Fourteen
When she was a child, Aurora’s mother—or the woman she thought was her mother—kept chocolates wrapped in pretty-colored paper in a glass bowl in the parlor, right next to her silver tea set. They looked like round jewels, so dainty and colorful. She was only allowed to have one when she was very good, which did not occur very often. On the rare days when she was allowed to play inside the house, she’d take them all out of the bowl and count them. She’d make shapes with them, a circle, a square.
She’d stand there, her mouth flooded with saliva and her hands full of the candy she could not eat. She could see it, smell it, touch it even, but she could not have it. Once, when she was about ten, her mother found her and furiously swept all the candy back into the bowl, then took it outside to the porch and left it there to melt in the Veracruz sun. Aurora watched in horrified disbelief for hours, tears streaming down her face at the waste, until her Tia Gloria coaxed her back inside with the promise of a dulcito de coco she’d made.
So much of her life was like those chocolates. A family she could see, hear, touch, but never quite belong to. Even her stint at finishing school felt like the final act in a farce. The bastard daughter who’d ruined herself sent to be trained as the lady she could never become. Never quite enough to reach for the things she yearned for.
Apollo was the latest of those things that she wanted but could never really have. But as she walked into his rooms, which still held a hint of the carbolic she’d used here days ago, she thought at least this time the punishment might be worth it.
She was probably not in the right state of mind for sexual lessons with the aristocratic equivalent of a werewolf. Her brothers’ presence in Paris would surely be the source of future headaches. Then there was Philip Carlyle. For the past few months, she’d managed to put his existence out of her mind. She’d been busy with the clinic and told herself he could be anywhere in Europe. Now she was faced with the unavoidable reality of his presence in the city she’d begun to think of as a sanctuary and she did not like it.
“You are very deep in your thoughts, Doctora.” Apollo’s deep, raspy voice brought her out of her unpleasant musings and forced her to focus instead on her ever-growing obsession with the Duke of Annan’s mouth.
She pressed her back to the wall, soothed by its solidness, lying to herself that it might be enough to keep her bearings. That somehow she might not fall.
“I was—” she began, then swallowed the sound that almost erupted out of her when he caged her in with his arms and body, making her achingly aware of her own.
She never gave much thought to her own body, not in any intimate manner. She appreciated it, of course. She marveled every day at the miraculously complicated system that was the human body. But who paused to think about the way their left arm felt right after the pads of a finger brushed it, or how their right ear could throb for hours after a mere graze of teeth?
She did, every time Apollo César Sinclair Robles touched her. Every inch of her became a potential blaring siren of her hunger.
“I love seeing your hair down.” When he spoke to her like this, low and hot, something like a tourniquet tightened inside her. Every word mounting the pressure, making her desperate for release.
“It’s quite unmanageable when it’s loose,” she told him nervously as his finger traced her hairline from her temple, up to her forehead and to the other side. How could that simple touch have such an incendiary effect?
He raised a sardonic eyebrow, then tugged gently on a hairpin.
“You must know by now I enjoy you most when you’re unmanageable.” Her breath hitched and something like a squeak escaped her lips as he unraveled her hair pin by pin. “But you are a luxury, Fiera,” he told her with an appreciative grunt as he ran his fingers through the mass of her hair. Luxurious was not anything that had ever been uttered when it came to her mass of curls. It was too thick, her coils could be temperamental in humid climates and was utterly uncontrollable in the summer. But one would not know it from the way Apollo was handling it right then.
“Coconut?” he asked, after pressing his nose to it.
“Yes, I brush it with the oil.” It was the only way to get it to behave long enough to get it into some kind of plait. Once he’d arranged it over her shoulders, he stepped back and looked at her for so long her eye began to twitch.
“Are you taking me to bed or doing my hair, Your Grace?” she asked, with a bit more bite than warranted. But unlike every other man in her life, Apollo liked her bouts of insolence.
“Are you becoming impatient for my bed, Fiera?” he asked, with a slightly predatory growl as he slid a hand over her chest. Her nipples tightened at the sensation, and her belly swooped with want.
