Masque: A Hellfire Club Erotique Page 3

  Olivia nodded to de Courville, who only now looked up at her, blue eyes unreadable. “The comte is correct,” she said, bitterness coating the words. “It was Rousseau who Louise saw.”

  “Rousseau is a member of the Hellfire Club,” Julien said without inflection, belying the fire in his nearly-black gaze. “But I haven’t seen him recently. However, if I do…”

  “He will pay.” de Courville finished coldly. Then his voice softened, though the hardness of conviction hadn’t lessened. “And we’ll protect you,” he promised.

  He stood before her then, and Olivia wondered how he had moved so quickly. His hand, large and warm, caressed her face, the gentleness of it warming her. His eyes softened, now a beautiful deep blue that wanted to draw her in.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Truly sorry that Louise was struck down. She was a good friend.”

  Olivia glanced at Julien and saw a young and handsome man standing there, uncaring of his half-nudity, and full of confidence. She looked to de Courville and saw the same—confidence, strength. But there, as his gaze steadily held hers, Olivia saw the mature attractiveness to him; the sharp blue eyes that held hers, the hand that continued to cup her cheek, thumb running gently over her skin.

  She’d thought him handsome when she first saw him but here, with such passion in his gaze and in his voice contrasting with the softness of his touch, Olivia suddenly saw him on a very different level. Shocked, skin tingling from where he’d touched her, she realized that she wanted to know him on a very different level.

  “Thank you,” she said quickly and backed away. From his touch, from his gaze, from both their gazes.

  Her mouth opened to say more but Olivia quickly snapped it closed and backed out of the room. She left the men and the odd sensations they evoked in her, and strode quickly to her own rooms. She made one wrong turn but realized it almost immediately and hurried on. The masque still lay in de Courville’s rooms, but she didn’t worry about that.

  The comte had said he’d protect her, and Olivia believed him.

  Once in her rooms, she closed the door, shutting out the sounds of pleasure and laughter echoing through the catacombs. Good Lord, she’d found Louise’s body only hours before, she shouldn’t even be thinking about men, handsome or not.

  But then no man had ever affected her as Julien and de Courville did. Julien with his handsome virility and de Courville…honestly Olivia had no frame of reference with which to compare the older comte. Handsome, yes, virile, yes, but more than even that, he possessed an air of masculine sexuality that pulled her to him.

  Perhaps her environment affected her mind. The openness of sexual pleasure, the secret labyrinths that hid these people from Parisian society; the very fact that Olivia felt anything towards a man, let alone two. She needed time to collect her thoughts, to discover more about this new world she found herself in. To determine what she wanted.

  Someone had brought a tray with wine, cheese, breads, and meats. Olivia knew she should eat something but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she crossed to where the sack she’d brought with her still lay, seemingly untouched.

  The sack was old, the black faded as so many of the things they had now were. Louise had prepared it for her; the masque and gown weren’t the only items, but she’d been in too much of a rush to look through it earlier.

  The jewels were there, but she’d placed them in the sack herself; a change of clothing, something less conspicuous than the ball gown she currently wore; the few coins they had left; and a letter. Frowning, Olivia carefully removed the folded sheet of linen paper. Her aunt’s neat handwriting filled the page, and Olivia felt her chest tighten.

  Slowly walking to one of the room’s chairs, she sank into it. What else could Louise need to say to her that they hadn’t already discussed? They’d spent the last years with no company save each other’s and had talked at length on a great many topics both personal and political.

  My darling Olivia,

  I didn’t tell you of this earlier, because I feared you wouldn’t leave France without me. However, I’m heartened you’ve already begun your journey, away from the nightmare Paris has become. I don’t want you alone in London, and have therefore arranged for your marriage to a very prestigious and well-off young earl.

  There were other words on the paper. Words expressing Louise’s hope she’d find happiness with the earl, how she hoped Olivia would grow to at least respect him and most importantly, that she’d be safe in England, far away from the dangers of France.

