Seized by Love (20 page)

The music stopped and the dance ended.

Nikki stood looking down at Alisa, lightly holding her voluptuous warmth in his arms.

“Monsieur, you may now be excused from my unwelcome presence. Please feel free to grace the dance floor with some other fortunate object of your attentions,” Alisa said sarcastically.

“Very well, dear, as you wish.” Nikki released his hold, honored her with a weak inclination of a bow, and, to Alisa’s chagrin, very ungraciously accepted her petulant suggestion as he moved away with the easy stride of a cavalry officer and spent the rest of the night dancing with Countess Amalienborg. The Countess preened with unmitigated pleasure at receiving Nikki’s attention. Now everyone could surely see that Nikki was still enamored of her
and that little bitch she gleefully noted, didn’t mean anything to him.

Alisa felt her spirits sinking with a sudden odd pang as she watched them. Only the twin fiends of stubbornness and pride kept her from succumbing to the unhappy feelings generated by the spectacle of Nikki and his old mistress dancing across the room. They were a picture of handsomeness, for the Countess was a tall, dark-haired beauty with a classic profile, a noble body of Venus most admirably displayed in black lace with a daringly cut décolletage, and Nikki’s attractive dark looks and magnificent size suited her to perfection.

I hope her dress is ripped to shreds by those spurs, Alisa hatefully thought.

Prince Mikhail was furious with Nikki’s behavior, and after seeing Alisa’s distress, he insisted they leave. That ungrateful whelp would pay for this discourteous display, he reprovingly vowed. Could he have that slut of a Countess sent to Siberia? It was a thought.

In the early hours of the morning Nikki reluctantly accepted the Countess’s invitation to accompany her home and with a perfunctory preoccupation fondled and caressed her in the carriage when she slipped his hand under her skirt.

Now he lay on his back on her bed, the Countess’s head resting in his groin. He watched the reflections of her activities in the mirror above his head with a certain detachment—as if he weren’t involved in the scene. Her head shifted and her mouth began to move once again with a soft, sucking sound. She had one of the most magnificent bodies, he observed, and one of the most degraded imaginations he had ever known. He rated her on a par with Cora Pearl,
⁷
an encomium of the first order, but by and large he
was a man of normal proclivities, a sensualist fastidiously indifferent to the practices of the deviates. Within seconds these casual musings ceased as his entire nervous system was forced to concentrate on Sophie’s delicate manipulations. A little later the flickering mirrored vignettes of Countess Amalienborg’s movements had stilled, she had swallowed, and Nikki closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He relaxed in the silence, not wishing to see or talk to her.

The black-haired Venus slowly eased across his body, running her hands up and down his torso, cupping her fingers gently around his testicles. He shook off her hand.

“Not now, Sophie.”

“I want you to dominate me, Nikki!” she moaned. Those damnable long fingers of hers were perversely effective. Her skill was remarkable. He was rigid already.

“Hurt me, Nikki!” she pleaded, pulling at him to enter her.

Christ, tonight he didn’t like her in this mood, and she was irritating the hell out of him, Damn her! He took her then like a dog and forced her to do his bidding. But Nikki’s black mood served only to further excite her. Minutes later he rose from the bed, disgusted.

Why did he always get involved with women like Tanya and Sophie, who wanted tyranny in the bedroom?

“Nikki, where are you going?” she cried, attempting to cling to him. “Stay with me!”

Three times was too much. He was feeling tired and hadn’t wished to see Sophie again in the first place. If it weren’t for wanting to spite his father and Alisa, he wouldn’t have even addressed a civil hello to the Countess at the Golchoffs.

“I’m fatigued and long for my own bed,” he replied curtly as he dressed rapidly.

“You just long for that harlot sleeping in your bed!” the Countess screamed in anger. “What about my pleasure?”

Nikki was pulling on his boots and closed his eyes in revulsion and weariness. He eased himself slowly from the chair, turned to the door, and as he walked out of the room, said coldly, “I’ll send your wolfhound in for your pleasure. I understand he’s one of your special perversions. Adieu, Sophie.”

On the ride home he rested his head gratefully against the velvet squabs and attempted to rid himself of the loathing Sophie engendered in him. He reminded himself that Sophie’s perversities hadn’t always disgusted him—in fact, her extraordinary expertise had been a major element in her attractiveness. What was happening to him? All he could think of was Alisa. Day and night, her beauty, her artlessness, even her stubborn temper. He chuckled. God, he missed her. After tonight Sophie was definitely off his list.

