Chapter 24

The Boynton Hotel

Five-Thirty-Three That Same Day

Corbin and his lover lay side by side, sweaty and panting.

"That was…" Io began, and then apparently lost interest in finding a word to describe the two orgasms she had just experienced.

Corbin chuckled, out of breath but happy. "Magnificent."

"Yes. That is exactly the word I was searching for." Io rolled onto her side as sinuously as a cat and then rose up onto her knees. She yawned and extended her arms over her head.

Corbin made no bones about enjoying the spectacular sight of her stretching her truly glorious body.

"Thank you for accommodating my request to meet today," she said, looking almost shy—for her. "I hope we will meet tomorrow, too?"

He had been wondering the same thing. "Yes," he said firmly. "We will."

Her face softened. "I am glad."

They stared at each other for a long moment before she glanced away and said, her tone brisker, "I enjoyed the afternoon. It was lovely to be with all my siblings. Well, except Bal, of course."

"What is it like to have a twin?" Corbin asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "People always ask that, but it's impossible to answer because I don't know what life is like without one. All I can say is that I miss him dreadfully."

"I've seen the letters on the salver and know he writes you often."

"He does. And that helps, but it still feels empty without him sometimes. As if something cannot really have happened if Bal was not there to witness it with me." She shrugged. "But I am happy for him."

"Did you ever expect that he would marry?"

She laughed. "Lord no. Of all of us, he was the happiest at Canoga. His skill when it came to farming and his mechanical innovations were both things that brought a great deal of money into our community. As a result, he was given what he needed to pursue his interests. Not like poor Ares and Apollo, who were both constantly stymied. Ares because the Council at Canoga decided it would be better if he focused his skills on mass production of furniture, rather than the one-of-a-kind pieces that he lives to make. As for Apollo, the Council saw no reason to pursue thoroughbred breeding. They changed their minds somewhat when the sale of several of his horses brought in a great deal of money. And Eva"—she huffed out a breath. "Let's just say that she never would have agreed to communal child-rearing. I suspect her time at Canoga was limited regardless of this sojourn to Britain. And of course, she has always been a mad Anglophile, so the chance to come to England was her dream."

"What about you?" Corbin asked.

"What about me?"

"Were you happy at Canoga? What was your dream?"

She inhaled deeply and then sighed. "I realize now that I was, like my younger siblings, rather stymied. Not just when it came to my little causes," she said the last two words in a voice that sounded remarkably like Miss Barrymore, "But also when it came to my life." She slid a glance at him. "I am sure you've heard of the Canoga policy of sexual mentorship—I know the journalists love to harp on that, as if it is the only important part of the Canoga credo."

"I have heard of it," Corbin said carefully, having to impose all his will to keep from allowing any judgment to seep into his words.

Even so, her eyes narrowed slightly before she said, "I suppose you believe that people should remain chaste until marriage?"

"I would be the worst kind of hypocrite if I did, wouldn't I?"

She smiled at that. "So then it is only women who should not take lovers?"

"You must admit that the consequences are certainly higher for women."

"Oh yes. Especially if men deliberately keep them ignorant about things like condoms. But tell me truthfully, Masterson, is the possibility of pregnancy the only reason you believe women should wait until marriage to engage in sex?"

Corbin ground his teeth. Infuriated at her for putting such a question to him and angry at himself for what his answer needed to be if he was going to tell the truth. "No," he bit out. "But it is the main one."

"I appreciate your honesty. And I won't put you on the spot and ask if you think I am a woman of low morals for being here with yo—"

"I do not."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Corbin felt compelled to try and explain himself. "I do not know why I feel so differently about men and women having intimate relations before marriage. It shames me to admit that I have never examined my thoughts on the matter until I met you. I suppose my attitude is simply one I was conditioned to have.

"I am pleased that you are considering the issue rather than simply dismissing my point of view out of hand. In any case, I strongly believe that young men and women—those above eighteen and especially older than twenty-one—should not be kept ignorant about their sexuality or their partner's." An emotion Corbin could not identify slid across her face. "Whether sexual mentorship is the way to do that…I am not so sure. The relationship between me and my own mentor—Lamar Jacobsen—was not as straightforward as I was always led to believe. It was neither brief nor without repercussions. Indeed, it lasted for a long time, which was frowned upon and—"

"Frowned upon?" Corbin could not help asking. "By whom?"

"By most of the members of the community and the Council." She inhaled deeply and looked as though she were searching for the right words. "People are dissuaded from viewing others as their possessions. It is one of the main tenets of Canoga." She pulled a wry face. "And there is nothing more possessive than monogamy."

A snort of disbelief slipped out of him.