  Olivia barely saw those words. Marriage? All these years, all those times she’d asked Louise what they would do once in London and never once had her aunt said anything about marriage or this Earl of Aycliff.

  She wanted to be angry with Louise, wanted to rail at her for keeping this a secret, for arranging such a marriage without even informing her of the possibility. However, Olivia found she couldn’t.

  Louise truly had seen to every last detail, including seeing that her niece had a future in London. Emotion welled within her, and Olivia carefully refolded the letter. Leaning her head against the high-backed chair, she cried.

  She must have fallen asleep, for when Olivia opened her eyes and moved, her muscles protested. Standing and stretching, she rolled her shoulders and wondered how much time had passed. With no windows to the outside world, it was impossible to tell. Walking to the basin, she noted fresh water had been delivered. Dipping the linen cloth into the still-warm water, she patted her face, wiping away all vestiges of tears.

  She’d left le Comte de Courville and Monsieur Laurent rather abruptly and should probably return, make her apologies. Should she tell them of Louise’s final letter? Olivia glanced at the offending paper and decided that she should. If they were to leave Paris, and subsequently France, together, they’d need to know what Louise had planned for her future.

  A chill shuddered through her at the thought, but Olivia firmly pushed it away. The letter was an excuse and she knew that. She wanted to see them again. If she was honest with herself, Olivia couldn’t have said if she made her way to their rooms because de Courville and Julien were the last link she had to her aunt or because she didn’t want to be alone tonight. Or both.

  Either way, her heart sped with the thought of seeing the men once more.

  Passing through the catacomb corridors, Olivia heard far less noise than she had earlier. Fewer people roamed the hallways and not as many moans of pleasure greeted her ears. Louise had warned her about the Hellfire Club, but she’d always glossed over it, never offering too many details. When she’d entered, the last thing Olivia expected was for it to be as blatant as she witnessed.

  Ignoring all that now, for she could do naught about it, she moved steadily toward Comte De Courville’s rooms. The door stood ajar and without thinking, Olivia pushed it open further.

  The scene before her stopped her in her tracks.

  de Courville, naked body glistening with sweat in the candlelight, stood over a bent Julien Laurent, now fully naked and gripping the bedding until Olivia could see his knuckles whiten. The older man moved within Julien, hips pounding against Julien’s buttocks.

  Olivia blinked, heat rushing to her face but she couldn’t turn away. She’d seen couples having sex before, it happened on a regular basis even along the street to their apartments. Earlier she’d seen a pair of women enjoying each other. And she’d heard of men doing the same, but hadn’t given it much thought.

  Until now. Until watching two beautifully masculine men so obviously enjoying each other in ways she’d never envisioned. Julien groaned, pushed harder against de Courville’s hips; the comte complied and slammed against his lover. Olivia couldn’t turn away.

  Chapter Four

  Sebastian, le Comte de Courville, pounded into his lover. Anger unabated at the news of Louise’s death, he tried to block out the last time he saw her, mere weeks ago when she told him of her foolhardy plan. Sebastian moved faster, pounding into Julien, han
ds digging into the other man’s lean hips as he took his sorrow and rage out on his lover.

  Julien shuddered beneath him, hips thrusting back to meet Sebastian’s punishing pace, and he knew the younger man was close to losing his prized control. Sebastian moved faster, harder, determined to break Julien’s control, to hear his lover’s groans of release, to feel him break beneath him. He growled, unable to restrain the sound that escaped him.

  Shaking the hair from his face, he felt his own need wind tighter and tighter. Something from the doorway of his private rooms caught his attention and he looked in that direction.

  What made him do so, Sebastian couldn’t have said. Through the haze of passion he saw Olivia standing there. She watched them with wide eyes; a flush stained her cheeks and Sebastian could see her chest heaving with every breath.

  She watched Julien with rapt attention, brown eyes widening as she stared at his body. Sebastian continued to move within Julien, his own orgasm coiling tighter as Olivia watched him thrust in and out of his lover. Then her gaze moved, and he saw the reluctance with which it did so.