“ Bored would be the word I would use,” she retorted, or at least tried to, but her voice cracked slightly when his thumb began circling one of her nipples.
“Boring you, am I?” he asked with an evil grin, as he took her wrists and pinned them over her head. “Would you like to hear what my plans are for you?” He sucked on the skin below her ear, which had a loosening effect on her joints. “Or would that be too tiresome?” It was hard to keep track of what he said, while he used his teeth on her. The sting of them sent a flash of heat through her that had her squeezing her thighs together if only to ease the ache inside.
“Perhaps a brief summary,” she croaked as he dropped one of his hands to reach for the buttons of her bodice. The other, still wrapped tightly around her wrists, kept her in place. She was certain that if she asked, he’d let go, but she liked this game, she liked it very much.
“I’ve been dreaming about your breasts for months now, Fiera,” he told her, before he plucked the first button. “May I?”
She nodded and he made quick work of it. Within seconds, the bodice was pushed down to her waist.
“No stays,” he said with appreciation as he cupped a breast with each hand, before leaning down to kiss them over the sheer linen of her undergarments.
“You know I don’t use corsets,” she told him, lowering her gaze to watch what he was doing. His lips pressed up against a dark brown nipple, a lazy touch she felt to her very core. “I joined the Rational Dress Society when I was in Philadelphia,” she mumbled, if only to try to keep her wits about her. “The society objects to the use of devices that could permanently damage women’s organs.” His errant curls were covering one eye, but she could still see a pink tongue laving each areola, while his thumbs played and flicked. It was quite an ordeal to maintain a conversation this way.
“I approve, such quick access,” he complimented while he availed himself of more of her flesh with hands and mouth.
“It’s not for men’s convenience,” she rebuked, though it might have gotten lost in her moans of pleasure. He did the wickedest things with his tongue. “I am not…” She lost the thread of the conversation when he pinched the underside of her breast.
“You are lush,” he said, opening his mouth wide and sucking in a breast.
“Oh Dios,” she sighed as fire licked inside her. He made love to her breasts, one then the other he worked with his mouth. As he whispered how lovely her skin was, the perfect brown, like milk and chocolate. That she tasted just as sweet.
“Do you like when I use my tongue on you?” he asked, as his lips drifted upward, leaving a wet trail along her collarbone, and up to her neck. “Hmm?” She shook her head and moaned as he pulled on her skin. “I can’t wait to have my tongue in your sweet heat again.”
“Apollo,” she cried out, as he raked his teeth along her jaw.
“It’s so hot and tight.” Her limbs were heavy, and her body pulsed, throbbed with need. “Will you let me in, Fiera? Make room for me inside you?”
She nodded, unable to deny, even for a second, what they both knew she wanted.
“Stop teasing me,” she groaned as he pecked at her, when she needed to be devoured.
“Tell me what you want, Fiera,” he said in that gravelly, bone-melting voice of his.
What did she want?
She wanted everything, to be debauched, unraveled, taken roughly. She wanted to feel to her bones how badly he wanted her. She wanted her body to ache for days after. She didn’t know if she could ask for any of it. But she was feeling bold enough to try.
She dropped one of the hands he’d placed above her head and slid it between them until she found what she’d been looking for. The Duke of Annan sucked in his breath as she tightened her grip and then she began a slow stroke, which rewarded her with a low, dangerous growl. And, oh yes, she liked this.
“Fiera,” he whispered with just a hint of warning in his voice.
“Your Grace,” she responded innocently, tightening her hold on him, while he looked at her through hooded eyes. “You asked me to tell you what I wanted. I’ve always been more of a tactile learner.” She bit her lip and let her hand drift to his testicles.
“You think you can take me, Doctora?” His hips rocked into her touch, and his voice, raspy, deep, like he was already inside her, flooded her with heat. His mouth hovered over hers as he spoke, his lips grazing hers. It made her teeth ache with want. “Will you part your thighs for me and let me slide deep inside you?” She was humming, her throat making a sound she’d never heard, as he nipped at her. Her lips, her jaw. Sharp, rough kisses that made her tremble.
