Dance of the Crystal (12 page)

“Madam would be very disappointed in you.”

“Sorry. She’ll just have to be disappointed.” He tried to sidestep the butler, but the man adroitly anticipated every move Soren made as he tried to reach the sliding pocket doors that led to the hallway and freedom.

“And the guest of honor?” The butler raised a snooty eyebrow.

“Crystal? What about her?”

“Do you wish to disappoint her too?”

“She doesn’t even know I’m here.”

The smug look made Soren want to rearrange the man’s face with a fist. Especially since catcalls and whistles were now emanating from the stage area.

“
Mademoiselle
.” The butler tilted his head in a slight bow.

“Soren. Thank you for coming.”

He turned slowly, noting the cautious tone of Crystal’s voice. They hadn’t spoken since the rock-throwing incident the previous week when he’d accused her of slumming. Then he’d compounded it by bumming a ride from Magnus. Who had told him, Soren remembered ruefully, that he’d acted like an ass.

No wonder she looked so hesitant, as if afraid he’d bite her head off if she touched him. So what was he supposed to do, apologize again? And say what? Sorry I took your cherry? Sorry I left without thanking you?

Suddenly he felt boxed in, Crystal on one side, the butler on the other. He swung back around and took the three steps needed to reach the pocket doors, tucked his fingers in the slots, and yanked.

“Locked. But don’t worry, sir. In case of fire, I’m stationed right here with the key. Or you could exit onto the patio from any of the French doors.”

“Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.” With a slight hesitation he almost didn’t notice, Crystal took hold of his left hand and tugged. Her flushed cheeks were the same shade as the flowers on her dress, like a field of red-orange poppies growing wild. As he took a step to follow her, her beautiful brown eyes went heavy lidded, like they were when he’d carried her to her bed the other night.

Soren shook his head. He didn’t need that vision. He would not let his cock trap him into something he wasn’t ready for.

She pulled him through the crowd, which was tossing out raunchy asides to the performers. “Grandma said something to me that really made sense. She said that since I’m just starting to try out my wings, I shouldn’t make a commitment to anyone. In fact,” Crystal squared her shoulders, as if she expected him to contradict her, “she lined up these three gorgeous guys so I can, as she says, sample their wares.”

Soren tensed. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Crystal making out, maybe screwing, any or all of the guys on stage. Especially not Rolf. Or that older man she’d been so cozy with, for that matter. Or, he realized, the young guy he’d met in Rowena’s study who Crystal said had forced his attentions on her in her truck. Augie, he thought his name was. At least Augie was leering at Deirdra at the moment, and not Crystal.

“On the other hand…” Crystal tentatively settled an arm around Soren’s waist and watched the men on stage. They now had removed their black pants as well as their shirts and shoes and were swiveling their hips clad only in Speedo-skinny trunks. “She says I might want to consider a
ménage a trois
with you and one of the men on stage. Would you like to try that?”

“Your
grandmother
tells you things like that?”

“Oh, she’s always saying outrageous things trying to shock me.” She cocked her head and looked at him, her face an intriguing mixture of coquette and naïf. “Does the idea of a
ménage a trois
bother you?”

“You…with two…
men
?” The last word came out no better than a squeak.

No way. No how. Soren couldn’t wrap his mind around that idea. Not her. Crystal was still so innocent.

For Pete’s sake, she’d just had sex for the first time the other night. With him, he reminded himself. He’d taken her cherry. Still, she had all but demanded it.

“Or with me and another woman, if that’s your pleasure. I notice that you met Deirdra. She’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

She was pulling his chain. She had to be. She’d smoked something, or snorted something, or had too much to drink. But hell, she meant nothing to him. Nothing. Let her do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted. “It’s none of my business.”

Crystal turned fully, leveled an intense gaze at him. “So the fact that we made love doesn’t—”

One of the dancers—the tallest, most muscular, and to Soren’s eye the ugliest—jumped off the stage and swept Crystal into his massive arms. He swung around and handed her to the other stranger, who set her on her feet on the stage. By God, if Rolf did something with Crystal in full view of two dozen adults, he’d-—

But no. Rolf was flaunting his barely covered dick to the grandmother, who had somehow also gotten up on stage, and she was rocking her hips in a suggestive way to the insistent beat of the music.
Auntie
Mame with a cunt
, he remembered a guest saying.

