“How do you know the language? It can’t be part of a normal school curriculum.”
“Every summer our estate has been home to a band of Gypsies. About ten generations ago, the Earl of Arran gave them rights to use the land around one of our lakes. In return, the Gypsies produce copper art for the lady of the manor. As boys, Terry and I played with the Gypsy children, and we learned some of the dialect.”
“Shouldn’t those kids be in school?”
“Legally, yes. But most European governments leave Gypsies out of the loop. Don’t get involved, Su-Lin, it’s a hopeless cause. An eternal circle of poverty, illiteracy, and an early demise.”
“It doesn’t seem fair. They’re children. They shouldn’t have to live on the streets.”
The waiter arrived with her tuna niçoise salad and his pissaladière, a white pizza topped with sautéed onions and anchovies. Thomas swore by the confection, but Su-Lin opted for the tamer salad, sliced fresh tuna served with baby potatoes, quartered hard-boiled eggs, black olives, and a handful of capers.
“What is La Fée Absinthe?” She used her knife to point to the words on the umbrella.
“It’s an ancient licorice-flavored drink distilled from several herbs, including wormwood. It has a high alcohol content and contains a powerful psychoactive agent called thujone.”
“Psychoactive? Does that mean it’s addictive?”
“I’m not certain. I do know it was banned for a while during the early nineteen hundreds and is only now being allowed to be sold commercially. Most people think of it as an aphrodisiac. It’s rumored to be hallucinogenic.”
“Thomas, would those Gypsy kids have any reason to follow us?” Su-Lin asked. “Don’t look now, but the older boy and the little girl are in the shadows of a shop on the opposite side, two doors down.”
“What else can they get from us? I gave them most of my cash, and they got my watch.” He searched her neck, ears, and fingers. “You’re not wearing anything of real value.” Using his feet, he shifted the heavy chair to the left and cast an almost-imperceptible, darting glance in the direction she described. “I don’t see them. Are you sure you saw those two? They’re very distinctive.”
“I could’ve sworn I saw them,” she muttered and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin.
“I’ll keep an eye out on our way back to the
Glory
. Ready?”
“Yes.”
Every instinct screamed a warning. She had seen those kids, and she knew they were following her. And somewhere deep inside, she would bet any amount of money she’d see them again. Soon.
They ran into Uncle James and Aunt Emma on the Promenade du Anglais.
“What did you two get up to?” Su-Lin asked.
“You’ll never guess who we ran into,” her aunt replied.
“Probably not, since we don’t know the same people,” Su-Lin said, the hairs on her arms and neck prickling. Her glance darted right and left, but although certain someone watched, she couldn’t pick out any one individual.
“Sir Geoffrey Stanford. He and Terrence O’Connor own the
Glory
. He’s joining us for the rest of the cruise. And his friend, Suresh Singh, that Internet billionaire, the young one. He’s in Nice with Geoff. And he’s invited us to a masked ball. An actual masked ball. It’s to launch this charity he’s starting, a literacy program for children based around sporting leagues. Isn’t that exciting?”
The little girl with the haunting eyes, Adria, flashed across Su-Lin’s pupils, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop words from pouring out. The rest of her aunt’s babble didn’t penetrate. Thoughts raced around her mind, one idea careening into another. Could she start something like that, a gymnastic league for girls? In a haven where they could learn and live?
How large a trust fund did Uncle James intend to give her?
In a trance, she allowed her relatives and Thomas to direct her actions, and sometime later, they stepped onto the yacht. By then, Su-Lin had identified what she’d need: a gym, the necessary equipment, and a dorm of some kind. That meant food, laundry. What if she combined senior citizen volunteers with a full-time manager?
She made it to her cabin on autopilot, eyes unseeing, lost in thought.
Before the door clicked shut, Terry’s strong arms scooped her against his chest, and she caught a whiff of spicy cigar smoke.
“I missed you,” she said and looped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers stroll through his hair and resting her cheek against his warm chest. “I spent the day with Thomas. I like him.”
Scooping her against his chest, Terry captured her mouth and plundered, his tongue insistent, commanding, stroking hers, sliding the length, the width, raising a thousand pin spots at the base of her neck. He raised his head breaking the electrifying contact and kicked the connecting door open.
All at once, his tension penetrated her nerves and Su-Lin met his eyes, arrested by the turmoil storming there. “What happened?”
“Later. I need you now.”
He slid her down his body, and only then did Su-Lin recognize their surroundings, his cabin. She took in the half-empty bottle of scotch standing on the dresser. Lifting on her toes, she ran her fingers along his shoulder blades. No give to his skin, even when her thumb kneaded the cord of one neck. Testing the curve of his shoulder, she met rigid steel. Something or someone had upset him.