“Mmm,” she moaned, instantly lost, but she never let go of him. Her hands exploring that part of him. So hard, so big she could scarcely believe it would all fit inside her. “This is intimidating, Your Grace.” She circled her fingers around the head, and he growled again. Without warning, he scooped up her bottom and lifted her off the ground.
“What are you doing?” she squealed, letting her arms circle his neck as he carried her across the small space.
“I’m taking you to my bed, where I will fuck all this picardía out of you.” He didn’t sound too upset about her so-called naughtiness.
“Will you behave now?” he demanded when he walked into the bedroom.
“What would be the fun in that?” she asked, tightening her legs around his waist and leaning in to bite his earlobe.
His sensual laugh moved like a line of fire inside her.
She felt weightless in his arms. It was a rare indulgence to cling to such power like this. She could not make herself let go.
“Fiera,” he whispered as he settled her on the bed. She was bare from the waist up, but he was yet to fully remove her skirts or her boots. “Finally, you’re wearing something convenient for a quick tryst,” he told her, before tugging the thing the rest of the way off.
“I don’t make a habit of trysting,” she retorted, lifting her feet for him.
“No,” he told her, kissing a spot on her calf. “These are sinful. I want to leave them on.” He gripped her calves and sank his teeth into her skin. “Como me gustas, mujer,” he whispered, before reaching for her sex. He cupped her with one hand, tugged on her curls. “May I have this tonight?” he asked, as he tickled the seam of her with a finger. She lifted her knees and spread herself shamelessly for him.
“I will let you take it,” she countered, parting her legs even further. She closed her eyes and pushed up her breasts for him. Imagined herself as a seductress, luring this man with her attributes.
She didn’t believe in doing things by halves. If she was going to do this with him, she would do it without any reservations. Her encounter with her brothers had been crushing and now Apollo knew all about her. Knew just how inadequate she was for him, but that didn’t mean she could not have him. That she would not take what she could and deal with the consequences later.
He ran his hands over her legs, from her ankles all the way up to the juncture that held her neediest place. She was so wet for him, she wished she were brave enough to tell him. “I’m going to lick every inch of you until you’re screaming for my cock.” If he knew how close she was to that already.
“I’m keeping a tally of all your promises, Your Grace,” she teased. “I expect you to deliver.”
He was still fully dressed, and she naked and wanton but for her boots.
“Spread your hair on the pillow,” he said as he reached for that hot, aching place. She did as he asked and heard his breath catch as her curls tumbled on his sheets.
“Que delicia eres tu, Aurora.” Her stomach tightened and her breath caught in her throat at the way he looked at her. Like he’d finally found his Daphne. His gaze on her was ardent, searing his desire onto her skin. His eyes didn’t drift from her as he touched her. As if he wanted to see every reaction on her face. It was intoxicating.
“Abre tus piernas, Bella.” It was not a request, and she parted even farther for him, her arms thrown over her head as his fingers traced her outer labia. “Resbaloza, mi leona.” She moaned in her throat and pushed her bottom into the mattress as his fingers mingled with her wetness. She was slippery, ripe, weeping for him, for his touch.
“Apollo,” she gasped when he slid the tip of his index between her folds and flicked it. “Don’t,” she cried as he snatched his hand away, then almost swooned when he stuck the finger he’d had inside her in his mouth and licked it.
The sound he made. She had to look away.
“Going to make many meals out of you.” The promise ran up her spine like an electric current. She might not survive this. “Come here,” he ordered. She clenched her teeth to keep from demanding he bring his hands back.
“Why should I?” she asked, peevish, while he licked his lips like the devil himself. “You don’t do what I ask.”
“Because I’d like very much for you to bring that sweet cunt—” he pointed at the edge of the bed “—here. So I can taste it.” The things he said, they made her burn. How would she leave this apartment again, and behave normally after this?
She sat up, then crawled on her hands and knees to him, their eyes locked. He took her chin in his hand and lowered his head for a kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth and she whimpered as she tasted herself. He touched her as they kissed, his hand skating down her spine, to her nalgas. He kneaded, tapped, pinched until she was vibrating on the bed. Then he pulled away, leaving her gasping for breath.
