Sixteen
Aurora risked opening one eye first and then very slowly opened the other. She held in a breath then quietly exhaled as the evening before returned to her consciousness. Sparring with Apollo, then propositioning for sex lessons, her brothers, coming back to the den of iniquity, what they’d done after that…
She suppressed a groan and squeezed her eyes as the rest of the events of the evening flooded in. Her face heated as she noticed the aches of Apollo’s lovemaking, which in turn kicked up a bothersome swarm of butterflies in her belly. She could scarcely believe the things he’d done to her, the things she’d asked him for.
How much she’d loved all of it. How badly she wanted to do it again.
But it was the way he’d been with her after that was the bigger problem. He’d held her, caressed her like she was something precious in his hands. The way he’d stood up for her with her brothers. He continued to surprise her in ways that only confused her feelings more.
She knew that if she stayed this morning, he would attempt to insert himself further into her affairs. The trouble was that she was not certain how much she could resist him. Because despite her insistence that she wanted independence, she could not deny his protectiveness made her feel cared for in ways she never had before. He’d barely batted an eye at her confession that she was not her father’s legitimate child. Then again, it was not like that fact would impact him in any way. It was not like he’d marry her.
She needed to get some perspective. Find her footing after another night with Apollo which further eroded the assumptions she’d made about the man and revealed a picture that made everything confusing. An engineer. She suppressed a sigh and decided an escape was her best plan. He probably didn’t want her there either. He had a dukedom to run after all and she had her patients. What did one do after a lesson was over? Leave. Besides, it was a week to the garden party, and she’d see him then.
She would write him a thank-you note for what he’d done with her brothers…and for after, then she would put some much-needed space between them.
He would understand. He didn’t want entanglements either.
And she had much to attend to. There was the issue with the apothecaries, and her brothers. She didn’t think for a second Apollo would scare them off for very long. For all she knew, they stood guard outside Claudine’s all night.
But none of that could be dealt with until she actually extricated herself from this bedroom without waking up the very large duke currently slumbering with half of his substantial body on top of her.
With uttermost caution, she raised her head and confirmed that indeed his entire arm was currently over her chest. Holding her breath—which was not easy with a limb the size of a tree trunk on her—and wriggling her body like a worm, she managed to free herself from the arm.
Was the man made of concrete?
She could feel the beads of perspiration on her forehead while her heart hammered in her chest. She clenched every muscle in her body as she gripped the edge of the mattress, hoping to simply launch herself to freedom. Just as she was about to slide off the side, Apollo flopped onto his stomach and threw his leg out, effectively pinning her back under him.
She swallowed down a sob and thought these were the things people ought to warn wanton girls about. No one would risk this nightmare for a roll in the hay. Oh, who was she kidding? After what Apollo had done to her body the night before, she’d do exactly that.
After what felt like hours, but according to his clock was only two minutes, she pried herself from under the Greek column that was the man’s leg. She let herself drop to the rug, praying the thump her bottom made when it hit the ground didn’t wake him up.
She almost wept in relief when she saw her things neatly folded and sitting on a chair. She might have felt a tiny pang of guilt for leaving like this after he’d been so wonderful to her, but this was for the best.
As quietly as she could, she crawled to the chair and grabbed her clothes, then tucked her boots under her arm. She saw one of her gloves lying by the floor on Apollo’s side, thought of what Apollo had used them for and decided she’d let him keep those. Finally, she reached for the doorknob and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a rustling of sheets. She pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the door and held her breath, but the movement behind her continued. Reluctantly she turned her head only to find Apollo now sleeping on his back. The relief made her legs weak.
The man slept like a slippery eel.
He was bare from the waist up and she noticed a few of the marks her nails had left on a perfectly molded shoulder. The sight sent a now-familiar shot of heat through her body, but she couldn’t linger here lusting after the man and risk being intercepted.
With one last longing look at that decadent male specimen sprawled on the bed, she turned the doorknob. Nothing happened. She tried a second time, pulling with all her strength, but the damned thing didn’t budge.
