Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

It was like a sip of cool, clear water after a drought, a soft bed at the end of a long day, as Violet pulled John’s mouth down to hers. It had been so long, she couldn’t even find the will to slow down, to take her time to explore him – instead, she was pushing at his coat, fumbling at buttons, seeking the heat of his body. His hands held her to him as his mouth moved over hers, tongue exploring, just as she reached the bare skin of his abdomen, and she sighed against his lips. His shirt, the impediment to her wandering hands, was promptly discarded, and a hot shiver raced through her as she pressed herself to him.

His hands were at her hips now, bunching up the soft linen of her chemise, until he was lifting it up, over her head. That inner voice, the one which told her that no one could possibly want her, was quiet, because he did want her. Violet knew desire; it had been her livelihood, but this man desired her in a way no one else had. It was in his touch, his kiss, the way his fingers dug into her flesh. It could not be doubted, not when he pushed her back against the wall and dropped to his knees before her. Desire shone in his eyes as he gazed upon her nakedness, before he slid a hand – bruised and damaged, but no less skillful – up her stockinged calf to lift her leg over his shoulder before he raised his gaze to hers.

“You said I could have all of you, Violet. Do you still wish to give it?”

Rapturous relief filled Violet at the knowledge that the little voice had been wrong, that someone could want all parts of her, dark or light. And so, she took his face in her hands and murmured, “I’ll give you all of me if you’ll do the same.”

John nodded his agreement, and kissed that place between her legs where she ached for him. His fingers stroked softly over her thighs as he licked and sucked, and his hold grew tighter as she began to spiral, squeezing her eyes closed. Her hips rocked against him, and her fingers tightened their grip in his hair as the pressure mounted, sending her to the edge of a precipice from which she had no fear of falling. Not with him. And so, she let herself go, let the pleasure wash over her, crying out as the crescendo peaked, all as he knelt before her, worshipping her.

In the trembling aftermath, as Violet drifted back down to earth, he was still there on his knees before her, pressing his face into her stomach, breathing in her scent, his hands gliding over her thighs. As she fought to catch her breath, he gently took her leg from his shoulder and rose, his mouth seeking hers once he was standing. And then he spoke, his whisper soft in her ear.

“Of course you can have me, Violet. Whatever comes of this, I will be happy to say that, for this time, you were mine.”

And Violet Latimer smiled, because she was happy to be his, even if it only lasted while they were alone in this room together. She slid her arms around him and pulled him down to her mouth. He was kicking off his boots as they stumbled towards the narrow brass bed where he swept all the gowns Bess had laid out onto the floor. Violet fell then, pulling him down with her, opening her legs around him. He was pushing his trousers off as his lips began to drift away from her mouth, trailing across her neck before he was moving down again, dropping soft, hot kisses upon the curve of her breast before he took her nipple into his mouth with a low growl.

Violet surged against him as pleasure rippled through her, and she flung her arms over her head, writhing beneath John as his hands slid around her hips so he could push her further onto the bed. She gasped as he released her nipple before his lips were on her again, pressing to her stomach, lower, lower, until he parted her thighs, whispering her name like it was a prayer, like he couldn’t quite believe she was lying beneath him, naked and willing and reaching out for him. And as he stared down at her, his chest rising and falling, she was finally able to see the toll of all that fighting he had done to maintain his cover. What had seemed rock solid and invincible was scarred; bruises in varying shades of purple and yellow bloomed across his skin, which had been opened and healed again, bearing the marks of many fists. And he was doing it all for something beyond himself. Violet did not yet understand it – certainly not him wanting to bring himself back to the rookery – but she saw the punishment his body had taken and could at least understand his dedication. She pulled him down to her, reaching for his cock, unable to wait any longer.

“John,” she whispered, swallowing the end of the word as he buried himself inside her, and she dug her fingers into the hard bands of muscle on his back. He thrust again, and she bit back a cry. “John, it’s been so long.” A moan. “So long.”

“Then I will be gentle… Violet, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

She smiled and brushed her fingers over his lips. “You don’t need to be gentle with me, not here. If I am yours and you are mine while we’re in this room, then we mustn’t be afraid. I want whatever we could have if we had…” She trailed off, feeling suddenly a sharp pulse of emotion. He must have seen the hesitation in her eyes, for he immediately leaned down to kiss her and all thoughts of what might happen beyond this room fled her mind.

The rain continued to pound against the small windowpane. Inside the room, it was warm and cozy, and Violet was determined that they would have everything they had ever wanted this afternoon, because once they left, she would belong to Archie until an ocean came to separate them.

She clung to John, remembering what it was to revel in the weight of a man upon her, in the languid thrust of his hips, in the mounting pressure, and not feel separate from her body. She was here, experiencing every touch and sound and smell, and loving it. She had never felt worthier, and if she went home to Paris after this and never saw John again, she would remember this always. It was perfect. He was perfect. She clung to him as he thrust into her, wrapping her legs about him, never wanting to let go. When the ache became more than she could bear and she was hovering on the edge of another crashing release, he pulled his mouth from hers to whisper in her ear.