“Undress me.” His voice was stern, his eyes hard, but this game was thrilling.
“And if I don’t?” she challenged, her hands behind her back. He bent his head and bit down on a nipple.
“Then I’ll just add that to the tally you racked up when you pointed a pistol at me earlier this evening, Fiera.” He made his point by reaching down again and swatting her behind with his open palm. He soothed away the sting, rubbing circles where his hand had made contact.
“That was in self-defense,” she protested, even as she arched her nalgas for another pet.
“My shirt, Fiera,” he reminded her, and with a huff, she began unbuttoning. All the while, he played with her body. He flicked her earlobe with his hot tongue while he entered her with two fingers. Pushing them in and out while she made those animal, keening sounds he could so expertly coax out of her. “I’ve been dying to know how it feels inside you,” he told her with a low growl that made her hands slip from his shirt. “Going to take you slow, sheathe my cock to the hilt, stay inside, fill you up.” That was when she ripped his shirt.
“Sorry,” she whimpered, looking at the small tear in the sleeve, but he seemed oblivious to the damage to his clothing.
“Keep going, sweetheart, I’m getting impatient.” He made his point by digging his fingers into the flesh of her bottom, where one of his hands was still plastered. “I’ll slide right in,” he told her. “Pin your hands over your head, spread you open and take you hard.”
“Ah,” she gasped, before she dug her own teeth into the pectoral muscle she’d just bared. He stiffened for a moment, then cupped the back of her head in encouragement. She sucked on his skin, grazing the nipple with her teeth. Licking the trench between the muscles of his stomach while he told her all the ways he’d have her that night.
“Asi me gusta, Fiera,” he whispered in her ear as she used her teeth on him. Her nails leaving red tracks down his chest.
There was no precedent in her life for this. Hell, the few times she’d lain with Philip, he’d scold her simply for trying to kiss him. Nothing could be more distant from her previous experience than this carnal, heady sexual encounter where there were no rules but the ones they made together.
“Eager for me, Your Grace?” she asked, looking at him from lidded eyes, giving him her best impression of a lusty vixen, except that with Apollo, it didn’t feel like an impression. He gazed at her with a fire that made her feel like the object of his every desire. The lustiest, most desirable woman in all of Paris.
She stroked him over his trousers, and he was hard as steel under her fingers. For her.
“You know what I thought that night at Le Bureau?” he asked, as he touched her in dark, needy places. She shook her head and arched into his touch. “I wanted to bend you over that table and have you right on that tray of cream puffs,” he said, before he took her mouth. “You were so damned contrary,” he told her between kisses in that mixture of exasperation and delight he used sometimes when he spoke about her. Like she was the most enchanting riddle.
“You annoyed me,” she shot back cheekily, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, to make his kiss go deeper. He slithered his tongue along her as his hands roamed her body. Blindly she undid the placket of his pants, pushing them down with his undergarments until he was, finally, as naked as she was.
She pulled back to admire him in the low light of his room. And he was magnificent.
Nothing she could’ve imagined compared to this man in the nude. The breadth and width of that chest, the sculpted muscle of his stomach. It was like one of those Roman statues at the Louvre, except this was no cold, pale marble, this body was golden brown and pulsed with life.
There was no self-consciousness to Apollo’s nudity. He seemed as comfortable in his clothes as out of them, and she could see why. While other men used their smart suits as armor, Apollo’s body was a weapon of war.
“On the bed,” he ordered with another swat to her rump. “On your back, hands over your head.” For once, she took her orders obediently. Her sex throbbed as she lay there supinely while he stood over her. “Eyes on me, Doctora,” he instructed. And how could she look away? The man was beauty in motion.
She was still wearing her boots and he seemed particularly drawn to them. He slid a hand over the laces, then up her legs, stroking up, up, up until he was at her groin, which pulsed for him. But to her disappointment, he didn’t linger there for long and glided his warm palms up to her belly, her breasts, her shoulders and her arms to her wrists. He gripped them in one hand again and sank his head to one breast and played with the nipple. Tortured it with his teeth, suckling, nipping until she was wild with need. Bucking into the sting mingled with pleasure. Every inch of her skin felt alive, buzzing as if she’d run through lightning.
