Page 56

Two Lovers in Luxor

T wo hours later

Tom closed the hotel room door behind him and let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought I was never going to be rid of them,” he whispered, driving home the bolt.

He turned to face Helen, his eyes rounding at seeing her framed by the window.

Dressed as she was with the afternoon light surrounding her, Helen appeared almost ethereal. “Hello, my beautiful bride.”

Helen giggled. “Hello, husband.” Standing at the window, she had been watching Diana and Randy as they headed back in the direction of the temple.

She was dressed in the nightrail and blue silk wrapper she had been wearing the night before.

“Rid of whom, darling?” she asked, stepping closer to face him. She began unbuttoning his top coat.

“Randy and David and my uncle and your father,” he replied, his head dropping to watch what she was doing. “Everything is all set for the rest of the trip, but we have two more nights here at the hotel,” he explained.

“Then I do hope we are going to enjoy traveling together,” she teased. “We’ll share a cabin, will we not?”

Tom swallowed, not having thought that far ahead. “Well, I’d much prefer to spend my nights with you than with David,” he replied. “He snores.”

She giggled. “How will we travel?”

“On The Dendera . Mahmood has agreed to take us. He is provisioning the ship now, and his daughter will continue seeing to Bradley,” he explained, noting how her fingers had moved to his waistcoat buttons.

“You mean your new little brother?” she teased.

Tom chuckled. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Will we be interrupted?” she asked, grinning when he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“They don’t know which room we’re in,” he said in a whisper.

“You’ve been drinking,” she murmured, although there wasn’t any censure in her voice.

“Your father insisted. A glass of brandy.” He watched as she finished unbuttoning his waistcoat. “I... I could help.”

She pushed the garments from his shoulders and pulled up on the sides of his shirt until the hem was free of his pantaloons. “You could,” she said softly. She lifted her fingers to his cravat, deftly undoing the knot.

He removed his coats and helped with unwrapping the length of silk from around his neck. When her warm hands slid up the sides of his torso to lift his shirt, he inhaled sharply.

She paused. “What’s wrong?”

His stunned look turned to one of amusement. “Uh, I guess I’m a bit ticklish,” he murmured.

Grinning, she arched a brow and continued to help rid him of the shirt. “Good to know,” she whispered.

“You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you?” he asked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his Hobys and stockings.

“Maybe,” she replied.

He reached out and pulled her so she was standing directly in front of him, her knees between his. With his hands at her waist, he pressed his face into her belly.

Spearing his hair with her fingers, her nails scraping his scalp, she felt him shiver. When he inhaled deeply, Helen giggled. “That tickles,” she said, squirming in his hold.

When he pulled away, he glanced up at her and grinned.

“You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. He stared at her a moment before lifting his hands to push her wrapper from her shoulders. The garment fell to the floor, forming a puddle at her feet. “I adore your hair like that,” he said. “I was going to tell you last night, but...”

“I slapped you before you could?” she guessed.

He nodded. “I didn’t realize how golden it is,” he whispered. “And curly,” he added, twirling a finger through the wavy ends, his knuckles barely grazing the fabric covering her breast.

“Are you going to remove my nightrail? Or should I?” she whispered.

Tom audibly swallowed. “How about I take off my pantaloons at the same time as you remove your gown?” he suggested.

Helen gave it a moment of thought before she nodded. “All right.” She stepped back, reached down to gather up the hem, and had it well past her knees before she stopped.

“What?” he asked, his heated gaze on her bare thighs. The bottom ruffle of her nightrail still hid the curls at the top of her thigh from view.

“Why aren’t you taking off your pantaloons?”

He stood up, which had him once again so close to her they were nearly touching. “Apologies. I, um,..” He hooked his thumbs over the top edge of the garment and started to push it down as Helen resumed lifting the nightrail over her head.

His manhood, already engorged and standing straight out from his body, made it difficult to finish undressing. He returned to sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs nearly free of the knit fabric when he paused and stared at her.

Completely nude but for the golden waves of hair almost long enough to curl over and around her nipples, she looked glorious in the light from the room’s only window.

She was doing the same with him, her gaze directed to where his manhood jutted out from above his thighs.