She raised her eyebrows, her expression cool. "You find that amusing?"

"You are serious," he said, realizing she had not been making one of her irreverent quips.

"Yes, Masterson. I am serious."

It was too difficult for Corbin's brain to comprehend such a bizarre view of emotional intimacy, not to mention marriage.

But then something struck him. "You said people were dissuaded. Dissuaded how?"

"It is called being sticky when a person pursues an exclusive relationship. The Council usually steps in and talks to one or both partners if somebody becomes…sticky. In my case, they spoke to Lamar and he was the one who severed the relationship."

What sort of madness was this?

"And he just…left you just because they told him to?" Corbin asked, not caring that he sounded disbelieving and affronted.

She shrugged. "He probably would have done it once he realized I was pregnant, but yes, their intervention was the impetus for his decision."

"What?" he thundered.

She looked at him with cool eyes. "Yes, Masterson. At Canoga, people do not propose when a woman is pregnant."

His mouth worked, no doubt making him look like a landed fish. The expression on her face told him this discussion was headed toward an argument. And this time, it would be his fault for starting it.

But Corbin found that he could not leave the subject alone. "And didn't it bother you when Jacobsen…ended your relationship?"

Her lips twisted into an expression that Corbin could not identify. "Rejection is never pleasant, Masterson."

Corbin stared at her, hoping for more. But her gaze was vague, as if she were staring at something else entirely.

***

How in the world had Io ended up talking about Lamar and that mess?

She looked at Masterson, unsurprised when his expression was one of profound incomprehension leavened with a dash of disbelief and a pinch of revulsion. It was a look she had seen many times before on people's faces.

Just what would he think if she told him the rest of her sad little tale?

He told you his story. Are you too proud to share your own?

"I became pregnant with Lamar's child," Io blurted, as if she could not wait to see the loathing blossom in his eyes. "And I lost the baby."

There was no disdain in his expression, only the sympathy of a man who had suffered a similar loss. "I am sorry, Io."

She ignored his apology; she did not deserve it. "The miscarriage was my fault."

He frowned. "How do you mean?"

Io looked down at her hands for a moment, and then made herself look up again. "I was such a brokenhearted little ninny that I did not take care of my own health. I lost the baby."

"That is hardly your fault!"

"It is nice of you to take up the cudgels on my behalf, but there is no use in—"

"You did nothing wrong," he said firmly, his arms sliding around her body. "What did you tell me about the mess I made with Emma? You said I was young," he answered before she could rouse herself. "So were you, Io. Young and brokenhearted. Nothing that happened was your fault."

Io held herself rigid for a few seconds, but then sagged against him.

"I cannot believe Lord Balthazar did not thrash Jacobsen to within an inch of his life."

The words were an angry rumble that vibrated through Io's body and made her smile.

"Trust me, I worried about that, too. Not to mention Pol and Ares. I told Lamar to let it be known that I was the one who ended our arrangement."

His arms loosened around her and he pulled back until they could see each other's faces. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"I know you are." Io slid a hand down his bare side. "I do not want to be sad today."

"What can I do to make you happy?" he asked without hesitation.

"You can lie down on your back."

His eyebrows arched, but he immediately rolled over.

Io grabbed a handful of blankets, but then paused to ask, "Are you cold?"

He shook his head, his dark gaze fixed on her, quiet anticipation lurking in the twin pools of his inky black pupils.

"I want to see you," she said.

"Have you not seen me?"

"Not as closely as I want. I'm usually in such a rush to touch you that I don't get to fully enjoy the looking."

His lips quirked into a faint smile. "By all means."

Io pulled back the bedding, savoring him the way one would a fine wine, slowly and thoroughly.

And he was fine. His shoulders were broad and elegantly capped with muscle, his bulging biceps those of a man who'd engaged in his share of physical labor in his life—not to mention the boxing sessions he engaged in with Zeus at least twice a week.

Hard, slabbed pectorals led to a tight muscular abdomen that narrowed into a V at his slim hips. His cock was half-hard and lying on his thigh like a lazily resting predator, filling out more even as she looked at him.

The dark blond trail of hair that grew down the center of his chiseled belly spread into a curly nest at the base of his cock.

Io's breathing was labored as she jerked her chin at his groin. "Spread your thighs for me."

His body jolted and his thick shaft hardened the rest of the way, but he did not obey her.

When she lifted her gaze to meet his she saw that his jaw was like iron. His mind, she suspected, rebelled at being viewed as a sexual object, but his body liked it a great deal.

And then he spread his legs for her.

***

Never in his life had Corbin been the recipient of such a thorough—and sensual—visual inspection.