“I want to slide my cock right here.” He placed a palm between her breasts, making her gasp. Her hard nipples tingled with anticipation at the thought, imagining herself holding them together as his shaft slid in and out.
She couldn’t believe she was aroused by such an act. But after the night she’d had, she didn’t think there could be a better way to wipe the slate clean than letting Apollo take control and make her body feel as good as he had the last time.
“I have a hard time deciding where to start,” he said, raking his burning gaze over her body. “Do you want my mouth, Fiera?” he asked her, kneeling between her legs. “Or do you want my cock?”
She wanted both. “Why don’t you decide?”
“Because I want you to tell me what you want from me.” So later she couldn’t pretend this had all been a fluke. If she demanded, if she participated, she couldn’t deny what she’d wanted.
“I want you to make me climax.” It was not a specific request, but it was all she could manage with him hovering over her like a lusty god and her body close to going up in flames.
“But how, is the question, Fiera,” he said, dropping his hands on either side of her head and pressing his mouth to her neck. “Do you want me to kiss your breasts?” he asked, before doing that very thing. “Or do you want me to lick your sex? Make it weep on my tongue?” He followed up the question by fluttering his tongue on her nipple, just like he’d done to her sex before.
“Yes,” she gasped when he licked a path between her breasts to her navel.
“Yes, you want my mouth on your cunt?” he insisted. She closed her eyes and moaned as his lips brushed the top of her mons. “Because that’s what I want. I want to spread you open.” His hands disappeared from where they bracketed her head and then they were on the back of her thighs, doing what he’d just said. He pushed her knees up, then parted her with a firm tug.
She thought she could feel her heartbeat between her legs. She wondered if he could too. “How does this feel?” he asked as his fingers flicked her clitoris.
She swallowed a desperate cry before mumbling something close enough to “Good.”
He slid a finger inside her and her muscles spasmed around it. His chest rumbled with appreciation, and the praise made her smile. She never knew what to say or do when people complimented her work, her skills, her resolve, but Apollo’s appreciation of her body, somehow felt right.
“I like it when you clench on my fingers,” he told her, his gaze fixed on whatever he was doing between her legs. “You’re so slippery and hot, and then you lock around me so tight,” he groaned, like it was happening right then.
“Don’t tease me,” she moaned, desperate for him. So close to begging.
“Does this feel like teasing?” he asked, right before he lowered his head and licked along her seam. “You’re so sweet,” he grunted, lapping her labia with quick, rough strokes.
Something detonated inside her at the caress, his hands keeping her in place as his mouth ate at her. He pressed soft kisses right to the core of her one second, and the next, his teeth were on her, making her scream. Her back arched and she held to the bedpost. She imagined herself as a bow pulled tight before release. Pleasure radiated inside her, like tiny explosions all over her body.
“Apollo,” she moaned, as he kept her open for his mouth. She could hear her harsh breaths in the quiet of the room, her increasingly desperate sounds.
His shoulders moved up and down, only the back of his head and his messy dark curls visible between her legs. She felt when he flattened his tongue on her clitoris and began moving it up and down, then side to side, the pressure building and building as she pulled hard on the metal bars. He breathed as he worked on her so exquisitely, his mouth latched to her sex. She was so close her legs tingled, the tightness in her groin churned, ready to burst, and then he pulled away.
“No, por favor,” she sobbed with frustration, tugging hard on his mess of curls.
“I’m not ready to make you come yet,” he told her and moved up to kiss her. She could taste herself on him. His hands were in her hair, his body pressed to her. “You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.” She knew it wasn’t true. A man like this had any woman he wanted, but she appreciated his effort to make her feel this desirable. He pulled away to look at her, and what she saw in his eyes made her heart thump almost painfully.
“I need you,” she demanded, even though she hardly knew what she meant by that. But he seemed to and this time she let herself trust that he would take care of her.