Calma, Leona, calma , she chanted inside her head as she attempted again and again to break free. By the fifth turn, the chanting escalated to internal shrieking and she was perspiring so much her boots were sliding down from under her arm.
“That derriere is even more tempting in the daylight.”
Apollo’s suspiciously alert voice made her jump nearly a foot in the air, sending the boots and clothes flying.
With her face flaming, she turned around, only to find the Duke of Annan looking—much too spry to have only woken up—like the picture of unabashed debauchery with a key dangling from his fingers.
“Looking for this, Bella Doctora?”
* * *
“Give me that,” she demanded, extending a hand, but it was hard to take it too seriously when she was doing it all deliciously naked.
It had been a dirty move to let her think he was asleep while she slithered around the bed like an otter. It had taken all his strength not to dissolve into a fit of laughter when he spotted her crawling around the room naked as a babe.
“You’ll need this to make your escape, Fiera,” he taunted as he slid the key under his pillow.
“I have quite the busy morning, so if you would please hand me the key,” she told him, with an air of absolute indignation. From the neck up, she was the very picture of feminine outrage, the lower parts were a different story. The illustrious Doctora Montalban was currently plastered to his bedchamber door with one arm over her luscious breasts and a hand covering that patch of curls he’d hoped to revisit this morning.
“There’s nothing you’re covering there I haven’t had the pleasure of enjoying thoroughly,” he pointed out.
“That is beneath you, sir,” she huffed with that pert nose up in the air.
“That was exactly where I was hoping I’d find you this morning.” He did enjoy that little flush of pink on her cheeks. “Alas, we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
“The hard way?” she asked, then gulped loudly when he threw the covers off his body and set his feet on the floor.
It was a challenge not to laugh.
She was such a damned mess. Gorgeous, a fucking siren. Curves and softness, warm brown sugar he wanted to drown in. But she would fight him at every turn. He sighed, glancing at his raging cockstand, and stood.
“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes fixed on the area between his navel and upper thighs. “I must get back.” This was said a bit more distractedly, since her attention was now squarely on what he was doing—or stroking—with his hand. Her nipples had turned into tight peaks before his eyes, and her flush had spread to her neck and chest. He was certain she was wet for him.
She was as lusty as he was. Demonios, but he could devour her.
“First we have to talk about this habit you have of sneaking out of my apartment like a thief in the night.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.” The affront on her face was truly breathtaking.
He couldn’t stand it anymore and pressed her right up against that door. “Then why were you crawling on my floor with this rump up in the air?” He squeezed said rump, which made her squeak.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she hedged, then melted into him when he slid one thigh between both of hers.
“How considerate of you,” he told her without a trace of sincerity. She straddled his leg and he could feel that searing heat burning him. He thrust his pelvis into her, making her gasp.
“This is coercion.”
“What is?” he asked innocently, lifting a hand to pinch one of those beautifully taut nipples.
“How can I have a conversation like this?” she protested, even as she offered him her neck. He obliged with a biting kiss.
“I would’ve preferred to start the day in bed,” he said, skating a hand over her flank and down to her heat. “We’d both be in much more reasonable states of mind, don’t you think?”
A moan escaped her lips while she gripped his shoulders and began to rock into his fingers. He watched her face with fascination, eyes closed, mouth parted. Ready for more, and he wanted to give her every ounce of pleasure she required, after they talked.
He snatched his hand away.
“What, what?” she protested, absolutely livid at being denied her orgasm.
“Talk first,” he said, leaning on the dresser. “Making you come for me, later.”
She had the gall to look affronted.
“I don’t know what more there is to talk about.” She tapped her bare foot on the floor, extremely aggrieved. “We are engaging in some…” She waved a hand in a circular motion.
“Some fornication,” he offered. “Very filthy and satisfying intercourse?”
She screamed, then covered her face with her hands. “Yes, that!”
“Our very copacetic copulation is not what I want to talk about, Fiera.” He thought she might assault him after that, but she regained control.