Arriving home, he slowly walked up the stairway and down the long marble hallway into his rooms. Without pausing, he continued through the adjoining doorway into Alisa’s bedchamber, wanting to look at her peaceful beauty and rid himself of Sophie’s taint. He’d expected Alisa to be sleeping at this late hour, but she lay wide awake, propped up against a bolster of pillows, the faint light of a single lamp dancing her shadow across the wall. Before he had time to speak she acidly remarked, “You positively reek of a woman’s perfume!”

“Countess Amalienborg’s,” he replied candidly, unused to the necessity of explanation. He walked closer to her bed.

“How dare you!” Alisa retorted in affront, drawing away from him.

“How dare I?” Nikki’s eyebrows rose in genuine perplexity. The idea of explaining his actions to a mistress was unthinkable.

“It’s unspeakable! Coming here warm from another
woman’s body! You’re despicable, detestable!” she cried, her eyes blazing with indignation.

“Is that a fact, Madame,” he responded almost gently, goaded by her challenging posture. His eyes held a distinct menace. “Mistresses should not harangue. It isn’t wise,” he quietly reminded her.

“I didn’t choose to become your mistress, and I don’t choose to conduct myself wisely at this late date!” Alisa snapped back, unabashed by those dangerous eyes, for frustration and resentment were making her reckless. It had been a long, sleepless night with images of Nikki and the Countess prevalent in her thoughts.

“It seems, then, that you need some schooling in the duties and behavior of mistresses,” Nikki remarked with narrowed eyes glaring.

“I need no instruction from the sordid likes of you,
if
you don’t mind!” the haughty, undutiful mistress replied.

“
If
I don’t mind? But I
do
mind, Madame,” Nikki returned silkily. “You see, I dislike acrimonious contre-dits when I’m in the humor for an amenable mistress to comfort a black mood.”

“Get your ‘comfort,’ you whoremonger, from that whore Sophie! As you may have noticed, I’m not in an amenable mood!” she spat out angrily.

“Please, Mrs. Forseus, don’t be vulgar. Vulgar women I can find by the score.” Nikki’s lips curled into an unfriendly smile while he thought resentfully: Two bitchy women in one night. By God, it’s too much! First the lingering bad taste over Sophie’s tantrum and now totally unnecessary goading from this indignant woman.

“You just do as you please, don’t you?” Alisa continued, angrily clutching the bedclothes to her heaving bosom.

“As I please!” Nikki snarled, the black rage and irritation of the long day, his interview with his father, the long afternoon and evening drinking at the club, his required
appearance at the Golchoffs’ party, the unwanted ministrations of Sophie, and now this screaming, shrewish virago all finally burst into an uncontrollable fury. Needless to say, twelve hours of drinking brandy did little to curb or tranquilize his foul disposition.

“Perhaps I can persuade you to alter your ‘mood,’ ” Nikki enunciated evenly as he walked slowly toward the bed, beginning to unbutton his tunic jacket. “Move over,” he said unpleasantly through gritted teeth, continuing to strip off his clothes. Lifting first one foot and then the other onto the silk counterpane, he unbuckled his spurs and dropped them on the floor.

“Damnable boots!” he cursed, sitting heavily on the bed; it was impossible to remove them without help. He turned to Alisa and pulled the bedclothes from her.

“Put your back to these boots, Madame, or I’ll ride you shod. At least Sophie knows enough to help me off with them.”

“I suppose that whore serves you gladly!” Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Yes, and now
this
whore will serve me, gladly or no. Bend to the task, my dear.”

He lay on the bed and flung one foot into her lap.

“Pull, dammit, I’m in a hurry!”

As Alisa struggled with first one tall, slim patent leather boot and then the second, Nikki stripped the leather breeches from his hips and dropped them onto the floor. Lying back on his elbows at the foot of the bed, he surveyed his seething mistress with a cold, predatory gaze.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she cried.

“Dare? I dare? Mrs. Forseus, you bait the wrong man tonight.” His tone was dangerous. “Now, my sweet, take off that negligee, or it will be in shreds in seconds.”

