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“Yes, yes,” Christophe said, his breathing rapid. “Does that feel good when he licks your little pussy? Do you like my hard cock in your mouth?”
I grunted and groaned, wanting to shout, “Yes, yes!” But of course my mouth was full. I continued to writhe on top of Lars’s face, my orgasm imminent. And when I burst, Christophe spurted into my mouth, his fluid coating my throat.
Amelia, I cannot tell you how aroused I was at that very moment! And I had yet to have a cock inside my pussy. But these two men were not going to leave before that happened.
Chapter 14
Ally quic
kly folded the parchment, slid it between the pages of a book on the shelf, and vowed not to think about its contents. Nothing could be done now anyway. She had to prepare for the ball.
How she wished she had a gown that would turn all eyes toward her, like her cousin Lily’s red velvet gown the night of her betrothal announcement. Because she’d left the estate so quickly, she hadn’t had time to summon the modiste. Alas, she would have to make do with her lavender silk, which her new stepfather had gifted her with after his engagement to her mother. He had given Sophie a ball gown as well, in colors accenting her own.
Mary arrived shortly and laced and tightened Ally’s corset.
“Mary, tighten it more around my bosom. I want to push it up so my cleavage is more apparent.”
Mary shook her head. “I do not advise that, my lady.”
“I understand. My sister would not advise it either. However, I have an agenda this evening, and showing a little more bosom than usual will help it along. So please do as I ask.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Mary tightened the corset until Ally had achieved her desired effect. Together they got Ally into the ball gown, and then Mary arranged her hair in a lovely upswept style with a few curly ringlets hanging about her neck.
“Oh, my lady.” Mary breathed in. “I can’t say I agree with showing so much bosom, but my goodness, you do look breathtaking.”
“Thank you very much for your assistance.” Ally smiled. “I am very pleased with the result.”
Mary curtsied and left, and Ally sat down on a settee, wringing her white gloves between her fingers. Had she made a mistake this evening with Viscount Brooks? He was pleasing to the eye, polite and intelligent, and heir to a title. Probably not as wealthy as Mr. Landon, but by virtue of the London townhome, the St. Clair estate appeared to be in good condition. Any other time, Ally would have been thrilled by the attentions of such a worthy suitor.
But she hadn’t been able to shake the thought that Evan had put Brooks up to the courtship. Of course, it wasn’t a courtship. It was simply a walk on the terrace. Would he have tried to take a liberty? The question was moot now, because Ally had ended the encounter before she could find out.
How could Evan throw her into the arms of another man? Did he have no feelings for her at all? Had he forgotten their lovemaking so quickly?
She frowned. Why should he care at all? She had behaved horribly by threatening to accuse him of rape. Her heart thundered as she recalled the dark anger on his features after she had said the words. They hadn’t spoken of it, but how could he ever forgive her? She wasn’t sure she could forgive herself.
Nothing to be done about it now. The ball was imminent, and Mr. Landon would be there. Ally would find a way to lure him into a dark spot and make sure that someone of prominence caught them in the act.
The grandfather clock chimed, and Ally rose to descend to the entryway. Her breath caught as Evan appeared in his dark burgundy evening attire. Another man so splendid could not possibly exist in the universe. If Sophie were there, she would have complimented their stepbrother on how fine he looked. However, Ally stood speechless, her tongue immobile.
“I see you are ready to go.” Evan held out his hand to her. “The coach is ready.”
Nothing about how she looked? He hadn’t given her ample bosom a glance. Perhaps he truly meant to be rid of her.
The ride was short and not exactly unpleasant, though she hardly spoke. He escorted her into the manor where the ball was being held, and a servant announced them. Evan found a place for them at a table with his brother and Lady Marvella. Ally tried not to look too bored. She glanced around pointedly. Viscount Brooks was there, along with Sophie’s former suitor, Marshall Van Arden. On his arm was his new betrothed, who couldn’t hold a candle to Sophie. His loss.
Yes, there he was, speaking to two young ladies who giggled flirtatiously. Mr. Landon clearly enjoyed the attention. Ally had never been in his presence at a seasonal ball. He’d attended a few balls at the Lybrook estate in Wiltshire, but this was a London ball. All of England’s most eligible debutantes were in attendance, many of whom would be vying for favors from one as wealthy as Mr. Landon.
An odd sensation crept up Ally’s spine. She’d never had to compete for his attention before. The two ladies speaking to him were both lovely. How would she make herself more irresistible than they were? A quick glance around—she wasn’t the only woman here who thought to show off her charms. Though a fair amount of women wore more conservative attire, there was no shortage of cleavage in the ballroom.
Should she approach Mr. Landon, or wait for him to come to her? What was the proper etiquette?
She was lost in this conundrum of thoughts when warmth touched her forearm.
“Lady Alexandra?”
She looked up into the blue eyes of a handsome man she’d never met. “Yes?”