“I’d thank you to stop the euphemisms.” Even when she was begging, it sounded like an order, and it made his cock throb. “We have an agreement, it’s all settled. We can continue without holding a conference about it.” She expounded on all this without looking at him.
Nothing was settled as far as he was concerned. After last night, he doubted he could go back to pretending he actually planned to marry one of his aunt’s debutantes. He certainly had no plan of allowing Aurora to think she was some kind of entertainment for him.
“I’d be more than happy to continue availing myself of all you’d like to offer, Fiera.” She rolled her eyes, hands fisted at her sides, still gloriously naked. He’d keep her like that for days if he could. “But I’d like to talk about your brothers and the clinic—”
“No,” she interrupted, the blush replaced by a furious glare. She swept her chemise off the floor and dragged it over her head. “I thank you for being my champion last night, but beyond what we’ve agreed to, you’re not invited to immerse yourself in my life.”
“I’m already immersed,” he told her, as he reached for his own dressing gown, resigned to the fact that this conversation would not end as he wished. She simply scowled. “I don’t like the idea of you unprotected.” She looked up from the fight to the death she was currently in with the row of buttons on her chemise.
“I’m not unprotected,” she countered, after giving up on the buttons with a huff.
“If you want that building, you need to play by the rules.”
Her look of betrayal left him uncowed. He’d be damned if he let her go on like this.
“That is blackmail, Apollo.”
He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“What rules?” she asked, exasperated.
Where did he begin? He hadn’t liked the idea of anyone showing up at her rooms and being allowed inside. What if some disgruntled husband came after her? He also didn’t know what those brothers of hers were looking for. The thought of her still walking around with those blade gloves, or that little pistol, would likely send him to an early grave.
“The rules I’m implementing right now,” he stated, freely using his ducal voice. “Self-defense lessons are not enough. I’d like to send someone with you when you work nights.”
“Why?” she asked, with horror on her face. As if she had no earthly idea why anyone would ever think the way she carried on was of concern. It truly made him want to commit violence on those three bastards who shared her blood.
“Because I don’t want you getting hurt.” The glare she sent him was absolutely homicidal, but she didn’t argue. “Starting today, you will have Jean-Louis with you in the evenings, and—” He held a hand up when she began to protest. “One of my conveyances too. I’m not backing down on this, Aurora, or I am not giving you that building.”
He could see how much it took her to not fly at him in a rage. But she was too smart not to know he had her.
“I don’t like being handled, Apollo,” she warned with a tightly clenched jaw. She’d brought those tight fists to her hips, and even through her narrowed eyes, he could see her fury. He could also see the way her sight snagged right at the triangle of skin visible through the dressing gown.
“Jean-Louis won’t bother you.”
She blew a raspberry then uttered the man’s name with disgust, as if its utter Frenchness only added insult to injury.
“I don’t like having strange men around when I do my work,” she groused, but she still came to him when he tugged on her hand. “You saw how skittish Dona Maria was.” He pushed back her hair and planted a kiss on her neck.
“I also heard you say that her husband did not want her getting treatment.” She huffed but did not argue that point. “What if some infuriated husband decides to take his frustrations out on you?”
“I can take care of it on my own,” she insisted weakly while he made circles with his thumb right at the base of her throat.
“But you don’t have to, Fiera.” He knew she got scared and all he wanted was for her to do her work without fear. “Your friends would be concerned for you if they knew the risks you’re taking.” It was a low blow, but it seemed to work. He tipped up her face, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“Fine,” she finally said, those brown eyes flashing with wounded pride. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“I did not expect you to,” he conceded, and began kissing her again. “Now that that’s settled, perhaps we could focus on some of the things you do like,” he cajoled. She made one of those lusty little noises, as he began divesting her of the chemise.
“I just put that on,” she protested and he let the garment go.
“It can stay on,” he told her, leaning in again, but she pushed him back.