Alisa lunged for Nikki’s face with bared nails as he came at her, clawing instinctively for his eyes. He snapped his
head back and the vicious nails raked one cheek, leaving deep furrows that immediately sprang red. A new shock of anger surged through him.

His hands closed on her shoulders with a grip so painful, she winced.

“Don’t scratch my face.” His voice was soft with an unnatural calm. “I abhor having to give explanations.” There was a strange light in his flashing eyes and a cruel twist to his mouth as he said, “Now take off that gown or I will.”

“No.” Her eyes blazed.

“You’re being foolish.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

“Will you beat me?” she sarcastically inquired.

His smile was unpleasant. “Why don’t I leave that for your husband?”

“Now, my dear, acquiesce like a good girl and service me in the way of mistresses,” he demanded as his hard, mocking eyes roved over her quivering form. “It seems my misfortune to be plagued tonight with unpaid whores who suddenly have principles. Really, my dear, isn’t it a bit late for these theatrics of affronted honor?”

Alisa uttered an infuriated cry and flung herself at him. Releasing her shoulders, with lightning speed Nikki caught her hands in his grip, deceptively casual but cruelly tight, wrenched them behind her, and bent her back on the bed beneath him.

Violently her knee came up and he arched back just in time, loosening his grip on her wrists. For a brief second Alisa twisted free and swung both legs over the side of the bed. Plunging his fingers into the heavy waves of her hair, Nikki savagely pulled her back, rolled over her, pinning her arms at her sides. As he forced a knee between her legs, they found themselves in close contact, and they glared at each other, both panting, incensed, blood running down Nikki’s swarthy cheek.

Tears of frustration rose in Alisa’s eyes as she lay exhausted, pinioned helplessly despite her struggles. With a sardonic quirk Nikki lowered his blood-stained face and sought her trembling mouth, kissing her thoroughly, insolently. Alisa’s efforts at resistance were futile against such strength and brutal determination. With a stubborn perversity Nikki held her immobile and caressed her, forcing her to kiss him, filling her mouth with his thrusting tongue, slowly, lingeringly, destroying thought or opposition. A familiar heat insinuated itself deep within her, a slow, steady throbbing desire, and soon she no longer wished to struggle, she ached for him, longed to embrace him. But the animosities of the long night alone while he was with another woman still rankled, and she refused to grant him the satisfaction of responding. She lay inert beneath his touch, knowing this servile passivity annoyed and frustrated him.

“Am I discharging my duties properly?” she softly taunted him. “Is this befitting subservience, my Prince? A tame enough mistress, my lord?”

With a superhuman effort he kept from slapping her for her audacity and, cursing softly, swore to himself that he’d hear her beseech and plead for him soon. His skilled hands roved her body while his lips followed and caressed each tender fount of pleasure. He cupped her full breasts and lowered his mouth to tease and warm each soft nipple until they peaked proud and rigid, then he moved down her satin-smooth belly into the down beneath, and farther still until his hands and tongue had probed and titillated the soft regions of pleasure and she moaned softly and moved fitfully and arched in search of his pleasing tongue. Raising himself up and over her body, he glided slowly into her wet, lubricated warmth, then moved gently backward and forward, slowly forcing himself deeper with each gentle stroke. Her legs gripped him, and she rose to meet each sensual thrust; her violet eyes fell back voluptuously. The
fire of passion threatened to consume them both, but Nikki deliberately restrained himself. Alisa wrapped her arms tightly around Nikki’s muscular back and pulled him to her. Suddenly Nikki withdrew.

Alisa cried out in dismay, as suddenly she was empty and alone.

Lifting himself up and leaning both hands on the bed, Nikki looked into her startled, confounded eyes and said softly, “Ask me.”

“You do this to humiliate me,” she whimpered, trying to pull a sheet over her naked, throbbing thighs.

“Ask me,” he repeated inexorably.

“Please,” she sobbed quietly.

“Please what?” he questioned mercilessly.

“Please,” she caught her breath, faltered, then whispered, “make love to me.”

“Say, fuck me.”

She didn’t answer.

“Say, fuck me, or I’ll leave.”

A pause, then she whispered, “Fuck me.” Her lips burned at the word.

“Does it matter that I have come from another woman now.” he persisted. He began again to tease her damp, soft crevice, moving his fingers slowly, gently.