The Midsummer Auction Part 5

There was a box on the floor outside her door. She took it into the room with her, laid it on the bed, and removed the cover. Inside were several layers of translucent white wrapping paper.

Nestled inside was a two-piece outfit, red harem pants made up of a gossamer fabric shot through with gold thread and a tiny sequined top to match. She held up the top between her thumbs and forefingers and examined it. It was little more than a piece of string that mightn't even have made it as a drapery tie-back.

A spurt of defiance flashed through her. Obviously this was what she was supposed to be wearing tonight. He was making it clear he was controlling all the scenarios, controlling her, always leaving her wanting more. In a fit of pique, she decided that tonight she would turn up in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt. It took two people to play this game. She wasn't completely powerless.

It was almost six. When she came out of the shower she went impetuously to the bed and looked at the garment again. What the h.e.l.l! What did she have to lose?

She put on the costume, which, as far as she was concerned, was exactly what it was and studied the harem dancer looking back at her in the mirror. At least it fit. They were dining in the oriental room. Would he be wearing a costume too? Somehow she couldn't see it, couldn't conjure up an image in her mind of him in fancy dress. The very thought was amusing and the harem girl smiled back at her, agreeing.

Still twenty minutes to go. The wait was unsettling. Already her stomach had begun to churn a little with her wondering what he wanted from her tonight and how it would end. What awaited her in the oriental room? The answer came to her. Why wait? Why not check the room out beforehand? That way there wouldn't be any unpleasant surprises. She really wasn't into whips and chains or whatever, wouldn't put up with it. She opened her door decisively and went out.

She tried the door he had indicated, half expecting it might be locked. It wasn't. She stepped inside and stopped short, her senses swimming as though she had just been transported by a magic carpet into another world, where islands floated in a golden sea like majestic jewels bathed in the light of s.h.i.+mmery silvery moons s.h.i.+ning all about them. In a moment her head cleared, and she moved farther into the room and shut the door.

She stood still, taking it all in. She was ankle-deep in the rich gold carpet that covered the floor from wall to wall, its scroll pattern like gently rippling waves. The floating jewels, she saw, were divans placed around the walls, large enough for two. They were covered with crimson cloth and piles of pillows in every hue. The moons, she realized, were large white floor lamps strategically placed around the room near the sofas, their bases concealed from view so that the lamps appeared to float under the stars winking down from the painted ceiling. The walls were covered in deep yellow silk, the windows draped in burgundy velvet. A large low table, a single slab of gold-veined black marble, occupied the center of the room, flanked with low ottomans for seating.

The room was an escape, a room for the senses, an invitation to surrender and let one's self be seduced. She could feel it beginning to work its magic on her, stealing softly into her mind, erasing everything except the need to have Anthony finish what he had started just one hour ago. Feeling little tendrils of heat swirling deep in her belly she went to the divan facing the door and sat to wait for him.

Promptly at six thirty, the door opened. Anthony entered and stood still, enchanted. Walking to his car after a meeting over lunch with a major import-export distributor, he had detoured to Edgeware Road near Marble Arch to touch base with the owner of a successful Middle Eastern restaurant in which he had a financial interest. The outfit was in the restaurant window-window dressing that the owner insisted Anthony take as a gift once he discerned that it had piqued Anthony's interest. He had had an epiphany then, a vision of her in it. But nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

She was seated on the divan, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out. She was mesmerizing, exotic. She s.h.i.+mmered. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were not large, but the glittery top was so miniscule that it seemed the slightest movement on her part and they would spill from their inadequate restraints. The seams of the panties arrowed teasingly down to her delta, maddening him for what they so brazenly outlined. He wanted to tear it off her. If this was how he was reacting just walking into the room, this was going to be one hard night!

When he ran into her coming out of the library earlier the scent of her, the feel of her, had left him with a hard-on. It had subsided, only just, judging by the dull ache in his crotch. How in h.e.l.l would he even make it through dinner? He had to get a hold of himself. The evening had barely begun.

"Beautiful," he said, still standing in the doorway.

She inclined her head. "Thank you. Your taste is extraordinary."

His gaze rested on her, as though he were trying to discern whether she was simply making fun of him. Her green eyes gazed back at him, guileless. He suspected she had decided not to give him any clue to her thoughts. He still didn't know enough about her, he realized. He had started out determined to get inside her head, but now he knew the real reason. The nonsensical childish notion of settling old scores had flown out the window. He had stopped fooling himself about that. The real reason was because, one way or another, she had to be his-completely, forever. And he only had six months to make it happen.

