Chapter 22
Lazlo
Is this one of those times when I have to battle my own morals?
It is and it isn’t. Last night I threw away my morals.
The question now is, do I have to abide by them again?
With Georgia shooting me baleful looks every so often, I am very conflicted.
I thought I would tell Rafe, I still haven’t decided.
I organized breakfast for the three of us in the room, and have to try not to think about what to do about Georgia while we sit at the same round table on my balcony, and eat eggs, cereal, fruit, and croissants.
It’s hard, and by hard I mean my dick.
She’s opposite me, wearing these body-hugging black underwear shorts, or I think those are that, a black T-shirt that Rafe gave her, and one of my warm jackets.
Those legs of hers, sprawled out to the side of the table and with our feet touching…
the curve of those thighs—I’m close to swallowing my tongue due to wanting to lick her to orgasm right here, right now.
Then bend her over the stone balustrade, spank her, fuck her, do it all over again.
I am not a horny teenager, but it feels like it.
Sir Benjamin would be most annoyed if I did that, if the cleaner hasn’t already told on us.
I travel my gaze up her leg again, to end where the black shorts gather at the apex and vaguely show the folds of her pussy.
Damn.
Rafe has noticed my drifting attention and grins at me, around a mouthful of food. He waves his fork before digging into his scrambled eggs.
I should report her escapade to him, obviously. But I need a plan for after, since I will not hand her over to somebody else.
Now that I have the escape attempt to hold over her, it’s making me want to do all the kinky things to her. She’s opened herself up to my control.
I have a lever, a secret leash around her pretty neck to attach to that black collar. The party yesterday showed me I can make her submit, and make her love it.
That was a fucking revelation. I could have made her eat my cock last night then finger herself to climax, if I’d wanted to.
I was too frustrated by her behavior. Too angry. Anger equals bad, I remind myself.
All the gear in my drawer, I can finally make use of it. Rafe seems underequipped.
I sit back and eye her, then smile. She’s an important witness, but she’s also going to be mine from now on.
Once we’ve mostly finished eating, Rafe takes a sip of coffee then asks the obvious. “What are we doing today?” He raps the wrought iron table. “You remembered that one man, Georgia. Anything else you remember about that day, before you boarded the boat even?”
“That’s a good baseline for her.” I drink the dregs of my tea. “Write it down, pick memories apart before they fade.”
“True. They had faded.” She pokes warily at a piece of her croissant, then returns it to her plate. “But some of it is coming back to me. It happened last night. If I get the right stimulus, and it was a man with a beard last night, things might pop up.”
The wind strengthens and tousles her red hair, and she pulls the jacket closer around her. Her face pales and her lips go redder than red. Kissable. Fuckable.
Awkwardly aroused, my cock half-bent, I adjust it and shift on my chair.
She noticed and adopts a fuck-you expression—least I think it’s that. Last night made an impression. Not enough though. She’s still what Rafe calls a brat.
“I might go inside,” she says, voice low and husky.
After I wipe my mouth with a napkin, I stand up. “Let’s have that bath before we dig into your brain. You promised, Rafe.” I had Susan run the bath earlier, when she left our breakfast. It should still be warm since she left the door to the bathroom shut.
“I did.” He stands, moves his chair out of the way, ambles around us to the open terrace door. “We can talk about it in there.”
“Among other things,” I murmur, eyeing Georgia.
“I showered last night.” She leans on the table with both elbows and seems suddenly determined to stay put. Her tongue tip slips along between her lips.
We both know she’s filthy with my come still, or some of it. Is she daring me to do something?
“You’re dirty,” I state, sending the dare back.
Then she speaks in what sounds like a mockery of a cockney accent. “I thought you lot, ’ere, bathed once a month?”
“Ohhhhh.” Grinning I stand up and go to her, haul her from the chair by her arm. “That insult earns you something special.”
She taps my chest, and is about to add something smartass I’m sure, when I duck down and swing her over my shoulder. I aim for the bathroom with her butt under my hand and her trying to prop her hands on my back.
Rafe bends backward to let me past. “Impressive lifting there.”
