Wanton Little Mermaid Read online

  She went to the bed and lay in a graceful pose that displayed her body to best advantage. The soft light moved lovingly over her, caressing the enticing shadows and curves, and shining on every exquisite plane. The light reflected in her gray eyes too, making them glitter as if with diamonds. Her lips were curved invitingly, and she was all that was desirable and enchanting, yet if he’d looked—really looked—he’d have seen the hardened jade there too. But he didn’t really look, he only glanced, and then submitted shamelessly to his urges.

  Removing his shoes, stockings, breeches and underclothes, he stood there for a long moment. His cock had a life of its own, springing forward from his groin like a thick branch from an oak tree. He was proud of his fitness, especially now, when faced with such an incomparable woman.

  Her lustful gaze devoured him. “Oh, it is true, you’re beautiful, quite beautiful.” She held out a hand. “Come to me.”

  He moved in a daze, reached for her fingers and climbed on to the bed. She pulled him down on his side and slid her arms around him, savoring the warmth, strength and firmness of his skin. Her hips were thrust against him, pressing his excited cock, which had become hot iron sheathed in velvet, so tightly that it must leave an indentation in her flesh.

  Their lips came together, and the fragrance of lily-of-the-valley pervaded him as if in a dream. Her mouth pulled on his, and she gave in to the rich desires that now coursed into her veins. Her kiss was long and slow, long and slow, over and over, and all the time her body writhed against his. And when she brought the kiss to an end, it was to present her breasts to his mouth.

  He sampled them gladly, exciting her still more by sliding his teeth gently to and fro against her ecstatic nipples, which were so erect and hard they were like tiny phalluses. Then he sucked one deep into his mouth, and teased it again, stimulating it with his tongue, and then with his teeth, but always to give her torrents of pleasure without so much as a split second of pain. Next he squeezed her breasts gently together to make a voluptuous cushion in which to sink his face and lick her skin, sliding his tongue luxuriously over it, tasting the femininity that always stirred his senses.

  She rolled onto her back and he automatically moved over her. She wrapped her legs around him, and clasped him between her thighs. Oh those thighs, so delightfully long and soft, yet so strong as well. She was an active woman, able to raise herself until she could rub her puss against his balls. And she could feel them as he could feel her. She gasped and groaned, rubbing again and again, rolling him to and fro.

  He felt as if she would squeeze his semen into his cock and then out into the world before he was ready, but the pleasure of her motion was too good to curtail. More and more moisture issued from his head, and he was sure that if it were possible, the little mouth would be smiling. It was being pampered and encouraged, so why should it not smile?

  He would learn afterward that Evangeline wasn’t thinking of his pleasure, only her own. She was a sensuous woman with a lusty appetite, and she’d been intent upon him for too long to endure any more. She loved the way he walked, and the exciting way his genitals were always revealed by today’s tight fashions. Sometimes it was even possible to see the defined outline of his cock and balls. Oh, when that happened, her pussy clenched into a tight fist of unutterable pleasure. Almost as if his cock were actually inside her. Her crotch was suffusing with pleasure even now, just at the thought.

  She moaned and writhed again, and he knew she was coming. He maneuvered a little and took his shaft to put his head to her entrance. Then he slid it seductively against her. His liquid spread over the folds of flesh that guarded her entrance, and she cried out as he continued to glide himself against her. But he didn’t enter. Not yet, not yet.

  He could not know it, but Evangeline was lost in ecstasy, groaning as she came again. This was more than even she had expected. There was something about James Cranwell that stirred her blood as no other. And there was his wherewithal…a cock such as she had never experienced before. She tried hard not to impale herself on him, wanting to prolong everything. She felt him push a little, so that his head stretched her entrance but still did not penetrate.

  Jake drew back then, and moved until he straddled her fully. Now all he had to do was lower himself until his cock was between her thighs, and then push himself into her. Was she ready? He was, so much so that he felt he needed to come in order to make way for more seed that was already trying to flood his balls. It was there, waiting…

  Her response showed her thoughts matched his. “Come into me now, James, for we have the rest of the night. Please! Now! For I must have your cock raiding me!”

