-ups in the change room, miss, if you want to relax by the pool after you've had your swim."

"Thank you, Hodgett," she said, her face still a little flushed. Then a thought occurred to her. "Are there any rooms I'm not supposed to go into?"

"If there are, they will probably be locked, so don't worry. Just feel free to wander around."

She decided to take the tour while she waited for her breakfast to go down. Mum had always been adamant about that. The rule was you had to wait at least one hour after eating before going swimming or you'd sink like a stone.

Since she was already on the ground floor, she decided to tour it first. She wandered up and down the corridor, opening doors and looking into the various rooms that were open. She peeped into the formal living room that looked as though it didn't see a lot of living. It was so grand, a grand parlor really, with its gigantic baroque-style fireplace. Near one of the windows was a beautiful Steinway, angled to allow the player the benefit of natural light. Still, she didn't think she would want to spend a lot of time there. She eyed some of the portraits on the wall, probably Sir Anthony's ancestors. Obviously distinguished, but why did they look so...so...bilious, like they needed a good dose of Andrews Liver Salts to set things right? Amused at the thought-it had been Mum's solution to whatever ailed you-she shut the door and proceeded with the tour.

Behind another door down the corridor there was a large boardroom with a projector screen at one end. Probably where they held their meetings, she thought, closing that door quickly too. She entered a lovely sunny sitting room, welcoming and informal with comfortable sofas and chairs upholstered in colorful chintz that reminded her of the tropics, small highly polished tables adorned with priceless-looking knickknacks, and beautiful paintings on the wall that were probably worth a small fortune. She looked around it thoughtfully. For sure, a woman had decorated this room for her own use. It had a warm and feminine touch. Feeling like an intruder all of a sudden, she closed the door and continued down the corridor. The next door she opened revealed a large dining room with two magnificent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above the ma.s.sive table that could probably seat forty people.

Most of the doors on the first floor seemed to be locked. The corridor walls were adorned with more portraits and beautiful landscapes, some of which looked like originals. She identified a couple of Constables and a Turner and, of course, a Monet. Everybody had one hanging in the living room, but if this was a reproduction it was outstanding. Dad had taught her a lot about art. These pieces must have cost a fortune, even the frames would break the bank-her bank, anyway.

At the end of the corridor, a staircase led to the second floor, and she stood at the bottom of it, looking up. It was dark and forbidding. Who in their right mind would want to go up there by themselves? Unless, of course, they were teenagers in a horror film, in which case they always were killed off, deservedly so for being brainless enough to go up there alone in the first place.

Eventually, the hour had slipped by and she decided to have her swim. Following Hodgett's directions she made her way to the pool and went into the change room. As he had said, there were several cover-ups hanging on hooks. Feeling a little odd, she removed her clothes, pulled on one of the cover-ups, came out, and sat on the edge of the pool. She tested the water with her toes. It felt okay. After five minutes of building up her courage, she walked around to the deep end, removed her cover-up, and dove in. The water was colder than she had expected. It took her breath away at first, but as Dad had always said encouragingly, as soon as you got moving, you would be okay. She did about ten laps. She was a good swimmer. She splashed around in the water for a bit, then got out, dried off, and put her clothes back on. She would go back to her room, take a shower, and wash the chlorine out of her hair. Then maybe she would sit in that lovely little sitting room and read for a bit.

There was a full-length mirror on the inside of her bathroom door. She studied her reflection objectively. Her figure was as slender as a reed, but her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, waist, and hips were well proportioned, her stomach as flat as a ballerina's. As she examined her body, the embers that still flickered inside her from the previous night burst eagerly into flame as the memory of his mouth on her-the memory she had deliberately repressed, had refused to allow into her head all morning-pushed itself brazenly to the forefront of her mind.