“I’ve had practice in the stables, lifting bales of hay. This little mare is easy. Duck,” I tell her as I go through the doorway—she’s smart enough to obey. “You know!” I yell back to Rafe. “We can use this to jar her deeper memories!”
“How the fuck is a bath doing that?” Her answer is muffled against my back, but I get the gist.
“Wait and see.”
I barge through the bathroom door, deposit her on her feet, and start helping her pull off clothes. Those cheeky shorts first. I yank them down her legs, grab an ankle. “Feet.”
“Hey. No! I need to—”
Since she’s going to tip over if she doesn’t obey, Georgia lifts her foot then the other one. I’m tossing the shorts into a corner next to the twin basins when Rafe wanders into the bathroom.
He watches for all of a few seconds then joins in and hauls the T-shirt over her head. “Such great ideas, you have, Mister Fox.”
Her breasts bounce free, contained by only a simple black bralette.
I whip down her underwear and kiss her mons with my hands buried in her ass cheeks, let my tongue curl around the growing button of her clit. I can smell my own scent buried in her like this, but who cares. I’ll make her eat it next time.
“Oh. Oh fuck,” she whispers and wraps one hand in my hair to hold me there, while I hear the sounds of Rafe moving in on her too, kissing her at the other end. Her body sways, her thighs part as I toy with her clit.
She goes silent apart from a few mmms as he takes her mouth. We’ll have her moaning and wanting that bath soon…really soon. Her bra is off. Naked girl and my cock swells hard as rock. Watching him kiss her, with her slit inches from my nose…
The scent of her, bathed or not, is making me impatient.
No premature shit anymore. I lick her again and chuckle as her smothered noises increase.
After shrugging off the hand in my hair, I rise to my feet, pull off my pants, shirt, and underwear, then go over to check the water temperature with my fingers.
The tub is a fat oval and the water is deep enough to soak in, or to fuck in.
The sloshing might be a worry. The pair of them are as entwined as some Greek statue I saw at the museum in London.
Rafe’s trying to get undressed while he’s kissing her, has hauled off his shirt then goes back to kissing her with his hands roving everywhere.
I toss a towel on the single step at the base of the tub, then sit and lean into the tub, content to watch and gently stroke myself.
Nymphs and Hercules, that sculpture might’ve been, and the cock on Herc wasn’t as big and rampant as Rafe’s.
It must be one of the statues they forgot to chisel the dick off of back in Victorian times.
I clap my hands together even as he’s searching between her legs as if to start fingerbanging her. “Let’s get in the water before it’s cold, you two rude people!”
That gets their attention. He pulls her over to the tub and hands her to me with a slap on her butt, then strips off the rest of his clothes.
“Hate to say this but the last girl I fucked in the water got a UTI.”
“Oh. Shit. That’s a spoiler.” We could use the bed. Except I’m staring at her pussy and she’s looking down at me wide-eyed, at my cock. Okay, this is on.
I’m unsure why I choose this moment to reveal our quasi secret—normally I calculate my moves, so maybe it’s her, maybe it’s because she has me as tangled up, tied, and flummoxed as I have her. Whatever.
“Last night”—I grab her wrists and wrap my arms around her, keeping them in place near the crack in her butt, then I lean out to direct my words at Rafe—“she tried to run away, had your keys and wallet. I caught her at the front door and had to chase her down.”
“Hey!” She glares down the length of her body at me.
“Why didn’t you say earlier?” He freezes, his feet shoulder-width apart, and looks ready to murder someone, could be me, might be her.
“I was deciding when was the best time. I still don’t know.”
“I told her I’d get rid of her if she made another mistake like that.” A crease appears between his brown eyes. Troubled, is how I’d call him.
“But you don’t want to, do you?” I’m holding her tightly. She could try kneeing me but that wouldn’t get her far. I release her and pat the step. “Sit here, Georgia. Or else,” I add that since she’s reluctant.
Sighing, she turns and sits, dropping her ass in place then covering her head with her hands like she’s resigned to bad things happening.
“And I won’t let you anyway. She’s staying here.”
He shoots me an assessing stare. “Keep going.”