  He needed no further bidding, but lowered himself until his equipment rested in the channel between her thighs, and then, as she parted her legs much farther, he was able to push forward until he was at the threshold. She cried out as at last he slid right into her waiting slit. In and in he went, farther and farther again until his head pressed to the neck of her womb.

  She was wild with joy beneath him, arching and writhing as she took every pleasure she could from him. Not that he wasn’t sharing the pleasure. He drew out again and then pushed again. His balls brushed her, full and heavy with his potency.

  “More!” she screamed. “More!”

  For a moment he faltered, knowing that the servants and probably all of Berkeley Street could hear, but he was losing all control now. Need pounded through his entire body, and his soul was concentrated in his prick. He plunged himself in again, then out, then in again, faster and faster until she was constantly screaming with gratification.

  At last he felt himself coming. The semen sped into his shaft, and then erupted upward until it burst from his head and into her. Oh how he pumped, the seed almost seeming endless. He felt weak with satisfaction and trembled to keep himself above her until he’d finished. But finish he did. Eventually. His cock softened and soon felt deliciously warm and relaxed. He pulled out of her, but she prevented him.

  “No! Let me enjoy you like this,” she begged, clutching his buttocks to keep him inside her. Then she moved against his penis, clearly able to feel its length and plumpness. Her eyes were closed with delight, and the flush returned to her cheeks as she approached another peak.

  He became gently excited again, and his cock hardened a little and extended toward her innermost places. She cried out again, digging her fingers into his backside and clinging around his penis like a limpet. He felt her muscles contract, not once but several times, and bent to put his lips over hers again as he pushed in again. There were tears on her cheeks, and she returned the kiss with a heat and fervor that, if he had but known it, she had seldom, if ever, felt before.

  But at last he had to roll away onto his back, dragging his cock out of her. If he expected her to rest as well, he was mistaken, for with a little cry of annoyance, she wriggled until her face was beside his spent dick, and then she pulled it to her mouth, and sucked as if to empty it of every last trace of semen. She slid her tongue inside his foreskin and touched his tip, which was so sensitive that he almost leapt from the bed. But still she clung to him, holding his balls and feasting upon his cock. So hard did she work upon it that she almost stretched it into her throat.

  She made small noises of pleasure, and gradually, only gradually, his seemingly ever-ready penis began to respond. It filled slowly and richly, not too hard but not too soft, until he could feel her throat. Surely she would choke! But no, she savored it. His excitement gathered and he moved himself in her mouth, in and out, only gently. He closed his eyes with the sheer delight of the sensations that rippled through his genitals, until, quite suddenly, he came again. It wasn’t a shuddering explosion as before, but a lazy pumping that touched upon gratification.

  After that, whenever he came outside her puss, she drank his semen as if it would save her very life. He lay there, exhausted, letting her do as she would with him. His erotic haze and willingness for her to do as she pleased with him was unnatural, and a sus
picion about the champagne had begun to take root. But he didn’t resist her, he just floated in a sea of pleasure. Some of her antics were astonishingly athletic, he’d have said impossible, but she always proved him wrong.

  She had many more plans for his body, plans in which he could not help but participate. How could he not? What man could resist sipping champagne from Lady Evangeline Bellington’s delightful crease? Or not enjoy it when she produced a bottle of orange liqueur, poured some on his cock and balls, and proceeded to lick it. And she fed upon his cock again, of course, sucking and savoring, because that was something she always liked to do. A cucumber dildo had figured in things, as had a rather choice cream cheese. She’d spread it on his genitals and abdomen, and then sat on him to slide herself up and down. After that she’d sucked his cock dry again. All in all there had been quite a feast, with his body always featuring as the dessert.

