Secrets of Sin (19 page)

This time Connor didn’t hesitate to affirm Reinier’s observation. “Extraordinary, truly.”

Something changed in Reinier. Gone was the hissing, venomous growl in his head. Instead, a low, purring sound filled his mind and spread through his whole body.

“You chose the perfect dress tonight, Lily, wrapping them in bows like the gifts they are.” His arm went around her waist and Reinier pulled her closer to him. His one hand grabbed his freshly filled glass of wine, while the other smoothed down her body, cupping her cheeks through her skirts. He took a deep sip of wine into his mouth. Then his lips closed around one nipple. He suckled her while savoring the wine, and when he finally swallowed, her tip stretched until he felt her shudder in his arms. Reinier repeated the same action with her other breast, only this time he let his tongue snake out for a final taste before he loosened his grip on her.

“Delightful. Come, sit between us and we’ll feed you,” he offered, patting her bottom.

From the corner of his eye he watched Connor get up from his seat and position the empty chair between them. Reinier guided her to it and when she sat, he reached for a piece of the conch in lime juice on his plate and fed her from his fingers. She only hesitated for a brief moment before licking his fingers clean with a few strokes of her tongue.

Connor cut some of the snapper on his plate into tiny pieces and, piling it on a spoon, offered it to Emiline. “That snapper is wonderful.” He brought the spoon even closer to her lips. An encouraging smile from him and a gentle nudge on her lower lip made her open for the morsel he presented.

Reinier pulled the dinner plate with the curried cabrito closer to him. It was accented with hearts of palm and callaloo artistically strewn around it. He took a small piece of the young goat meat and put it between Emiline’s teeth, then, closing his lips over it, he sampled it, placing a soft kiss on her lips in the end. He repeated the action, only this time he didn’t take it.

“Connor, taste the cabrito. That is the best I’ve ever had.”

Slowly, Connor leaned close, and with his eyes not leaving hers until the last second, he closed his lips over the morsel. Reinier smiled when he watched Connor’s gentle lips working over Emiline’s, saw him bite just a tiny part off the cabrito, and only when she accepted his lips on hers did he sample the rest.

By now her chest was heaving so fast it drew Reinier’s attention. Peering over the table, his gaze fell on the dish that held the plantain gratin. Checking that it wasn’t too hot, he took a spoonful and dropped a dollop on each of her breasts. It crept down the peaks inch by inch. “Here”—Reinier turned to Connor—“taste this. I’m sure it’s to die for.”

Both heads lowered to her at exactly the same time. Reinier and Connor licked and laved the gratin off her slowly.

He heard Connor’s approving hum. “It is superb.”

“How about dessert now?” Reinier asked, raising an eyebrow in question at Connor.

“That would be absolutely wonderful.”

“We’ll move to the study,” Reinier declared. “Why don’t you serve dessert there, Lily? I’m sure you can attend us even better in a more…intimate setting.”

E
miline tried to clear the shock from her voice, but her automatic “of course” still came out as a half whisper, half croak. She sent an irritated glare Reinier’s way when they left. Once she was alone, though, she let her mask fall completely. Had her husband really just flippantly exposed her, touched her in front of Connor, and even allowed another man to use her chest as if it were a dinner plate?

She rose quickly while righting her bodice, then moved to the sideboard to prepare dessert. Her brain refused to process the last hour, so she was happy to have something to busy herself with.

Her mind reeled and her hands began to shake. Emiline wasn’t sure if she shook with ire or shame, disappointment or resignation, or—God forbid—arousal…or maybe all of it rolled into one horrible, unwanted emotion. She forced herself to resist the urge to fling everything on the cabinet to the floor. Taking several deep breaths, she tried her best to compose herself.

Reinier would not see that he had shaken her resolve. He would never have the pleasure of knowing just how shattered she felt.

