Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

As soon as Genevra stepped into the carriage, Garmon could tell there was something wrong. She looked tired for one, but there was something else too. The glow of happiness she had worn last night was gone. Sensing that crowding her would be unwelcome, instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her as he longed to do, he simply took her hand and said, “What is wrong?”

She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry, I am tired. It’s been a–a trying day.”

He kissed her hand and squeezed it. “Well then, my plan for tonight is perfect.”

“What is it?”

He simply smiled. “Wait and see.”

She subsided against the squabs and silence fell between them. Not troubled precisely, but not the sort of companionable silence he was becoming accustomed to.

Inside his rooms,he took her cloak and hung it on the coat tree. “Wine or something stronger?” he asked as she prowled towards the fire and held her hands to the blaze. She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“Something stronger?”

He smiled and served her a double shot of single malt whisky. She took it and sipped, closing her eyes, her back to the fire. He could see her gathering herself, and he wondered what had so overset her since last night. The idea that someone had upset her, made his muscles knot up with tension, and he badly wanted to ask, but perversely he wanted her to tell him of her own accord.

She tossed off the rest of the whisky, and he said, “Another?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Please.”

He poured it for her, sipping his own at a more leisurely pace. She drank half of the second glass and set it on the mantelpiece. “Thank you.” She turned towards him with a determined smile. “What have you planned for tonight?” The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but he couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

Setting down his glass, he slid his arms round her and kissed her lips softly.

“Come and see.” He shepherded her into the bedroom, where soft candles gave a gentle glow to the room, which had been thoroughly warmed by a well stoked fire. Before which, on the floor, was a large sheepskin rug and a pile of pillows, a stack of folded towels, a basin, cloth and pots of scented oils, body scrub and creams.

She turned to look at him one eyebrow raised. “I thought,” he said softly, “you might appreciate a massage?”

She bit her lip and glancing from the fire and back at him. “Your imagination is truly phenomenal Garmon. How do you think of such things?”

He smiled and turning her gently, began to unbutton her dress, planting little kisses on her neck and shoulders. “I simply,” kiss, “Think of,” kiss, “The things,” kiss, “I want,” kiss, “to do,” kiss, “to you.” Kiss.

She sighed as he pushed her gown off her shoulders and ran his hands over her muscles, kneading them gently. She was as tense as steel. She groaned as his fingers bit into her flesh and his cock twitched inside his trousers.

He pushed her gown to her hips and cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently through her chemise. He pinched her nipples, and she gave a little squeak that made him smile and nip her ear. He made short work of her corset and chemise, her garters, stockings and boots. Kneeling behind her, he ran his hands up her legs and kissed her gorgeous round derrière.

“Go lie down. I’ll be with your shortly.” He nodded to the fire, rising to his feet and ripping off his neckcloth, jacket and waistcoat swiftly. His shirt, boots and breeches rapidly followed, and he fetched their glasses, before joining her by the fire.

He knelt beside her and took a moment to appreciate the sight of her stretched out on her stomach, the red glow of the fire gleaming on her skin as the shadows thrown by the candles danced over the curves and hollows of her luxurious form. She was delicious, a banquet he couldn’t wait to sample, yet again. He wasn’t growing tired of her. Would he ever? She had pillowed her head on her arms, her hair twisted up out of the way of her back and shoulders, and she was regarding him sleepily.

“If I fall asleep on you, please don’t be offended.” she said.

He smiled and reached for the oil. Straddling her legs, he ran his well-oiled hands from her shoulders to her deliciously rounded bottom. His ball sack rested on her thighs and his cock lengthened and stiffened as his hands ran over her soft pale skin. Like most red heads she had milky white skin, so smooth it reminded him of cream. He squeezed and massaged her shoulders and ran his thumbs down either side of her spine and she moaned softly with pleasure, which made his cock twitch. He ignored it.

With only the crackle of the fire and her occasional moans of appreciation for accompaniment, he worked her skin and muscles to free them of the appreciable stored tension, worrying at what had upset her so and wishing she would confide in him.

Rubbing his thumbs in circles in the indentation above the swell of her buttocks he considered what he could say to entice her to tell him what the matter was, without outright asking. For some reason it was important that she offer the information of her own volition.

He slid his hands under her hips pulling his fingers back across her pelvis and rubbing his thumbs across the swell of her hips.

She groaned at this treatment, and he repeated the action.

“You like that?”

“Hmm.”

“You’re very tense, I need to do more to relax you, clearly last night’s treatment wasn’t enough.”

She sighed. “That feels wonderful. How did you learn to do this?”

“I was raised in a brothel. The girls taught me how to massage them.”

She lost her sleepy demeanour. “How old were you?”

“When I lived at the brothel? Between five and fifteen, I left when Mama died.”

“Did you work there?” she asked.

“Yes for the last couple of years.” He paused considering what to tell her. “I offered services that some clients were prepared to pay good money for.”

“That is terrible,” she murmured.

“You do what you must, to stay alive, Genevra,” he said gently. “Don’t be feeling sorry for me. I make it a policy to regret nothing. It’s a waste of time and emotion. What’s done is done.”