“No,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest and forcing him to take a step back. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do, Apollo.” Her eyes were narrowed and something predatory flashed in them. “I won’t let you govern me,” she informed him, livid. Then shoved again until he was sitting at the edge of the bed. “I want things too, you know,” she said, standing there with her fiercest expression.
“What things?” he asked, undoing the tie of his dressing gown and spreading his thighs apart, noticing her attention was now very much on the nether of his regions. Like every morning, his cock was standing at attention, bobbing for her with enthusiasm. He could read the hunger in her face, but she was still cautious. Still denying herself.
Some imbecile had told this woman to hide her fire. To smother the flames of her passion. Apollo only wanted to stoke them. He wanted to burn in them.
“What do you want, Fiera?” he asked again, and this time it was a challenge. He rested his hands on the mattress, determined to make her come and take what she wanted from him.
She stood there for a moment her eyes eating him up, then went to his knees in front of him.
“This, I want this.” She took him in her hands, the scratchy feel of her palm on the head of his cock sent pleasure shooting up his spine.
“I very much want you to have it, sweetheart,” he said, with a groan.
“It’s like velvet,” she admired, as her hand moved over his cock. She cupped his balls, then squeezed them, just enough to make a pearl of liquid form at the tip. With her eyes locked with his, she licked it.
“Aurora,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I thought we’d have another anatomy lesson, Your Grace.”
“If you keep doing that, it’s going to go in your mouth,” he warned.
“What, your glans?” she asked, before wrapping her lips around the head and sucking hard enough to make him see stars. She made this little noise of delight, like having his cock in her mouth was pure rapture.
“Open wider,” he told her, clasping the nape of her neck, as she lapped delicately at the head.
“Not yet.” She shook her head and tickled the frenulum with the hard tip of her tongue. “Oh, that is very sensitive. What about this?” she asked, lazily stroking it from base to tip while he watched. He was so hard it would not take much. He was riveted with the idea of seeing his seed on her lips.
“Stroke it harder,” he ordered, pushing into her tight fist.
“Does it feel good?” she asked, and he could only nod.
“Keep doing that, darling,” he urged, reaching for her, and his Fiera took that encouragement to heart. Her touch became more certain, rougher, faster, until his harsh breaths echoed in the room. “You’re so good at that,” he praised her, watching as that pert bottom wiggled in the air. When she reached for his balls and squeezed at the same time, he had to breathe through his nose, to keep from spending.
Then she moved to his sac and he began to see spots. “Oh, the scrotum is quite sensitive, isn’t it?” she crooned, as she tickled one, before lapping at it.
“I’m going to disgrace myself,” he grunted, while she took one into her mouth and slurped the thing. His hips bucked and he had to count backwards from ten, just to keep from squealing. When she moved back up to his cock, she pressed the tip to her lips. She looked like temptation itself. “Open up, carino.” She parted for him and then he was in that hot, wet heaven. Just the tip, he didn’t want to overwhelm her, but his need was strong.
“Can you take more of me, Fiera?” he asked, and in answer she pressed forward, lodging his cock deeper. “Carajo.” He shuddered as she dug her nails into his skin, then took even more of him, her bead bobbing up and down, as his balls drew up and his heart hammered with the need to come. Then she began humming around his cock and he exploded.
“Aurora,” he roared, pulling out as his seed shot out of him onto her hands and chin. It took him a moment to get his breath back and his vision was more than a little blurred.
“That was explosive,” she told him, staring at her fingers. He reached for her and brought her onto his lap.
“Me vuelves loco, Fiera.” She smiled, her lips plumper from her efforts. But her eyes were already guarded. He slid the back of his hand over her cheek. “Let Jean-Louis come with you, preciosa, please.” Her expression was closed and she looked unhappy, but after a moment she nodded.
“Fine,” she agreed, turning away when he tried to kiss her. “But I will be keeping that key to the bedchamber.”
He pressed his face to her hair and shook his head helplessly.
“All the keys are yours, Fiera,” he told her, thinking he was not only referring to the keys for his apartment.