She placed a stack of plates, forks, spiced ginger cake, and rum sauce on a silver tray but suddenly froze. Reinier had moved them into a smaller room, one where he could shut the door and they wouldn’t be disturbed.

And what would happen then?

Emiline willed her fingers to still, took the tray, and walked toward the study. When she opened the door, the loaded silence wafted toward her. The chandelier illuminated the room, making hulky shadows dance in the corners. Reinier was sitting in one of the two wing chairs, staring up at her without blinking.

Pursing her lips, she moved to the table with great deliberation, her head high, her shoulders squared. She set out the plates and served the cake on the small table between the two chairs but remained standing by the table perfectly still like a statue, unsure of what would happen next.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor was seated in the chair facing her husband. Strangely, the image of lighthearted pleasantry was gone from his features and was replaced by a blank mask. Presentiment had a cool shudder run down her spine.

Emiline turned when Reinier cleared his throat. He moistened his lips with a small flick of his tongue and motioned her to him. She wasn’t surprised in the least when he had her sit on the rug he’d placed by his feet, once again exposing her breasts as if her dishabille was the most natural thing on earth. She knew she shouldn’t allow him to touch her at all, but she’d agreed to the damned bargain. If only she’d known.

Emiline bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers crossed and tightly entwined on her lap. Whatever the case, she vowed to endure it with her head held high.

Reinier reached for his plate. “Ahh. Ginger sponge cake. Don’t you just love the aroma of ginger?”

At his mention of ginger, Emiline went cold. She’d thought herself so clever earlier when she’d asked Cook to make something with ginger, hoping to remind her loving husband of their day. How life could change in the blink of an eye. Now all she wanted was to forget the pleasures of the afternoon, and she certainly didn’t want them to be spoken of in public.

“Wonderfully unique,” Connor replied. “I’ve been told that in Asia they make soup of it.” His words gave Emiline hope that the conversation would take a different turn. She relaxed a tiny bit, unclenching her fingers a little.

“They do?” Reinier seemed fascinated by the fact.

“Yes, but mostly they use the root to add flavor to seafood I’ve heard. A fresh ginger root is the best. It’s sweet and yet it burns you alive, and even if you think you can’t take any more, you wouldn’t want to miss those contradictory sensations brought on by it.”

Her heart sped up its rhythm. What a very astute description.

“Ginger is definitely very versatile. Wouldn’t you agree, Lily?”

A gentleman didn’t tell—but surely Reinier would. Damning Reinier for asking, Emiline refused to respond.

“So you showed your wife the sweetest use of all, I take it?”

“I did. This afternoon, in fact.”

“Oh?” Connor uncrossed his legs, leaning toward her. Emiline’s eyes widened a fraction. “And how did you like it?”

That impudent scoundrel! Damn them both to hell, Emiline thought, still not speaking.

“Ah.” Reinier flicked his wrist. “She loved it. Came so hard and so many times I lost count.”

With a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Connor turned back to her husband. “I’m sure she did. How did you apply it?”

Reinier’s snicker was downright brazen. “Well, there aren’t that many ways—”

“No, I mean, did you use the whip with it?”

“No.” Reinier shook his head. “The tack room was too far away for that.”

Connor let out a theatrical sigh. “I know you prefer the riding crop, but I still think that ginger with the cat is the best combination.”

“You and your cat-o’-nine-tails.” Reinier laughed low at Connor’s feigned melancholy. Emiline fumed at the affection in it.

“It’s not just a personal preference, Reinier. It’s in the woman’s best interest as well. Instead of one mark per stroke, you get so many softer marks. And if you’re very careful on the inside of the thighs—provided you conditioned her thoroughly to enjoy it beforehand—you get very much the same result as you did this afternoon. She will crest again and again with each blow, and her pussy is then so drenched the juices will run down her thighs.”

Closing her eyes, Emiline wished herself far away. The vivid pictures Connor’s words provoked made the tips of her breasts sizzle and tingle all of a sudden; tight threads of arousal ran to the hammering pulse between her legs. Her breath pitched, and instantly her eyes flew open to vanquish those images and the mindless heat they brought.

