Devil's Fire (8 page)

I reached around his neck, and then clambered up his legs to position myself for his tall, solid cock. ‘I probably won’t eat or sleep, for wanting you, Hyde. I wish you didn’t have to go.’

‘And will you save yourself only for me?’

Hyde suddenly raised me out of the water. Holding me by the hips, he watched the rivulets trickle down my thighs, and then brought his gaze slowly back to my dripping bush, and up my wet belly to where my breasts bobbed in front of his face. Then he gazed straight into my soul, his eyes dark with a potent magic he alone possessed.

‘I was serious when I told the abbot I want you for my wife, Mary Grace. I hope your love will catch up to mine, and that you’ll give yourself freely to me — only to me — when you leave here in the spring.’

‘I already love you fiercely, Hyde! Maybe we should just go home and —’

‘I want you to be sure,’ he interrupted in a hoarse whisper, ‘because once you’ve said yes, there’s no going back, Mary Grace. I will not love you and then lose you to someone else — or to your doubts about my household, and my occupation.’

Images of Yu Ling and that wailing wraith vanished in the heat of our gaze. Hyde’s eyes reflected the moon, glowing like golden coals as he silently demanded my answer. With a little sob, I reached for him. He loved me, and wanted me for his wife!

He lowered me into a savage kiss. My hips searched until I felt the tip of him insisting on entry. With a grunt and a deep thrust, I impaled myself on his jutting shaft. Hyde spread his legs, and then cradled my hips so he could lunge freely and with increasing speed. As my cries echoed around the little cove, I banged my itching clit against the base of his cock. Maybe it was from that harsh soap, but my cunt and its little nub wanted him faster, and harder, and deeper, until all my muscles contracted at once. Hyde buried his face in my hair, stifling a guttural groan as he shuddered and shot.

For a few moments we clung to each other, breathing rapidly. ‘God, I love you,’ he confessed against my ear.

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. ‘Maybe we should just slip back into the carriage, before anyone misses us.’

‘Oh, but I would miss you!’ a jaded voice called out.

Hyde clutched me, instinctively lowering us into the water. I turned towards shore to see the red ember of a cigarette, and then Sybil’s shadowy form as she lounged atop a rock like a cat who’d trapped a fat canary.

‘And aren’t you a pretty pair?’ she crooned. ‘Too bad men demand such possessive promises of their women, who are too fickle to keep them.’

I wanted to lunge from the water and drag her in. Wanted to hold her head under until her cynical tongue was silenced. Hyde tightened his arms around me.

‘Speak for yourself,’ he replied tersely. ‘Mary Grace embraces such virtues as faith and fidelity and trust. Things you’d know little about.’

‘Does she now?’ With a flick of her finger, Sybil sent her glowing cigarette into an arc that ended with a hiss beside our shoulders. ‘We’ll see whose virtues rub off on whom. I’m betting Miss Michaels will embrace all manner of things — begging for that deep, sweet release you just gave her, from whomever — or whatever — happens along.’

Sybil stood up with the grace of a dancer, then threw us a smug smile. ‘By the way, you’ll have quite an audience if you stay here any longer. Everyone saw you leave together, before our final prayer, so after Father Luc petitioned for both your souls he suggested a search party. Rather like hide and seek,’ she added with a sultry chuckle. ‘I guess I’ve won.’

S
ybil stood naked beside the vanity table, with one leg on its padded bench, smoothing lotion into her skin. The glow from the oil lamp cast a spell over the cottage, and perhaps over me, because I could only stand motionless in the doorway, watching her. Her body glistened. Her muscles rippled, lithe and lean, as she lavished the lotion over her thigh.

When she changed legs, our eyes met. I licked my lips nervously, wanting to come inside before any of the others found me, yet not wanting to intrude — or to appear eager. She’d turned down the bed, and I longed to crawl into it, but she’d be only a few feet away, massaging herself. I felt oafish and unsophisticated, my hair still dripping and my tunic clinging wetly to my breasts and hips. I caught the scent of lemongrass, and my skin ached for some of that lotion where Mrs Goodin’s soap had burned me.

