Page 27 of A Night of Forever
Arend felt exposed. Naked. As though everyone in the ballroom knew his secrets. Suddenly he could feel the dirt on his skin, smell the filth of the streets. Desperate and ashamed, sweating with stress, he slunk back into the shadows as forbidden memories of his years in Paris emerged. It hadn’t only been his time in Brazil with Daniela that made him cautious of beautiful women. Juliette, his Paris lover, had been the first woman to teach him that the fairer sex could be evil…
“Lie on the bed.”
The sultry tones of Juliette’s words did not fool him. She was up to something, and that could not be good for him.
He had already decided that tonight would be the last night he would be her plaything. Jonathan had told him about a ship heading to Brazil, and he had enough saved for passage. If he could just get away…
South America was a place where fortunes could be found, not made. Diamonds had been discovered. It was a dream, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but anything was better than his current degrading existence.
His driving passion had always been to leave Paris and arrive back in London a man wealthy enough to be on equal footing with the men he so admired, his school friends, the Libertine Scholars. Thank God they could not see him now—a bought-and-paid-for toy for a rich lady’s pleasure. A cold wash of shame convulsed his naked body.
Juliette had tied the blindfold so tightly it dug into his skull, and the silken bonds tying each of his hands to the headboard were almost cutting off his circulation. Surely she could not know he was about to leave her. He’d told no one except Jonathan, and Jonathan was not party to this arrangement.
Once she had secured him to her liking, he heard the rustle of her silk robe falling to the floor.
Then silence.
What would be her choice of pleasure tonight? Her imagination for sensual acts knew no bounds. Pain and pleasure were like a drug to her.
The silence deepened.
His long-honed instincts for self-preservation roared to life. Hairs all over his naked body stood at attention.
After what seemed forever, he felt the mattress dip as she crawled up the bed, running a warm palm over his thigh up to his groin. A waft of orange blossom perfume hit him and he did what he always did. He let his mind go blank, escaping to the darkness.
Her play was fairly tame this evening, and when she began to pleasure him with her mouth he had to admit fellatio was her specialty.
As her hot, skillful mouth teased him, drawing out his pleasure and heightening his need, his body’s natural reactions took over.
His balls tightened, and he let the sensations of his approaching climax consume him, until he felt the bed dip once more and a second set of hands began to roam his body. He was not overly concerned. Juliette loved bringing other women into their play. She was a voyeur at heart.
A second set of lips followed the second pair of hands. Juliette’s mouth left him just as he thought he’d explode, and he groaned his disappointment. A moment later a different mouth took him deep.
If he’d thought Juliette knew how to use her mouth to perfection, this woman knew more. Moments later, he roared his release.
As his body relaxed and the thunder in his ears abated he became aware that Juliette was laughing. It was a laugh of victory, madness, and evil.
She ripped his blindfold off, and what he saw made the bile rise in his throat. If he had not still been tied to the headboard, he would have torn Juliette’s heart out.
Angelo. She’d let—or made—Angelo pleasure him. A man. And he’d enjoyed it.
What did that make him? He already knew. He was a man who had given up every shred of honor and decency for money.
No, not money. Money was not his goal. He’d given up his soul to be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with his fellow Libertine Scholars. And now…if they ever learned how he’d been living these past few years, they’d despise him.
But not as much as he despised himself.
He looked around, hoping no one had noticed the expression on his face.
Then he saw Isobel, still dancing.
She looked angelic, her face composed in a smile even though her partner was being a drunken bore whose eyes were glued to her bosom.
Suddenly he realized something he’d missed. It was obvious Isobel did not want to be dancing with this man, but her composure never faltered. She behaved like a lady. She made no scene. Yet, to everyone watching, it was as clear as a gold coin in a block of ice what she was really thinking.
Isobel could not be subversive if she tried. She was not capable of deception. Her feelings and thoughts were easily readable. Perhaps Marisa’s instincts were accurate.
Once the dance finished, he watched Isobel scan the room. She found Victoria first, then continued her search, moving away from where Victoria held court.