She dropped her head back onto her arms, and he leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck, murmuring in her ear. “Relax. None of that has anything to do with you or us, here and now. Enjoy.”

She blinked and closed her eyes, but not before he saw the moisture in them. Cursing himself for having revealed more of his sordid past than he should, he redoubled his efforts to please her, running his hands the full length of her back and up again. Working at the knots in her shoulders. Gradually he felt her relaxing again and her little moan of appreciation made him smile.

Moving to the side, he spread her legs and knelt between them, leaning forward to knead her buttocks and press his knuckles into the soft flesh, working to release the knots he could feel in her lower back.

He ran his thumbs either side of the spilt in her buttocks and revealed what lay hidden between them. He hadn’t ventured there yet with her and wouldn’t tonight, but perhaps for their last night together? A pang hit his chest at the thought of this arrangement coming to an end.

He shook it off, he needed to bring this to an end because his business was suffering due to inattention. As much as he hated to admit it, he had spent more time thinking about Genevra, and planning their encounters than he should have. He needed to redirect his energies into his plans to get the hell back and into his network of spies and information that fed his income stream. He was getting careless. That was dangerous.

He stroked an oiled finger down the channel between her buttocks and she uttered a noise and wriggled her bottom in response, which made him groan.

“Genevra my darling do you know how erotic that is,” he murmured, bending forward and biting one soft round buttock.

“Garmon!” she protested, lifting her bottom in reflex.

He chuckled and sliding his finger lower he pushed her legs further apart with his knees and swirled around her entrance. So much for relaxing her.

He brought his finger to his lips and tasted her sticky dew with a soft moan of appreciation. Returning his finger to that place, he pushed inside her, and her hips lifted in response. Reaching for a pillow, he slipped it under her pelvis and worked two fingers inside her, his other hand sliding beneath to stroke her gently.

Her bottom quivered and he huffed a breath. Fuck she was gorgeous!

“Garmon!’

“Yes love?” he said sliding his fingers in and out, appreciating each twitch and shiver of her bottom as he did it.

“Is this normal?”

He knew what she meant. “No, it’s quite extraordinary in my experience.” He bent forward and kissed the nape of her neck. “Which is why I am making the most of it. Come for me, I want to fuck you.”

She uttered a sound halfway between a sigh and moan and her bottom shuddered. He rubbed a little faster and thrust his fingers a little deeper and in moments he had her cresting the rise, her bottom trembling, her legs wide and shaking, her inner muscles quaking and clamping on his fingers. God in heaven he wanted that on his cock!

Extracting his fingers he leaned forward, sliding his knees back and fitted himself to the shape of her body, seeking and notching the head of his cock to her entrance. He slid inside easily; she was slippery with her own arousal and the oil from his fingers and open and ready from her climax. He lowered his weight onto her back, nuzzling his face into her neck. He loved this position, he loved the angle and the dominance as well as the feel of her under him, pinned and held within the cage of his arms. It was filthy and strangely loving at the same time.

But he felt her tightening up under him. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” He asked lifting up his weight.

“I feel as if I can’t breathe,” she said, looking round at him her expression awry.

“You were all right with this position the other night. What’s different?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Tonight, it just feels stifling. I was out of my head that night, perhaps that is why...”

He lifted out and removing the pillow, he slid down beside her on the rug. Running a hand down her side he said, “You’re out of sorts tonight. What is it?”

She looked away and he brought her chin round, forced her to look at him. “What is it?”

Her eyes dodged his, and he brought her into his chest. “What is it?” He whispered against her hair, his arms holding her, his hands caressing, her back.

With her face hidden she said, “That position reminds me of something Jacob used to do.”

“Ah, I’m sorry love. I’d break every bone in his body if he wasn’t already dead.”

“He used to pin me down and force me-”

His arms tightened on her, and he ground his teeth. He cradled her head in one hand and kissed her hair. “He can’t hurt you any more sweetheart.”

“I know, it’s silly-”

“It’s not! I wish I could erase the damage he did to you...”

“You are.” She lifted her head and stroked his face, a slight smile tracing her lips, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “The pleasure you’ve given me. It’s extraordinary. I’m very grateful.”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said roughly, his throat tight.

Her smile grew and she said playfully, “What do you want?”

“I want to be inside you,” he said husky voiced with lust and emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs. “This position all right?”

She nodded, her hair spread around her on the pillow like a blaze of sunlight and flame.

“Good,” he said bending to kiss her and sliding inside her at the same time. His cock seemed to know where she was and how to get there with no guidance. Like a fucking homing pigeon. He groaned. “You feel so damned good, woman.”

She smiledand moved with him as he began to thrust inside her, feeling the pleasurable push and pull, the fullness and the rub of his body against hers, that drew her inexorably towards arousal, towards another peak of pleasure. His eyes looked green tonight, must be a trick of the firelight.

He kept them trained on her as he thrust slow, deep, hard within her, and she found she couldn’t look away. Could he see into her soul, truly? He had asked her to let him in last night, repeatedly even as he’d moved inside her body and the water lapped around her warm and cushioning, bearing her weight.

