The Erotic Dark (8 page)

“Ohhh…oh, Preston, no…” Lydia groaned, her eyes closing partway, her bottom cheeks flexing desperately as she took the full impact of him.

Preston grasped her waist as he began a slow pillaging of her anal region, grunting with pleasure as the strained channel clutched his erection. His prisoner’s writhings and whimpers of discomfort only served to enhance his excitement, stimulating the tension tightening through his body. Sweat collected on his forehead as he amplified his thrusts in order to fully savor the exceptional tightness of her posterior sheath.

Lydia pressed her face against the table, her whimpers dissipating into hot, little moans clearly evoked by new tinges of arousal. With a hard smile, Preston slipped his hand beneath her to feel the damp crevices of her labia.

Her clit was heavy and throbbing beneath his fingers, and she gave a shriek of pleasure when he began to massage it. She started panting with need, squirming on the table as if encouraging him to thrust himself even deeper into her body.

Preston pressed hard against the center of her pleasure as Lydia cried out, her body quivering with the effects of a powerful climax. Then he clutched her bottom again, his own arousal heightened by the shuddering of her muscles, and plunged with such fervor into her that Lydia continued to emit a series of moans. With a shout, Preston succumbed to his own rapture, pressing himself deep inside her as his body exploded in a series of vibrating spurts.

He stepped back to allow her to right herself. Breathing heavily, Lydia fumbled to spread her dress back over her rump as she climbed off the table. She winced as she stood, no doubt from the soreness now encircling her anus. Her skin burned with both passion and shame, which made Preston chuckle as he bent to retrieve his discarded trousers.

“See how much you enjoy yourself when I’m the one indulging you?” he asked, earning himself an angry glare.

With trembling fingers, Lydia fastened the buttons of her dress. The thin material clung to her perspiration-dampened skin, outlining the luscious flare of her hips and curves of her breasts, their crests still stiff and tenting against the cotton.

Her disheveled, heated appearance gave Preston a satisfaction unlike any he had experienced before, for he had often dreamed of taking Lydia in such a manner.

She tossed her hair back, giving him a fulminating glower. “I meant it, Preston. I hate you.”

“Interesting, isn’t it? To cream from the stimulation of a man you hate?”

Lydia’s eyes hardened to the consistency of concrete. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Sweetheart, I have done nothing to you that you haven’t already done to yourself. If you want to leave
La Nouvelle Vie
, then please do. I wouldn’t want to cause you any distress.”

“Liar. My distress is what excites you.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps it excites you as well.” He went to her and stroked his hand over the curve of her bottom, giving the pert mounds a gentle slap. “Perhaps that’s why you chose to earn yourself several punishments. And believe me when I tell you that I won’t forget.”

“I never thought you would.”

Preston smiled and gave her another loving spank before he left the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

CHAPTER FIVE

The wooden porch was warm and dusty underneath Lydia’s bare feet. She leaned her head against the back of the rocking chair and closed her eyes, letting her body sway the chair into a gentle rhythm.

She loved sitting out here during twilight, protected from insects and mosquitoes by the wraparound screen, the air cooling slightly from the heat of the day. She let out a long sigh, allowing herself brief remembrances of the previous few days, from Gabriel’s gentle assurance to Preston’s torment of her soul and stimulation of her body.

When confusion over her battling emotions threatened to invade her temporary calm, Lydia pushed it aside. She could try and work through her feelings later. Right now, it was a relief to simply sit here and try not to think too deeply or too hard. Her body was both sore and sated from the fierce liaisons in which she had engaged, but her blood still hummed with lingering pleasure.

She heard someone walk up the steps from the garden. She didn’t open her eyes, although she knew by the sound of his tread that it was Kruin. The screen door creaked.

Instinctively, Lydia parted her legs farther to avoid his displeasure. Her breath stopped in her chest as she waited to hear him disappear into the house.

“Look at me, Lydia.” Kruin’s voice resounded through the air like an echo.

Lydia’s lashes fluttered as she lifted them, her heart hammering as she met his dark eyes. Would she never be able to read the expression in his eyes, never be able to fathom what he was thinking?

She gazed at him for a moment, remembering how it had felt to lie helplessly over his lap, his big hand slapping her bare buttocks, feeling his huge erection pressing against her belly. Her face grew warm with the memory and an undeniable flicker of arousal.

She moistened her dry lips with her tongue, her breathing growing shallow from the mere intensity of his presence, so wholly unlike Gabriel’s gentle domination and Preston’s malice. A trembling sensation began in her belly when he came toward her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said, his words as deep and cold as a well. “Your actions thus far have been entirely unacceptable.”

Lydia lowered her eyes to the floor, disliking the guilt that rose in her chest. She forced herself to nod in agreement, even as her heart willed him to remember that she had faithfully obeyed his orders in the drawing room.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“You should be. And you’ll be sorrier still when your punishments are dealt.”

Her gaze met his as a glimmer of fear sparked inside her. “What is he going to do?”

Kruin frowned, making him appear even more menacing. “It is not only Preston, Lydia. You have angered us all. If this is how you uphold your agreements, then perhaps you should not make them.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia repeated. She hated the way his evident irritation caused her shame to deepen to unfathomable levels. “I have to…please, I’m not accustomed to this. You must give me some time.”

“You have time, Lydia. In fact, you have nothing but time. I suggest you use it wisely.”

He turned and went into the house. Lydia released her breath in a long sigh of relief, thinking that not even Preston could unnerve her to the degree that the enigmatic Kruin did.

She rose, the rocking chair squeaking on its rudders as if mimicking the noise of the crickets. She walked into the gardens as a cool breeze brushed against her skin. The grounds of the plantation were so vast that she wondered how long it would take to explore them all.

