Chapter 1
The sensation was very like suddenly awakening from a long, involved dream. Evelyn stopped packing to clutch the damp shower towel before it slipped from around her soft body, wondering again why she'd gone through with it--wondering what she'd gotten herself into and why she had obligated herself to fuck a man older than her father without knowing anything more about him than four dreamy days could reveal.
Evelyn gazed out the window, focusing on a sailboat cutting silently through the shallow, warm, green and blue water that lapped at the resort hotel's white sand beach. She watched the boat, but she wasn't really seeing it. She saw only the gnawing fright inside herself growing larger and larger.
She wondered again what it would be like, having a man's hands caressing the smooth skin of her body, sliding down from the soft, white undersides of her breast to sensuously glide to her firm, round thighs. She stared at the sugar-white sands and the sparkling waters of the Florida Keys and shivered.
A feeling of unreality swept over her, and she turned from the window to stare at her door, half expecting to see him standing there like the stranger he was, urging her to hurry and pack so that they could rush to his estate and fuck, now that they were married and it was legal for them to do it.
Evelyn shook her head. That wasn't right. It wouldn't be that way--not with him. Not at his age.
In the large wall mirror she saw her reflection. The towel slipped from her nervous fingers and revealed a stranger's young, firm, full-breasted body. It wasn't her body anymore. It was his. The short, auburn hair seemed to be hers, and yet it wasn't. It was redder, darker than it had been a week ago. The dainty nose was still turned up at the end, but now there was an impish freckle on it that made her look like a little girl. The soft, swollen breasts were hers, too, but they seemed fuller now, more pointed, their slopes tanned from the sun, the pink nipples more protuberant and alive than they'd ever been. Her waist was more pinched and squeezable, the muscles showing the tremor of fine tone. Her hips were more cupping, and their breadth seemed exaggerated by the white triangle her bikini had left after four days of splashing and laughing with him in the clean ocean water.
Evelyn's eyes blurred, remembering how the others had smiled fondly, thinking that she was his daughter. He'd played their game, treating her with disarming familiarity, lavishing gifts on her, hugging her paternally, kissing her forehead good night, making no attempt to collect his reward in her bed. He'd wanted her to be his daughter, and she'd allowed it. She was what he wanted her to be.
Her eyes cleared again, and she gazed at the dark patch of red-brown hair at her cunt. It seemed to move and curl before her as if the strands were alive with feeling--like tendrils of passion reaching out to coil about his cock and pull it to her pussy in a way no daughter's would do. Her labia began bloating before her eyes, puffing outward with acceptance, opening like the petals of a fresh blossom. She inhaled their perfume of readiness and gasped once more.
"Stop it!" she cried to her reflection, whirling away from the mirror.
A faint kind of calmness settled over her, as if the blood were draining from her head, making it light and dizzy. She sat on the edge of the bed. The improbabilities swirled through her mind and made colors, like those underwater around the reefs they'd explored together. She gathered her reasons together and juxtaposed them, trying to find sense where she knew there was none.
There were the obvious motives--his wealth, the nice things he would give her, the position. But those weren't the right motives. She'd married him for another, and it was sex--quiet, simple, and undemanding, the kind Evelyn knew she could rely on from a man of his age.
His knock on the door made her grab at the bedspread for covering. "Are you ready, Evelyn? Woodard is waiting with the car."
"Another fifteen minutes?" she asked, raising her voice. It sounded strange in her ears--too real, after the days of dreaming.
"That's fine, Evelyn. I've called and told Valerie when to expect us. I can't wait for you to meet her. I'll be downstairs."
Evelyn waited. She heard nothing but the hammering in her ears. "All right," she said hollowly to the empty room.
She put her hands to her face. They were shaking. She suddenly didn't want to go through with it, even though it was too late. It was done.
She made herself get up and finish packing. After a moment, she stared out the window again, feeling a peculiar affinity for the building she stood in. The resort was young and fresh and bright. It was tall and slim. It would brace itself against the shrieking winds and the pounding waves when the hurricanes blew and tried to destroy it. The building was an affront to the natural order of things, just as her marriage to Artemus Crenshaw was.
A chill went up her spine and made her shiver. The pictures of Valerie came back to her. He'd shown them proudly, as any father would, but there'd been something strange about them that Evelyn hadn't been able to discern at the time. Now she could see what it was; her thoughts about 'natural' orders had made her conscious of it.
There'd been a shot of Valerie by the pool, dabbling her feet in the water, her slim, sixteen-year-old body clad in triangular patches of bikini that barely covered her, her body as nubile and full as any woman's, her person radiating an aura of strong sensuality through her full lips and high cheeks and wide-spaced eyes. Valerie leaning against the wide trunk of a live oak with branches heavily draped with Spanish moss, her fingers caressing the roundness of its stem, a thin silk dress molding itself to her soft curves and making ripe fruits of her breasts as they thrust forward with youthful verve, one of her eyes drawn up to display the smooth line of thigh and curved firmness of thigh and buttock. Valerie lying on her side in a thin nightie, one hand propping up her head, her sultry eyes burning through the camera lens with Cleopatra's heat. Valerie frozen in the wild, passionate instant of a primitive dance, her raven hair flowing in a glossy shroud about her face and shoulders, her teeth gleaming from behind drawn, slick lips wetted by the tip of an exploring tongue, her firm thighs spread wide, her pelvis tipped up and forward, her nipples and the dark patch of her pubic mound showing through the yellow stretchiness of the body stocking.
