Chapter 3: Phantasms
The moment Billy shut my door the magic began. He leaned against it as though believing his weight would keep those three ladies of the night from interrupting us, and I played along with his fantasy. I knew, of course, that if Perfidia, Pandora, and Pink wanted in, no mere panel of painted wood would keep them out. The snick of the lock sent my pulse racing into a higher gear, but it was the expression on Billy Tripplehorn's face that made my hopes climb higher.
Suddenly, being loved-for myself, as a woman-seemed within the realms of possibility.
For me, this was a miracle. Oh, I knew his carnal intents were carried over from playing those parlor games downstairs, as he looked at the breasts and belly and bush revealed by my opened robe. But up here, with me, he wasn't tied in place. He wasn't being mesmerized by passionate pleas that waxed eternally dark, nor was he caught in the thrall of immortal eyes.
It was just Billy, gazing at Andrea. Looking at her as though she were the most glorious woman in his world. Indeed, I thought he might be imagining Lucy or Pink-or certainly Pandora, the way he'd reveled in her sumptuous breasts-for I was decidedly plain by comparison.
"Moore didn't hint you'd be this…pretty. Or brazen enough to interrupt three others, to claim me!" he added with his cocky grin. "You must want it pretty bad. The way you're staring at my rod, I'd think you'd never seen one before."
If he knew the truth about mousy, reclusive, Miss Andrea, he'd laugh in her face and walk out. Right now he was painting me as a temptress who knew what she wanted and took it. For the way that idea made me feel, I could overlook his arrogance. He was twenty, after all. And there was no denying Billy Tripplehorn was a prime example of male perfection any woman would welcome to her bed.
So I backed toward mine, letting my robe fall completely open as I turned down the plain white coverlet and sheets. The candle on the night stand cast a romantic glow that filled my little room with the possibility-no, the certainty!-that I would be ravished tonight. No more settling for my own fingers, or Cerise's playful games, or watching the three Sisters sate their sexual appetites before feeding on the poor victim whose pulse they'd set to racing.
It was my time. Fate had placed Billy Tripplehorn, that notorious rebel of Redemption, in my hands, and I'd be a fool to turn him loose!
"All the world's a stage, Billy," I began in what I hoped was a mysteriously erotic voice, "and all the men and women merely players. The trick-around here, anyway-is to guess which part each one plays at any given moment, and to be ready for…whatever comes up."
Although my parody on Shakespeare went right over his head, his cock certainly caught the meaning of those last words. He let go of his pants and then removed his boots, displaying a pair of sturdy legs that flexed with each deliberate move. When he straightened up again, I swore his cock stood taller, prouder; inviting my inspection-and of course, my admiration.
"Your friend seems eager," I teased. I raised one knee to the edge of my mattress, opening a slit already wet with wanting him. "I hope he likes cats. My pussy's purring so loudly he can probably hear it, but maybe you'd better come closer, to be sure."
Bless him, Billy chuckled as though he'd never heard such a contrived line. As he approached, he shucked his shirt and became one with the candle's light and the shadows it cast: a source of searing heat and energy, with a hint of wickedness that curved at the corners of his devilish grin. God, but he thought he was something!
And so did I.
He smelled vaguely of spunk and sweat, with a hint of Perfidia's French perfume clinging to his skin. Yet when he stopped only inches in front of me, I could forget about that woman and her insidious intent. My hand retraced the path Pink's fingers had taken through his hair: it was thick and damply warm, and unbelievably silky. My breath escaped me, and he accepted its invitation.
"Andrea," he whispered, and then slowly, oh so slowly, he lowered those lips toward mine. His eyes were molten chocolate, promising a rich sweetness I had to sample to believe- And then I melted against him in surrender. I had stolen a few kisses in my day, and wished for many more, imagining how a man might feel as he enfolded me in his arms and claimed my mouth with his. I'd had every intention of stringing Tripplehorn along-playing the experienced bitch in heat who kept a young pup panting for it-but my desperation betrayed me. I'd been caught, hook, line, and sinker the first time Billy cast his glance my way, and his kiss only sealed my fate.
My moan inspired him, and his hands slipped beneath my dressing gown to explore my skin. He let his palms float along the curves at my waist, inciting little riots of static electricity that raised goosebumps all over my body. Wanting more, I greedily pressed into him, rubbing his chest with my peaked breasts, reveling in the secretive rustle of the wiry hair that whispered its provocative song.
Billy pulled me close, his tongue deepening the kiss, his low moans answering mine. Despite the heat that scorched my belly and that nether region below, which rubbed suggestively against his erection, my young lover lingered over my lips, drinking from them like a man long denied water-sipping and licking and then drawing up from the well of my desire to satisfy his curiosity while driving us both to want far more.
Lord, what a luxury, to have a man hold me as though he couldn't let me go, until he knew everything about me…as though he wanted to take a lifetime to do that.
Foolish thoughts, for a woman old enough to know the ways of men-especially after I'd seen this one pumping Lucy Legg, and then playing along with the wild desires the Sisters had whispered in his ear. He lived for the chase! He wanted nothing beyond the next cunt that came along-a legacy passed down from every male in his family, as evidenced by the facial features of many children now residing in the orphanage.
Yet I set that reality aside and let him woo me. Gratifying, the way he ignored skin less supple than Lucy's and breasts put to shame by Pandora's. He caressed me with hands that roamed at raucous will now, over my back and beneath the cushion of my ass, to pull me closer to him.
"Andrea," he whispered again, brushing my ear with feathery, teasing kisses. "God, I've got to have you, woman! Let's give this pussy something to purr about."
I sucked air at the first touch of his fingertips. While he held me spellbound with his bottomless brown eyes and a commanding browline framed in unruly curls, his hand cupped my mound. Then he slowly spread my wetness around the fevered, slick skin until my slit was weeping with want. Never had I become so inflamed at a touch, and I opened farther to invite him inside-to beg for more of this divine torture, which was only a foretaste of the glories to come.
Or so I hoped. What if I shrank away in fear, or shame? What if I cried out in pain and gave away my innocent state-me, a woman who should've had her share of lovers by now? What if I laughed at the wrong time? Or made a stupid move to break the mood, and lost him forever?
He slipped a finger inside me. And then another.
"Oh, Billy…Billy, please…"
My plea floated around us like a phantom, and my back arched of its own accord. With exquisite, deliberate strokes he was setting my insides on fire, fanning the flames with each wet caress-and watching the sensations play upon my face with the smug certainty of bigger and better things to come. His thumb found that button high up in front and I cried out with the startling need it inspired.
"Tell me how bad you want it, Andrea," he crooned, a magician about to entrance me with his wand. "Clench your cunt for 'yes'…open your hole for 'no.'"
My muscles locked around his fingers and the inner spirals began. I recognized them from my own probings-and from those times Cerise and the twins had played their naughty games-but now, with Billy holding me, taking total control with the arm he wrapped around me and the fingers thrust inside, I was a woman lost. My body convulsed in a series of heated seizures, spurred on by his thrusts and the rubbing of his thumb. Before I realized how far gone I was, my cries were echoing around us. I became a mindless machine fueled by need, pumping against the butt of his hand and the fingers that formed a piston inside me.