Read Online The Dollhouse Society Volume IV: Lucky (Includes Lady Luck, House of Dolls, The Reluctant Bride, A Woman on Top, plus a bonus story!) by Eden Myles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eden Myles
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when we’d been apart for too long and he found himself hungry for my company. “You look very beautiful this evening,” he said in his low, rumbling voice, and I tried very hard not to blush as the other members of the Dollhouse began collecting around us. Their interest made me feel very much on display. He leaned in close to tell me the safe word for the night, which only made me blush more furiously. I had a good idea of what was going to happen tonight, but since I wasn’t sure, I inquired.
“ Tonight is your debutante ball,” Tiberius said. “You’ve never had a proper one, have you?”
I wondered how he knew that. He had been away in the Orient when I had come of age. “Is that something my father told you?” I asked. “Is the Society prone to gossip? It seems its members are very close as well as being very secretive,” I babbled on nervously. “Is that the reason you’re resisting me on the matter of Mr. Brinkerhoff? Oh my…is Darcy a member of the Society...?”
His face clouded over with anger and I was suddenly afraid. The situation with Stuart Brinkerhoff had bothered him more than he was letting on. Before I could react, he seized my cheeks and kissed me. “Don’t say his name,” he told me. “Don’t say anyone’s name. If you must prattle on, Lucky, I insist you say only my name tonight.” He kissed me very hard, dipping his tongue deep into my mouth. I resisted him, not because I didn’t enjoy his kisses, which of course I did, but because of his very public display of affection.
He simply moved one of his hands to the back of my neck, holding me in place while he deepened his searing kiss and the warmth of his body pressed against mine as if he meant to brand me all over. Like those nights when he visited me, I wound up sighing into his mouth and giving him his way. He kissed me over and over, stopping only long enough to snatch a quick breath of air in between kisses. He tasted faintly of port and tobacco, and his cheek scoured me, but I didn’t mind so much. These things had become a kind of comfort to me. They were things I dreamed about late at night.
“ Lucky…” he growled, saying my name in that way he often did in our intimacies, less like a name and more like a prayer. He seemed to be full of fury tonight, and I realized I had angered him deeply by speaking of Stuart Brinkerhoff at my debutante ball, but the anger was translating into something other than violence. He grabbed me up in his arms so I squeaked in surprise and set my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. He stared up at me with almost delirious hunger as he climbed the steps of the dais, tripping over the top step and stumbling toward the divan.
“ Careful,” I warned him. “Witch’s curse.”
He looked briefly worried. “Promise me you won’t set me on fire tonight, Lucky.”
“ I shall do my best not to set you on fire tonight, Mr. Sloan,” I told him. “But tell me…what do you mean to do to me tonight?”
“ Touch you. Play with you.” He eased me down onto the edge of the divan, then dropped to one knee and drew me close to kiss me once more, roughly like before, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from me even an instant. He grabbed my hair, pulling it from its coiffure, and twisted my chin so he could bite at my open mouth and catch my tongue in his teeth. I groaned against his mouth. I thought about admonishing him for ruining my coiffure, but the hand not in my hair had moved to the back of my gown to undo the buttons, and I felt a flash of panic. Like that first night we were together in my bedroom, he began pairing me down. Only this time he fumbled with my clothing as he ripped it from my body, and, of course—also unlike that first night—we weren’t alone. As he tore the dress from me, I reached up and snagged the front of his fine dinner jacket to stop him.
He caught my hands, brought them down, and used a long length of silk scarf from his pocket to bind them in my
“ Tonight is your debutante ball,” Tiberius said. “You’ve never had a proper one, have you?”
I wondered how he knew that. He had been away in the Orient when I had come of age. “Is that something my father told you?” I asked. “Is the Society prone to gossip? It seems its members are very close as well as being very secretive,” I babbled on nervously. “Is that the reason you’re resisting me on the matter of Mr. Brinkerhoff? Oh my…is Darcy a member of the Society...?”
His face clouded over with anger and I was suddenly afraid. The situation with Stuart Brinkerhoff had bothered him more than he was letting on. Before I could react, he seized my cheeks and kissed me. “Don’t say his name,” he told me. “Don’t say anyone’s name. If you must prattle on, Lucky, I insist you say only my name tonight.” He kissed me very hard, dipping his tongue deep into my mouth. I resisted him, not because I didn’t enjoy his kisses, which of course I did, but because of his very public display of affection.
He simply moved one of his hands to the back of my neck, holding me in place while he deepened his searing kiss and the warmth of his body pressed against mine as if he meant to brand me all over. Like those nights when he visited me, I wound up sighing into his mouth and giving him his way. He kissed me over and over, stopping only long enough to snatch a quick breath of air in between kisses. He tasted faintly of port and tobacco, and his cheek scoured me, but I didn’t mind so much. These things had become a kind of comfort to me. They were things I dreamed about late at night.
“ Lucky…” he growled, saying my name in that way he often did in our intimacies, less like a name and more like a prayer. He seemed to be full of fury tonight, and I realized I had angered him deeply by speaking of Stuart Brinkerhoff at my debutante ball, but the anger was translating into something other than violence. He grabbed me up in his arms so I squeaked in surprise and set my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. He stared up at me with almost delirious hunger as he climbed the steps of the dais, tripping over the top step and stumbling toward the divan.
“ Careful,” I warned him. “Witch’s curse.”
He looked briefly worried. “Promise me you won’t set me on fire tonight, Lucky.”
“ I shall do my best not to set you on fire tonight, Mr. Sloan,” I told him. “But tell me…what do you mean to do to me tonight?”
“ Touch you. Play with you.” He eased me down onto the edge of the divan, then dropped to one knee and drew me close to kiss me once more, roughly like before, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from me even an instant. He grabbed my hair, pulling it from its coiffure, and twisted my chin so he could bite at my open mouth and catch my tongue in his teeth. I groaned against his mouth. I thought about admonishing him for ruining my coiffure, but the hand not in my hair had moved to the back of my gown to undo the buttons, and I felt a flash of panic. Like that first night we were together in my bedroom, he began pairing me down. Only this time he fumbled with my clothing as he ripped it from my body, and, of course—also unlike that first night—we weren’t alone. As he tore the dress from me, I reached up and snagged the front of his fine dinner jacket to stop him.
He caught my hands, brought them down, and used a long length of silk scarf from his pocket to bind them in my
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