“The gown is even more decadent than I
imagined,” Alexei jeered as he reached them. Wyndham watched Alexei
over the top of Orèlan’s head as Alexei snapped his fingers at a
passing bare-chested waiter. “Champagne,” Alexei ordered.
When three fluted glasses of champagne
appeared, Wyndham did not release his lewd fondling of Orèlan’s
nimble breast. Nor, did he drink the champagne beneath Alexei’s
irritated sneer. He declined the champagne, yet he bade Orèlan to
take a glass. The effects could loosen her to whatever was about to
transpire, he thought, watching Alexei’s every cocksure and
aristocratically graceful movement.
“The gaiety of my party. To have you, my
favorite gentleman, Wyndham, here once again with me,” Alexei said,
tipping his glass in a salute. “Inspires me, Khrisinan.”
“To what?” Wyndham asked, slowly raising his
hand from Orèlan’s breast to the column of her throat, which he
clasped lightly over the jeweled collar she wore.
“To a game, my lovelies,” Alexei replied,
slyly. “A game of chance, Khrisinan. Will you play with me?”
Wyndham gritted his teeth, holding snugly to
Orèlan’s throat to keep her in place as he felt her pulse beating
wildly against his fingertips. It had begun, he thought, as he
uttered, “If the price is right.”
Alexei laughed, too sharply. He was
inebriated and excited, a dangerous combination. “Of course,
Khrisinan, I would never cheat you. Shall we say one marker is
earned, of the six you owe me, if you play with me? And the game we
shall play is cards. Monte. I know it is one of your
favorites.”
Alexei twirled the champagne in his glass
arrogantly as Wyndham stared at him. “And the currency?” he asked
tersely
“Ha!” Alexei exclaimed. “We will start out
slowly this evening, Khrisinan. The seduction is everything. We
will play for voyeurism. I wish to see what you covet. Tits, cunt,
an ass. But you will not wish to show me your puta’s charms . . .
or show them to all of these people.” Alexei’s hand swept the room
around him. “They will be as excited to watch as I will,
Khrisinan.”
“And you,” Wyndham growled.
“The same for my chosen lover of this
evening, of course.” Alexei pursed his lips with his light blue
eyes languid in a serpentine way. “But of course, I will not mind
as much as you, to show my lover's nudity.”
Wyndham felt Orèlan turned her head slowly to
rest her temple on his chin. “Make it two markers, my puma, if I am
to do this,” she whispered fiercely for his ears only.
Wyndham nearly grinned at her audacity, but
the tension was too high and the cost too much. Orèlan thought
herself the prisoner, yet at this moment he knew that he was
imprisoned as much as she was. It was not within his soul to allow
his woman to be displayed nude for all to see. Yet, that was
impractical . . . emotional, and he tossed it aside. He had learned
very well at Drummond and Ravenscar’s side how to be ruthless . . .
or at least how to maintain the disguise of it. And since Orèlan’s
plans were his own, he responded tightly.
“Two
markers,
Alexei, or I will take my woman back to my suite and fuck her
privately.”
Alexei’s laughter barked as though he could
not contain it. “So crude for my noble gentlemen, Khrisinan. You
make me jealous when you speak the fuck word so masculinely. Alas
though, this I cannot allow.” Alexei paused with his hand resting
on the hilt of the ceremonial sword he wore belted to his left
side. Wyndham had already noticed Alexei’s guards gathering. Two
approaching from the left and three from the right.
“But!” Alexei exclaimed, snapping the tension
between them. “I will accept this outrageous price for you,
Khrisinan. Because, I am so pleased to have you with me once
again.” Alexei paused, and then he dramatically drew his sword, to
flourish once at his side, before he pointed the tip to the floor.
“That is of course why, I set your markers so high to begin with,
Lord Hawkenge. I realized to say no to you is so hard for me.”
Orèlan felt the flinching tremor in Wyndham’s
arm across her breasts as his fingers tightened around her throat.
She was shocked to realize something that had completely eluded her
before. Alexei
desired
Wyndham. Yet, she knew Alexei had
women lovers . . . many of them. He had even said that he would bed
her, willing or not, once the Arab was finished with her. But this?
Of course she knew men might desire other men. But both? Women and
men? This was shocking. A sexual discovery that she had never
realized. And for such a man as Wyndham it must be disturbing,
disgusting, . . . frightening? She did not know, and she could not
imagine, but the tension in Wyndham’s muscular body spoke to her.
