“I don’t think she’ll suit, Dorset. She’s young, innocent. She’s never been married,” Sebastian explained.
“Dammit all—you’re right. But if she married….”
“Well, yes, if she married. But has she given you any indication that she wants to be—”
“Hell, man! You’ve spent more time with her than I have, what with that grandmother lurking around like a human chastity belt. But you know women. Promises of jewels and furs and she’ll be mine for the taking.”
Even though Sebastian had thought and said almost the very same thing to her face, hearing the Duke speak about making Sophie his mistress made him want to throttle him.
“When you’ve spent time with her, what has she done, said?” Dorset asked, taking another brandy for himself.
Sebastian remembered the rain falling down and those lush lips opening underneath his like a precious rosebud at the cricket game. He remembered the dark cloakroom at the theater and wanting to press her into the fur coats and feel her legs wrapped around his waist. And then this evening. This had been the worst yet.
He had wanted to lock the door and push her into the large four-poster bed. He had wanted to strip every single piece of fabric from her body and wait until she moaned and begged for him to give her a release. He would kiss every inch of her and then give her what they both wanted. He would pull down that auburn hair and comb his fingers through it and press into her. He would be the first and last man she ever knew.
“I’m sorry, what?” Sebastian asked.
“Jesus, Fairfax! You have the strangest look on your face!” Dorset laughed and looked to Etienne, who was gazing stupidly into the fire.
“Oh, you were asking about Sophie. She hasn’t done anything that I recall, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Sebastian said.
“Yes, yes,” Dorset murmured. “Christ! I feel like I’m friends with two monks.”
“What?” Etienne asked, joining in the conversation. He still couldn’t get Leila out of his mind. All night had been torture and now she was just gone. A strange stillness had settled inside him.
“Nothing,” Dorset said, shaking his head.
***
Juliette had been surprised when late in the evening Sebastian came into the brothel. He didn’t say much and she knew that was his way. He seemed preoccupied but she didn’t ask. Most of the time the men that entered the brothel doors weren’t interested in talking.
Sometimes there was an elderly gentleman who’d lost his wife and wanted companionship, or the younger man who, after finishing in one minute, wanted to talk, but for the most part it was sex.
For Sebastian, that evening it was sex. And it wasn’t a sweet mating. It was a pounding coupling that left Juliette sore the next morning.
He wasn’t brutal or cruel but he wanted nothing more than to pound into her and feel her walls ripple and constrict around his cock. He moved in and out of her and she moaned into his ear even as he withdrew and she was on all fours. He was pulling at her hips, pounding into her again, and she called his name.
“Bash,” she cried, his hands on her and his hips slapping into hers. She could feel his rigid cock slide in and out of her and the pleasure was intense.
She could hear the grunts and moans in other rooms, but she was consumed by the pleasure she felt. She climaxed briefly when she was on top of him and they continued in different positions for an hour until he climaxed.
She moved to light a candle at one quiet interval but he spoke. “Leave it.”
Other than those two words, he didn’t say anything to her at all. They lay together in the darkness and when she took him in her mouth, he didn’t stop her. She moved down the shaft, taking more and more of his thickness into her throat, almost gagging at his thick length.
His hand threaded into her dark hair and he imagined long auburn hair against the white bedclothes.
When she looked up at him he could see her in the darkness and he imagined hazel eyes in an oval face. The thought of Sophie sent him completely over the edge and he emptied his seed into Juliette’s eager, hot mouth.
***
Leila combed her long dark hair and climbed into the bedclothes, naked and sleek. She had enjoyed every minute of torturing her brother’s good-looking friend Etienne that evening.
She knew he couldn’t say anything to her brother and she, of course, would remain silent. She had dreaded leaving Arabia and everything she knew behind. Arab men were very masculine but not as easy to tease. She was also segregated much of the time with women and only able to freely mingle when there were large parties. She had been very careful and tested her feminine wiles on foreign men like the Turk, lest her father discover her ways.