The Diamond Slipper (36 page)

Leo looked down at her from the plane of his own bliss. Her upturned face was radiant, somehow made even more so by the black velvet scarf that prevented him from seeing the soul in her eyes. Her head was back, her throat a graceful white curve, as she pleasured him with an all-absorbing concentration. He knew as he looked down into her blind face that she was aware of nothing but his body so close to hers, of the taste, the scent, the feel of him, and his blood thrilled with a strange deep power.

Cordelia was lost in her own sense of power, the power she had to give him such pleasure. She could feel his joy in her fingertips, feel it on her tongue, at the back of her throat. She adored his body, reveled in what she was doing to him, gloried in the moment when she knew the merest flickering caress would cause him to plunge over the edge … gloried in the moment when it happened and his jubilant cry filled the room, his fingers twined in her hair, holding on as if she were his only rock in the storm that promised to sweep him away.

His grip loosened finally, but she remained on her knees, resting her head against his belly. His legs were braced as if he needed to withstand some force, but his hands on her face were gentle, stroking the curve of her cheek, lifting her chin to caress the soft tender flesh beneath. Then he took her hands and drew her firmly to her feet.

“Do you wish me to take off the scarf?”

Cordelia shook her head. “Not unless
you
wish to.”

Leo smiled and kissed her, tasting his own salt essence on her lips. “What a wonderfully compliant lover you are, my sweet.”

Cordelia smiled. “Do you?”

“No, I have a few other ideas up my sleeve.” He drew her farther into the room and she clung to his hand, taking
hesitant little steps, afraid to trip over something. “There, now stand quite still.”

She felt him move away from her and was suddenly lost, but it was only for a moment. Then he was behind her, his fingers on the hooks at the back of her gown. She kept very still as he stripped her with unhurried movements, leisurely loosening each hook, each button, each tie, until she stood in her chemise, corset, stockings, garters, and shoes. She blinked behind the velvet blindfold, aware of the cool night air on her bared skin, seeing herself in her mind’s eye as if she were looking at her image in a mirror.

She waited for him to untie the laces of her corset, and then caught her breath as she heard the snip of scissors and the garment fell from her.

His hands moved down her, pressing the thin chemise to her body, molding her breasts, the curve of her bottom. He kissed her throat, drew his tongue along the line of her jaw, traced the shape of her ear. Cordelia quivered, waiting for the unbearable yet exquisite moment when his tongue would delve into her ear. He knew the sensation drove her wild, but he teased for long minutes, his teeth nipping and tugging gently on her earlobe, his tongue stroking behind her ear, little darting thrusts within, withdrawn as soon as he felt her begin to shrink and shudder. Her blindness accentuated every sensation and every instant of anticipation. She couldn’t see him, could only feel him, couldn’t guess when the tantalizing would stop.

He clasped her head firmly between both hands, and she knew it was coming, was already wriggling and squirming. Then his tongue was ravaging her ear, sending her into helpless paroxysms where the line between torment and enhancement was so fine she couldn’t possibly have drawn it.

He laughed as he held her still and his breath mingled hot with the dampness of his probing tongue. Cordelia tried to squiggle away, laughing even as she begged and pleaded for him to stop. But her excitement grew with every fruitless wriggle, and the sensations were all becoming mixed up so
that she no longer knew which part of her body was responding.

When at last he took pity and raised his head, she sagged against him, exhausted by her struggles, weak with laughter and the pulsing arousal in her loins.

“I’d like you to finish undressing.” His voice was almost shocking in her velvet darkness, banishing laughter. He spoke softly but definitely and she felt him step backward from her so that she was standing in her own cool space.

She kicked off her shoes and the carpet was coarse beneath her stockinged feet. She lifted the hem of the chemise and untied her garters. She rolled her stockings carefully to her ankles and drew them off her feet. Every movement was exaggerated by her sightlessness. She knew his eyes were upon her, watching every movement, but she could only imagine his gaze.