The pictures a father carried of his daughter. The pictures Artemus had shown with pride, nearly with reverence.
Evelyn closed her eyes for a long moment and swallowed hard. When she opened them again, the ocean still glittered outside her window, calm and innocent, its surface shaded with the delicate hues of a tropical sunset.
She picked up the suitcase, remembering that Artemus had carried no pictures of his son. He'd barely spoken of Keith, and then only with hard, brusque tones. All she knew of Keith was that he was nineteen, that he was coming home from his first year of college tomorrow, that she, at twenty-one, was to be his mother. His mother and Valerie's. Mother to the girl with lust shrieking with hurricane force through her eyes and lips and breasts and thighs.
Evelyn opened the door and walked down the hall with resolute steps.
"Evelyn, you shouldn't have carried that down," Artemus said chidingly. "That's what I have Woodard for. That's what the hotel has bellboys for."
She didn't look at him. "I'm sorry, Artemus," she said. "I'm used to looking after myself."
His arm went about her shoulder. She felt strange inside its circle, as if it weren't the same arm any more. "You'll have to get used to a different way of life, then," he said gently. I'm rather counting on that anyway, you know."
She got into the back of the Rolls Silver Cloud with him. The car circled the entrance, went over the bridge linking Pelican Key to the Overseas Highway, and headed north.
Woodard sat stiffly in the front seat driving with an air of importance past people with beat-up hats, fish-odored pants and sunburned backs. The Rolls hummed quietly and elegantly by gaudy tourist stands sporting racks of shells and souvenir junk powdered white by the limestone dust. Other resorts slipped by, looking strangely tinseled by the squalid acres of trailer camps surrounding them. The unkempt mess that was the best and the worst of man's contribution to the Keys gave way to the eerie mystery of mangrove swamps as the car sped north toward the lower reaches of the Gold Coast. Red flame glinted from the white wings of a flock of egrets heading back to their roosts. Evelyn watched the birds glide through the sunset and felt a curious sensation go through her, as if her freedom were winging away with them, leaving her caged in the pretty shell of the elegant auto heading north.
She glanced at her husband of two hours from the corner of her eye. She had the sudden feeling she'd been bought--that Artemus had come to the Keys looking for a pretty thing to adorn his estate, had seen her, and had haggled with her in a sophisticated way, with propositions and agreements. Now, he was driving his purchase back to the sedate wealth of DeSoto Inlet to admire and display her, feed and enthrone her, and, undoubtedly, to fuck her whenever he felt the urge.
"Artemus, why did you marry me?" she asked, breaking the long silence inside the car.
He turned his head and smiled at her. It was a handsome smile. The man himself was handsome--sinisterly so. She felt her throat contract and wondered why she hadn't thought of him as pleasingly handsome.
"Are you getting nervous now?" he responded, his voice smooth, still beguiling.
"A little," she admitted. "It happened so fast. I ... went down for a simple vacation, and I ended up married. I still can't believe it. You made it happen so fast."
"I make all my decisions with dispatch," he said bluntly.
"But, why me? I could be your daughter, Artemus."
His chest, full and vigorous for his age, expanded with air. "I might ask you the same question, you know. But that would waste words. We've already discussed our agreements, and we both know why we did it, don't we?"
Evelyn twisted her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "I'm not sure any more. I'm not sure of anything right now."
He laughed softly. "All right, if it must be put into words, I married you because I find you stunningly beautiful. You'll add a touch of elegance to my house, an air of impressive charm to my business and social affairs. In turn, you married me for the wealth and position I can give you. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us."
"No-- I didn't," she objected quickly. "I told you at the resort that I didn't care about the money. I'm not a gold digger."
He smiled again, one corner of his mouth turning up as if in a sneer, showing a cold ruthlessness about him she hadn't seen before.
"Evelyn, why must we make a sham of it? Those are the basics."
"It isn't true, Artemus."
"Then why did you? Surely, it wasn't for my robust youth," he laughed. "That's been gone for some time."
She opened her mouth to tell him. No sound came out. She couldn't do it yet. How could she tell a near stranger that she was afraid of sex? Not of sex itself, but of her response to it.
"I know I haven't given the reasons a woman wants to hear," he said, half in apology, "particularly a woman of your impressionable age. But I'm sure all the other will come later as we get to know and trust one another."