  Olivia met his gaze, her hand raised to her décolletage and rested lightly on the swell of her breasts.

  He wanted her.

  Seeing her there, riveted to he and Julien enjoying each other, Sebastian wanted her. Desire for her slammed through him. Her eyes continued to hold his and Sebastian saw a myriad of emotions.

  Sebastian faltered his movements, though his body screamed for release. Olivia stood there, beautiful, naïve in the ways of sex, and utterly enchanting because of it. He wanted to beckon her in, invite, entice, her to join them.

  Her look wasn’t the normal lust-filled gaze of so many in the Club and he hadn’t expected it to be. Olivia’s gaze held a surprised curiosity, an innocence he couldn’t seem to resist.

  Beneath him, Julien shifted and Sebastian glanced down to see his lover also looking at Olivia. She met his gaze, then Julien’s. Without a word, turned and fled the room. Sebastian had the strangest need to follow her.

  As if reading his mind, Julien reached back and grabbed his hand before Sebastian could pull out of the other man. His brown eyes, now black with passion, locked with Sebastian’s and he nodded. He wouldn’t follow Olivia, not now. No matter how much he wanted her, how he wanted her to join them, or how inappropriate that need was, Sebastian wouldn’t force her.

  He thrust into Julien again, causing the other man to groan in pleasure. Again and Julien climaxed, shuddering beneath him. Harder, faster, and Sebastian climaxed, emptying himself in his lover and collapsing onto the bed beside him.

  It took several moments for Sebastian to recover enough to sit, breathing even once again. Beside him, Julien’s warm body pressed against his. Sebastian turned to look at the younger man, watched him slowly gather his restraint back to him.

  A wave of gentleness washed over him, and Sebastian raised his hand to caress Julien’s face. Curling his fingers into a fist, he shook his head and dropped his hand. He had to see to Olivia; make sure that she didn’t completely withdrawn from them after seeing he and Julien.

  They’d been together for so long that Sebastian knew his lover well enough to sense Julien’s own need of Olivia; his arousal seeing her in their doorway.

  “Give her time, Sebastian.” Julien’s hand rested on his thigh, and he could feel his lover’s eyes on him. “You can’t expect so young and sheltered a girl to accept what we’re about in the mere hours she’s been here.” Julien sat up next to him and continued. “She must be mortified. Louise said she was untouched, this is all new to her.”

  Sebastian nodded but didn’t really believe it. He knew Olivia was a virgin, untouched and unschooled in the ways of the Hellfire Club. It didn’t matter. With Louise…gone, it was his responsibility to see to Olivia’s safety.

  He rose and tugged on his trousers. The room had chilled and Sebastian also pulled on a robe. Not bothering with shoes, he looked at Julien. Still sitting naked on the bed, the younger man gave him a wordless look that clearly said going after Olivia now was a mistake. Sebastian didn’t answer, merely shook his head and left.

  The walk to Louise’s—Olivia’s—room was short. He tried not to think about it, about any of it. As of her arrival, Sebastian had one goal and that was her safety. He’d see her out of Paris, out of France, and not allow anyone in the Club to touch her.

  “Comte de Courville,” Olivia said before he could utter a word. “Please accept my apologies,” she rushed on, cheeks flushed. “The door was open and I…I couldn’t help but see.”

  Olivia floundered for a moment, cheeks now flaming red, breath coming short. Her hands waved ineffectively before her. “My deepest apologies,” she repeated. “It shan’t happen again. I should have been more careful, more respectful.”

  That last sounded as if she chastised herself, and Sebastian hid a grin. Holding up a hand to halt her babbling apologies, endearing though they might be in so debauched a setting, he took a moment to frame his reply.

  “I should have been more careful,” Sebastian said with a rueful grin. “Julien and I have been here for weeks now, and I’m afraid we’ve grown used to,” he paused and tried to think of a delicate way to say it. “We’ve grown used to the atmosphere here at the Club.”