“You need a massage,” she said. “Your muscles are knotted into tight bunches. My dad taught me how to do a special massage. Will you let me relax you?”
Fingering her ear, his stare bleak, lips clamped together, he shook his head. “Not exactly what I had in mind, darlin’.”
“Please?” She didn’t give him any quarter, slipping his shirt buttons free and spreading the soft cotton to reveal his wonderful pectorals. When she tugged on his belt buckle, he took over, snapping the supple leather out of linen loops and shrugging off navy khakis. “Do you ever wear underwear?”
“Not often in civilian life. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“To give you a massage?” She couldn’t prevent her lips from twitching or one eyebrow from lifting. “You bet. We need a towel, some warm oil, and to block out the sun. Stay right there, don’t move an inch.”
Su-Lin was panting by the time she finished. Within short shrift, the cabin, darkened by drawn shades, tinkled with medieval meditation music, and soft light from two patchouli-scented candles flickered a soothing ambience. Terry’s nude, magnificent body lay facedown on a thick towel on the carpet, his head propped on a bent elbow.
Oxygen evaporated from the cabin and an actual pain stabbed her diaphragm at his masculine beauty, at the wonder of him, this Norse god, lain out for her to touch, to pleasure. He was her aphrodisiac. Chanting a silent mantra of thanks to whatever deity had blessed her with him, Su-Lin sat on her haunches and let her eyes drink in the splendor of his corded muscles, his broad, copper-hued back, the way his blond hair caressed a neck thicker than both her thighs put together.
Su-Lin rubbed the warm, scented oil along his shoulder blades, not exerting any pressure, simply ensuring a thick, even coating. She hummed when her fingers curled around the cut in his biceps.
“I love your arms,” she murmured and kissed the tight curve, smelling his arousal, even from there. “And your hands.” She massaged each finger, spending time on the thumb that had brought her so much pleasure. “You have magic in your fingers.”
His shoulder blades flexed under her hands, all the ridged muscles rippling like a troubled sea. His taut skin warmed with each stroke, and she touched every inch twice, closing her eyes the second time to feel every plane, every angle.
Dripping oil onto one cupped hand and increasing the heat by rubbing both together, she placed a hot palm on each buttock, and his glutes contracted, his pelvis lifted, and he moaned a low, sexy growl.
“You’re like a statue of a god. My Norse god.” Su-Lin rained nips and kisses down the center of his luscious ass and had to force herself to remember her goal. Dribbling oil down the crease and along the tops of each large, powerful thigh, she edged into position between his knees.
Overpowering desire started her exploration. She ran her fingers along his testicles, testing their weight in her hands, her breathing faltered and rose, erratic, uneven, making her light-headed.
She forced a few deep tai chi inhales with long exhales and finished oiling his long, perfect legs. With quick moves, she removed her clothing and continued the massage. He grunted when she stood on his back, and his head lifted.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said, and he laid his face down on his elbow again.
“You’re as light as a pixie,” he mumbled. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, darlin’.”
Feet aligned along the base of his spine, she went into the old Chinese ritual, a standing massage of the back, shoulders, and bottom.
Terry groaned, something inaudible, and after the first couple of steps, she felt the difference in his muscles. Keeping her weight light, using alternating heels and tiptoes, she worked her way along his back, one inch at a time. His shoulders relaxed before she neared them.
Working with quiet, lithe steps, Su-Lin covered ass to shoulders three times, and he never spoke, not a word, just emitted a series of soft groans. When Terrence released a small snore, Su-Lin took the massage to the floor, kneeling beside his arms, and using her thumbs, she hit each acupressure point for the major muscles.
An eternity later, she rolled him onto his back.
One eye flickered open, and he mumbled, “Heaven.”
“Shh,” she whispered and continued. Starting at his feet, doing a minireflexology massage, working the knots out of brawny calf muscles, caressing his strapping thighs. Heat seemed to rise from his skin and Terry’s legs rippled and shifted under her palms.
In deliberate evasion, she refused to let her eyes wander to his arousal or concentrate on the excitement evidenced by her wet pussy.
Her final destination.
Su-Lin sat back on her haunches and her lungs refused to function, stuttering to a halt, at the wonder of the perfect man, at being able to touch him, at his desire for her.
“You are so beautiful, Terrence. So wonderful.” She traced a finger along either side of his penis, her touch light. “I never thought a penis could be beautiful, but I think we should have yours bronzed.”