Evelyn wasn't listening. Her mind was swarming with memories of the time when she was fifteen--the first time, when she had done it all with a boy named Jim. He had played over her body with his hands and lips, causing the terrible passion inside her to come to a furious boil. Then he had pierced her bloated tissues with his prick and made her erupt with volcanic fury, turning her into a mindless, writhing, willing blob of nerve endings that demanded more and more. She had gone mad with the lust inside her. She'd allowed him to fuck her virginal cunt until it was raw inside, then demanded that he fuck her ass, her mouth, the tight groove between her tits. Each time, each accomplishment, had increased the need for more, until she was raving. She'd wanted to consume his body. She'd eaten his prick with fury, swallowing his semen while he beat her about her back and head, making her more ravenous than ever. Only when the taste had become salty and metallic and the base of his penis was bloody had she realized the extent of the madness he'd unleashed inside her. She'd stopped gnawing and looked with horror at what she'd done to Jim's prick. The experience had been traumatic, and Evelyn never let it happen again.
Thinking of that time made her pussy throb with annoying excitement. She fought down the tingling and the terrible pressure inside her which might permit the volcano to erupt again. It was a practiced habit. It was the clamping of a lid on boiling water, the capping of a geyser ready to pour a scalding cloud of steam into the air. She pressed her knees tightly together and forced her emotions under rigid control, the way she'd done before the mirror in the resort.
She took a certain pride in it now. She called it propriety, restraint, finesse. She disliked dating men her own age. They only wanted to rut with her and burrow into her soft tits and puffy cunt like farm animals in season.
With Artemus, because of his age, Evelyn was certain it couldn't happen again. He wouldn't have the stamina to wear down her defenses. He was a man of restraint and breeding himself, and he would enjoy a little sex with her in the way she knew she had to have it--lights out, the sheets tickling her skin, romantic nothings being whispered in her ear in the darkness, a feeling of perfumed, slippery mysteriousness enveloping her as she rose easily and sensually to her peak, safely, surely.
The thought had a calming effect on her and removed some of her fear. The marriage would be a fair trade--her beauty for his restaint, her duties as a wife to him in exchange for the material wealth he could give her. That would be the reason for most girls her age. But, with her, it was the sex. Or, rather, the lack of it.
"Why are you smiling?" Artemus asked.
She stopped abruptly. "Was I?"
"Is your real reason for marrying me that amusing?"
"No," she said. "Not at all. Not really."
"You must tell me. I'm intrigued."
She looked at him. "I can't, Artemus. Not yet."
He didn't insist. He looked forward as the car approached the long, congested ride through the megalopolis stretching through Miami to Palm Beach.
The lights were bright along the Dixie Highway, and Evelyn studied him in their glare. His hair was neat and dark, flecked with silver tips that gleamed metallically. The ends of his sideburns shaded to white, but his brows were still dark and impressive. They shadowed penetrating eyes that had a peculiar hardness to them--magnetic, more than steely. Evelyn had felt nervous under his gaze because she could never read the expression in his eyes. She wondered if any human could. They made him seem blocked off to her. Even when he smiled, his eyes didn't change.
They stopped for a light. A mercury-vapor street fight glared harshly through his window, squaring his face, hitting at an angle that showed the lines in his face, making them startlingly deep and rough, as if gouged there by iron chisels, one at a time. The lines were the map of his life, remnants of the battles he'd fought and honed himself on with each victory. His nose came down straight and firm, as if a spike had been driven into his skull and left there to form the line of it.
The car moved forward, and his face went to normal again. But Evelyn was left with a sense of tingling dread of the life ahead of her. The man was mysteriously attractive to her, as fit and robust as a man her own age. She imagined how it would be later tonight, when he crawled atop her and smiled with his mouth only and slid his cock into her body.
A thrill of lust chased up her spine, and she stilled it quickly, thinking that he might not try tonight, either. She didn't know how he would respond sexually. She began to grow edgy. She should have seduced him and found out. She had married him on an assumption, and that hadn't been a wise thing to do.
"What's wrong?" he asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.
"Nothing," she said. She looked away from his eyes, trying to keep from thinking about the pictures of his daughter, about the fact that she herself was young enough to be his daughter.
"You'll adjust in time," he said gently, reaching out to pat her hand. "It might be difficult at first, handling Valerie. I've let her get out of hand since her mother was forced to leave. In fact, I've spoiled her rotten, I'm afraid," he smiled.
"What do you mean, she was forced to leave?"
He stiffened slightly. "I thought I'd been over that."
"You said she'd left. There's a difference."
Artemus turned his head back and drew in air again, making a hissing sound. "Valerie's mother was forced to leave by me," he said. "I caught her in an indiscretion."
"Oh--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"Yes, you did. I'll tell you the rest, because we need an understanding. It was with another woman. I forced her out because I regard Lesbianism as the most odious affront a woman can commit against a man, and I've no intention of tolerating it. Is that clear?"