She dropped the stockings to the carpet and straightened. Where was he? Was he behind her, to the side, or facing her? She stood very still, trying to feel his presence. She couldn’t even hear his breathing, couldn’t sense the warmth of his skin. She turned slowly, moving her hands through the air. And encountered only air.

“Take the scarf off if you wish.” The voice came from behind her. She spun around.

“No … no, I don’t wish to. But I didn’t know where you were.”

“Why don’t you wish to?” There was a low languorous note to his voice, a deep caressing invitation to enter a world he was creating for them both.

“I want to find out what happens,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I feel so different … everything’s different, new … I’m experiencing everything as if it’s for the first time.”

“Take off your chemise.”

Cordelia caught the hem of the thin garment and drew it up her body and over her head. She tossed it aside and
stood naked, the breeze from the open window cooling her heated skin.

“Turn around.”

She obeyed, standing with her back to him, hands at her sides, every inch of skin alive, waiting, wondering when and where he would touch her. There was utter silence. Utter blackness.

Leo waited, forcing himself to keep still as he gazed upon her; the narrow back, the sharp pointed shoulder blades that he longed to touch with his tongue, the line of her spine, carved deep into her back, the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hips, the taut round cheeks of her bottom. He waited, knowing that as she stood there, her body, already aroused, was working its own magic under the orchestration of imagination.

When he touched her shoulder blades with a brush of a fingertip, she gave a startled little cry. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, then languidly traced the line of her spine with the pad of his thumb. His flat palm stroked over her bottom, then slid between her thighs. Cordelia quivered and again he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder while his fingers reached for her, dancing, probing, feeling her readiness as they slid inside her.

His tongue stroked upward along the grooved nape of her neck, then his hand left her shoulder, slipped round to clasp one breast, teasing her nipple as the hot moist caress on her neck continued and his fingers opened inside her while his thumb played on the hard nub of her sex.

Cordelia no longer knew which part of her was responding to which exquisite caress. The hard lines of her body were fluid, and she seemed to be adrift in a world without physical boundaries. Her eyes were now centered inward on herself, and she could almost see the blood moving through her veins, her soft nether lips pink and swollen with joyous need, the pulsing of her thudding heart.

And yet the explosion took her by surprise. It was as if she were consumed in a roaring conflagration; her skin was
on fire, her blood was molten lava as the searing bliss devoured her.

The flames were still roaring in her ears when Leo toppled her forward. She felt the soft arm of the sofa under her belly, her arms stretched out in front of her, her toes touching the carpet. Holding her hips he entered her while the conflagration still raged and the new sensation of his hard driving flesh added fuel to the flames. She no longer knew who or what she was, aware only of flesh and blood united, the point where Leo’s body was separate from her own blurred beyond definition.

Leo felt as if he had limitless staying power. He felt as if he were drifting godlike above the two joined bodies, capable of bringing them both to the extremes of physical bliss. He was filled with the burning need to take his lover to the top of her mountain, to the absolute pinnacle beyond which there was only infinity. And he would do this not once but many, many times during the next hours. He wanted to brand her with his lovemaking so that nothing and no one would ever erase the glorious memories of this night.

Where Michael had violated her, exploited her weakness, he would show her the perfect joy of surrender. He passed his flat palms up her bent back, pressing his thumbs into the vertebrae. Her back arched in response, her inner muscles tightened around him. He scribbled a path with his nails down her back and over her bottom. Her body rippled around him. He drew back for a second, then plunged deeply, and she convulsed around him. He remained inside her, his own responses now well in control.

Cordelia sobbed her pleasure into the sofa cushions, and then he began to move again inside her. His hand slid beneath her belly, reaching down to touch her so that the muscles of her belly tightened and the pleasure built again, rippling through her in little rivulets that gradually swelled to a full stream. The instant before the stream burst its banks, he slid from her. He turned her over on the sofa,
rested his bent knees on the arm, drew her legs high onto his shoulders, and entered her again.

Cordelia existed in her own darkness, every nerve centered on the one part of her body that seemed truly alive. She thought she couldn’t bear another dissolution, another moment of this intense pleasure, but she found she could. Not once more but many more times during the next hours. She was mindless, sightless, insatiable.