Neither seemed to breathe for a moment.

“Oh, my goddess,” he murmured when he finally found his voice. He reached out to place a hand at the side of her waist, his palm warmer than her soft skin.

“Oh, my god,” she countered, although her comment didn’t sound as reverent.

He glanced down and cleared his throat. “I take it you’ve not seen one of these before.”

Her eyes rounded. “I should hope not,” she affirmed.

“Not like that.” Although she appeared slightly frightened, she reached out with a forefinger and touched the tip, where a bead of moisture had formed.

When his member seemed to move of its own accord and he made an odd sound in his throat, she quickly pulled her finger away.

He captured it and brought it to his lips.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never seen a naked lady before. I mean, a living, breathing woman,” he stammered. “I’ve seen them in paintings, of course.”

“And statuary?” she suggested.

“Mayhap,” he murmured. He reached for her other hand and pulled her towards him as he stood.

When he had his arms around her and she was fully pressed to the front of his body, his manhood nestled against her belly, he groaned.

He kissed her lips followed by her eyelids and then her forehead.

“Do you understand what it is we’re about to do? ”

She nodded, her hand sliding down the side of his body and then to his manhood.

When her fingers touched it, he inhaled sharply, and she paused.

“Do you know what we’re about to do?” She slid her other hand down to his hip, smoothing it into the depression above his thigh before sliding it over a firm buttock.

He blinked and swallowed. “Will you sit on top of me? Straddle me?”

It was her turn to blink. “In the book, is that the one called ‘riding St. George’?”

Swallowing, he seemed confused for a moment. “What book?”

“The book about sexual congress.”

His eyes rounded. “You’ve read a book about sexual congress?” he asked in disbelief.

“Haven’t you?” she countered. “My father has a rather extensive collection of books in his library.”

“No doubt,” he murmured.

“So, are you going to lie down so I can... so I can climb atop you?” she asked in a whisper

He seemed to have trouble breathing for a moment. “Not yet,” he said. “I wish to kiss you all over.”

For the first time since they had removed their clothes, she grinned. “Might I lie down for this part?”

He nodded. “Yes, by all means.” When she pulled away, he startled her by lifting her into his arms. “Allow me,” he said, grinning as he turned and lowered her to the bed.

Following her down, he covered her body with his as his lips took purchase on one of her nipples.

Helen let out a yelp of surprise and giggled as he noisily kissed the tops of her breasts and nipples and the tender skin beneath.

“Spread your legs, my sweet.”

She did his bidding, her thighs cradling his torso.

Feeling far too exposed as he worked his way down her body with a series of licks and nips and kisses, Helen inhaled softly several times.

“I’m going to taste all of you,” he warned from somewhere below her navel.

“Are you going to be engaging in that... in that Roman art?” she whispered.

His movements suddenly stilled, and he glanced up to see her head was lifted from the pillow, her face displaying a look of wonder.

“That’s my intention,” he said. The lower half of his body was nearly off the bed as he smoothed his warm hands beneath the globes of her bottom and lifted them until she was forced to bend her knees and open herself to him.

Her head settled back onto the pillow and she reached down to place a hand atop his head, her fingers clutching his hair as his tongue sought her most private place.

Inhaling sharply when his tongue made contact somewhere beyond her curls, she jerked beneath his hold.

All at once, his tongue dipped inside her, the rough texture setting off quivers of pleasure deep inside her.

Arching her back to take him deeper, she moaned and struggled to breathe.

“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered, her fingers still entwined in his hair. “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered.

He responded with a moan but pulled his tongue out of her to flick it across something that sent sharp darts of pleasure through her abdomen before he drove his tongue back into her channel.

“I cannot... I cannot take any more,” she whispered, her head tossing back and forth in the pillow as she tried to push his head away from her.

“You cannot because... you don’t like it? Or?—?”

“Oh, I like it, I do,” she replied. “But I feel as if I’m going to faint from too much pleasure,” she murmured. “Is this what’s it’s like for you?”

He lifted his head from between her thighs and blinked. “We’re about to find out.”

“I don’t know if I have the strength to climb atop you,” she said before a giggle suddenly erupted.