Evelyn tried to laugh, but the wildness that had slid into his hard eyes made sound impossible for a long moment. "Artemus, surely you don't think that I ... "
"Keith will be no problem to you," he went on, abruptly breaking the heavy silence. "Keith is my problem. Unfortunately, he's trying so hard to impress himself and the rest of the world that I have to watch every move he makes to see that he doesn't ruin me with his first-rate job of bungling everything he touches." Artemus looked directly at his young wife and seemed to dismiss Keith from his mind. "You'll also be responsible for arranging the details and planning for whatever parties or dinners I feel necessary to hold. You'll sit beside me and look poised and confident and as pretty as you can, no matter how boring you find the conversation of my clients. I've wired Mary--that's Woodard's wife--to take orders from you, now, instead of Valerie. She has a woman come in part time to help with the cleaning and laundry. Captain Bates will stay under my jurisdiction. On occasion, I will take clients fishing or to the Bahamas in the boat. The excursions are rather time-consuming and costly, and I have explicit confidence in the captain's judgment and ability; therefore, I want no interference with my orders to him." He glanced at her. "Why do you look so startled?"
"I just ... it sounds odd to think that I'll be doing all those things, Artemus," Evelyn blurted. She had listened to his clipped orders, a little stunned by his brusqueness. The imagery of what lay ahead blossomed threefold in her mind, softening the irritating quality of his speech. She excused him to herself, remembering that he was beyond her romantic age.
"Wasn't that what we agreed?"
"Of course, but ... tonight is our wedding night. We should be talking of other things, shouldn't we?"
He smiled again, slowly. "This seems hardly the time or place for that, does it?"
"I suppose not, Artemus," she smiled back at him, suddenly confident for the first time.
Evelyn's fear of him ceased. He would be as proper as she'd hoped, she felt certain now. A younger, more impulsive man would have been all over her by now, Woodard or not. She continued to look at Artemus feeling a tingling sensation grow inside her until her labia swelled and stretched the nylon fabric of her panties. She felt her pussy grow moist and warm for him. She felt as if she could spread out on the back seat of the Rolls and envelop his cock with her warm tunnel while Woodard drove through the night in silken silence.
The car moved from the lights and traffic to the smooth, dark ribbon of the turnpike. Artemus became a shadowy, silent figure beside her. Daringly, Evelyn let the feelings inside her swell under careful control, until one touch from him would have made her come. She gave fleeting thought to flexing her thighs, bringing pressure against her pussy, and coming silently to take the edge of jitteriness away, but she knew she couldn't keep herself silent enough. His strange lack of any attempt to seduce her during the last four days had made her curiosity grow. She felt more ready than ever. She didn't dare masturbate beside him for fear of giving herself away. He didn't like Lesbians. What would he think of a wife who masturbated, even if it was to keep herself from going wild?
Evelyn's thoughts were interrupted by the car turning off the exit ramp, a long, dark road through pines and palmettos harboring the smell of warm, salt-tanged ocean breeze. They clattered over a bridge across the Intra-coastal Waterway to an island lush with tropical growth and large estates. A guard peered into the car, waved a greeting, and allowed them to go over another bridge where hidden driveways came out to meet the road. The Rolls turned into one of them fronting Indian River and went toward a large house screened off from its neighbors by thick, landscaped growth, neat and trim. Gold lights illuminated a rocky fountain that bubbled quietly. Evelyn stared at the house and grounds with awe.
"It's beautiful!" she whispered softly to herself.
"I thought you'd like it," Artemus said, revealing he was awake. "Come inside, and we'll meet Valerie."
The garden was marble and stucco, wrought iron pieces, hanging potted plants, a firm, squat spaciousness, hard, enduring and elegantly soft at the same time. The scent of gardenias and hibiscus and other flowers she didn't know overwhelmed Evelyn. It was a profusion of perceptions that dizzied her. She was conscious of the plump, severe-looking matron who came from the dining area in a uniform. Then Artemus' smooth voice rose in anger and brought Evelyn back.
"What the hell do you mean, she's not here!" he demanded.
Mary wrung her hands and glanced at Evelyn, smiling weakly. "She left, Sir."
"I told her to be here, damn it!"
"She slip--She left, Mr. Crenshaw--shortly after you called. She didn't say where she was going or when she would be back. She was very upset."
"She's upset, is she?" Artemus fumed. He raised his hand and clenched his fist with anger. "So help me, Mary, one of these days I'm going to stripe her bottom with a belt, I swear it."
"Yes, Sir," Mary said, glancing at Evelyn again with an expression that said he never Would. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crenshaw. He didn't tell me you would be so pretty and ... and young. I know we'll get along just fine. Please don't hesitate to ask me for help."
"Thank you, Mary." Evelyn smiled, liking the woman immediately and feeling sorry for the awkward position she was in.
"I'm sorry, Evelyn," Artemus said, changing abruptly. "I don't mean to let my anger get away with me like that. I don't know what gets into Valerie that she can show such disrespect. Please forgive me. You'd think her father went out and came back married each week, for all it meant to her."
Evelyn touched his arm. "It's all right. She's probably upset by the suddenness of it after all the years without a mother. We both knew it wouldn't be easy, didn't we?"
His eyes had reverted to their expressionless form. "Of course," Artemus said finally.
"Dinner is ready any time, Mr. Crenshaw. Would you like a cocktail first? Peter is here tonight."
