Devil's Fire (2 page)

‘You did mention possible employment,’ I reminded him.

Those eyes took on a devilish glow that held promises beyond my wildest dreams. ‘Come relax by the fire,’ he insisted, guiding me to the settee beside the hearth. He put on another log and poured us more brandy while I sank into the supple leather. ‘Let me pleasure you while I talk about Heaven’s Gate.’

The snick of both locks prevented anyone from intruding, and sent a jolt of desire through me. I knew exactly what he planned to do — which was the very thing I’d been taught not to want, or even think about. But as Hyde Fortune knelt before me to remove my shoes, a wanton waywardness set my captive soul free. I sensed it would be a long, long time before I got it back.

And I was too far gone to care.

‘L
ook at these exquisite legs and feet. Mary Grace, you’re even lovelier than I imagined.’

He’d thought about how I looked without my clothes? Even more exciting than this novel notion was the way he massaged my foot. No one had ever touched me like this, thinking I might enjoy such treatment. I sipped the brandy, letting its sweet heat roll over my tongue, and then held the snifter to Hyde’s lips.

He took a swig, grinning. ‘You’re becoming a sensualist, it seems.’

‘Teach me everything you know,’ I breathed, slipping forward on the couch. ‘Which is what I’ve always been taught not to want. But then, how did I know what I was missing?’

It was the brandy talking, just as it had led my father down the primrose path. But I paid no attention to that warning, because as Hyde rubbed the muscles of my calves and continued upward I felt so delicious I couldn’t possibly stop him. I’d spent my life striving towards Heaven, yet in a few effortless moments this man had taken me there.

Hyde had been raising my skirts with his massage, and when his lips went where his fingers had been, I gasped. How could I shiver this way without sliding forward on to his face? He was kneeling between my knees, kissing the skin of my upper thighs until I thought I’d explode. My inner muscles tensed and then went even tighter, sending shock waves through my body.

I lifted my hips, and with one swift movement Hyde took down my drawers. It was wicked, to willingly expose my intimate parts to him. But the brandy was stirring me, making so much slick, liquid heat that the pressure of the seam against my slit was unbearable.

‘Jesus, woman,’ Hyde breathed, and suddenly he buried his face in the muslin crotch. He began inhaling deeply, eyes closed, as though my personal scent contained the only essence he needed to live.

‘God, you excite me!’ he whispered, gazing up at me with eyes like embers. ‘And I’m going to send you just as far over the edge, Mary Grace. So far you won’t want to come back — except to come again. And again.’

I wanted to thrust myself at him, to relieve the awful aching that inflamed my inner lips and the bud they enfolded. But Hyde refused to humour me. He kissed my thighs with bold abandon, grasping my arse, purposely avoiding the feverish skin that craved his attention. Then he burrowed along my belly, while his fingers found the placket of my blouse. Buttons popped in all directions as he parted the thin fabric.

‘Hyde, I’ve nothing to wear back to —’

‘So you’ll stay here, with me.’

‘— and this is my only shift —’

‘So I’ll buy you a dozen of them, my love. Lacy little things that I’ll forever delight in tearing away, so I can kiss your marvellous skin.’ And with the splitting of the threadbare muslin, he was doing just that. His mouth set my breasts on fire as he licked and sucked and teased my nipples, toying with his tongue until I cried out. The silk of his lips contrasted with the roughness of his cheek as he nestled against my chest, like an infant begging to be fed.

Then his thumb found that little nub he’d ignored before, making me gasp with spasms. Hyde continued to suckle, while kindling a wildfire between my legs with the circling of his fingers. His body held me prisoner on the leather settee as he stroked and sucked more intently. I began to writhe, my head tossing like I was possessed, and I gave up all pretence at control.

My hips wiggled and strained. The ache inside me threatened to explode, spiralling deeper. Just when I thought I could take no more, Hyde lightly bit my nipple and slipped a finger up my hole. In and out he dipped, brushing my clit with a rapidity that made my head spin.

‘Harder,’ I begged, thinking I’d slide off the couch in all my wetness.

With a devious chuckle, Hyde inserted a second finger and began squeezing, faster now. My body flared and my senses reeled. The wet suction encircling my breast and the hot hand pounding against my mound were driving me towards certain insanity.

Suddenly I soared, riding waves that bore me high and free. A wail escaped me, followed by a louder, more desperate one, and as Hyde drove a third finger inside me, I shattered. I was vaguely aware of arms that kept me from flying off the couch and breathing that had become as laboured as my own, but otherwise there was nothing except the starbursts behind my eyes. I lost all track of time and the world around me.