  The extremes may not have been possible or desirable, but he’d become a driven engine of carnality. How many times he came before morning was something he never would remember, but he did know that Evangeline came almost constantly. How she could stay awake, he didn’t know. She was insatiable. All he knew for certain was that the following day his dick felt as if it had been wrung and hung out to dry on a holly branch. Walking with his customary grace had been impossible, so he’d stayed in his Grosvenor Square residence until some semblance of elegance had resumed.

  In the weeks after she chose a moment in which to impart that he would soon have four ladies to attend to, Lavinia, Marguerite, Dorothea and Evangeline herself. He was filled with horror. Such a mauling, least of all by four of the greatest cats in London, was not something in which he intended to indulge, as he’d told her in no uncertain fashion. She’d pouted and promised to comply with his wishes, but the next time he’d gone to Berkeley Street, there the four ladies were, and he’d only just escaped with his manhood intact. But at least he now knew why the ladies’ other lovers had been so silent. What gentleman in his right senses would wish to have such salacious details broadcast far and wide? Fathers would cut off allowances, heiresses would withdraw from matches, and wives would summon burly brothers to deal with miscreant spouses. Better to hold one’s tongue and still be thought a noble fellow.

  He continued to see Evangeline herself, of course, for she had become like opium to him. She did all the things her friends had ever claimed to do, and much, much more. There was the anal buggery apparently so exciting to Baroness Dorothea von Hochgarten, but the more outlandish included a strange position, apparently from the Orient, which involved the insertion of… Well, perhaps he did not care to recall the details of that one. Suffice it that he wouldn’t be attempting it again, not unless he was prepared to have his cock forever misshapen and permanently stained orange with some awful mixture containing, among other things, vile-smelling herbs, fish scales, goat’s dung and Spanish fly. Exotic and oriental or not, it was something at which he’d drawn a very firm line. The thought of an orange dick was not appealing, but the thought of bedding Evangeline remained very exciting and appealing indeed.

  Standing on the Winterleigh Court terrace now, Jake could almost have smiled at the memory of his staggering nights—and days—in her bed. Almost have smiled, but not quite, because Evangeline had eventually proved a bitch of the highest order. A treacherous, duplicitous bitch at that. In recent weeks his life had been painful, due to shattered illusions, and he was humiliatingly aware of having fled like a cur to the country to escape the torture.

  He delved for his cigar case in the coat he’d draped over the balustrade. It was a slender silver-gilt case, engraved with his family arms, and contained two of the fine cigars brought back from Hispaniola by his uncle, Admiral Sir Percival Cranwell. Selecting one, he lit a friction match on the balustrade, but as he raised it to the cigar he noticed pinpricks of light coming from the riverside clearing on the Winterleigh Court side of the Severn. Suspecting salmon poachers, he dropped the match and stamped on it before replacing the precious cigar in its case, resting it on his coat, and then he strode down through the stepped gardens toward the rim of forest that separated the house and gardens from the river.

  He kept his eyes upon the odd little glimmers that shone now and then through the trees. Something was going on down there, and he intended to find out what it was. If it was illegal, heaven help the perpetrators!

  Chapter Three

  The participants in Neptune’s orgy had no idea of the imminent danger, indeed Anemone was still caught up with her disappointment over Neptune. Disappointment and anger, both of which centered upon the hated quizzing glass.

  “Look at him waving that awful trinket around,” she declared pettily.

  By now Sabrina had become irritated. “For Atlantis’ sake, Anemone, do stop carping! The quizzing glass is hardly an awful trinket. It’s studded with jewels and must have belonged to someone very grand because it fell overboard from a royal yacht at Cowes last summer. It may even belong to the Prince Regent himself.”

  Anemone resented being criticized again. “If you were perfect, I wouldn’t mind your comments, but you’re not. As Nereus’ niece, you should long since have been Neptune’s concubine, but you haven’t because you aren’t like the rest of us.” She wrinkled her nose disparagingly and glanced pointedly at the miniature around Sabrina’s neck.