Lydia smiled ironically. As Kruin had pointed out, she had plenty of time. She walked along the pathway that led toward the swamps, swatting at several wayward mosquitoes.

As she approached one of the oak trees that spread like massive mushrooms over the grounds, she noticed a long, low building in the distance. Curious, she headed toward it and realized it was the plantation stables.

Did they actually keep horses here? A glimmer of happiness stirred inside Lydia at the thought. She quickened her pace, her skirt whipping around her bare legs as she hurried toward the stables.

She pulled open the large, wooden door and inhaled the musky odor of hay and horse-flesh. Dim light shone through cracks in the ceiling, painting the hay a glossy golden color. Half-a-dozen horses were locked into stalls, nickering and stamping their feet.

“Hey, boy.” Lydia smiled with delight as she approached one of the horses and held out her hand. He snuffled and pressed his warm, velvety nose into her palm.

“He’s usually not so friendly.”

Lydia turned and saw Gabriel emerge from a corner of the stable, a pitchfork in his hands. He stabbed it into a pile of hay and approached her. He was wearing torn jeans and an old T-shirt, his skin covered with dust and sweat. He moved with a stealthy kind of grace, like a sleek, muscular panther.

Lydia stepped closer to the stall, her hips encountering the hard slats of wood. “What’s his name?”

“Pirate.” He nodded toward the horse in the adjoining stall, a lovely white Arabian. “That’s Sugarfoot. Do you like horses?”

“I love them.” Lydia stroked her hand over Pirate’s nose. “When I was a girl, I had a horse named Butterfly. She was a palomino.” She glanced at him. “Do you ride?”

He nodded. “You can’t ride alone, but you can come with me some time.”

“Really?” She smiled. “Thank you.”

She returned her attention to the horse, fully aware of Gabriel watching her with an oddly intent look. She wondered if he knew what Preston had done with her in the drawing room, if he was aroused by the whole scenario. She rubbed her hand over Pirate’s warm, muscled neck.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low.

“What do you mean?”

“With Preston. Why are you here?”

“For the same reason you are.”

Lydia shot him a startled look. “The same…?”

Gabriel moved closer to her, his green eyes shimmering in the waning light. “For the need to disappear.”

Lydia stared at him, her heart suddenly beating hard. “What…what did you do?” she whispered.

Gabriel leaned his shoulder against the stall and crossed his arms. “Insider trading. I worked with Preston and was on the board of directors for a major electronics company. I received word about the decline of a certain stock and took advantage of it. Unfortunately, I didn’t cover my tracks well enough.”

Lydia smiled faintly. “Neither did I. What about Kruin?”

His expression darkened. “Kruin. He owned a protection services company.”

“You mean bodyguards?”

Gabriel nodded. “He had a contract with Preston and served as his bodyguard for a short time. There was an…incident involving a man whom Preston was blackmailing. The man came to talk to Preston one afternoon. Voices were raised, Kruin lost his temper and…well, the man died.”

Shock reverberated through Lydia so violently that she grasped the edge of the stall to steady herself. “Kruin k-killed him?”

Gabriel didn’t reply, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“My God,” Lydia whispered.

“It was his idea. The whole notion of disappearing.”

Lydia’s hand trembled as she stroked Pirate’s nose. A horrible whisper of intrigue rose in her at the thought that she was subjugated to a man who had taken another life. She pressed her forehead against the horse’s warm neck and closed her eyes, wondering what kind of twisted person she was becoming.

“He’s not dangerous.” Gabriel’s voice was gentle. “He committed an appalling crime, but he will never endanger you. Just the opposite, in fact. I promise you that.”

Lydia didn’t respond. She felt Gabriel’s hand touch her shoulder.

“Dinner will be served shortly. Let’s go back.”

She gave Pirate one last stroke before following Gabriel out of the stables. They walked back to the house without speaking, only the noise of crickets and mosquitoes rising around them. Gabriel held the door open for her as they entered the house.

Preston and Kruin were already seated at the dining table. Lydia gave Kruin a surreptitious glance, her heart thudding again as she recalled what Gabriel had divulged. She was strangely relieved to discover that despite her newfound knowledge, she was no more afraid of him than she had been for the past week. Perhaps she had simply reached the limits of her fear.

“Good evening, Lydia.” Preston gave her a smile and held out a glass of wine. “Come and sit down. You must be hungry after all your exertion.”

Lydia stiffened with dislike of him, even as she realized he was right. For the past few days, she had been devouring the delicious meals presented at the table, her body craving the innumerable flavors and textures of food just as it was beginning to crave such manifold sexual pleasures.

With a shiver, she took her place next to Gabriel. She sipped the wine, a white Riesling that tasted like the crisp air of winter. They began dinner with a fresh spinach-and-walnut salad lightly coated in a vinaigrette dressing, followed by grilled salmon with lemon cream sauce, asparagus tips, and roasted baby potatoes dotted with rosemary.

“Mmm.” Preston lifted a forkful of moist salmon to his lips, closing his eyes with pleasure. “Delicious. We must provide our cook with a raise, don’t you agree?”

“It would be well deserved,” Kruin agreed.

“And we always provide that which is well deserved,” Preston said, amusement lighting his blue eyes as his gaze swept to Lydia. “As you are beginning to learn, my dear Lydia.”

“I believe she has not yet learned proper docility,” Kruin said. “She is far too resisting.”

“She’s like a wild horse,” Preston replied. “As I told you, it will require more effort to bring her under control. And yet you may rest assured the result will be well worth it.”

Lydia did not like being compared to a horse, but she bit her tongue and kept her gaze fixed on her plate. She broke open one of the little potatoes, which issued a plume of steam scented with butter and rosemary.