Sybil smiled coyly. ‘Cat got your tongue? Or shall I take up where Fortune left off?’

She laughed at my anxiety. Then she poured lotion between her palms and languorously fondled her breasts. For such a diminutive pixie she was well endowed, yet firm and pert. The dark skin around her nipples bounced at a saucy angle when she brought her hands up from her belly, and then she stood as though offering herself to me.

‘You might as well come in,’ she said. ‘I’ve graciously decided to share my home with you, Mary Grace. Don’t stand there gawking like the village idiot. It’s highly offensive.’

Nodding, I stepped in far enough to shut the door. ‘I suppose you’ll tell Father Luc how you found Hyde and me. No doubt he has a prize for the winner of tonight’s game.’

She chuckled, her hands still moving in that hypnotic motion, up to her shoulders now. Sybil arched her back to let her hair swing free, so she could apply the lotion to her neck. This canted her hips towards me in an even more blatant invitation, because I could see the petals of her sex peeking out from her russet-coloured nest. This was the second time I’d beheld a female naked, displaying herself, and I tightened inside. No one had ever told me women could want each other: it went against my grain to even consider such a coupling. Or perhaps my horrified fascination with this taboo excited me more than I realised.

‘You want me to tattle?’ she challenged. ‘You don’t impress me as the type who craves pain and punishment.’

‘No! I — I just figured you would report us. Everyone here seems set on embarrassing me. Mostly because I’m too new to know the routine.’

I wondered now why Brother Christy hadn’t informed me about staying for the closing prayer, just as I had assumed Hyde would know about it. But it was too late to fret about that. And as I watched my room-mate caress herself, I sensed Sybil had figured out my foibles and weaknesses, and was already planning to work them to her advantage.

She offered me the lotion bottle. ‘There’s a spot in the middle of my back I can never reach, Mary Grace. If you’d be so kind…’

It was the nicest thing she’d said since we met, yet again I smelled an ulterior motive along with the light scent of lemon: this was the favour she wanted in exchange for her silence. Her dark-rimmed eyes pulled me forward. Her nostrils flared daintily.

‘I won’t bite,’ she said lightly. ‘And never forget what an advantage it can be, having the queen of Heaven’s Gate as your friend. I can be very persuasive.’

I didn’t doubt it. Against my instincts I stepped towards her, as though entranced by the light in her eyes and the fullness of her lower lip. I took the lotion, trying not to look at the two flawless breasts only inches from mine.

Thank goodness Sybil turned then, and with slow, sensual grace she lifted her honey-red hair from her shoulders. My first impulse was to quickly slather on the lotion and be done with it, yet when my fingertips met her skin, I lingered in that concave between her shoulder blades. She felt like velvet, her softness the ultimate contrast to her defiant nature. As I rubbed in wider circles, I told myself I was doing nothing more erotic than when I’d performed this same service for Mama, when she was ill.

But my mother hadn’t undulated and swayed her hips.

‘Use both your hands,’ Sybil sighed. ‘You have a wonderful touch. Tender, yet firm.’

I wouldn’t have guessed the word ‘tender’ might fit Sybil’s vocabulary, except perhaps to describe meat she’d roasted for dinner, or pastries she baked. Encouraged, I puddled lotion in one palm and set aside the bottle, spreading the creamy liquid over her shoulders in rhythmic double arcs that eventually dared their way down to her waist.

Still holding up her hair, she turned. ‘Now let me do the same for you.’

With her elbows pointed at the ceiling and her hips cocked to one side, Sybil could’ve seduced the most righteous man on earth. Yet she stood in front of me, those gypsy earrings swinging in the lamplight while her nipples bobbed on breasts that begged for my attention.

‘Don’t be shy,’ she said, and then she raised one eyebrow knowingly. ‘If we’re to share this cottage, we might as well get accustomed to each other, don’t you think? You certainly didn’t back away when Hyde touched you.’

‘Hyde’s a man,’ I stammered, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks.