"Dinner's here," he announced nonchalantly, drawing on every ounce of his savoir faire to mask his craving for her. "Shall I bring it in?"

She inclined her head with Cleopatra-like grace. Leaving the divan, she went to the table and seated herself comfortably on the floor, her legs tucked under her.

He wheeled in a serving cart from the hallway and positioned it just inside the door. He closed the door and began transferring the covered dishes from the cart to the table, setting them down within her reach. Next, he brought over two plates, a set of small bowls, some cutlery, a bottle of red wine, and two gla.s.ses, which he placed side by side on the table. He sat beside her, poured some wine into each gla.s.s, pa.s.sed one to her, and picked up the other.

"To the evening," he said, his eyes on hers. They both took a sip of wine. His gaze dropped to her throat. Picking up the fluttering pulse, he fought down the impulse to still it with his lips. When he looked into her eyes again, he perceived she had read his mind and he blushed.

Turning away, she rested her gla.s.s on the table and began to remove the covers from the dishes. "It smells wonderful," she declared. "Did Hodgett prepare all this?"

He laughed. "Hardly! I picked it up in London at my favorite Middle Eastern restaurant and brought it back with me. It's all vegetarian. Is that all right?"

"I'm not a vegetarian, but I enjoy the odd vegetarian meal," she replied with a smile. The chitchat seemed to dissolve the s.e.xual tension between them and they both became more relaxed, temporarily distracted by the delicious meal laid out in front of them.

"Try this," he urged, spooning some baba ghannouj into a bowl. He placed it on her plate and laid a few triangles of pita bread at the side. He watched as she dipped the bread and took a bite, then another.

"Heavenly," she p.r.o.nounced between bites.

"Is this all just for me?" she asked teasingly, realizing that he was still watching her and hadn't put anything on his plate.

Hastily, he began helping himself to the food and they fell to it-falafel, tahini, tabbouleh-it was all there and soon, all gone.

"I think I'm done," Nicola said at last, uncurling her legs. The divan was right behind her, and rather than getting to her feet, she crawled up onto it, unintentionally giving him a full-on view of her backside as the gossamer fabric fell away to her sides.

He was just about to take a sip of wine and his hand froze in mid-air as he stared mesmerized at the sight of her exotically clad bottom as she worked her way across the mattress of the divan toward the wall. Turning around, she sat down, leaned against the wall, looked up and caught him like a deer in the headlights.

And all at once the tension between them returned. They both felt it, filling the room like an amorphous fog, making the air about them feel heavy.

He looked away suddenly. "More wine?" he asked, picking up the bottle.

At her nod he got up and, carrying the bottle and both their gla.s.ses, walked around to the side of the divan. He placed the gla.s.ses on the small round table next to the divan and poured some wine into them, then set the bottle aside. Handing her one of the gla.s.ses, he took the other, stepped up onto the divan, walked in front of her, and sank down cross-legged on her other side, his back against the wall as well.

They sipped their wine, saying nothing, as though each were waiting for the other to be the first to break the silence.

"So," he said finally, "what did you think of the library?"

She gave him a quick suspicious glance.

"What did you want me to think of it?" she replied.

"I was hoping The Thousand and One Nights would inspire you," he responded, acknowledging her clever implication that he had deliberately placed the s.e.xual material in the library where she couldn't miss it.

"The truth?"

"Please."

"I liked the version I read as a child. The unabridged version didn't thrill me as much."

"Even though you're no longer a child?"

"Precisely because I'm no longer a child. Now that I'm older I can make up my own stories and I like them better than those in The Thousand and One Nights."

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way because tonight, I want you to tell me another story, one I couldn't possibly have ever heard before. I don't care what it is, as long as it entertains me."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I shall have to entertain myself with you in some other way. But I must tell you, in all honesty, even if I find your story entertaining, I cannot promise that I will not seek that other diversion in any event."

At his thinly veiled s.e.xual warning a little waterfall of desire cascaded hotly from her belly and steamed down to bathe her groin.

He watched her, observing the pulse renew its fluttering in her throat, the temptation to press his mouth to it killing him.

"So either way, I may still lose."

"Think positively. Either way, you will still win."

"In that case, for me it may be a Pyrrhic victory," she declared.

Her green eyes held a defiant gleam. He threw his head back and laughed. "Very good, Nicola," he said appreciatively. "I like a woman who thinks on her feet or at least"- his eyes wandered provocatively over her-"at least, thinks, even though she might not be on her feet. And I consider myself challenged to prove to you, before I leave you tonight, that the price of your victory was not too high, but rather, was unparalleled pleasure." The implication was unmistakable and he smiled inwardly, noting her immediate flush as she grasped his meaning. He had just removed any doubt from the matter. Whatever the outcome of her story, he was going to have s.e.x with her tonight.