“Let me feel you, Violet – let me feel you take your pleasure.” He rocked into her, sighing against her neck. “Violet, I?—”

Whatever he had been about to say, Violet never heard as she shattered, coming apart in his arms and crying out as the sensation crested. He moved with her as his breath grew ragged against her neck before he withdrew with a sharp gasp to spend himself upon her belly.

For a long time they were quiet as the rain drummed upon the roof. When their breathing had slowed, John leaned off the edge of the bed, rummaging about in the pile of his discarded clothing and emerging with a handkerchief with which he gently wiped his seed from her belly, placing a soft kiss upon the curve of her breast as he did so.

Violet smiled as she wiggled down in the bedding, stretching her limbs like a contented cat as John passed a questing hand over the fullness of her hip. His lips played at her temple as she finally spoke into the quiet.

“I could stay here like this forever.”

He kissed her earlobe, breathing softly against her neck.

“Don’t tempt me, Violet.” There was a pause and he sighed. “But I’m afraid our time is at an end. We must get you dressed and ready for tonight.”

Violet had known they would have to part, but it didn’t stop her letting out a small, disappointed sigh as he slipped off the bed before offering his hand. She took a fleeting moment to observe him, magnificent in his nakedness, before stepping to the floor. He gestured to the washbasin in the corner of the room, and she quickly bathed herself as he set the bed to rights and picked up the scattered dresses.

As she dried herself, he approached her with the gown of black and gold stripes and held it out with a small smile.

“Let’s hope this one works.”

Violet inclined her head, taking the gown from him and stepping behind the screen to draw her chemise back over her head before fastening her corset. When she stepped out from behind the divider, John had finished washing and dressing himself, with not a hint in his appearance that he had just spent the last hour ravaging her, and she warmed at the thought as he nodded in approval.

“Perfect,” he said with a little smile and stepped towards her to press a quick kiss to her mouth. It took everything in Violet not to cling to him, suddenly fearful that if she let him go, she would never hold him again. Silly , she told herself as he turned away to gather up the discarded dresses. Whatever happened in this room stays here. You’re so close to getting back home. Do not get distracted now.

With this admonishment to herself, Violet sat at the small, mirrored vanity to put her hair back in order, tucking in the few loose strands with a hairpin and carefully powdering her cheeks to diffuse the flush as she caught his gaze in the reflection.

“I’m afraid it’s time to go back down to the box.”

His expression was apologetic as she rose, drawing in a long breath, and following him back downstairs to the gaming floor. He stopped at one of the billiard tables to deposit her gown before waving towards one of the chairs at the bar.

“Have a seat; I’ll fetch you something to eat before we go down.”

Violet nodded. She was, indeed, famished and she waited as he disappeared into the next room before returning with a plate of bread and cheese, a cold meat pie and a bright red apple. As she sat to eat, he stepped behind the bar and poured her another glass of brandy, which he set down with a grin.

“I reckon another one of these is in order.”

Violet chuckled as she chewed on a crust of the bread.

“I’d say a good deal more than one is in order, but I suppose I’ll need my head about me.”

John offered an encouraging smile as he reached out to touch her hand. Their eyes met, and Violet couldn’t breathe for the weight of the unspoken words between them, wanting to talk about how the last hour they had just spent had been… earth-shattering… but knowing it would make no difference to what else had to happen tonight. John cleared his throat and withdrew his hand as Violet reached for the brandy and swallowed it back, letting it settle in the pit of her stomach as the corner of his mouth hitched up.

“All you need to do is stand by Archie’s side and look pretty – Mr. Brill will handle the rest. As long as Archie agrees to the plan, we’ll be set. I’ll be able to collect all the evidence we need to charge him with extortion.” He gave her a grim smile. “Twenty or so years of penal servitude should put an end to the Bruisers for good.”

Violet could only nod as she took a bite of the meat pie, barely tasting it as she swallowed. Scarcely two months ago, when she had turned to find Archie in le Chat Noir, that dark specter of her past, she had been sure that was the end for her. Archie would bring her back to Seven Dials and make her keep her promise, and Paris would be gone in the blink of an eye. But now… that didn’t seem so certain anymore and she smiled across the bar.

“I’ll be the perfect little moll. He might even think he has a chance with me,” she added with a sly look, popping a piece of bread into her mouth. John grinned at her as she finished the last of her meat pie before letting out a sigh and nodding towards the back of the room.

“Archie’ll be back soon. Time to go.”

Violet swallowed back the last of her brandy before slipping off her stool and following John through the corridor that would take her back down to the box. This time, there was an end in sight, and Violet felt no trepidation as they made their way down the stairs into the void of darkness. This time, she would be ready for Archie and whatever he had in store for her. And when the loneliness and fear threatened to overwhelm her, she would carry the memory of the rainy afternoon spent making love with John Barrow, and none of that would matter.