‘God, yes! And the sight of him holding you up, as though you were light as a child, and then ramming his rod into you until you both screamed — well, it was quite a sight,’ she admitted. ‘I envy you, Mary Grace. Fortune actually believes he loves you.’

While I wondered if this were another of Sybil’s wiles, at that moment I felt sorry for her. She thought true love was merely a fantasy, found only in fairy tales. I had the advantage of knowing Hyde loved me as much as I loved him, so perhaps I was even more fortunate than I had assumed. And because I’d pledged myself to him — and Sybil had witnessed it — I decided not to feel threatened by her touch. My poor skin was crying out for the lotion’s relief, and letting my room-mate rub it in would establish some trust between us. It was a long time until the end of May, so becoming Sybil’s friend would be a wise move.

I turned towards the bed and nervously removed my tunic. ‘Does anyone wear underthings beneath these?’ I asked as I draped it over the ironing board to dry.

Sybil let out an unladylike snort. ‘Really, Mary Grace! What makes you think I’ve checked?’

I was about to protest, when her two hands followed the outer curves of my behind. Slow and sweet her touch was, and in a fit of jitters I lifted my hair so she could lotion my back. The lemony cream felt cool and smooth as it soaked into my skin, yet prickles of heat shot like lightning through my insides. Sybil continued her gentle exploration by kneeling behind me to massage my right thigh, working her thorough hands down both sides of it. When she tickled the sensitive spot behind my knee, I giggled and fell forward, catching myself on the bed.

‘Now there’s a sight,’ she murmured.

It was then I realised we were in front of the vanity mirror. My breath caught as I watched our reflection: I stood naked, braced against the bed with my legs apart and my hair falling about my shoulders. Sybil, however, wasn’t looking at how our complexions and hair were such a near match in the lamplight. She was focused on my pussy. With rapt hands she slathered my calf, easing up it with slow, purposeful strokes that made me hold my breath.

When I tensed, she caught my eye in the mirror. ‘What on God’s earth did Hyde do to you? Your crotch looks raw, and all along your thighs. It must hurt like hell.’

I closed my eyes, mortified. ‘That’s Mrs Goodin’s handiwork,’ I breathed. ‘She and Father Luc insisted I needed cleansing, after the way they caught Hyde and me in the carriage.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘What’d she use, a scrub brush?’

‘Lye soap.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ she muttered, and then she quickly yanked open a vanity drawer. ‘Some day that woman’s going to swallow her own medicine. Here, I’ll apply some ointment we use in the kitchen, for burns. No wonder you wanted Hyde to take you home!’

Before I could anticipate her, Sybil had dipped into the jar and was fingering my slit. Those few moments of her sympathy had caught me off-guard, and I yelped when she worked the slick salve between the lips of my sex. She chuckled knowingly and continued her ministrations, rubbing my clit between the knuckles of her left hand while she reached for more ointment with the other.

‘Yes…relax and let your honey flow, Mary Grace,’ she whispered, once again focused on my hole. ‘It’s the best medicine, your own natural juice…so creamy-white, like liquid pearls.’

Shocked at my rapid reaction, I tried desperately to think of something else. I wanted to pull away, but Sybil instinctively slipped her arm around my hips.

‘I know how to scratch your itch,’ she continued in that feathery voice, ‘so stop fighting me, pretty Mary. Let your arse wiggle and let the fire catch inside you. You don’t think you should allow a woman to touch you this way, but you like it too much to stop me. Don’t you?’

My breath escaped in a rush, and without any conscious command, my legs opened further. Was it the illicit thrill of Sybil’s touch and voice that sent such a fine fire singing through my veins? Or was she speaking a truth I couldn’t have known when Yu Ling approached me, wanting this same sort of contact?

‘I’ve got salve on the middle finger of this other hand,’ she went on in a voice I strained to hear, ‘and now that my knuckles have kneaded your sweet little clit from behind, until it’s sticking out, begging me for more, I want you to guess where my fingertip’s going.’