The big goon went after Deirdra and sent her up the stage as well, then jumped back up to join them. To Soren’s horror, the women all began disrobing, Crystal unbuttoning her blouse and her friend slipping her T-shirt over her head. Rowena simply undid some buttons at her shoulders and her entire shift slid to the floor.

A disconnected part of Soren’s brain noted that, for a septuagenarian, the grandmother had a terrific figure, lean, firm, with well-toned skin, the finest money could buy, he thought cynically.

Then his gaze flicked back to Crystal. Her face was even more flushed, she was laughing, her eyes sparkled, and she had just stepped out of the skirt, which lay in a puddle of red flowers on the stage floor. She was covered, barely, by what he fervently hoped was a bikini bathing suit and not underwear.

Dammit, it looked like she enjoyed being an exhibitionist! He was torn between jumping up there himself to cover her with his shirt, and getting down and dirty—and naked—along with her.

Something registered in his peripheral vision. More skin. The other guests began flinging shirts, tops, skirts, slacks, every which way, and it looked like Rowena was their ringleader, encouraging them to get more comfortable. Meaning, more naked.

Suddenly a bank of lights flared outside. Soren blinked. Behind the wall of French doors the butler had mentioned earlier, a spacious flagstone patio led to an expanse of blue-green shimmer. Water. Lit from below.

Rolf lifted Rowena into his arms. The ugly stripper swept Crystal up and the third one took Deirdra. As if it had been choreographed and rehearsed, the three men with their armfuls marched down the stage steps and out one of the French doors.

“Suits optional,” Rowena shouted. “Everyone into the pool!”

Even though the old woman had told them all to wear swimsuits under their party clothing, he hadn’t been prepared for this…this…orgy, the frenzy of ripping off clothes and lewd comments. How could she do this to him? She’d been so sweet and innocent, and suddenly she’d become a tramp. Moving her hips obscenely up there on stage, her breasts barely contained in those tiny swatches of cloth that passed for a bra, her creamy skin sheened with a glow of perspiration and arousal as she reveled in having all eyes on her.

He couldn’t give her the painting now. Not after she’d prostituted herself before all those undeserving, ogling men. He’d pictured it time and time again. How he’d invite her to the special place he’d set up for her. How her eyes would light up when she first realized what he’d done, after she’d studied the way he’d had the artist superimpose her own face on that of the Madonna in all her purity, her white and blue robes swirling about her, the delicate feet crushing the snake, spawn of Satan, in the Garden of Eden.

Perhaps there was still hope for her. Perhaps he could convince her of the error of her ways. If he could just get her alone for a few weeks…

Yes. That’s what he’d do. He’d make it so she had to depend on him for every little thing she needed.

Food, water, light, sleep. She’d bathe when he said she could, she’d hold her bladder until he allowed her release. He’d cleanse her of all trace of obscenity. And then he’d have his pure Madonna forever.

* * * * *

Kat gave a short
whoop
and dodged Magnus’ hand as he tried to catch her. She’d shed her bra, daring him to skinny-dip along with those already frolicking buck-naked in Rowena’s heated, Olympic-size pool. Taking a breath, she dove to the deep end, gliding beneath various hairy and sleek legs bobbing above her. She surfaced, swung her fiery red hair out of her face, and reached for the edge to hoist herself up.

And felt a strong hand grip one ankle, another hand on her calf, then Magnus was walking his hands up her body from behind. She felt the friction of his chest hair as he slid his slick, wet torso up her naked back.

“Those tits are for my eyes only,” he growled in her ear just before he scraped her earlobe with his teeth.

His huge hands cupped her breasts possessively, capturing her hard nipples between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers and squeezing gently. “Guess I’ll just have to keep them covered until everyone’s out of the pool.”

She arched her back, thrusting her ass into his groin area. His very formidable groin area. Oh, she’d love to rip off his swimsuit and get that thick, heavy cock into her right this minute. She was teaching Magnus to be more playful, more open with his emotions and his urges in public.