That Io liked what she saw was undeniable as her eyes became darker the longer she stared at him.

His own arousal was bobbing and leaking on his belly even before she'd commanded him to spread for her.

Her hand, cool and smooth, slid over his thigh and he grunted when she cupped his sac, every muscle and nerve in his body tightening at her touch.

"Very nice," she murmured, and then used her other hand to caress the muscles of his belly.

Corbin's eyes wanted to close so he could sink deeply into this experience, but he wanted to see her face even more.

Her fingers dug into his abdomen while her other hand slid off his balls and up over his erection—which was doing plenty of silent begging—cruelly moving on before finally settling on his chest.

"Ah, God!" he shouted when she pinched his nipple. Hard. His hand shot out and closed around her wrist.

She gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. "Oh, did that hurt? Let me kiss it better."

"If you bite me, Io, I will—" he warned, but the feel of silky heat around his stinging nipple forced a moan from him.

"Mmm," she hummed, moving to his other nipple while she rubbed his abdomen in circles, brushing against the throbbing head of his prick with every pass, until his body was so damned primed he thought he'd explode from sheer need.

And still, she teased and teased and teased.

"Enough!" he finally roared, easily flipping her onto her back beneath him.

Her body shook with laughter as he pinned her wrists above her head.

"You are a sadistic witch," he hissed, and then commenced tormenting her far larger nipples with equally punishing nips and kisses, until she bucked beneath him.

"Masterson," she murmured, trying to grind her mound against him.

Corbin sucked the nipple he'd been teasing one last time before releasing it."What?" he demanded rudely, still holding her wrists with one hand while he contorted himself to reach between her thighs. "Ah, nice and wet." He fingered her sensitive bud until she was writhing beneath him, never giving her quite enough to reach her peak.

"Please," she begged, body writhing.

"Please what?"

"Please give me an orgasm."

He barked a cruel laugh and gave her clitoris a pinch that made her cry out.

"Please give me an orgasm…" he trailed off.

She growled. "What are you—"

"You like to torment me when we are around others," he said. "Now you can pay the price. Beg me. And do it properly. Tell me who is the master here, now?"

She glared when he took his hand away completely. "You will suffer for this."

"I have no doubt of that."

"Please give me an orgasm, master."

He grinned, his finger already in motion. "There's a good girl—see, that wasn't so hard."

"I need you inside me," she gasped, her body beginning to shake.

Corbin glanced around for his coat—which is where the condoms were. "Hold on, just let me—"

"You don't need to put one on."

He gaped. "But—"

"Trust me."

Some part of him suggested this was a bad idea, but his little head was already throbbing with joy.

"As you wish," he murmured, and then positioned himself at her entrance and filled her with one long, hard thrust.

She shattered even before he'd begun moving with her, her body clenching him so damned hard that he almost came himself.

Instead, he sank deep inside her and kept her filled as her climax washed through her, her tight inner walls exquisite torture on his aching shaft.

Only after the last contraction had wrung her out did he withdraw all the way.

Her heavy eyes lifted. "What? Why are you—"

"Shhh, darling." He gave her a lingering kiss and then—clenching his jaws to keep from moaning—laid down beside her. "We still have another hour," he explained. "Plenty of time for me to fetch a condom and take my pleasure in a way that will not leave you wondering and worrying."

Her eyes widened, suddenly glassy.

"Don't get all sentimental on me," he teased. "The only weeping I want you to do in bed is when I spank you."

She gave a watery gurgle. "I never cry."

"I know you don't," he lied. "Oh, there was something I've been wanting to ask you for months."

"Months?"

"Yes. Why do your brothers moo at you?"

She laughed again. "Because they are idiots, it is their way of expressing affection. You know the Roman myth about Io, don't you?"

Corbin wracked his memory. "I was obsessed with both Greek and Roman mythology when I was a boy, but I don't recall Io's tale—other than she was one of Jupiter's lovers."

"But then, who wasn't?" She pulled a face. "As for the myth, the story goes that Jupiter's long-suffering wife was furiously searching for her husband's current lover and so the endlessly priapic king of the gods decided to turn poor Io into a heifer."

"Oh, now I remember."

"Hmm, well so do those two fools. When Ares and Pol were little, they would follow me around, driving me mad." She snorted, looking more amused than annoyed. "It didn't matter how often I boxed their ears, they would beg, Moo, Yoyo. Please, just once."

"And did you?" Corbin asked.

She made an irritable noise. "Sometimes—but just to shut them up." Her green eyes narrowed at him. "Don't even think about mooing at me, Masterson."

"I would never," Corbin lied.

She laughed. "Oh, I just bet you wouldn't."