My eyes widened and my pussy went tight. The waves of pleasure were rising like flood waters and I couldn’t have stilled my hips if I’d tried. I was gripping the sheets, bearing my weight on my hands, as I glanced towards a most shocking reflection in the mirror: crouched behind me, Sybil moved in time with my body, her breasts bobbing and her spine curved down to her shapely arse, which swayed forward and back with the motion of her forked knuckles.

‘Tell me where,’ she said in a more determined whisper.

My eyes closed as my desire for release intensified. A trickle of my juice ran between her insistent fingers. ‘You…you’re going to put it inside me.’

‘I’m going to shove it up your hungry little cunt,’ Sybil confirmed hoarsely. ‘I’m going to start right here —’

I sucked air as her finger found the front side of my aching clit, and gasped again when she gripped that finger between her other knuckles. She stopped moving, stopped breathing, and just held me suspended from both sides. I rose to my toes with the tension, clenching my teeth against the need to feel her swirling the salve inside me.

‘— and I’m going no further until you beg me to fill your squirming little pussy. You know you want it.’

I stood at attention, my body throbbing with a need I didn’t want to admit. Sybil tightened her knuckles around her fingertip, which pressured my cramped clit until a low cry escaped me. ‘Sybil — please —’

‘Please what, Miss Mary?’ With an impish giggle, she wiggled the fingertip and inched it closer to my hole.

My hips thrust forward and my juice surged again. ‘Stick it up me — God, please!’

With a triumphant cry, she slid her middle finger inside me, maintaining the pressure of her knuckles to create a double pleasure-pain like nothing I’d ever felt. I moved against her hand until I was humping shamelessly, wild for release. In and out her finger slithered, each time igniting that sweet ache as though she knew exactly which spot would send me through the roof.

I was panting madly, on the verge of a crashing climax, when Sybil pulled away. ‘That’ll be all,’ she said with a cool smirk. ‘I’ve more than repaid you for rubbing my back.’

I turned like a crazed animal and hauled her up to face me. ‘Just what do you think you’re — you can’t stop! I won’t let you!’

Sybil only narrowed her eyes at me, the green feline eyes of a night cat mesmerising her prey. ‘But I did stop,’ she murmured, ‘and there’s not a pussy in the world that can make me —’

What possessed me, I don’t know. I turned, propelling her on to the bed so she landed on her back with me sprawling on top of her. Our lotioned fronts slid together and I thrust my hand between her legs, fighting fire with fire. Sybil struggled, but I had the advantage of size and pinned her down with my upper body. Her breasts thrust up into mine, and when my middle finger found its way through her coarse curls, her sleek wetness awaited me.

‘Can you take what you dish out?’ I grunted, shoving two fingers inside her.

She squealed and acted as though she were wriggling away, but I realised then that this was her crafty way of pushing me beyond my inhibitions. I stroked her with the intensity she’d used on me, leaning into that nub where all her nerve endings would set her afire. Moaning now, she locked her gaze into mine and answered the rhythm of my hand with her thrusting hips.

‘Harder,’ she gasped. ‘Pound it into me. Like Hyde did with you.’

I thrust my fingers as far as they would go and held them there, pressing her clit beneath my thumb. In that amazing moment I felt her pulse thrumming with mine, felt her trembling towards orgasm as frantically as I had been.

‘Finish what you started, damn it,’ I muttered. ‘Then maybe you’ll get yours.’

That voice didn’t come from the Mary Grace Michaels I knew, but from a brazen slut who had suddenly discovered her own power. I pushed a little harder with my thumb, circling surreptitiously to spread the wetness there, while raising my upper leg.

‘Do it, Sybil. I can lie here pinching your clit all night, or we can both get what we want, and then get some sleep,’ I said in a clenched voice.

She eyed me defiantly, as though she might spit in my face. ‘Kiss me,’ she hissed.

‘Don’t you dare!’ I clamped harder on the slick flesh between my fingers. I saw no connection whatsoever between the intimate act she demanded and the way our hot, damp bodies moved against each other, making the sheets rustle seductively. Her juice was oozing into my palm and her breasts quivered against mine with her rapid, shallow breathing.