Was this the eventual price for her freedom?
No, oh no!
“
Calm
down,” Wyndham hissed into her
ear as they approached the table, where both men would play their
terrible games. Before she could think clearly, Wyndham sat pulling
her downward to sit upon his lap. The leash to her collar, he
tossed negligently onto the table, as though he did not need it to
hold her captive to his power.
Alexei, dressed in a white military uniform
with glittering medals on the shoulder, sat across the round table
from them. Wyndham tapped his long fingers on the red velvet
tabletop with his gaze never leaving Alexei. Orèlan tried not to
notice the crowd of revelers gathering around the table. She wanted
very badly to lean into Wyndham, to smell the warm scent of him and
to feel his strength around her, yet she forced herself to sit
straight.
Two markers,
she fiercely made herself think.
Two makers, if I do this.
Oh, but she prayed her Wyndham
would not lose too much, for she was trying too hard to be
brave.
“Angelo!” Alexei snapped suddenly, and Orèlan
watched a tall darkly handsome European man walk to Alexei’s side.
Angelo’s eyelashes were long and dark, his eyes brown, his skin a
rich olive, and his build was slender. He wore evening clothes, a
black jacket, pants, and a crisp linen shirt. His cravat was
starched and folded into an intricate design. Orèlan watched in
surprise as Alexei took Angelo’s hand, lifting it upward to kiss
his knuckles. Was this . . . ?
“My current lover,” Alexei sneered.
Wyndham’s body tensed beneath her body as his
fingers drew into a fist on top of the tabletop. He was as
surprised as she was then.
“I enjoy women as much,” Alexei drawled. “And
Lilith or Rosalyn, my current female companions are about here
somewhere tonight. But I thought, Lord Hawkenge, that this might be
much more interesting for both of us.”
Orèlan turned her gaze away, looking up at
the side of Wyndham’s face. His strong features were etched in
masculine starkness, his eyes vivid purple against the golden hue
of his skin as he nodded his head slightly. Agreement. The game
would begin, yet Wyndham had seen, as she had seen, that Angelo was
as much an unwilling captive as she was to the games these powerful
men would play with their lives. Angelo was young. Too young.
Perhaps twenty, and his haunted dark eyes spoke of reluctance and
acute embarrassment. Orèlan wondered what hold Alexei had over the
young man that he could be forced to do this thing . . . or perhaps
more. Be forced to be Alexei’s lover.
“Monte,” Alexei drawled. “I know how much you
enjoy the game, Lord Hawkenge,” Alexei sneered. Then, Alexei raised
his voice purposefully for the gathering crowd around them. “And
the bets shall be lovely body parts. Tits, ass, . . . a cock, . . .
perhaps,” He laughed, looking at Orèlan now. “Or a cunt?”
The crowd around them murmured with
excitement and Orèlan gripped her hands together in her lap, gazing
at Alexei with all the defiance she could muster, as her heartbeat
fluttered wildly. This madness would happen and there was nothing
she could do to stop it, and her worse fear was that she understood
this was only the beginning.
Chapter Seven
Orèlan did not understand the game of cards
they played, but she knew when Wyndham lost the first round, by the
sudden flexing of tension in his muscular body. “I will not lose
another,” he hissed beneath his breath, and she wondered crazily if
her Wyndham meant that he purposely lost the hand so that . . .
“Her breasts!” Alexei sneered. “And we shall
wager on the exact color of her nipples!” he shouted to the crowd
of people gathered around them. “I will wager one hundred rubles
that they are light pink and wickedly erect.”
The crowd roared in laughter and the Arab,
who Alexei had nearly sold her to, shouted. “Five hundred rubles
that they are red and fat like cherries!”
Orèlan did not know where to look, every inch
of her skin was flinching with the demand to flee, and then
Wyndham’s hand was beneath her chin. Frantically, she grasped his
wrist trying to halt its motion, and yet he only cupped her chin,
lifting her gaze to his as her hands fell away. His irises were so
dark purple they were nearly black as she searched them anxiously
with her gaze. She could see determination and strength in his
gaze, strength so powerful she clung to it. Then, she saw the
barest hint of regret and it was her savior, because it calmed her
as nothing else could have. She felt Wyndham’s hands moving to her
bodice and she clung to his gaze as even the rancorous bidding
faded from her hearing.