"Now," he said, "let us not waste any more time. Have you thought of a story?"

"Yes," she said. "I have. It's another one of my fantasies."

"Good. Your fantasies excite me. Begin."

She leaned over and switched off the lamp nearest to her, plunging her side of the divan into semidarkness. A p.r.i.c.kle of awareness singed his scalp.

"I've returned home after being away for a long time, she began. I'm anxious to ride my horse again. I go to the stables and the groom, a man called Bennett, is there. He welcomes me back, but this time, I observe that in spite of his deferential tone there is something in his eyes, an expression that makes me feel he is stripping away all my clothing, picturing what I look like when I am naked."

"What does he look like?"

"He is big, strong, powerful arms and legs. His body is well developed. He usually wears cutoffs and a vest, since it is always so hot."

"Have you ever seen him naked?"

"I have never seen him naked," she said, integrating her answer to his question into her story, "but suddenly I want to.

"He tells me my horse is all saddled up and ready and leads him out of the stall. He cups his hand, and I step into it and throw my other leg over the saddle. Just as it occurs to me that he is taking his time releasing my foot, his hand wanders up my calf and back down to the top of my paddock boot, his thumb pressing provocatively into my flesh. Reacting instinctively, I strike him sharply over the shoulder with my riding crop. Our eyes meet in silent acknowledgement that we have always been s.e.xually attracted to each other and that his touching me and my las.h.i.+ng out were merely foreplay to the inevitable fulfillment of our mutual pent up desire.

"My eyes travel over him, liking what I see. He is wearing a skimpy black vest that stretches like a rag over his ma.s.sive chest. His upper body is beautifully developed. His shoulders and arms are muscled and thick curling black hair forms the beginnings of a T on his chest. His jeans are tight on his hips, which are in perfect proportion to the rest of his body. His jeans are cut off at the knees, and I see that his legs are strong, his calves elongated. His feet are clean and without imperfections. He is wearing comfortable black sandals. My mind tells me that here is a perfect specimen of a human being.

"I envision his enormous shaft, how it is nestling in the ma.s.s of curly hair hidden in his jeans and feel my knees growing weak, as if the bones in my legs are melting. My eyes take note of the bulge in his crotch and I want to reach down and caress it. I know that my face is flushed and my panties are damp, as though he has already touched me there."

"Do you think he knows how you are feeling, what you are thinking when you look at him?" he asked softly, his c.o.c.k beginning to stiffen and ache in protest.

"I am certain he knows what is in my mind, because there is a glint in his eyes. But he does not say anything. He takes a step back and advises me that the horse should probably not be kept out for more than an hour. I thank him for his advice because I know he is knowledgeable about horses and I ride off.

"It is a glorious afternoon, as always. I am riding along the beach. The sunlight is dancing on the water, and the wind is whipping up an embroidery of frilly little white waves over the ocean. The wind caresses my face. I feel as though I could ride forever, bouncing up and down, feeling the tingle as the rocking of my body presses my c.l.i.t into the saddle. Thirty minutes later I am ready to go back. In my heart I know that I am hurrying back to Bennett because all along my mind has been picturing him lying over me, taking my b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his mouth and nibbling on my nipples as his hard shaft penetrates me and begins stoking the fire in my belly.

"As I arrive at the stables he appears immediately and when the horse comes to a stop, he cups his hands for me to climb down out of the saddle. I rest my foot in his hands and as I descend my groin brushes against the bulge in his trousers. Before my feet can touch the ground he catches me on my downward slide and clasps my body tightly against his. I make no attempt to free myself. Instead, I wrap my legs around him and bear down until my s.e.x connects heatedly with his erection and excitement quickens in my belly.

"He tenses his b.u.t.tocks and moves a little so that his swollen c.o.c.k presses into me, hard and direct. It is deliberate and unmistakably suggestive and I respond instantly, jamming my s.e.x into his bulge as my body flushes with heat. I tighten my legs around him and we begin to grind against each other, frantically f.u.c.king one another through our clothes. Except that the heat welding our groins is so intense it feels as though we are wearing nothing at all.

"I can hear the turbulence in my blood as it whooshes past my ears. We know we are cut from the same cloth and uniquely capable of satisfying each other s.e.xually. That is why we are instinctively attracted to one another, like animals who have scented each other from early on. We are enveloped in each other's musk, our fused together so hot and tight we are helpless to draw away."