Cradling his erection between curling fingers, she ran his foreskin down and sighed when she exposed the engorged satin crown. Closing her eyes, she learned the head of his cock by tongue. Light licks at first, then more of a lollipop stroke, then little sips around the rim, and a teasing insert into the sweet slit.
“Jaysus, take me, darlin’.”
With a surprising gentleness, he cupped the back of her neck and guided her mouth down to him. She suckled the whole head in. One hand keeping his foreskin tight, she cupped one testicle and slid her mouth down another inch. Another minute quarter inch, and then Su-Lin found a rhythm, a slow up and down, his cock slicking with each stroke, each pull and drag of her lips.
Musk overwhelmed her nostrils, hers, his, and a salty precum tingled her tongue, tickling the roof of her mouth and flicking lightning to her pearl of heaven. He fisted a hand in her hair and his hips rose to meet her, thrusting faster, deeper, quickening until he shouted, and she lapped and suckled and cleaned him dry.
Terry knew he should move, and though he ordered every muscle into play, not a single one responded. Hooding his eyes, he trailed Su-Lin’s graceful meditative pose, legs crossed, back straight, long, sable hair curling over golden skin, framing a beauty so precious, a face so filled with the best of humanity, it made his black soul seem darker.
“Come here, darlin’.” Crooking a finger, his lips curved when she flashed him that wide, saucy grin he so liked. “Your turn.”
“No,” she said, but moved to lie on top of him, crossed her forearms over his chest, and propped her chin with both hands. “I don’t need a turn. Not right now, anyway. It’s later. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Me. I’m what’s wrong.
A shadow crossed her features and he read every thought in the uncertain tilt of her head as she studied him. “You’d tell me if I did something wrong? You know, before?”
Shaking his head, the lassitude coating his reactions receded, he dragged her closer and cupped one breast, rubbed a thumb over an erect nipple. “You did everything so right, darlin’, that I can hardly move. What did you do today?”
“We went to a bookstore, and Thomas bought an antique map for a friend of his. We had lunch in the Cours Saleya plaza. What did you do?”
“I bought you a present.”
“You did?” She sat up, and he did too, enjoying the delighted little shiver-jiggle she did, palms together, jade eyes fizzing champagne bubbles.
Terry rose, interlocking their fingers, and led her to the bed.
“I want to see you in my bed, darlin’, between the sheets.” He turned down the comforter and waved his hand at the burgundy satin sheets he’d purchased on impulse, picturing Su-Lin naked against the rich vampire color.
“I feel wicked,” she quipped, and her hands slid along the satin, fingers curving into the material. “Samantha on
Sex and the City
had satin sheets. They feel wonderful.”
Sitting on the bed, he arranged her so she lay in the middle, long hair spread like a fan. “You take my breath away, Su-Lin. You are so beautiful, so brimming with goodness. You shouldn’t be with a man like me, darlin’.”
Scooting over to him, she laid a palm over his heart. “You are a good man, Terrence. I know it here.” Taking his hand, she put it on her chest.
His fingers throbbed with the strong beat of her life force, and the moment strummed out; then a snapshot of him screwing Carol-Ann curdled the sweetness of her gesture. Terry stood, the abrupt move unsteadying Su-Lin, and she fell onto her elbows. He stalked over to the dresser, and her jeweled gaze followed him in the mirror moving from the polished furniture to three gift-wrapped boxes lined up in a row on the dresser. Balancing the boxes on one open palm, he swung around and halted when her lower lip trembled visibly.
Turmoil fumbled his fingers, and he almost dropped one of the dainty presents, but scrambled as one fell and scooped it out of the air. The childlike joy that had lit her features minutes earlier had fallen away, replaced by the wary stare of a mouse watching a wild tomcat. He stifled a self-deprecating curse and knew he was bad for her, a corruptor of her innocence.
“You don’t have to give me them, if you don’t want to.” She folded her hands over her thighs, her thumb brushing the inky curls of pubic hair, and the gesture thrilled his cock into seeping a few drops.
“I ruined the whole thing, didn’t I?” He set the boxes next to her. “I haven’t bought a present in years. I’m obviously out of practice.”
Massaging the sudden knot at his neck, Terry finally lifted his head, and when he caught a glimpse of Su-Lin’s face, he crumpled inside.
“Don’t cry, darlin’,” he crooned, lifting her onto his lap. “Shh, don’t cry.” Thumbing away her tears, he rocked her and tucked her closer.
One small hand pushed at his chest, and she swiped across her cheeks. “These are happy tears, Terrence.” She sipped his mouth, champagne tastes, her hot tongue bubbling a path straight to his prick.
Twisting the satin into bunches, he broke the kiss, knowing in one more second he’d flip her onto her back, spread those athletic thighs, and pound into that hot pussy.