"Good," he said. "We'll be in the drawing room." He turned to go.
"There's one more thing, Sir," Mary added hesitantly. "Mr. Keith called to say he isn't coming until tomorrow night."
Artemus clenched his jaw. The lines on his face deepened. "Bungling idiot," he growled. "What the hell do these goddamn kids think they're trying to do? Tomorrow night's the reception. I don't have time to bother with his dragging in in the middle of it. What's his excuse--or did he bother to give one this time?"
"Something he was working on. He said you'd be pleased with it. A deal with Todd Ackerman, he said."
Artemus fell heavily into a chair, his face stony with quiet rage. "Ackerman," he said, making the name sound dirty. He shook his head slowly. "That kid. All right, Mary, thank you. I'll get the Swede on it tomorrow to stop anything from happening. Remind me."
"Yes, Sir."
When Mary had left, Artemus looked at Evelyn, trying to smile as if nothing were wrong. "They must consider my marriage a boring event, the way they rush home to meet you."
"Did you tell Keith?"
He looked at Evelyn, then averted his gaze. "Ah, here's Peter. Best damn bartender anywhere."
Evelyn nodded and smiled politely. The slim Negro moved with incredible grace. There was a swift exchange of inspection, pleasure, and arousal between he and Evelyn before he was gone. Evelyn felt the hunger stir shamefully inside her again. She wondered fleetingly if Valerie had extended the sweep of her wildness to Peter. The thought made her clench her buttocks tightly and shiver.
There was another reason for her anxiety. She'd grown afraid again. She didn't know how she could possibly handle a girl such as Valerie must be, particularly if there were this kind of resentment from the start. She tried to build an image of Keith. It came out loud and reckless and nearly as his sister, a wheeler-dealer on his father's money, an operator who thought he was smooth.
She felt like an intruder.
"Come on. I'll show you your new house," Artemus said, taking her hand.
They went down hallways, turned corners, peered into bedrooms, looked at the veranda and the pool beyond, walked along a carefully tended garden to the guest houses, then stopped by the dock to see the boat, floating with sensual slap-suck sounds on the still water. There'd been eight bedrooms, not counting the guest houses, a study, a party room, his office, several other small rooms besides the usual complement. The house was a baronial mansion tucked away with others to make the most exclusive neighborhood Evelyn could imagine. Her feet hurt. The sweet drink Peter had made was going to her head. The boat looked like an elegant yacht to her. The night air was heavy and warm and scented with flowers. She threw her arms about him and pressed up tightly. "Oh, hold me, Artemus," she cried. "Tell me it isn't all a dream."
Her lips were soft and full. His were firm, nearly hard. He kissed her demandingly, surprising her. His hands tightened on her hips and pulled her pelvis against his.
Despite her control, her passion began to bubble inside. She felt tipsy, as if on the threshold of something strange. Her lips spread softly and admitted his exploring tongue. She felt her pussy lips swell at the same time as if receiving his prick. A small shiver rippled up her spine and made the back of her head feel chilled.
She gasped while kissing Artemus and felt his fingers dig into the resilient flesh of her buttocks, making her imagine what it would be like with no clothes between them as he pulled her cunt up around his hard cock.
It was frightening and exciting, gentle and urgent all at once. Yet, despite the way her pussy was pressed intimately against his crotch, Evelyn could feel no arousal, no lifting of bloated prick between his thighs threatening to jab into her squirming cunt and drive her wild. She was glad. It was what she'd wanted. She felt safe with him, and she let her passion steam a little higher, melting in his arms, pressing the tingling tips of her breasts against his chest. She thought of going into the boat and fucking him there. She breathed more rapidly, with shallow puffs, and all thoughts of propriety, decorum or restraint seemed no more than hollow resolutions in the face of her mounting passion.
Artemus released her with shocking suddenness, making her cry out. His eyes stared into hers, as if looking into her very depths with calculating intent. Evelyn felt naked and exposed before him, and it frightened her.
"We'll have dinner now," he said evenly, as if nothing had happened. "Perhaps Valerie will see fit to join us." Artemus took her hand and led her back to the house.
Evelyn followed obediently, wanting to shout that she didn't give a damn about Valerie or dinner, that she wanted to go upstairs and fuck his prick limp, getting it over until the next time so that she could stop wondering. There was more than the question of how much or how passionately. Now, there was the question of what made him hot. She was steaming. He seemed totally unaffected. It was maddening--all of it.
She could barely eat. It was wild duck smothered in a rich wine-and-mushroom sauce. Peter served it, moving lithely, his skin gleaming with a gold hue. Their eyes met once more, and Evelyn felt as if she would fly apart, recognizing him instinctively as the kind of man who could do it to her.
"Artemus, I can't eat," she said in a quavering voice.
"The bride's impatience?" He chuckled softly, lifting a glass of wine to his lips. He sipped and watched her until her whole body quivered with sexual fever. "I think we'll get along just fine, Evelyn," he said cryptically, "just fine."
Later, when the others had left them alone, they went upstairs to the master bedrooms. The bedrooms were large and sumptuous, connected by a bathroom. Artemus showed Evelyn hers.
