Page 22 of A Dream of Redemption
This time he did not need to ask, a glass was at his lips within moments and the fresh apple cider was like nectar to his parched mouth, fuzzy from the opium. He drank more this time.
His side hurt as if a hot poker was burning his flesh but he bit through the pain wanting to learn about Glover.
“Where’s Richard?” he managed to ask.
“I’ll fetch him,” and then she was gone and he had to fight the pain to keep the cider down. Her presence seemed to not just ease the pain, but kept his mind from feeling it.
Just when he thought he could not go without more opium, her scent wafted back in and his pain knew she was here. He could again hold it at bay.
He forced his eyes open and saw her beautiful, worried face staring at him, her luscious bottom lip between her teeth.
“He needs more opium,” she threw over her shoulder to the person behind her.
“No. Not yet,” he forced his dry throat to say. “I want Richard to tell me what happened.”
Richard drew near. “We stormed the warehouse as you planned. No casualties on our side but two of Glover’s men died. We found a small group of children, not just those from this orphanage but others that had been taken off the streets too.”
“And Glover?” Clary was hurting pretty bad now and wished Richard would hurry up.
Richard looked away. “He got away, but we captured two of his men and we’re questioning them now.”
Damn. Now Glover could scurry off and continue his trade elsewhere. “We have to find him. I’ll talk to Her Grace about offering a reward.”
“No need to wait. I can authorize a reward. I’ll pay it out of my own money if I have to.”
Of course Helen would be able to organize the funds needed. It was the reminder he needed that she was not of his world. “Thank you. Now could I please have some opium?” Everything else could wait. His pain could not.
—
He didn’t know how long he’d slept this time, but as always Helen was there, soothing him. You’d think with the agony he was in that he would not have such erotic dreams. In every dream Helen was naked and he was ravishing her as if he would die without her touch.
They were in his study, the drapes were pulled wide and the sun streamed in, the windows were open and the fragrance of the flowers from the garden below filled the room to mingle with her heady lilac scent.
She was lying naked, spread-eagled on his desk, her thighs parted in wanton invitation as she pleasured herself while he watched.
He would take his time stripping his clothes off as he watched her erotic display. Her breasts bounced as her movements became more frantic, her fingers dipping within her body in quickening thrusts. Her back arched off the desk as she neared her climax. He would order her to open her eyes and then just before she came he would lower his mouth to her, remove her fingers, and replace them with his tongue.
He would lick and suck and plunge his tongue deep while she found her release, screaming his name. Only then would he climb farther between her thighs and plunge his pulsating hard cock deep within her tight sheath.
He would take her slowly, then hard and fast, alternating between the two until he drove them both to the edge of reason.
He would make her come again, and then he would start over, until with one of her turgid nipples in his mouth he would pound into her until they climaxed together.
It was as if his heart knew that she could only ever be his in his dreams.
He awoke, sweaty and aroused, to find the room in darkness and he knew immediately Helen was not there. Thank God, because he was hard and aching from the dream. He bit back his moan of pain.
“Drink, my friend.”
Christ, it was Blake but he jumped at the sound of his voice. “No more opium. The pain is bearable, and the opium makes my head swim and my throat as dry as if I’d swallowed sand.” Blake was there with the cider. Clary was allowed to drink more than before and Blake made him also take a bit of soup into his system. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the chicken broth.
Once he’d finished Blake helped him with his ablutions and then Clary decided he needed to get up and find Richard. He made to throw back the covers.
Blake’s hand stopped him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re to stay in bed until the skin starts to knit closed. You know if you tear that deep cut open you’re more susceptible to infection. Besides, I don’t want my nice, neat stitches to be for nothing. That work took me over two hours.”
“I bloody know. It was my skin you were piercing with that needle.”
“Don’t be such a woman. The opiates helped. You were out of your mind. You kept blabbering about Lady Helen and her soft curves.” Blake’s face lost its smile. “I am hoping you’ve not been stupid enough to dally with Her Grace’s sister. You risk a lot and you do so much good for these orphanages.”