“Open your presents.” His voice surprised him, so feral with need it was a wonder she didn’t up and race out of the room.
“Terrence?”
“Open this one first,” he said and picked up the smallest one, a candy cane-striped box with a shell pink chiffon bow.
She didn’t have the usual masks people donned to deal with the cruelty society dosed out as infants grew into adulthood. Childlike wonder lifted the corners of her mouth, and the charm of raised eyebrows, almost-imperceptible peeps at him, washed away the stain of encountering Carol-Ann that morning.
Undoing the bow, careful not to damage it, she peeled away the dainty ribbons, and he watched as her chest expanded and held, uptipped breasts pearling into taut points.
“Earrings,” she breathed and chewed on her lower lip, staring at the two princess-cut emeralds, the exact shade of her eyes.
“Another happy tear?” he croaked, as a lone drop did a graceful slide down her soft, smooth skin. Terry bent forward and drank it, inhaling a faint remnant of a citrus perfume.
She nodded and looped her arms around his neck. “I know I must have gotten presents from my parents, but I don’t remember them. This is my first real present. Thank you. I’ll treasure them forever.”
“Put them on, and then we’ll open the others.” He lifted her hips so his cock nestled in her crease and knew he rained semen there.
Her little wriggles strained his disappearing discipline, and for the zillionth time, Terry searched for a way to take her, claim her, brand her his, but leave her innocence intact.
“What do you think?” She tucked her black hair behind her ears, and the emeralds glistened and sparkled in the faint candlelight.
“You look like an exotic princess, darlin’.” Brushing their lips together, his fingers scrambled for the other two boxes. “Now this one.”
When she set about opening it in the same manner, with slow, precise movements, he snatched the package from her and ripped off the wrapping.
“I wanted to keep the bows,” she muttered and quelled him with a schoolmarm glare.
“Go on,” he said and angled his chin at the box.
“Are they little jams?” she asked, brows slashed.
“They’re flavored lubricants. You put them here,” he said, his voice husking as he separated her folds and rimmed her entrance. She drenched his fingers, tight channel tensing and flexing around them. “We need to make you very, very wet so it won’t hurt.”
“Oh.” Roses bloomed in her cheeks. “Now I feel really, really wicked.”
Su-Lin’s lips pursed into the most adorable pout, and Terry burst into laughter.
“It’s not funny,” she said and hit him on the shoulder.
“Feel that,” he ordered, twitching his cock into her cupped hand. “I know how not funny this whole situation is, darlin’. All I can think about, dream about, is being inside you.” She didn’t look convinced. “Open the last one.”
Preempting her struggle with the bow, he ripped it off and gave her the box.
“I thought about buying one of these after that morning in the steam room.”
“Sweet little you? I don’t believe it.” He twined a silken lock around his forefinger.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
Seeing her fingers caressing the flesh-colored vibrator fevered his prick into a furious jerking and weeping. Terry groaned aloud when her uncle’s deep rumble carried through the open doorway connecting their cabins.
Su-Lin flinched and guilt stained every delicious inch of her flesh. She scurried off his lap and sprinted into the other room.
He eyed his randy cock, and his mouth twisted into a rueful grin. “Later, boyo, later.”
His Asian aphrodisiac proved intoxicating indeed. In the space of mere minutes, Su-Lin had somehow cleansed the Carol-Ann filth scouring his soul.
Did Thomas know their stepmother was in Nice? Did Father?
Cowardice had dictated his reaction to the nightmare of Carol-Ann walking toward him wearing a sultry smile. He’d whipped around and scuttled away like a stalked mouse. A shiver of shame raised goose bumps on his neck, and he kneaded the bunched muscles with a thumb.
Issues he’d avoided for a decade tunneled toward implosion, and he could no longer delay the inevitable confrontation. Admitting to his relationship with Carol-Ann would only widen the rift between him and his father. But could he continue to live with himself if he didn’t? What would Su-Lin think of him when the truth came out?
The bottle of Jameson whiskey glinted almost-irresistible temptation, but the expression on Su-Lin’s face when she saw the earrings earlier held sway, and he kept that picture in his head while showering and dressing. For too long he’d let alcohol dull his pain; not anymore, not with Su-Lin in the picture.
An hour later, he found Thomas and Su-Lin laughing, her tinkling giggle music to his ears.
“What’s up with you two?”
“Thomas was telling me about the time you two streaked the championship soccer game.”
“I hope you stopped with that,” he said, warning a flick at his brother.
“You know better. I promised her a picture,” Thomas said, and Terry had to smile when he recognized the devilish intent promised in his brother’s sparkling eyes. It felt like old times.