"Why must I sleep in here, Artemus?" she asked. "What good is it in being married if I can't sleep in the same bed with you?"
"My pattern is set, Evelyn," he said, looking down at her, "When I want to see you, you'll come into my room. When I want to be alone to think, to plan, to reflect on the many facets of my business, then you will come in here and leave me alone. There will be times when you'll want to be by yourself. Two people shouldn't live on top of one another. It's neither healthy nor efficient." He kissed her lightly, ending the discussion. "Go in and get ready. I'll be waiting for you."
Her suitcases were already unpacked and the things put away. The satin spread was turned down at the corner of the wide, queen-sized bed revealing the crisp sheets underneath. The walls were decorated with gold scrollwork on light pink. Evelyn's feet sank into the soft, gold carpet. The vanity was wide, with lace filigree around the stool and three mirrors on the counter. The bathroom was really two rooms, side by side, with the door connecting to Artemus' side closed. Hers was big, yet intimate and totally feminine.
Her body vibrant with happiness and desire, Evelyn stripped out of the mini Artemus had bought her and held the swollen mounds of her breasts, squeezing them to try to stop their tingling. The full-length mirrors on the closet doors were flecked with gold and gave her body a soft glow. The red panties of her image were gilded. The sight was terribly sensual to her, and she stripped out of her panties to stare at her gold-flecked pussy.
Her slit shone from the escaping vapors of her seething passion. She fluffed the curled, auburn hairs with her palm, then spread the swollen tissues of her labia to imagine gold dust lining her vagina like the entrance to a rich mineshaft or the surface of a glory hole. She moved back and forth slightly, watching her pussy shimmer in the mirror.
She hesitated, then extended one finger, watching it intently in the mirror as she laid its length inside the swollen, slippery gap and felt her labia engulf it greedily.
"No, don't..." she whispered to herself, pleading.
Her finger pressed harder. It slid sensually upwards until the tip hooked against the throbbing knob of her clit. She snatched her finger away quickly and stood with her thighs apart, wavering on the brink of orgasm, one part of her urging herself over the edge so that she wouldn't explode too fast with Artemus or grow too wild, another part telling her that she didn't have to do it this way any more.
The edge grew thinner, the decision agonizing. She pumped her hips twice as if fucking her image and then groaned aloud. Her hands flew to her tits and squeezed them. Her pussy spasmed, feeding upon its own sensitivity. Her round buttocks became taut, and she shivered with ecstasy, plummeting over the brink of orgasm, shaking until her knees went rubbery.
She staggered toward the bed, her head buzzing. She lay on her back until the last traces of her orgasm had died away. Only then did she release the tight grip on her breasts. Only then was it safe for her to.
She sat up and was glad she'd done it. She knew how much fingering she could stand before going mad, how much stimulation she could take and still be under control. It was the reason she masturbated as often as she did, rather than spreading out under a man's cock.
She hurried into the shower, feeling light and ready for the proper, quiet, romantic mood of her husband. She perfumed her inner thighs and breasts and slipped into the filmy nightgown he'd given her. She noted the satisfying way the yellow silk clung to her breasts and outlined them and made her nipples grow hard. It folded into the hollows of her crotch and cheeks when she walked, caressing her skin like a butterfly's kiss. She smoothed her hands around her waist and the sides of her hips and felt her passion begin boiling again.
She knocked on Artemus' door. It was open. A soft, ruby light spread passion through his room in just the way Evelyn wanted. The light behind her shone through the thin material of her nightie and outlined her body for him. He stood up and came toward her in a dark silk robe, his eyes feasting on the youthful, succulent curves of her breasts and hips.
"You're beautiful, Evelyn," he whispered smoothly. "Everything I expected you would be." He held her closely to him and whispered into her ear, stroking her hair and shoulders and waist with his gentle hand. He cupped the full swells of her ass and breathed heavily.
Evelyn's joy soared, and she clung to him. "Oh, Artemus--it's just the way I wanted it to be between us--romantic and tender and soft. God, darling, love me--hold me, fuck me gently."
He smiled handsomely and guided her to the bed. The sheets were satin and slippery to touch, erotic beyond her wildest dreams. His hands smoothed over Evelyn's body, and he gazed down on her, exploring her breasts and belly, and the satin flesh between her thighs.
Her buttocks quivered with need, and Evelyn knew she was too ready. Everything was so perfect for her that she was losing control again.
Artemus seemed unaware of the turmoil and lust which gripped Evelyn's body. He stripped her nightie from her and removed his robe. His chest was matted with silvering hairs. His arms and back were strong, fit, his hips solid, his thighs firm and muscular under cover of the satin sheet. His face dipped toward her breasts. She felt his warm breath cause bumps of passion on her skin. His lips sucked her nipples into his mouth, and she moaned with passionate joy.
"Darling," she gasped, reaching for him, "let me feel you between my fingers. Let me touch your cock."