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s concubine, and am truly glad to get away with simply being a lute player, but I still hate being on display. Our merfolk know and accept me, but those from farther away are always shocked. And suspicious. I think they believe me to be a human intruder.”

  “I’m not surprised. There’s very little of the mermaid about you. You must be so embarrassed,” was the barbed response.

  Sabrina closed protective fingers over the miniature. “Oh be like that if you want to, I really don’t care.”

  “You care about it all very much, especially when you swim so slowly and in such an ungainly manner.”

  “I don’t!”

  “Yes, you jolt along like a scallop.”

  Sabrina eyed her. “But on land I can walk gracefully, without waddling like a duck.”

  Anemone flushed again, but then gave a rueful, disarming smile. “I’m being a pain in the anal fin, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m truly upset about having let Derwent seduce me, and about Neptune ignoring me.”

  “Forget about Derwent. Believe me, he won’t be bragging about the conquest, not when you made it so plain you intended to blacken his name. Or rather, his prowess. As for Neptune, well, he won’t ignore you when you wait upon him at midnight.”

  “If he sends for me. And even if he does, what if I drop something? Can you imagine how awful it would be if I deposited clam chowder in his lap? Or a glass of barnacle brandy?”

  Sabrina gave a squeal of laughter. “Hot clam chowder all over the divine male parts of which he’s so proud? Oh Anemone!”

  “It’s not amusing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And you have to play the lute for him at the same time. What if he still ignores me and picks you instead?” The thought dismayed Anemone.

  “He won’t. He likes mermaids, not strange half-beings like me. Look, I think you’re quite wrong about him tonight. For one thing, he hasn’t taken a single mermaid on his lap. Not one. He’s just teasing you, I’m sure. He’s a very skilled cockle… I mean coquet!”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes.”

  Anemone was a little mollified, and turned to something else to worry about. Wriggling her new legs, she heaved a huge sigh. “I must be the only mermaid who doesn’t get on with these awkward things.”

  “You aren’t. I’ve seen much more ungainly visions tonight. The secret is not to hurry. Just try to relax and then just, well, walk.” Sabrina paused as she remembered how her own walks had taken her to see Jake.

  “Sabrina?” Anemone tilted her
head curiously. “Is something wrong?”

  An unanticipated confession suddenly fell from Sabrina’s lips. “Anemone, sometimes I’m so drawn to the land that I can hardly bear to stay in the water. Being out here like this is wonderful to me.”

  Anemone eyed her knowingly. “And you come ashore rather more frequently than you’d want anyone to know, don’t you?”

  Sabrina paused. “How do you know that?” she asked then.

  “Because I followed you to the riverbank one hot evening. You came right here to this spot, climbed out of the river, and went behind those bushes over there. When you came out again, you were wearing a gown made of what humans call sprigged muslin. You hurried up the gardens toward Winterleigh Court. I only saw you when you reached the terrace at the top, because I had to stay in the river, but I’ve learned since that it’s something you often do.”

  Sabrina was dismayed. “I-I hope you haven’t told anyone else?”

  “No, of course not.” Anemone studied her. “How long have you been doing it?”

  “Just over three years.”

  “That long?” Anemone was astonished. “What do you do? How did you get the clothes?”

  Sabrina shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I just like to see the world my father came from. At first I only went at night, because I had nothing to wear. Then one night, while I was watching the comings and goings in the yard of the Red Dragon inn at Blakenham, a fine traveling carriage came in. I learned later that it was coming to Winterleigh Court, but the house was already closed because Sir Jake had gone up to London. The lady inside was in a terrible temper even before discovering her journey had been in vain. She was furious because one of the horses had cast a shoe, and she had to wait while the blacksmith attended to it. Anyway, when she left, a valise fell from the back of the carriage. No one else seemed to notice, so when all was quiet I grabbed it and ran into the forest to see what it contained.” Sabrina looked uncertainly at her friend. “That was very wrong of me, wasn’t it?”