Su-Lin sidled closer to him, her actions unconscious, and a stray ray of sunshine highlighted the dazzling shine of his emerald earrings. Unable to stop, he draped his arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Sniffing, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the familiar lemon-scented shampoo she used.
“Did anyone inform you about this evening’s plans?”
A warming sun cast a honeyed glow about the entertainment room, and it shaded her loose hair the inkiest soot possible. The morning spent under a cloudless Mediterranean sky had kissed roses on her cheeks and dusted gold on her bare shoulders.
With a start, he recalled his brother’s question. “Plans, Thom?”
“Emma and James ran into Geoff and Suresh. We’re all invited out for dinner. Father’s already declined. He’s heading up to Grasse and will return with us after the masked ball.”
“Masked ball?” Terry asked, and his Su-Lin glow faded. “You agreed to all this, darlin’?”
“My uncle and aunt have already accepted,” she replied. “I’ve never been to a ball, far less a masked one.”
The CNN announcer’s voice grated a background headache at his temples, and Terry fought to control the pettish irritation the thought of sharing Su-Lin’s company spurted.
“What time is dinner? And when and where is this masked ball?” He knuckled the side of his head. “Wait a minute, how do your relatives know either Suresh or Geoff?”
She lifted a shoulder and replied, “I didn’t know they did. Maybe through business matters?”
“I’ll find out from Geoff. I guess we have no choice about dinner tonight.” Terry pursed his lips. “This is
not
what I had in mind, darlin’.”
“We’re meeting everyone on deck in ten minutes.” Thomas’s glance strayed to the white outline of a strap where his watch used to sit, and he winced. “I have to buy a new watch. The masked ball is tomorrow night at a hotel in Grasse. It’s to raise funds for Suresh’s new charity.”
“What happened to your watch?”
“We ran into a group of Gypsy children in Nice. Su-Lin wanted to help them, so we gave them food and a change of clothes. In the process, one of them nipped my watch.”
“You? Suckered by a Gypsy child? Fricking hell, you’ve lost your touch, boyo. A time back you could outdo us all.”
“You can pick pockets?” Su-Lin asked.
“I will not teach you how to pick pockets, Su-Lin. Don’t even think about it.” Thomas used his Scout leader, lecturing tone.
Terry grinned as his little aphrodisiac blushed.
“May as well start heading up. Unless either of you wants a drink? Thom? Su-Lin?”
She shook her head.
“A headache’s been simmering all day. I took pain pills, so no alcohol for me tonight.”
“Before we go up, Thomas, let me do some acupressure for your headache, it’ll help, I promise. Sit on that chair.”
Jealousy bit the throbbing in Terry’s head into full bloom. His eyes traced Su-Lin’s fingers as she tousled his twin’s hair. Thom leaned back, and her stomach cradled the back of his head.
Terry’s short fingernails stabbed his rough palms.
“Better?” she asked and twisted around to see Thomas’s face.
“Marvelous. Too bad that won’t work on the tumor.”
“I could do it every day, if you’d like. It may stave off the headaches.”
CNN faded into a commercial, and the volume increased threefold. Terry snatched up the remote and hit the Power icon. Blessed silence reigned until Su-Lin spoke, her voice wavering over the first few words.
“Terry, I don’t want my uncle and aunt to know about you and me.”
Color ripped across her cheeks, and the insult sent Terry’s stomach into a boil. “I guess that’s why you’re not wearing my earrings. You certainly won’t want my company tonight.”
“Don’t be a jackass, Ter. These people are virtual strangers to Su-Lin, and she can’t anticipate how they’ll react to her sleeping with you. And that’s all that it is, isn’t it? According to you, you don’t have relationships, you screw.”
“Shut your fricking mouth, Thomas, and scram. Su-Lin, look at me.” He tipped her chin up, desperation forcing a gentle murmur while his brain screamed obscenities, and his heart stammered into a barrel-roll nosedive.
Tears swamped her eyelashes.
“This time it’s different. You’re different.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, and her honey-scented breath warmed him from thumb to miserable, aching prick. “I know we only have these three weeks.”
“Maybe I want more,” he rasped and slanted his mouth over hers, cupping her bottom and grinding into her. Aided and abetted by avaricious lips, he stamped his possession, dueling with her tongue, nipping flesh, groaning when she tiptoed and her fingers cupped his jaw, stroking, caressing.
“Terry, get a grip. If we don’t get on deck soon, Su-Lin’s relatives will be down here hunting for her.” The words only penetrated because Thomas had his forearm in a snare’s vise grip, and the pain managed to register in Terry’s bemused brain.