When I could focus again, he was gazing at me with a tenderness I couldn’t fathom, an affection like I’d never known. And at that moment Hyde Fortune became much more than my lover: he became my love. With every beat of my sheltered heart — every pulse of my awakening womanhood — I felt the rightness of what had just happened. We’d been born to this purpose, destined to create this fine, shining madness between us.

There would never be another man for me.

I didn’t tell him this, of course. It was too dangerous to think about, much less announce to the knave kneeling between my knees. As though he had no idea what he’d just put me through, his fingers began to massage me again.

‘What are you doing?’ I murmured. ‘Give me the words, Hyde, because my mother certainly didn’t.’

‘I’m stroking your pussy. Fondling your lovely cunt. Fingering your slit…your twat.’

‘My what?’ I rhymed with a low laugh. I spread even further for him, guiding his finger deeper. ‘Which word do you prefer?’

‘Whatever suits the moment. Actually, just the thought of this enticing little entry has brought Solomon more pleasure than you’ll ever know, on many a lonely night,’ he whispered.

I stopped wiggling. ‘Solomon?’

‘My cock. He has such an upstanding reputation, he deserves the name of a great king, don’t you think?’

I giggled, and Hyde responded by rising higher on his knees. With one hand he raised my curl-covered mound, which made the button hiding beneath it jut out like a little tongue. He then circled this sensitive area with his finger, apparently fascinated by the dew he saw seeping out.

‘That position I mentioned?’ he asked, looking anything but businesslike.

‘Yes?’ My head felt fogged in, and rational thought was now beyond me.

‘It’s at Heaven’s Gate, the monastery in the mountains where they make those irresistible chocolates and brandy cakes.’

‘I couldn’t eat a thing. In fact, at this moment, I could swear I’ll never be hungry again.’

Hyde chuckled, still massaging my juices. ‘It just occurred to me, sweet Mary, that this little keyhole we’ve discovered is its own celestial opening…for which I alone now hold the key. Heaven’s Gate, indeed.’

His words stopped my heart. Was he thinking, as I had, that we were destined to be together? Or had his tone taken on a possessiveness I was too naïve to hear?

It didn’t matter. When his thumb found my erect little clit again, the intense sensation sent me up off the couch, clutching at him. ‘Hyde, please! I can’t bear any more!’

He hugged me to his warm, solid body. I felt the rumble of laughter in his chest as he tugged my blouse from my waistband. ‘You’re delightful,’ he said, kissing the sensitive spot beneath my ear, ‘but what makes you think I’m finished? By the time I cast my entire spell, you’ll never be able to look at another man without getting aroused — wanting me, sweet lady.’

It was a prophecy I dared not deny, for what did I know about the intimacies between a man and his woman? And why would I ever care about other men, when the one who now looked at me so lovingly had made me feel so complete? Cherished, in ways I never dreamed of.

‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ Hyde teased, so we peeled away every layer of fabric that covered me. A few hours ago I would’ve been mortified to sit naked before a man; my conscience would’ve smouldered like coals from the Devil’s own fire. Yet now, my lover’s admiring gaze made me thrust out my chest, and I let out a laugh so brazen it could’ve drifted from a whore-house window.

‘Seems you’re the one who’s overdressed now,’ I said, my fingers flying to his buttons.

‘That’s the spirit!’ Hyde’s smile tightened, and he ripped at his clothing with the same abandon he’d used on mine.

When I saw his broad shoulders — the pattern of curls that curved around his chest, forming an arrow pointing to his arousal — I sat back to watch. The only man I’d seen in the altogether had been my ailing father when I bathed him, so this display amazed me. Hyde moved with a sure, masculine grace as he threw his shirt aside and then stood to unfasten his pants.

He looked feral, like a lone wolf on the prowl, as he stripped. His eyes never left me. Had I inspired that magnificent stiffening? Lord, his cock looked formidable! I doubted I had room for it all. Solomon swayed before me as though it had a life all its own, the head reddened and the firm, tall shaft standing proudly pink. A tiny bead of moisture formed at the hole, and then dripped off.

‘My word,’ I breathed, wanting to touch it, yet not knowing if I should. ‘You realise that Mama never explained these things —’

‘You were young when she died.’

‘— while Papa was too set on my salvation to talk about anatomy. He told me sex was for procreation, not pleasure. Never even said the word.’

‘But did he consider that we were created this way? That, if God didn’t want us to enjoy our bodies, He could find other ways to keep our species alive?’