Wyndham’s hands were hot on the iciness of
her bare shoulders as they slid downward, pulling the gown with
them. So slowly the fragile material moved, inching its way lower
to the cusps of her nipples . . . hanging on the turgid pinnacles .
. . then falling loosely to her waist. Cool air flashed across her
shivering flesh and goosebumps rose, light and pink, in the circle
of her areolas. Her lips parted, yet no sound came forth, then
suddenly Wyndham’s wide hand was clasping her throat. The
torridness of his palm and fingers searing the flinching column of
her throat. He used this leverage to turn her on his lap, until her
spine was compressed to his chest. The angle of supplication thrust
her naked and quelling breasts further outward. Her fingers
clenched in the silk of her skirts as the rushing sound of the
crowd around them came back into her hearing. Particularly,
Alexei’s shout, “I have won! They are pink and wickedly
aroused!”
Acute humiliation and embarrassment flushed
her body to a fevered pitch as she turned her temple to press along
Wyndham’s hard jaw with her eyes closed against the men and women
gazing at her exposed nudity.
“You are more beautiful than any other woman
I have ever seen,” Wyndham whispered fiercely into her ear. “These
men drool over the youth and perfection of your breasts. These
women drip with envy. You should be proud, Spitfire. As proud and
as bold, as I know you can be. Come drink champagne with me, little
love, and flaunt your beauty. Flaunt it in Alexei’s face, and let
him know how brave and unconcerned you are.”
Wyndham held his breath as he realized
fighting in the war and maiming his leg had been easier than
allowing Alexei Tropov to gaze at his woman’s naked breasts. Yet,
he would be damned if he let this vanquish them, because he knew
that worse was yet to come, and together he and Orèlan would be
stronger than this or anything else that Alexei would do to them.
If only Orèlan would . . .
Suddenly, her body moved, rising from his
hand clasped to her throat as she stiffened her spine straight,
while sitting in his lap. Grasping his hands firmly, she lifted his
palms down over her breasts, making a cup of both of their hands as
she laughed, and then she exclaimed, “My golden Lord Hawkenge loves
my breasts and he promises me champagne to drink and ruby’s to
adorn them!”
The crowd happily, although drunk, cheered
their approval to her claims. They lewdly roared their acclaim when
she removed his hands completely from the pale shivering globes,
letting his hands drop to her waist. Then, she reached with a
flourish for a fluted glass of champagne, arching her back to
brazenly display her naked breasts to the crowd as she toasted
them. Alexei gazed at her with sly amusement in his cobalt irises
and Wyndham saw her winking at Alexei imprudently. Yet, even as she
did this, she hissed beneath her breath. “My golden puma, you had
better
not
lose to him again or you will feel your
Spitfire’s claws down your back.”
The tension was edgy, yet Wyndham could not
help the clipped laugh that escaped him as he reached forward and
knocked the table indicating the deal for the next round would
begin. When he reached forward, he caught Orèlan’s waist with his
forearm, steadying her on his lap, as he murmured, “Be careful what
you threaten, my beautiful Orèlan. I already have your marks on my
back, and I look forward to more.”
“You are
so
arrogant,” she hissed,
taking another sip of champagne, then smiling to the crowd.
As uncomfortable as Wyndham was with Orèlan
being forced to sit bare-breasted on his lap beneath Alexei’s
imprudent gaze, he was equally, or more, disturbed by the steady
disrobing of Angelo. Just as Alexei knew he would be. The fact that
Angelo was clearly an embarrassed and unwilling partner in the game
he and Alexei played. This disturbed him profoundly. Yet, he let
none of this show behind his clenched jaw and hooded eyelids. The
effect of masking his emotions from Alexei was satisfying, because
Alexei was not receiving the reaction from him that he desired and
ultimately played the entire game for. Yet, Angelo suffered. Angelo
was completely denuded now with his limp dick exposed and only his
calf-high stockings left to forfeit, while Alexei groped his tight
youthful ass for the hedonistic pleasure of the crowd.
Orèlan, still perched gracefully on his lap,
was becoming more tense and edgy with each increasing momentum of
Angelo’s humiliation. When she reached for her fourth glass of
champagne, he stopped her hand with his hand, instead bringing her
knuckles to his lips. It was time to finish the distasteful game
they played and ultimately he could not allow Angelo’s future fate
to disturb him.