With a broad grin, Connor added, “When the ginger’s effect has diminished, you can take her as hard as you want, as often as you want, where you want—and she will still cry and beg for more.”

“Very interesting, Connor.” Reinier’s hand unexpectedly began to caress Emiline’s hair and she stiffened. Leaning in, his breath tickled the sensitized skin right below her earlobe. “Lily, tell me. Are you aroused by our conversation?”

Emiline only offered an infinitesimal shake of her head telling him no.

“Come now. Admit it.” She could feel that knowing, devious smile in his voice. “You have a penchant for the crop. Just thinking of it makes you delirious with desire.”

Her lips thinned and she held her breath. It was true, Emiline had felt every word they’d said pulsing through her, but she hated them for speaking of it so bluntly. She despised herself even more for enjoying it as much as she did.

Was there some way to stop her body’s response? She didn’t want to feel what she did. Why couldn’t she stop it? He wasn’t worth it.

“Show him.” Emiline had to struggle not to jump at Reinier’s firm command.

She hesitated. She knew she should stand and slap the arrogance from his face and walk out. She should go and leave them to their…“friendship.” But she’d be damned if she let him force her to end the bargain. Emiline would show him—show them both that there was nothing she wouldn’t do to be rid of him for good.

Standing, her eyes locked with Connor’s. There was a startling warmth in the entreating gaze he gave her that helped her muster the last bit of courage she needed to lift her skirts for him.

“Is she moist, Connor?”

He glanced down for only a small moment. “I don’t know. I think she may be.”

“Spread your legs a bit more, Lily, so Connor can see you better.” Reinier’s voice sounded tight with barely leashed emotion.

Emiline took two steps closer to Connor. At his supportive nod, she felt emboldened enough to place one foot on the arm of Connor’s chair, tilting her hips forward slightly.

“Can you see it now?”

Lowering his gaze to linger for a bit longer this time, Connor’s face went blank—as if he was careful not to show any emotion. But then the moment was gone, and in the next instant his dark blue eyes met hers in an encouraging way yet again. “She’s beautiful. And glistening.”

“Have a go at those lovely breasts, then. She’s particularly sensitive there.”

Connor obliged, leaning forward and stretching his body. At first he touched her with the tips of his fingers only. He played over her soft skin in a light, gentle caress, teasing it to goose bumps; then his thumb brushed against the sensitive peak of a nipple once. He straightened some more until his lips reached the puckered tip of her other breast.

His mouth was warm with rum, circling around it with deliberate kisses. Connor took her nipple between his teeth and his lips closed around her areola. His hand was kneading her other breast, faster and harder just when his teeth nipped her.

Emiline felt her eyelids lower at the sting. He’d found the perfect balance of pleasure and ache. A quiver trembled through her. Connor’s teeth now scraped the protruding nipple and Emiline almost stumbled, her hands fisting into her skirts.

“Is she wetter now, do you think?” Reinier’s question was clipped and tense.

“Mhh,” Connor let out a teasing hum in reply, all the while continuing to play with her breasts lazily. “Perhaps.”

“You’re not sure? Touch her, then.”

Connor’s eyes flicked up to hers with concern. He, too, must have noticed the low growl in Reinier’s words. His hand left her breast and traveled down her body until he reached the junction of her thighs. Fingers caressing her moist labia, Connor played over her, found her entrance, and with agonizing slowness thrust into her. Emiline’s breath pitched.

His mouth ceased its caress on her breast and, eyes still locked on hers, he croaked, “She’s deliciously creamy, Reinier.”

“Good. Now come here, Lily.”

Both relieved and wary, Emiline placed her foot back on the floor. Connor’s supporting grip on her waist helped her not to sway. She straightened but didn’t release her skirts from her clenched fists. Then she turned to Reinier as he’d asked her.