And he was learning even now. “Don’t move.”

Releasing her breasts, he dipped below the surface of the pool, his mouth leisurely following the contour of her spine until he reached the top of her crack. With one yank he tugged her bikini bottom down to her ankles, then worked it over her feet. Just the idea of Magnus stripping her naked in a crowded pool gave her libido a jump-start. As if she needed an excuse to get horny with him.

Magnus surfaced again, and with a quick movement lifted her hands off the pool’s edge, where she’d been obediently treading water, and spun her around. He curled her arms around his neck and positioned her legs around his waist. The scrape of fabric against her shin brought a fleeting frown to her face. Why was he still wearing a swimsuit?

“Hang on to me,” he ordered. With one hand on the pool’s edge to stabilize them, he reached between their bodies and yanked out a formidable handful of hot male flesh from his suit. With no foreplay he rammed his cock upward into her waiting pussy. His mouth captured her involuntary cry at the suddenness, at the
daring
—for him—of Magnus’ action.

A long moment of utter stillness ticked by during which his lips remained pressed against hers, his cock deep and unmoving in her pussy. Kat knew he was teasing her, silently imposing his will on her. She also suspected that if she rocked her hips, urged him in any way to continue fucking her, that he’d withdraw.

He was doing his best to accommodate her exhibitionist tendencies within his own comfort level—his level being one that kept his swimsuit on in public—and she loved him all the more for it.

Still, she couldn’t resist rhythmically squeezing her Kegel muscles around him, teasing him in return.

“Witch,” he murmured against her mouth. He withdrew his cock until only the tip remained inside her, locked his intense gaze to hers. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

She loved this side of him, the domineering lover who would play her like a harp, plucking, riffling, sending her headlong toward a climax only to dampen the vibration of the strings then send another arpeggio spiraling through her body.

Slowly he pushed his throbbing cock back inside her pussy. One hand controlling her hip, the other holding on to the pool’s edge, he established an excruciatingly unhurried rhythm until she was biting her tongue to keep from moaning. Her breasts flattened against his chest as she squeezed her arms more tightly around his neck, clutched his waist with her legs. Her teeth bit into the side of his neck. The sounds of other voices, the playful splashing of water around them, faded away until there was only the two of them, cocooned by their love and their lust.

“Take a deep breath and look at me,” Magnus whispered then let go of his anchor to immovable land.

Warm water closed over their heads and, gazes locked and still joined intimately together, they drifted to the bottom of the pool. He grabbed both her hips in an iron grip and began to pump his hips violently, ramming his cock deep into her, again and again. Kat bucked against him, her passion at last allowed free rein. She felt the tension within her spiraling out of control and she let it come, the ripples turning into waves and then into an atomic explosion all the more powerful for its silence.

When her conscious mind returned, she realized Magnus had shoved them up from the bottom of the pool with his powerful legs. Then realized, too, that he was still deeply imbedded in her, hard and hot and throbbing.

They breached the surface and she took a great, deep breath. Arms and legs still entwined around him, she ventured, “Mags? Why didn’t—”

“Shh.” He grabbed for the pool’s edge to hold them shoulders-deep in the water, then began strewing tiny kisses over her face. “That one was for you.”

He allowed his rock-hard cock to slip out of her, and even in the warmth of the heated water she could feel the scalding heat of his flesh as it skimmed hers. “You stay here. I’ll find your bottom before it gets caught in the filters.”

And he dove back down, gingerly working his suit up over his hard-on.

Kat could only marvel, again, at his control.

* * * * *

Having not heard a word from Soren since Magnus drove him home from her house four days ago, Crystal realized she would have to be more proactive regarding her future. Her crystal had selected a gorgeous man for her, but he was skittish, almost gun-shy, with women. She’d noticed how he ignored the beautiful Deirdra. But. He certainly wasn’t a woman-
hater
, not after the way he made her feel so delicious all over, the considerate way he made love to her after that first time when he’d taken her with so much less finesse. Something in his past, a woman no doubt, had hurt him deeply. That conviction made her want to heal him.