He lifted his torso with his arms and crawled up her body until the tip of his manhood was at her entrance, glad when she pressed her thighs to his. “Then we shall do it this way. Will you help me in?”

She seemed uncertain at first, but reached down with a hand to grip and guide his member until he was half buried into her. “Push,” she whispered.

He groaned, pushing into her before pulling out an inch or so. He tried again to bury his cock within her wet channel, finally sheathing himself completely on the third try. His eyes closed and his expression conveyed his bliss. “I hope to God this isn’t hurting you,” he murmured.

She shook her head. “It just feels very... full is all,” she replied. “You’re terribly large down there,” she added.

“Not too large, though. Damn but you feel glorious, my sweet, sweet goddess,” he whispered. “I have to move now, though.”

Her eyes rounded when he pulled almost all the way out of her before he thrust into her. She inhaled sharply, instinctively clenching on him when she felt his next retreat.

He groaned. “I’m... I’m not going to be able to hold on much longer,” he warned. “You’re so tight, so wet, so...” With his next thrust, his body seized, the cords in his neck straining as his eyes squeezed shut, and a most unnatural groan sounded from his throat.

For a moment, Helen feared for his life, but when she felt a sudden warmth deep inside, she understood what had happened. “I do hope you’re not in pain,” she whispered.

His eyes opened and he displayed a grin.

“The exact opposite, my sweet. I have never felt such pleasure.” He lowered his chest to hers, his arms nearly giving out as his strength seemed to leave his body all at once.

“Hang onto me,” he said as he rolled until his back was on the mattress and she was on top of him, her eyes wide with surprise as she gripped his shoulders.

“Oh,” she said on a breath.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his labored breaths slowly returning to normal as his arms seemed to relax atop her back.

“I think so,” she murmured, wiggling her hips and tightening her knees’ hold on his sides in an attempt to keep his manhood from escaping her body.

He chuckled. “I’m not ready for more yet,” he whispered.

“You mean, we can do it again?”

Chuckling softly, he moaned. “If you’re not too sore.” He moved a hand to the side of her face and stroked her cheek. “Did it hurt? I’m told it won’t after a time or two.”

She sighed, the warm breath washing over his chest. “Truth be told, I’m not sure what I feel down there at the moment,” she replied. “Other than.... alive.”

He frowned. “In a good way, I hope,” he whispered.

“In the very best way.”

Seeing his eyes were closed, she settled the side of her face onto the top of his chest, gratified to feel his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

She grinned at remembering his enthusiasm—his determination—to see to it she was pleasured before he took his own.

Surely they would be blessed with a baby within the year.

A few minutes later, she joined him in slumber, her dreams of their upcoming travels.

T hree days later

By the time they settled in their cabin on The Dendera for the beginning of what would be their wedding trip, The Honorable Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Forster had toured all of Luxor whilst riding in a hantour, spent time—and money—in several of the shops, and had returned to the site of their proposal to watch the sun set over the desert.

Meanwhile, David had become good friends with his new cousin’s brother, Bradley.

“Do you realize, young man, that we are the only two left on this boat who are not married?” he asked one afternoon when they were on the upper deck, engaged in a game of cards.

Although the babe didn’t yet understand how to hold the chipboard cards—several were backwards so David could actually see their fronts—he did seem to grasp the concept of putting coins into the kitty as well as pulling them out when he won a hand.

“Bach’lors,” Bradley replied, his grin wide.

David gave a start. “Bachelors, indeed,” he said proudly. “Let’s discover how long we can avoid the parson’s mousetrap, shall we?”

Bradley dropped his cards on the table, and David’s mouth opened in shock. “You won again ?” he asked in disbelief.

The boy nodded and happily scooped up all the coins onto his pile, unaware of how David’s attention had been caught by Tom and Helen as they lounged together in a large chair, their hands clasped together, as they watched the passing shoreline.

Every once in a while, Tom lifted her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it.

Making a dismissive sound in his throat, David turned his attention to the scattered cards and scooped them up to shuffle them. “Another hand?” he asked.

Bradley nodded. “Bach’lors.”

“You needn’t rub it in,” David groused, trying but failing to ignore the young boy’s delight. “Even if you do have a point.”