Page 10 of The New Girl

He grinned. “No, that kink isn’t mine, although it is not unheard of in our little incestuous circle. Our parents married when we were sixteen. I was a shit to her for the first three months, but she liked having a brother and eventually, I liked having a sister. The marriage lasted four years—a record for Giselle.”

“Who is Giselle?”

“My mother. Lady Giselle Stanhope of the Bostonian Stanhopes. The Stanhopes married into the title two hundred years ago. It comes with an estate in England that she bankrolls to keep going. Giselle’s money is older and far greater than my stepfather’s. She has a habit of marrying and divorcing every few years. My stepfather was her third conquest. My father had the honor of being husband number one. Delward Stark died young of pancreatic cancer not long after I was born. She’s on husbandnumber four now, living a quiet life in Scotland. I was welcome to join them but I couldn’t leave Belinda.”

“Belinda is your step sister.”

“Was—she’s dead. My stepfather killed her.”

My head was spinning. “I thought you said she killed herself.”

“He drove her to suicide. One day, I’m going to return the favor.”

He grinned again and this time, I saw danger and darkness behind his eyes. Lysander Stark was not kidding. I suspected that he rarely said anything he didn’t mean.

“Do you still want to come with me?” He took a step nearer. “There is another girl inPericles. The woman he falls in love with—Thaisa.”

“Yes. She’s a princess who falls for the stranger knight who washes up on the shore of their kingdom. It’s a terrible play,” I said lightly, trying to control my expression.

Lysander cradled my face in his hands.

“Hymen hath brought the bride to bed, where, by the loss of maidenhead, a babe is moulded.”

“Thaisa dies in childbirth,” I said in a gasp as his lips found mine.

“We’ll use a condom.”

Chapter Six

His room was larger than mine and came equipped with a fireplace, a small one that was designed to burn coal when that was a thing. Lysander said that it had been retrofitted in the Nineties to burn propane.

I didn’t care. It was warm and I was freezing. I hunched in front of it, staring into the blue and orange flames.

He had taken my coat and hung it up in the closet. One switch turned on all the lamps in his room. There was a small bathroom off the living area that was a huge luxury. I shared a bathroom with eight girls and even with four shower stalls there was always a wait in the morning.

“Are you ready?”

I stood up and faced him. My arms broke out in goose bumps when my eyes reached his.

“Why did you stop Jake from taking me tonight?”

“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of him touching you.”

My breath caught. “Why not? Who am I to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me. All I know is from the moment you walked into the meeting, I couldn’t let anyone else have you.”

Nothing prepared me for that response. Nothing prepared me for his hands brushing against my skin, as he lifted my vest off over my head and dropped it to the floor. My skirt was next, followed by a deft unfastening of my bra.

He stopped and stood back to examine what he had done in undressing me. I was wearing black panties, thigh high tights and black school girl shoes. My breasts pulled tight under his hot gaze and the nipples puckered to hard, sensitive bullets.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked breathlessly.

“We’re playing the game.”

He slid his hand under my panties and drew his finger between my slit. I gasped, writhed and clung to him, shivering at his touch.

“Shhhh... I want you to come, but come quietly,” he whispered. “My landlady listens in at the door.”

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