With her hands she pushed up both b.r.e.a.s.t.s, making them appear full and voluptuous. She closed her eyes and caressed her nipples with her forefingers and thumbs until they peaked, urgent. She could feel herself tingling down there. She remembered the feel of his mouth sucking her there and shivered. She opened her mouth, breathing short, quick breaths through it to expel the desire that had been secretly eating at her all morning to feel him touching her, kissing her like that again. It was intolerable, this feeling of...of wanting more from him in spite of how callously he had treated her. But he had been thinking of her only as the woman he had bought, while in her mind, he had become her lover. He would summon her again, of that she was suddenly certain. But from now on she would make sure never to let on how his touch, how the feel of his mouth taking her had ripped the heart and soul out of her and had turned her into a quivering ma.s.s of jelly. Never ever again.

She dropped her hands, turned the shower on hastily, and got into the cubicle. She held her face up to the spray, waiting for the sting of it to paralyze her nerve endings so that she no longer had to feel this unaccountable sense of loss.

Chapter Ten.

She was stuck inside his head like an old school song, the one a person remembered all the words to and could sing it from beginning to end without missing a word or a beat. And other times, just s.n.a.t.c.hes of the refrain ran through your head. That was how it was with her. Sometimes he envisioned all of her so clearly. Other times, it was just bits and pieces, turning up in his subconscious out of the blue. The mossy pools of her eyes, her mouth, the hollow of her throat-all the intimate places where his lips had lingered. He might as well face it, never again would there be a time when she wasn't with him. She was in his head to stay.

When she walked into his suite last night the sight of her took him back light years, but he saw immediately that she hadn't the faintest idea who he was, didn't recognize him. He experienced a stab of disappointment but decided to play along. He quickly realized she had changed, become a woman, the type of woman who not only indulged in erotic fantasies but could be paid to sit naked on a bed recounting them to strange men. It was hard to face the truth, which was that to her he was just another one of those strange men who would pay handsomely for what she had to give. Like them, the sight of her had filled him with l.u.s.t, and he had fallen on her like a starving dog sighting a piece of meat. But instead of just f.u.c.king her simply because he could, he had begun to make love to her.

Even now, his mouth watered at the memory of her scent, how she tasted, felt. He had had s.e.x with a lot of women, but he recognized instinctively that Nicola was sensual to the bone and utterly s.e.xually driven. He had responded to it like a madman, wanting to tear her apart, to know every inch of her inside and out, to eat her, to drink her up, to swallow her down. And she acted as though it was what she wanted too. But when she begged him to put his c.o.c.k inside her, it was like a slap in the face, the kind that may not hurt you physically but that brings you to your senses. She would have let him f.u.c.k her despite not knowing him from a hole in the ground. It angered him because it meant he had been right all along. To her he always had been and still was n.o.body. Coming to terms with that was incredibly hard.

After sending her out of his room he realized he couldn't stay there either, couldn't lie on those sheets that reeked of her. He spent the night on the couch in the sitting room that used to belong to his mother. When morning came, he knew he had to leave. He headed for his Mayfair town house to hide out and to put distance between them so that he could think, without the distraction of knowing she was close by, right there under his roof.

By the middle of the afternoon he was so desperate he had already taken out his mobile at least six times to call Henrietta to ask her what she knew about Nicola and what possible reason she could have for doing this. The Edgertons had possessed more money than G.o.d, so why in G.o.d's name had she put herself up for auction? Was it because she found the game so enjoyable?

But each time, he had decided against calling Henrietta. It was a code of honor that bidders could not pry into the women's background. That was Henrietta's job and they had to trust her, or the game was over. He had another reason too, for not wanting to ask Henrietta for personal information about Nicola. It might make her feel that he was calling in favors. Several years ago, she had lost a lot of money in the Lloyd's crash, and he had helped her to get back on her feet financially with a significant loan, which she had repaid without interest. He could easily have afforded to just give her the money and offered to do so. She had refused, insisting on paying him back. But he had flatly rejected her offer to pay interest. Erstwhile lovers, they had remained best friends. He couldn't do anything now that might jeopardize that friendship.

By eight o'clock he couldn't take it any longer. He charged out of the house and jumped in his car. He had to go back to Hampshire because she was there. He had only been fooling himself when he left this morning and deep down inside, had known it, known he had unfinished business with her, known he had never gotten over his fascination with her. Now that she had so unexpectedly resurfaced in his life, he wasn't ready yet to just let her fade out of it again.