Contract with Consequences

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SCARLET’S mouth dropped open when she came, so astonished was she by the intensity of her climax. Never before had she experienced spasms so powerful, or so pleasurable. Never before had she made such sounds, moaning and groaning in a wildly wanton fashion as her flesh contracted around his. But any sound she made was soon eclipsed when John came. Holding her even tighter, he shuddered violently into her, his head thrown back, eyes shut.

When his orgasm finished, his head dropping forward, his eyes opened to reveal an expression which Scarlet could only describe as confused. But any confusion was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Scarlet to wonder if she’d imagined it. By then he was smiling-though the smile was sardonic.

‘You’re not even a teeny tiny bit frigid, Scarlet,’ he said in droll tones as he removed her legs from his back and let them flop back onto the bed. ‘In truth, you have the makings of a great courtesan.’

Scarlet, who was in the throes of coming back to earth, found herself thrown down with a thud by this last remark.

‘Well, thank you very much,’ she said tartly. ‘What a lovely compliment, saying I’d make a great prostitute. Now, if you don’t mind…’ She lifted her shoulders and wriggled her hips in a vain attempt to eject him from her body.

A foolish move, for all it did was remind her how it felt with him inside her. Such blissful sensations did not lend themselves to her staying angry.

‘I do mind,’ he said sternly. ‘It’s very comfy, the way we are. So stop being silly, lie back and just relax.’

It did seem silly to keep struggling.

‘Much better,’ John said when she slumped back against the pillows. ‘Now, how about the relaxing part?’ he went on. ‘Breathe in deeply and then let the air out slowly. Yes. That’s the way.’

Despite doing as he suggested, Scarlet was still not totally relaxed.

‘For your information,’ John said, cupping her face with his hands before sliding his fingers up into the hair, ‘a courtesan was not a common prostitute, but an attractive and often poor woman who made her living by using her erotic skills to ensnare herself a wealthy lover. She was much valued by her patron. He would often buy her a house, hire staff for her and pay her bills, all for the privilege of having exclusive access to her very beautiful body.’

‘How interesting,’ Scarlet said, finding herself perversely flattered by his words. It was somehow seductive for a girl to be told that she could be so brilliant at sex that a man would do that much to have her. Such praise was as corrupting as words of love.

‘What kind of erotic skills did a good courtesan possess?’ she asked, her curiosity piqued.

John positioned himself more comfortably on top of her, his bent forearms pressing into the bed on either side to ease his weight off her chest whilst his lower half remained intimately locked with hers.

‘They were many and varied,’ he informed her. ‘But a good courtesan concentrated on discovering what her lover liked best in bed, what foreplay he enjoyed the most, what fantasies he had. And then she catered to them all.’

‘So what fantasies do you have?’ she asked.

John looked down into her wide blue eyes and considered how he should answer that.

Not the truth, of course. Most of his sexual fantasies were too decadent to be voiced aloud. At the same time, there were some fantasies which could be safely indulged in if and when the opportunity presented itself. John had often fantasised over having Scarlet at his sexual beck and call. It was a temptation impossible to resist.

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, my darling Scarlet. Because you’re going to become my courtesan for the duration of your stay here.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘That wasn’t part of our deal.’

‘No. It came to me when I discovered how good you were in bed.’

‘Oh,’ she said, and stared up at him. He really was rather wicked. And very knowing about women.

‘Have you done this kind of thing before?’ she suddenly asked.

‘What kind of thing?’

‘Don’t play dumb, John. You know what I mean. Is role playing one of your fantasies?’

‘No. I just thought it would be fun, that’s all. Why, aren’t you up for it?’ he said in the kind of challenging fashion which he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Scarlet was nothing if not competitive. Or she had been, at school with him. It had killed her whenever he’d beaten her in an exam.

Scarlet’s first reaction was to fire back, Yes, of course I am. But hard on the heels of that pride-driven urge came the stark reality of the situation. A courtesan she was not. John was flattering her when he said she was good in bed. She wasn’t; not usually. If she’d been good just now, it was because she’d been so incredibly turned on. She didn’t even know what she’d done to make him say that. Was it when she’d touched him? Or later, when she’d been writhing around under him? There’d been nothing skilled about that. She’d just gone crazy with need. Just thinking about it was turning her on again.

John sucked in sharply when he felt her move against him.

The little minx! She was answering his challenge by showing him what she could do.

‘Obviously your answer is yes,’ he said thickly.

‘Now you’re being silly. I don’t have the experience or the expertise necessary for such a role.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.

‘You can do it to me again, if you want to,’ she said, her eyes having gone as smoky as her voice.

He had every intention of doing so, especially when she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. But the moment he started moving, it happened to him again, that rush of adrenaline which heralded his earlier loss of control. He tried to slow everything down but his body had a mind of its own, and he surged deep into her with almost manic determination. Immediately, he was in danger of coming. Immediately. In desperation, he withdrew and flipped her over, pulling her up onto her knees under him, giving himself a few precious seconds of relief before he plunged into her again. Her instant cry of release came to the rescue of his battered pride, allowing him to stop his futile struggle. Eventually, they collapsed together onto the bed, John pulling her sideways into a spoon position so that he didn’t squash her with his weight. When he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close she sighed a happy-sounding sigh. Soon, her breathing slowed and she slipped into that wonderfully sound sleep which often came after great sex.

Unfortunately, John wasn’t so lucky, sleep eluding him as he tried to work out why he’d rocketed so out of control, not once but twice.

The only logical reason he could find was that Scarlet was nothing like his usual woman. Despite her age, she was a relative innocent where sex was concerned. Innocent and touchingly sweet, which could also be a factor in his uncharacteristic responses to her.

John’s choice of bed partners these days were not of the innocent and sweet variety. After he’d left university-where no-strings sex was a common pastime-John had quickly found that sleeping with his female peers in the wider world was hazardous to his peace of mind. Most girls around his age didn’t want one-night stands; they expected him to stay for breakfast. Expected him to ask them out again. Expected to become his steady girlfriend. In short, they wanted commitment, something John wasn’t interested in. He enjoyed the bachelor lifestyle. Enjoyed being free to come and go as he pleased without having to answer to anyone, or upset anyone.

John soon realised that if he wanted to have a reasonably regular and guilt-free sex life he’d have to choose older women to sleep with, ones who weren’t looking for love and marriage. Recently divorced was good, he’d found, along with the occasional career girl who was already married to her job. During the past couple of years, he’d favoured women whose only interest in him was an evening of pleasant company, usually over dinner, followed by a long night of sexual pleasure-always at their place. That way he didn’t have to ask them to leave in the morning. He could do the leaving, when and if he chose.

Bianca had once asked him why he didn’t bring his ‘girlfriends’ home. He’d told his housekeeper that she was the only real girlfriend he had, which had made her laugh.

His heart twisted as he always did when he thought of Bianca.

Best not think about her then, buddy. You can’t change what happened.

Scarlet stirred slightly in her sleep, pulling up her knees and thrusting her very shapely bottom against his stomach, causing his till-then deflated sex to come to life once more with alarming speed.

It was impossible to sleep here now, common sense dictated, John smothering a groan as he very carefully withdrew from her oh-so-delicious body, scowling when he saw the evidence of his renewed desire for her. Truly, this was getting ridiculous!

He threw Scarlet a rueful glance as he quietly rose from the bed and dragged on his boxer shorts. Frigid? She was about as frigid as Darwin in the summer.