He evaded her searching hand and moved his head lower, pulling the sheet from her stomach, past her slippery cleft. It moved as if oiled, and she shuddered up to meet it and his nuzzling lips. He pressured her lips with his and drove his tongue into the slick meat, savoring her flavor. She gasped and reached for his head, pulling him away.
"Not like that, Artemus ... not the first time. I want you in me. I want to feel your prick inside me. Give it--let ..."
She slid her hand down his stomach. Her fingers curled in his pubic hair, touched the root of his stem. It was limp.
She gasped with shock. "Darling, what... " She stared through the red, passionate light at his face. Some of the joy went out of her in her confusion. She held his penis and moved her fingers on it, but nothing happened.
"Turn over, Evelyn," he said softly.
"What's the matter, Artemus? Don't I please you?"
"Turn over," he repeated.
She rolled onto her stomach, willing at that moment to do anything to please him. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind: He was impotent; he'd married a young woman to try to regain his ardor; she wasn't pretty or sexy enough for him; she'd said something, done something; he was simply slow to start; she reminded him of his ex-wife, who had injured him.
"Darling, what do you want me to do?" she asked desperately, looking at him over her shoulder. "I'll do anything, Artemus."
He smiled again--that peculiar smile that was half sneer. "Will you, Evelyn?"
"You know I will!"
His palm smoothed over her cheeks. She watched him play with her ass, testing its firmness and resilience. The heel of his hand pressed into the deep, shadowy groove. She lifted up and back to help him. If it was what he wanted, she would do it. She felt his fingertip circle her anus and drive her to near madness. It punched inside, and she winced with the sudden pain, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out. His finger slid back and forth dryly, but Evelyn couldn't stop herself from coming. She dug her fingernails into the satin-cased pillow and buried her face in it, moaning harshly as her whole bottom vibrated and her anus sucked at his finger. When she was finished, she looked at him, and a new thought came to her. He was queer. He wanted to fuck an ass. His wife's Lesbianism had made him face his own desires. She thought of a whole life of being reamed, and she began to feel desperate.
"Artemus, fuck me," she pleaded, trying to roll back. "Try, darling, try. I have a tight pussy--one as good as an ass." She reached for him again and jacked his penis rapidly, spreading her thighs on either side of him, opening herself completely to his inspection.
He looked down and ran his fingers in and out of her pussy, smearing her juice over her thighs. She writhed for him, trying to excite him, then felt her passion surge upward again. She tried to keep it down. She came slowly while he watched her and smiled. He rose up and straddled her chest, lifting his penis toward her lips.
"Do you suck, too, Evelyn?"
She blanched, avoiding his penis tip. "I ... Artemus, what's wrong?"
"I want to see what else you do. Suck it. Make it hard, and I'll give you a drink. A pretty girl like you should be able to suck cock just fine."
Evelyn watched her husband's face with growing fear and dismay. The romanticism was gone. The sweet murmuring had turned harsh and vulgar. The simple, dutiful act of sealing their marriage was turning into an orgy of baseness. A dark hand clamped around her heart and squeezed, paining her, turning the ruby light from erotic to vulgar, as if she were a whore in a brothel.
"Artemus, this isn't the way..."
"Suck it!" he commanded, lifting the back of her head and pushing his penis between her soft lips.
Evelyn took it in her mouth. She had no choice. Her tongue grooved around Artemus' shaft and stripped up and down. Incredibly, she felt her passion grow again. She closed her eyes and willed her body to be still, afraid that the wildness would overtake her in the way she had struggled so long to keep it from happening.
His penis began to swell in her mouth. She worked at it harder and drew beads of slippery oil from its tip that made her tongue slide easily, sensually. She watched his belly tighten and ripple for a moment as his cock bloomed against the back of her throat. Just as she was reaching around to cup his buttocks and pull him more tightly against her face, he drew back.
"That's pretty good," he said. "You could make me come that way."
"Then let me! Oh, why did you pull away?" she cried.
"I have some toys. I want to watch you use them."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Artemus, no. Please, no. Why are you doing this to me? Why don't you fuck me the regular way and come. I know you can. What are you trying to do to me?"
"You said you would do anything. I want to watch you do anything."
Evelyn stared at him, her eyes going wide. She understood it now. He was testing her, defining her limits. It showed in his eyes. That was why his eyes, were always so cold, so ruthless. He was always testing everything and everybody to see how best to manipulate them for his own ends.
She suddenly remembered little events at the resort--things she'd thought odd but had paid no attention to. The time he ordered a waitress to bring him another fork after pushing his onto the floor. After the third time, she'd gotten angry. He'd left her no tip. The other one had run a fork back seven times, thinking it funnier each time. He'd left her twenty dollars. There were other things. They swam in her mind, but they all pointed the same direction. He was testing her now.
"This wasn't what we agreed on, Artemus," she cried suddenly. "This isn't fair."
He looked at her coldly. "We didn't agree on anything sexual," he said bluntly. "You merely assumed things, and that was an error in your judgment. You've seen my house. You know what I can give you if you cooperate and indulge me." He leaned back, nearly gloating. "Now, let me watch you stroke your pussy until you come."