  Sebastian shook his head and wondered when the last time he tried to protect someone’s sensibilities had been. Had he ever?

  “Yes,” she said but he had the feeling she didn’t agree so much as simply use the word. “But it was still no excuse.”

  “Neither of us did anything wrong,” Sebastian insisted.

  Olivia took a startled step forward and she looked as if she wanted to apologize again. She looked so earnest and still so naïve. Louise had kept her sheltered, he knew that, but had the woman never told her niece what happened here? Never prepared her?

  “Nor would I ever think that,” she insisted.

  “The Hellfire Club,” he said slowly, “isn’t an ordinary club. Everything here is very sexual and very open. I’m sorry Louise didn’t prepare you better. But as she’s left you in my protection, I’ll endeavor to guard you while you’re here.”

  “Please, comte,” she said, adamantly shaking her head. “That’s not your responsibility. I’m grateful you’ve offered to see I safely leave Paris and France, but that’s the extent of what’s been asked of you. I’ll handle this on my own.” She waved her hand to encompass not only this room but the Hellfire Club itself. “Please don’t worry for me or my moral protection.”

  “Don’t refer to me as comte anymore,” Sebastian said, stepping closer to her. It surprised him how badly he wanted to touch her. Caress the smooth skin of her face, the rise of her breasts over the low-cut neckline. He curled his hands into fists and fought the urge to touch her. “From this moment on, please call me Sebastian.”

  Again he paused and wondered how to explain Julien to this woman. Julien, who had survived that night at the Bastille, only to find himself stranded on the streets, using his admittedly abundant charm and wit to feed and clothe himself.

  With a shrug, for it was not his story to divulge, Sebastian said, “My relationship with Julien is unique.”

  Before he could say more, Julien entered. He should have known the younger man would have followed him. Louise had extracted an oath from both of them to see to Olivia’s safety. He carried Olivia’s masque and set it gently on the vanity top. Sebastian didn’t think she noticed, considering Julien hadn’t bothered with a robe and sauntered around the catacombs half-clothed as if it wasn’t December in Paris.

  “Yes,” Julien echoed, “very unique. And we enjoy each other very much.”

  “Oh I understand,” Olivia interrupted, obviously lying and obviously still ill at ease. “I know there are men who prefer the companionship of other men. Prefer it,” she said, stumbling over the words, “to that of female companionship.”

  “No.” Julien laughed with the smooth cadence of one perfectly accepting of himself
and those around him. “You don’t understand; we also enjoy female companionship. This is a very unusual place which caters to our varied tastes. And pleasure is simply our pursuit.”

  Julien picked up the masque and held it out. With a gentle touch, he secured it around Olivia’s face. The movement was seductive, and Sebastian saw Olivia was not unaffected. Stifling another grin, he shot a look at Julien. For his part, the other man affected an innocent look Sebastian knew all too well—that irresistible charm that belied the dangerous man beneath.

  “Leave her be,” Sebastian said, amused at his lover. However, the seriousness of his words impacted Julien and his dark eyes shifted with the knowledge of what Olivia had been through today. “She’s experienced quite enough. Let’s leave her to rest.”

  He turned to go but stopped. Looking back at Olivia, he studied her for a moment. She hadn’t moved to untie the masque, but stood there, fingers bunching her gown, the swell of her breasts enticing in the meager candlelight.

  “Was there something you wished to discuss?” Sebastian asked. He started to remind her that it was she who came to his room but stopped. If he was to entice her with reminders of what she witnessed between he and Julien, Sebastian wanted to see her face. Watch her eyes darken with the knowledge.

  “Are you hungry? Would you like supper?” He asked instead.

  “No,” Olivia said, voice strained with the one word.

  From the folds of her gown where her fingers had curled the fine material, she held up the letter. She looked at it for a moment then slowly offered it to him. Sebastian took it from her but didn’t read it.