The stars faded, the sky lightened, red streaks of dawn filled the sky outside the window. Neither of them noticed in the reckless world of their own entrancement. But eventually Leo could hold back no longer. Cordelia sat astride his lap on the end of the bed, her hands on his shoulders, her lips parted, head thrown back, as she held him tight within, moving only her inner muscles.

The instant before the wave broke, Leo fell back on the bed, holding her tight against him as he rolled sideways, finally separating their joined bodies.

Cordelia lay bathed in sweat, prostrate, unable to move or think. When Leo moved her head sideways and unfastened the blindfold, she protested weakly, so accustomed was she now to her own private darkness that the intrusion of the visible world was a violation. Her eyes closed against the unfamiliar light, and she was immediately unconscious, sleeping the sleep of total exhaustion.

Leo’s right hand rested on Cordelia’s breast, the fingers splayed; the other hand was flung around her waist. His body felt hammered into the thick feather mattress, and even the growing light in the room and the knowledge that they were moving into a dangerous time couldn’t prevent him from sleeping.

He awoke soon enough, fully alert, his heart hammering as he listened to the sounds in the corridor outside. People were talking and moving around. From the courtyard below came the clarion call of a herald’s trumpet as the night guard was changed.

“Hell and the devil!” he muttered, pushing himself onto
an elbow, looking down at the unconscious figure beside him. Despite his anxiety he smiled, brushing a tangled ringlet from her cheek. She was so beautiful. And dear God in heaven, what a partner in love. Not once had she fallen behind, not once had she pleaded exhaustion, not once had she failed to divine what he wanted of her.

She had woven such chains about him, gossamer chains of love that were nevertheless adamantine. How had it happened that in a few short weeks this young girl had bewitched him out of all rational sense?

His eye flickered to the bracelet that he didn’t think he’d ever seen her without. Elvira had always worn it too, he remembered. It was a curious piece of jewelry, undeniably beautiful but with something almost repellent about it. And yet both its owners had rarely taken it off. But surely it must symbolize marriage to Michael? A bondage to a loathsome man. Cordelia daily struggled against those bonds. Had Elvira also? Had Elvira suffered in the same way? Had the bracelet symbolized bondage for her too?

Cordelia stirred, her eyelids fluttered up. She caught his expression as he looked down at her before he had time to banish the dark thoughts. “What is it?” She reached up a hand to touch his face. “Were you thinking of Elvira?”

Her intuitive insight was uncanny. He caught her wrist, bringing it down so that he could examine the bracelet. “Why do you never take this off?”

Cordelia frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize that I don’t. Don’t you care for it? It belonged to Elvira, I know. I saw it on her wrist in the portrait in the library on the rue du Bac.”

“She never took it off either,” he commented. “And no, I don’t like it.”

Cordelia examined it closely. “It’s unique, I’m sure there’s not another one like it in the world. The jeweler at Schonbrunn said as much. But it is a little sinister, I suppose.”

“The temptations of Eve,” he said. “But why would you
wear a present that Michael gave you to mark a betrothal that has brought you nothing but suffering?”

Cordelia’s frown deepened. She had never thought of the bracelet in that way. Somehow it just seemed to belong on her wrist. “I won’t wear it if you dislike it,” she said slowly. “But don’t you think Michael might wonder if he noticed that I had suddenly stopped wearing it?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said with a careless shake of his head. “It’s of no consequence, Cordelia. I was just struck by its curious design.” He swung himself off the bed. “What is of consequence is getting you back to your own apartment without drawing attention to yourself. The entire place is awake.”

Cordelia peered blearily at the discarded heap of clothes in the middle of the room. “I can’t put those on again.”

“I don’t see much choice.” He swung himself off the bed. “Come, let me help you.”

Cordelia got gingerly off the bed. “I’m sore,” she complained. “How did that happen?”

Leo couldn’t help laughing. “Use your imagination. If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only sufferer.”