He wrapped his arms around me, and I revelled in the warmth of his bare skin against mine. Coaxing me higher on the couch, Hyde kissed me with even more intensity than before. He gnawed my lower lip and then slipped his tongue past my teeth, taking me by surprise: its rhythm suggested the movement of his cock inside that Poppington woman, which I would soon enjoy myself! And as I felt his insistent prodding, and heard Sol rustling among my coarse curls, I instinctively raised my hips to take him in.

Hyde cried out with a desperation matching my own, plunging deep. I paced my thrusting with his, finding an even more primitive heat than he’d kindled while staying outside me. I spread my legs to allow him fullest access, hearing impassioned little whimpers that could only be my own — and which were coming faster as those waves rose within me again.

‘Hyde…Hyde, my Lord,’ I breathed.

‘Am I hurting you, love?’

‘Not a chance! Just don’t stop, oh please don’t stop!’

With a wicked grin, he raised himself up so he could look into my eyes. ‘Squeeze me,’ he commanded. ‘Squeeze my cock like you’re going to milk it dry, Mary Grace.’

When I did, Hyde’s ecstatic grimace sent a shimmer up my spine. Then he angled himself higher, putting more pressure on that aching place that so desperately wanted his attention. ‘Grip it,’ he rasped. ‘Drive us both over the edge. My God, but you’re perfect.’

Inspired by his praise, I concentrated on those inner muscles. I gripped and let go, gripped and let go, until I was bucking beneath him. The settee groaned with our commotion, its leather allowing me to slide in the wetness we created. Pumping faster, Hyde challenged me with those relentless eyes, until the clamping of his jaw sent me ahead of him. My climax was noisy, and my lover’s cries drove me to dizzier heights as he shot his hot seed inside me.

Hyde collapsed against me. My head fell back on to the upholstery. I felt rubbery and jointless as I draped an arm over his damp, heaving back. For a moment, there was only the cheery crackling of the fire.

And again I knew it: I loved Hyde Fortune like I could never love another. Despite my earlier reservations about this man of dubious repute, I had accepted him into myself, body and soul. And there could be no turning back.

He let out a contented sigh. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’

‘Never better. You’ve made me feel like quite the woman.’

‘That you are. I’d swear you were made expressly to satisfy me.’ He raised his head, grinning. ‘I’ll tell Delores Poppington to pay off her damn coffin and be done with it. After loving you, Mary Grace, the thought of plowing her furrow again makes me sick.’

We laughed together, a low, sweet sound that wrapped around us like a cosy old shawl. Hyde rested against me for several minutes before rising. ‘I’ll send in my housekeeper, Yu Ling, with a basin of water. I’ll find you some clothes while you wash up, and then we can discuss your choices of employment.’

He was kind enough to tuck my old clothing around me before he dressed and left the room. With a languid sigh, I settled back on the settee to consider how my situation had changed in the past hour. I’d arrived here destitute, and had discovered a whole new frenzy — and a future I might share with a handsome man.

Did I dare dream of marriage? Could I hope for the home and children I’d been denied by Papa’s demands?

It was too soon. Naïve as I was, I knew my confused heart had jumped at the first possibility that came its way. I’d given myself to a man without considering the consequences. Such compulsiveness wasn’t like me, for I’d been raised to meet the needs of others without thought for my own happiness.

Indeed, happiness had always seemed a fleeting notion, like a butterfly I might capture some day, but never right now. So as I sat back, breathing the mingled scents of our sex, I had to laugh. This feeling was so far beyond mere happiness, I couldn’t comprehend it. And I didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about it too much.

Outside, the wind howled and an eerie ticking, like a deathwatch beetle, made me grip my makeshift coverlet. The frozen bushes by the window were clattering against the glass, I reasoned, but then I swore I heard voices above me, followed by a high-pitched keening that made me go cold all over.

I was in the undertaker’s office, after all, so there might be corpses lying in the secret regions of this mansion. For all my belief in an afterlife, dead bodies spooked me. Hearing that Banshee-like wail again, plus the uncanny tapping on the wall, made my neck prickle with gooseflesh. What was taking Hyde so long?

The parlour door opened silently, and I jumped. I was greeted by the smile of an almond-eyed Celestial about my own age, who carried a basin of steaming water and some towels. She leaned against the door to shut it, studying me with a rapt expression. Her raven hair was wound into a fat knot atop her head; her breasts barely protruded above the wide sash of her kimono. Its poppy-coloured silk was shot with gold, and as she floated towards me she exuded all the mystery of the Orient — and another aura I didn’t recognise.