As soon as she was within his grasp, he reached out and thrust two fingers into her, hooking them to drag her closer to him. Instantly, her secret muscles gripped him in a tight embrace. That inexplicable thrill she always experienced when he touched her had her pulsing core meet his hand with a thunderous primal rhythm.

She gave up on a reasonable explanation for her body’s susceptibility to his touch and just let herself be drawn into the eroticism of the moment. Anxiously, Emiline settled onto his lap, her legs spread wide. His gaze was focused exclusively on her. She wasn’t afraid of that dark, calculating glitter in his gaze; she wasn’t even concerned about what must have shown in her eyes. She was beyond worrying now.

Reinier’s arm wrapped around her waist to hold her captive. His lips touched hers, brushed against them once just before he nipped her lower lip. Tongue flicking over the tiny soreness, he then closed his mouth fully over hers. Arching her back in his embrace, he punished her with hard, domineering kisses. Her arms drifted around his shoulders.

The two fingers seated in her slid in and out. Ruthless in his attempt to arouse her more, he opened them and began rotating his hand. He concentrated on her sensitive peak, rubbing and stroking it with his thumb.

The hot, pulsing fire he created within her had her body quake with shivers down her spine. Connor’s caress had been pleasant, but Reinier’s lips and tongue and fingers worked their magic on her like only he knew how.

Damn the bastard.

“Ahh. Good girl.” His voice was nothing but a hoarse croak when he dipped his head to nuzzle the underside of her jaw. “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I touch you. Here…” His tongue licked roughly along her neck. “And here…” he whispered just before his teeth bit lightly into her galloping pulse.

Reinier rolled and pinched her nipple with his free hand. Hunger and desire rode over her in a wave high enough to drown in.

“And most definitely here…” He chuckled, hooking his fingers inside her once again, causing her muscles there to jump with unfulfilled longing.

Emiline tried hard to ban the low sounds of bliss from her lips, but her body’s violent response and the fresh gush of moistness pooling out of her must have told Reinier everything.

“Now you’re dripping.” His hiss was cunning and self-assured, his eyes dilated, scintillating in hues of gold and bright green. “Like a wanton.”

His wanton. He hadn’t said it, but Emiline understood.

The shame of it!

Bringing his hand up, he painted her moistness over her breasts, licking them clean while his questing fingers pressed into her once again. Thankfully, his lips sealed her mouth before he could kiss his name off her lips.

He stroked her in delicate, deft thrusts. Her reason dissolved entirely in the frenzy of her arousal. Her hands gripped his shoulders, touched and scraped the fabric, craving the feel of his skin instead. Emiline whimpered. Rapacious passion surged through her veins, numbing her mind. Her instinct begged her to urge him deeper, faster, harder, to bring an end to the bittersweet torment.

Reinier stopped suddenly and met her gaze straight on. “Do I make you crazy with lust? Tell me.”

At first, Emiline could only gasp for breath through a shaky moan. Then her mind was slapped into wakefulness. She braced her palms against his chest, barring him from moving any farther. Emiline was mortified by her desire for his touch, shamed by her wanton response to his kisses.

“I hate you.”

Chuckling, Reinier began stroking her again, his tongue wandering over her neck down to the vee of her breasts. “Doesn’t feel like it to me.”

Everywhere his mouth touched her, she blazed. Her core pulsed and throbbed with pitiable desire. Through the haze of her desire and the turmoil of her despair, Emiline understood what she would do.

“I hate you for making me do this,” she growled at him through clenched teeth.

“What? This?” He thrust one more sensually torturing finger into her core and, helpless to withstand her body’s craving, Emiline let out another low moan.

The triumphant undertone in that despicable, confident snicker was the final straw. Emiline drew in a ragged breath and steeled her spine. Her head snapped up and she gave him a level stare, allowing her eyes to gradually fill with every bit of loathing that surged through her. A slight frown formed on his face.