He watched her face intently, aware of something new happening inside him at her frank admission and acceptance of her s.e.xuality, a kind of happiness that the woman with whom he now knew he was irrevocably in love was his kind of woman-one who wasn't coy about her s.e.xuality, unafraid to admit she enjoyed and wanted s.e.x for the sheer bliss and adventure of it.

"He finally finds the strength to pull away and sets me on my feet. His face is suffused, darkened with excitement. I do not want us to stop. I want more. I want to feel his thick, hard c.o.c.k inside me, filling me to capacity. Like a creature in heat I rub myself up against him and ma.s.sage the bulge in his trousers invitingly. Instantly he palms my s.e.x and begins to stroke me, touching my c.l.i.toris through my clothing so directly it is as though nothing stands between me and his caressing fingers. l.u.s.t courses through me and I press down hard on his hand so he might feel the moisture that has soaked through my panties to dampen my jodhpurs.

"All at once he rips apart the fastenings of my jodhpurs and thrusts his hand inside my panties. His big thick middle finger slips inside me, stroking in and out while his roughened palm moves back and forth, ma.s.saging my s.e.x and rasping sweetly over my nub. My stomach tightens against the onslaught of my arousal, and I strain against his hand, feeling as though my body is being stripped inside. I have an o.r.g.a.s.m, a powerful one that makes me scream as it ploughs through me. When it is over, he removes his hand from my s.e.x and licks my fluids off his finger."

At the reminder of her scent, how she tasted, Anthony's jaw clenched convulsively. He released a soft breath as she continued with the fantasy.

"He picks me up and carries me to an empty stall laid with fresh sweet smelling hay and I know it is the bed he has prepared for us. He sets me down and I am suddenly insatiable. I fall to my knees, my hands reaching for the enormous bulge in his jeans and he chuckles deep in his throat.

"'Easy, Miss Nicola,' he says, 'it's all yours, whenever and wherever you want it, you know that. Let me put Sailor in his stall and I'll be right back.'

"As he walks away I watch his b.u.t.tocks, high and firm in his jeans, with unconcealed l.u.s.t. He is back in seconds. He stands in front of me, his legs planted apart. His stomach muscles ripple as I unzip him and take his c.o.c.k in my hand. It is pulsing strongly and a drop of liquid hangs at the tip. I bend my head and lick it off before taking him into my mouth. He moans and the sound excites me. It makes me feel powerful.

"He clasps my head between his palms, holding it still as he begins thrusting into my mouth. Pulling his jeans down I grasp his b.u.t.tocks and urge him closer until his c.o.c.k touches the back of my throat. It swells even more, until it is so huge I wonder how it fits in my mouth at all. I know he will climax soon and he begins to gasp, thrusting faster and faster. I suck harder and his thick rod shaft pulses as his warm emissions spurt out and fill my mouth."

G.o.d! Anthony's c.o.c.k jerked convulsively as her soft voice stripped the veil off yet another of his deepest fantasies and the image of her luscious mouth encircling his pulsing, thrusting c.o.c.k almost bent him double with the ache of wanting her to do it to him for real.

"I swallow. His s.e.m.e.n tastes of nothing I have ever tasted before. There is such a large quant.i.ty it spills out of my mouth and dribbles down my chin. I tear open my s.h.i.+rt so that it will fall on my breast and it does, milky and warm. He thrusts and I swallow until he is completely spent."

The utter sensuality of her voice, her words, in the surreal atmosphere of the room, was bewitching him like a siren song. Again, he experienced a strange envy of the man in her fantasy because she had made him seem almost real.

"We lie down in the hay together, recovering," she continued. "He begins to stroke my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, spreading his e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e over them. Then he licks it off. The rasp of his tongue on my nipples, which are very tender, excites me greatly. I reach for him. His shafts is engorged and erect once more and I want to impale myself on it. He encourages me. He places his large hand over mine and works our joined hands up and down. His emissions flow over my hand and make it glide even more slickly over his engorged c.o.c.k. I succ.u.mb to an overwhelming urge to suck him, and when I do so, his c.o.c.k almost doubles its size. I imagine it will split me in two, and I want to feel it tearing me apart.

"I take all my clothes off because I want nothing to interfere with my enjoyment of him thrusting deep into me. He watches me and I can tell from the excitement in his face that he has fantasized about seeing me naked for a long time. He sits up and pushes me back down to a horizontal position. His eyes glitter as he begins to stroke my s.e.x.

