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Estelle thrust her hips up, trying to draw his fingers deeper inside her, but he kept on teasing her by withdrawing them each time she surged upwards, leaving her empty and aching, her frustration turning her earlier smile to an angry glower as she tried and failed to trap his fingers inside her.
Laughing at her, he stroked the hard length of his penis, holding her off as she tried to reach for him and then forcing her hands away as she made to satisfy her frustrated need by herself. He pi
She ought to have been prepared for it. After all, he had done it to her before, yet the sharp, thrilling bite of pain he was causing her made her cry out and brought as he had known it would the first frantic convulsions of her orgasm. But he didn’t let her have it, removing his hand from her body and taunting her excitedly as she reached for his erection.
‘Oh, no, not yet, you can’t have it yet. First you’ve got to stroke him a little … suck him, show him how much you want him,’ he mocked as her hand and then her mouth closed hungrily over his body and she started to rock herself rhythmically to and fro, her eyes closed as she did so, still sucking deeply on him.
He waited until he was almost ready to come before removing himself from her mouth and thrusting deeply and urgently into the eagerly open wetness of her body, automatically reaching out for a pillow to hold over her mouth to silence her screams of pleasure as she climaxed, even though the days were now long gone when he had to prevent their parents from hearing the noise she made.
Estelle had never had a flatmate because she liked her privacy, and one of the earliest lessons she had learned was to distrust her own sex.
Gloatingly, just before dawn, Blade surveyed Estelle’s naked body. The whole room smelled of sex and he breathed in the scent of it, of himself, with luxurious, satiated enjoyment. Then, after gathering up his clothes, he dressed and headed for the door.
He and Estelle never slept together. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, and besides, the two girls he had left curled up on his bed would still be there waiting for him, or rather, waiting for the money he had promised to pay them.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lovingly, Ryland reached out an arm and drew Tara closer against his body.
‘How did you know I was awake?’ she asked him, sidestepping the question.
‘I knew,’ Ryland told her and then prodded gently, ‘You’re worrying about your Mom, aren’t you?’
Tara turned her head and pressed her face into his chest.
‘She didn’t say anything to me about our going to Boston, but I could see in her face … her eyes … I know.’ She gulped back a small choking sob. ‘I feel so guilty about leaving her, Ry, but I know, I just know that I couldn’t bear not to be with you.’
‘There’s no way you are going to be without me even if I have to kidnap you and drag you bodily onto the plane with me,’ Ryland assured her, adding more seriously, ‘If there was any way I could change things, stay over here, I would, but I can’t. I’m the only male of my generation. My uncle was twelve years older than my father—if he and my aunt had had a son, perhaps things might have been different. As it is, it’s always been kinda understood that when my aunt retires, I’ll be taking over from her and ru
‘Doesn’t your cousin—’ Tara began, referring to his aunt’s and late uncle’s only child, a daughter, but Ryland shook his head before she could finish explaining.
‘Margot isn’t interested in the business. She never has been. She isn’t that kind of woman.’
‘What do you mean?’ Tara asked him, wrinkling her forehead. All she knew about his cousin was that she was nearly seven years Ryland’s senior and unmarried.
‘Margot works in the business, yes,’ Ryland agreed. ‘She works in the archive department where we house all the originals of everything we’ve published. But she has no wish to take over and run the company.’
‘But she could marry and have children,’ Tara pointed out.
‘No,’ Ryland returned, shaking his head, ‘no, she won’t.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Tara half teased him. ‘I know she’s not so young any more but …’
‘Margot will never marry because it’s impossible for her to marry the man she wants,’ Ryland told her bluntly, explaining when he saw her puzzled expression, ‘Margot loves Lloyd—her mother’s brother’s son. They’re first cousins. It’s against the law in the state of Massachusetts and a number of others for them to marry and my aunt would never have condoned their getting married even in another state. Margot fell in love with him when she was fifteen and since then … It isn’t something that’s discussed in the family.’
‘Does he … Lloyd … love her?’ Tara interrupted him, her eyes full of tender compassion.
‘I … Lloyd has been married and has two stepchildren. He doesn’t have Margot’s intense … well, she’s a very driven sort of person. Lloyd lives in California. My aunt decided to set up a branch of the business out there, printing pretty much the same sort of stuff for the campus at UCLA as we do for Yale and Harvard. She put Lloyd in charge of that end of things.’
‘She sent him away from Margot, you mean,’ Tara said in a low voice.
‘It’s impossible—illegal—for them to be together,’ Ryland reminded her quietly. ‘She did it for the best. Except when Lloyd met someone else out there and decided to get married, well, Margot had a bit of a breakdown. They meet every summer at the island. There’s an island my great-grandfather bought, just off the coast—’
‘An island, your family owns an island …?’ Tara began, but Ryland shook his head dismissively.
‘It’s nothing,’ he told her, ‘just an exposed piece of rocky headland, really, but …’ He paused. ‘It’s there Margot and Lloyd see each other. Not that it’s ever mentioned.’
Tara shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around her body, trying to imagine how it must feel to love a man you could never really be with, to want a man you could never truly have.
In their early days together when he had been telling her about his family background, Ryland had played down the role he knew he was ultimately going to have in the family business.
He had told Tara he had come to England to study British publishing and he had then gone on to explain to her the nature of his family’s business, telling her that his great-grandfather had started a small company to publish textbooks and papers written by his friends at Yale and Harvard.
The business had grown and become extremely profitable, still maintaining its close links with the university.
After his uncle’s untimely death in a sailing accident—his hobby had been racing ocean-going yachts—his wife, Ryland’s aunt, had stepped into his shoes and run the business as its chief executive. Ryland’s father continued with his own work, bringing in new manuscripts for them to publish and sell. Under his aunt’s aegis, the company had gone from strength to strength. She had an extremely sharp financial brain and Boston’s money men had a great deal of respect for her—as did Ryland himself.
Any one of Boston’s first families would have been highly delighted to see their daughter marrying Martha Adams’s nephew, Ryland suspected, but marriage hadn’t been something he had been remotely interested in—until he had seen Tara. Within days, within hours of meeting her, he had known that she was the one—the only one.