He wanted all of her, she could feel the pull of his will, he wanted to delve inside and possess and own her, and it was seductive. A part of her wanted desperately to surrender to that. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Jacob, and now her stepfather, wanted to control her, own her, make her submit. And as seductive as Garmon’s desire for her was, he ultimately wanted the same thing. Her submission, her obedience. And she wouldn’t and couldn’t give it.

She could give him pleasure though. A pleasure she craved as much as he. They had that. It would have to be enough.

He raised a hand to stroke her hair off her face and kissed her and the pressure of his lips, the insistent exploration of his tongue, the persistent thrusting of his cock inside her, pushed her towards another peak of pleasure, and the heat and warmth, the caring in his touch, drew a response she wasn’t prepared for.

She was vulnerable tonight, and he was unravelling her like a ball of twine. She held him tight, they only had two more nights after this one, and she must make the most of it, remember every stroke and touch, thrust and kiss, every exquisite drop of pleasure she could wring from this encounter, for she would never experience anything like this again. He was right it was extraordinary.

She clung to him as he pushed her higher, her breath panting and flesh soaking up tingling, swelling pleasure, joy suffusing her body with a lightness and exquisite bliss. She arched her neck, and he kissed it, his teeth grazing her skin and making her whimper.

The knife-edge bliss of impending orgasm swelled, held for a long moment and burst through her body like a dumping wave. In its train she felt the hot rush of his seed within her and held him tightly as he bucked and grunted with his own pleasure. Their bodies moved together in blind need, to wring the last of the wavelets of joy from each other.

He collapsed on her; his breath hot in her ear as he rested his head on the pillow beside hers. Her own body relaxed, her legs flopping loose onto the soft rug and the blissful lethargy letting her drift for a few moments in mindless, sweet forgetfulness.

They must have dozed because at some point he woke and carried her to the bed, tucked her in beside him, and she fell back into a heavy sleep.

When she woke again it was to his lips on her neck and his hands on her body caressing gently.

“Genevra, love.” His voice husky and low in her ear as he nuzzled at her neck.

“Hmm.” she moved against him, their legs tangling.

“One last fuck before I take you home?” His hand descended spearing her sticky flesh and stirring her in spite of herself. Hadn’t she had enough yet? Seems not and neither had he if the rigid cock poking into her hip was any indication.

He rolled her over onto her opposite side, bringing her back up against his chest and nuzzling at her neck again. His hands cupped her breast and her mound, his fingers busy rubbing her into arousal. He slid a knee between her legs and pushed his cock inside her. The angle was tight and when he began to move it seemed to rub a place inside her that made her pant and moan.

He held her on him, his fingers teasing her into another rise as his cock played merry exquisite hell with her insides. What was it about this angle that was so... her thoughts dissolved in panting, moaning distraction as he sped up his thrusts. He seemed almost frantic to come, his lips on her neck, his breath hot and panting on her skin. His sweat slicked torso rubbing against her back, the hairs slightly scratchy and arousing.

“Fuck Genevra! Come for fuck’s sake...” his voice broke on a groan, and she felt him emptying himself into her in hard, hot shots. Three, four of them and several shuddering aftershocks, each with a grunt and a huff of breath. He panted.

“Fuck!” He kissed her shoulder. “Fuck that was good!” He sighed. “You didn’t come did you?”

“Not quite,” she said with a laugh in her voice, she was quietly pleased by his evident pleasure. “But it felt wonderful, why is this position so...”

“Ah, I’m catching a place inside you that is particularly sensitive, here.” He demonstrated with a few thrusts of his still hard cock.

“Ohh!” she shuddered. And he kept doing it, his fingers busy in accompaniment. He moved his other hand to one of her nipples and tweaked it, sending little tendrils of pleasure downwards. The treble assault made her pant and moan, her legs trembling.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, nibbling the lobe and making her shiver.

Held in his arms and tortured in four places, the pleasure built and built, until it hit a wall of suspended pleasure, and she came with sudden, hard force; groaning and shuddering and squirming in his hold, as his fingers cleverly wrung the last thrills of pleasure from her body.

She went lax in his arms, panting. He held her and stroked her gently, bringing her back to earth slowly. “Garmon that was...” words failed her.

“Yes, I know, rear entry is a particular favourite of mine. It feels both filthy and fucking good for both parties if you can get the angle right.”

“I’ve never liked it before.” she admitted.

“That’s because your oaf a husband was only concerned with his own pleasure. He was a brutal, selfish fuck!”

She giggled. “Yes, you’re right.” She turned over to face him, her finger tracing a line from his brow to the corner of his mouth. “And you are not. I’m blessed by your passion Garmon. I never knew it could be like this. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” he said low and fierce. “There is nothing to thank me for! A woman should never have to thank a man for making her feel good. It’s your right Genevra. It’s your fucking right!”

He kissed her fiercely, and she felt a drop of moisture on her cheek. It must be sweat; the man couldn’t be shedding tears over her. Could he?

He pulled away abruptly and sat up with his back to her. “We had best move quickly, if you’re to be home in time.”