"'I want to eat your p.u.s.s.y, Miss Nicola,' he says, moving his fingers in and out of me. 'Your nice, wet little p.u.s.s.y. I want to bury my face in it, put my tongue deep inside it to drink your juices, and eat you raw, inside out. I will eat you, any time, any place. Just let me know whenever you feel for it.'

"A thrill races through me because I want it. I want to feel Bennett's tongue and teeth, his whole mouth, devouring my s.e.x.

"'Now! Now! Now is good!" I gasp out the words and raise one knee.

"'Sit on my face, Miss Nicola,' he orders urgently. 'Or on my c.o.c.k, whatever you want. Let me give you everything.'

"He is so excited his big stiff c.o.c.k is perpendicular to his body and I am eager to feel it tearing its way into me. I crouch over him, spread my knees, and lower myself slowly onto it. I cry out as it penetrates slowly and surely to the very center of my belly. He swivels his hips and the root of him grazes my c.l.i.t with rapid strokes that make my spine tingle. I press down on him shuddering, and we climax almost simultaneously. My body is still vibrating when he lifts me off his powerful shaft and sets me down on his face. His tongue ravages me to another o.r.g.a.s.m so powerful I think I will surely die."

Desire attacked Anthony's groin with such ferocity he groaned.

"But he is not finished. He licks me gently as my climax subsides, and the feel of his tongue there makes me long for the taste of him. I turn around to lie over him with my knees bent at his sides so that my bottom and my s.e.x are his for the taking. His c.o.c.k is rampant, prodding my face, begging to be taken into my mouth. As I sweep my tongue along its vibrant length, Bennett's mouth recaptures my s.e.x, and we begin to feast on each other. The dual stimulation of our mutual pleasuring is beyond imagination and we climax together in one long seemingly unending shudder."

She felt Anthony's hands at her waist, tugging down the harem pants.

He had just about reached the limit of his endurance. He had to touch her, bury his face in her, absorb her scent. His f.u.c.king head was going ballistic from the overload of images crowding into it.

"Go on with the story," he told her, his voice smothered. "I want to touch you while I listen to you."

She stretched out her upraised leg and leaning back on her elbows, lifted her b.u.t.tocks as he pulled the harem pants down to her knees. He untied her top and, as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sprang free, sucked on one nipple. It was unutterably sensitive, and her hand came down hard in his hair. Her body bucked as his fingers caressed her s.e.x, played between her folds and tantalized her nub. It was a dual a.s.sault on her senses that forced her breath out of her mouth in little puffs.

"Go on with the fantasy while I touch you," he urged.

"He walks me back to the house," she continued, her words coming out now in little pants as Anthony eased himself lower to tongue f.u.c.k her. "We are comfortable with each other. We know what we are to each other, a reliable source of s.e.xual satisfaction. But then he asks me whether I will ride again the following day, and I suddenly become perverse. I refuse to have my groom questioning me about my agenda. I tell him I ride when I have a mind to. I know he does not like my answer. His eyes gleam and he backs me against the nearest tree, his hand finds my breast and begins to roll my still sensitive nipple between his forefinger and thumb."

"Ah, that feels nice," she sighed, writhing with ecstasy as Anthony probed her s.e.x with his tongue.

"Finish the fantasy," he murmured.

"I am excited and wish to feel him inside me again," she continued, her voice becoming increasingly thready. "It is as though he reads my mind. He kneels in front of me and pulls down my jodhpurs. He forces my legs apart and begins to lick me. My jodhpurs are tight. They prevent my legs from opening wide, so he must force his tongue inside my folds. He flicks my bud with it over and over, driving me to the brink of ecstasy. But just before I reach o.r.g.a.s.m, he stops, pulls up my jodhpurs, and refastens them. I beg him not to stop, but he holds my hands and tells me that is his way of making sure I return the following day for more.

"'Don't forget what I told you, Miss Nicola,' he says. 'I know how to give you what you want. Whenever you want I will eat your sweet little p.u.s.s.y for you real good. And after you come I'll put my big, hard c.o.c.k inside you and' do you until you come again, over and over. Any time you feel for that, just come and find me.'

"I scream at him as he disappears into the night, but he does not come back. I am so frustrated. Tears sting my eyes as I continue up to the house."

She stopped speaking, her words swallowed up in inarticulate murmurs of pleasure as Anthony's tongue possessed her s.e.x. The harem pants kept her knees close together as he took her succulent folds into his mouth. It was like devouring the fat, round wedge of ripe mango that his mother used to slice off for him, biting into the sweet fruit, and licking away the nectar trickling down his hand. Responding to a primitive urge to eat her up in the same way, he feasted on her , greedily filling his mouth with her moist tender flesh.