"No..." she gagged.
"Don't play coy with me. A girl as hot as you are has played with herself before. Haven't you?"
"No! "
He squeezed her breast painfully, twisting the firm cone. "You're lying. I don't like people to lie to me."
She winced and hesitated. It was just possible that he had watched her do it a little while ago. "All right, I have," she cried. "Artemus, you're hurting me. Oh, God..."
"Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? Is that what you were going to say? The answer is up to you. Everything, if you cooperate with me. You've seen how generous I can be. You haven't seen the ruthless side of me yet. But you may." He grinned in the heavy silence.
"You're sick," she said finally, her voice weak.
"Aren't we all, Evelyn? Even you?"
She averted her eyes, her mind spinning. "I ... I'll have to get used to all this, Artemus," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "It was not what I had expected. I'll learn to do what you want me to, I promise. But it will take a little time. You can't expect me to anticipate one thing and find another without being a bit shocked. I've made agreements with you that have nothing to do with sex. I shall honor them because it is my duty to do so. I think it only fair that you do the same."
"Tickle your pussy," he said. He took her hand and placed it over her spread cunt, moving it up and down.
"If ... if I do this for you, Artemus, will that be all?"
"Not quite. I'm going to fuck you, you know. I've waited four days for it, watching you switch your pretty ass around in front of me, watching you make your tits swell in my face, pressing up close and rubbing me, trying to get me hard--like some kind of teasing Lolita. Come on, fuck it with your fingers. Let me watch you squirm around."
Evelyn stared at him and began. Her hand moved slowly at first. A tingling began to grow. She expected it to blossom and fill her body until she was on the verge of madness. All that was happening to her now was like the first time, except that the madness didn't come. Barely anything came--a certain plateau of sensation, and that was all. She felt totally cheated then. She had neither the softness and finesse she'd been expecting, nor the wildness that he wanted. She realized then that he wasn't the man to bring it rushing from her--not the way Peter would be. Peter would be able to elicit her passion.
Thought of the cat-like strength of the black man's supple body made Evelyn's sensitivity mount. Her fingers moved with more urgency. She began to roll her hips, degrading herself openly before Artemus. He was breathing more deeply. His penis started to thicken and lift. He reached over her head and pulled. Evelyn heard the sound of curtains opening. She tried to look at the wall, and he jerked her head back painfully by her hair. "Don't you dare look," he grated with dire warning.
Fearing him, she didn't. There would be another opportunity. She watched him glance up to the wall and back to her pussy, as if comparing something. His penis sprouted rapidly and throbbed, fully turgid now, the tip stretching and velvety and leaking again. He covered her suddenly, slapping her hand away, lowering his hips to drive his cock deep inside her body. He propped himself on his arms and looked up at the wall instead of at her, rolling his hips, fucking her wantonly, with all the power and vigor she had feared from younger men.
In spite of herself, Evelyn rose swiftly to meet his thrusts. Their bellies slapped together, and her pussy made sucking noises. She tried to lock her arms about his back and pull him down, but he kept staring at the wall and wouldn't budge.
She felt strangely alone, as if a mechanical thing were running its prod in and out of her hole. Had things been different, had Artemus started some other way, his plunging prick would have driven her mad. He might have opened her up completely whether she'd wanted it or not. But the tone was set--expectation and disappointment, agreement and betrayal.
She tried to cool her passion, control it to deny him the pleasure of her coming, but the other things had done their work. It was too late for Evelyn to snuff the flames spreading throughout her succulent body. She pulled on his prick with her vaginal mouth and heard him grunt.
His penis jerked inside her and began squirting out his virile seed, filling her, making her sloppy and slippery inside. She cried out and strained upward, giving in to the primed passion inside her, accepting his cock fully within her cunt, coming and coming despite not wanting it to happen.
She sobbed quietly when it was over.
Artemus pulled the curtain back and got off her, looking down. His manner was brusque, his eyes hard.
"You have failed me," he said coldly.
"I did what you wanted, Artemus!"
"You weren't willing."
"Your sperm is inside me now--look, it's running out of my pussy. You fucked me. You came. What more do you want? I tried--honest, I tried. I'll get better, I swear it."
He looked at her and pulled on his robe. "You might get better," he said. "But you can only get older. Damn--damn!"
He spun away and flipped on the light. It glared harshly in her eyes, making her blink. She lay against the satin sheets with her pussy open and spilling his semen, and she felt utterly naked and confused.
"Get out," he said. "I need to think."
"Artemus, my God!" she wailed. "What did I do wrong?"
"I did it wrong. I expected too much. Now, get out."
She drew her legs together and rose from the bed, slipping hurriedly into her nightgown. She glanced over the bed and saw that the curtains were drawn tightly, giving her no clue as to what was behind them. He stood away from her, watching her closely, impatient for her to be gone. She started to say something, but the look on his face stopped her. She ran toward the connecting bathrooms and burst into her room, sobbing fitfully, certain now that she had made a terrible mistake in marrying him.