The Jag sped through the night, the countryside around them dark but for the occasional lights from a cottage. Finally they reached La Belle Auberge, parked, and went in to find Sava and Reg already there. Emily thought at one point that she was going to scream as the little balls banged together over and over again. There was a tiny dance floor, and Reg insisted on dancing with Emily. He held her so close she could feel his hard-on, and the damned thing felt good, considering the silent torture she was enduring. Finally the music stopped, and Emily excused herself to go to the ladies' room. Savannah followed.
"What's the matter?" she asked Emily. "You look pale."
"I'm walking around with two little balls stuck up my cunt," Emily said.
"Oh, my God! He made you wear them out to dinner?" Savannah's gray eyes were wide. "Oh, sweetie, you are going to come like no tomorrow later! Those things are wicked, wicked, wicked. Devlin is more adventurous than I thought, considering he turned us down like you did. Reg usually never asks other men to join us. He's jealous of other men who hover around me. And, of course, he likes to be sure my children are his. He only asks other women. He asked Devlin to join us because he knew I think he's hot, and I suspect he'd done something especially bad that I didn't know about, and was trying to soothe his conscience. We had better cut this evening short."
"Not until I've had dessert," Emily said. "I need the most chocolaty of chocolate mousses, and I need it now!"
Savannah began to giggle. "I hope Mick is prepared for endless fucking," she said. "It's going to take several long hours to scratch that itch he's given you."
"Even your randy Reg looks good to me right now," Emily muttered.
"You'd hate yourself in the morning." Savannah cackled.
"I know," Emily said, wincing, and her best friend laughed harder.
The two women returned to the table, and dessert was ordered. Emily ate two plates of chocolate mousse, complaining when she saw the first serving that it was way too little. She washed them down with champagne, and then announced she was ready to go back to the inn. Outside, the two women air-kissed each other, and Lord Palmer insisted on giving Emily a kiss on the cheek, which was no more than an excuse to squeeze her ass as his arm slipped about her waist and he pulled her close. He still had the hard-on. Well, at least Savannah was guaranteed a good night as well.
They began the drive back to the inn, but Devlin suddenly pulled off the road into a stand of trees. The engine had barely died when he was yanking her into his arms and kissing her hungrily. "He had a hard-on when he danced with you. Did he rub it against your pussy?" Devlin demanded.
"Yes," she whispered in his ear. "He still had it when he kissed me good night, and he squeezed my butt. Are you jealous, Devlin?" she teased him, the tip of her tongue outlining the inside of his ear seductively.
"Did you want him?" His voice was rough, angry. "Did you think about what it would be like to have his cock up your cunt, angel face?"
"I only want you, and instead of taking me back to our room, where we can fuck each other's brains out, you're raving at me in the car like a jealous lunatic. The thought of Reg Palmer as a lover disgusts me. If he were the handsomest, most charming man in the world I wouldn't screw him. He's my best friend's husband, and I do have some standards," Emily said icily. "Now start the damned car and let's get back. I am so hot for you right now I could die, Devlin!"
He groaned. "I'm sorry," he said. "I get jealous when I see him imagining himself with you."
"Why?" she demanded softly.
He wasn't certain he had heard her. "Why?" he repeated.
"Yes, why do you get jealous?" Emily said.
Why? Because he loved her, that was why! But he couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth, and remained silent.
"Do you like me, Devlin?" Emily said gently. "Do you get jealous of other men because you like me?"
"I think so," he admitted to her. "Yes, damn it, that's it!" He sounded to himself like a moron. What the hell was the matter with him that he couldn't tell her that he was in love with her? That he had never before loved a woman the way he loved her? But he couldn't say it, because if he did it would mean more to Emily than just a casual affair. Loving Emily meant forever. It meant children. It meant happily-ever-after, and Michael Devlin wasn't quite ready to admit that he had the same needs as other men: a desire for a mate, for offspring, for a warm place to come home to. And what if she didn't love him? What if it really had been all about the sex, and nothing more? About her career.
"Turn the key in the ignition, Devlin," she said to him. "If you don't get those damned ivory balls out of me soon I'm probably going to kill you. And incidentally, I like you too." There! She had said it. And she had heard him say it. He liked her! Was like shorthand for love? Men always found it hard to use the word love. Was like better than adore? When they got back to the States she was going to begin to put the pressure on Michael Devlin. She didn't want him just as a lover anymore. She wanted him as a husband, but getting confirmed bachelors to commit to forever-after was never a simple thing. Aaron had said their relationship was a forbidden one. But it didn't have to be. Why couldn't real life be as easy as her novels? She could manage the Duke of Malincourt, the Earl of Throttlesby, and their ilk. But could she manage to get a proposal of marriage from Michael Devlin? If she couldn't she was going to die an old maid, because Emily Shanski was not a woman to give her heart away more than once, and Devlin already had it.
Chapter 8
"How does it work?" Emily asked Savannah. They were curled up together on Lady Palmer's large bed. Lord Palmer was in London, and Michael Devlin was flying back to New York even as she spoke. Emily could hardly wait to follow. Two nights ago she and Devlin had engaged in the most incredible sex. She wanted more.
"Actually, it works just like the old one, except if you click the enter button twice, both of us can enter the same fantasy," Savannah explained. "They're just trying it out with a few good customers worldwide. I haven't attempted it with a friend yet, but I thought this would be a great time to try it."
"I don't know, Savannah," Emily demurred.
"Now that you know what sex is really all about," Savannah said, "aren't you just the tiniest bit curious to know the perverted side of it? I know you, Emily. If Devlin doesn't propose you'll never marry, and you probably won't take another lover in or out of the Channel. This is your chance to experience some naughtier aspects of sex."
"Devlin and I have had oral and anal sex," Emily replied. "And he likes to spank me now and again."
"Ever had multiple partners?" Savannah replied. "Of course you haven't. There are things you should experience, if only once. You know you have the right to refuse or say no. And I'm going to be there too."
"Where?" Emily asked.
"London, 1870. I've created this fancy brothel called the Cock and Cunt. I peopled it with a Madame Rose, pretty whores, and lots of randy gentlemen. Only wealthy gentlemen can afford the Cock and Cunt. We'll be two of the girls. You'll be Molly, and I'll be Polly. We're cousins, and the men are all mad about us."
"I suspect I shouldn't ask," Emily said, "but what are we wearing?"
"Well, to begin with, we both have long, curly hair down our backs," Savannah said. "Do you want to change your color? I like my black hair, especially with my fair skin. Actually, I think your coloring is perfect."