Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“He will forget tonight,” Lucienne said complacently. “Now, you must please yourself, caro.” She beckoned Lucia, and turned away to greet Daniele.

Santelo eyed the sloe-eyed Lucia, and knew he was not in the mood tonight to be smothered between her huge breasts. He tossed down his champagne, shook his head at Lucia, and bade good night to Lucienne. He took his leave, wondering as he walked out into the warm night if Alex was enjoying himself.

“Good evening, Lucienne,” Daniele greeted her. “I see my chick is hiding again behind her statue.”

“Ah, caro, that is because Señor Alfredo is here again tonight. He vows not to leave Rome until he has tasted her charms. Even with the skills she has learned to keep my gentlemen at arm’s length, she fears Alfredo will simply haul her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs.”

“So she has learned some of your skills, Lucienne?” Daniele asked with great interest.

“The child has learned a thing or two, I think. Before you arrived on Tuesday evening, she chatted most skillfully with several gentlemen. They adored her, but she told them with a practiced moue of disappointment that she was already engaged for the evening. She had them eating out of her small hands, thankful they had the chance to speak to her. At least she no longer plays the terrified little girl I remember clutching my arm three weeks ago.”

Although Daniele appeared pleased with Lucienne’s description, he felt a tug of sorrow. He had noticed himself that her beautiful eyes no longer shone with a young girl’s sparkle.

“She talks to my girls quite a bit, just as you wished. Margot was complaining to me that she never runs out of questions.”

“No, I don’t suspect that she would.” Daniele paused a moment and sipped his champagne. “I am conducting something in the nature of an experiment next week. Giana will spend the day with girls and boys near her own age. Indeed, one of the young men—” Daniele paused at the sound of a man’s shouting voice. He saw Draco make his way unobtrusively toward the man, and Lucienne’s attention followed him.

“The fool has drunk too much,” Lucienne muttered. “I will talk to you later, Daniele.”

Draco escorted the gentleman gently from the salon, and within a couple of minutes the gay conversations resumed. Daniele made his way to Giana.

“Good evening, my dear,” he said.

“Uncle, who was that loud fool?”

Daniele shrugged. “Someone new to Lucienne’s establishment. He will not be allowed entrance again. Are you ready to accompany me upstairs?”

“For another lesson?”

“Yes.”

“I would as soon not, Uncle. There is nothing you can show me that I haven’t already seen.”

He heard indifference in her young voice, and was not sure if she feigned it. “Nonetheless,” he said, offering her his arm.

Giana sucked in her breath when Daniele opened the curtain to the Golden Chamber. It was the young man Lucia had pointed out, with Margot. His dark eyes were resting upon the wedge of thick blond hair between Margot’s plump thighs.

“I am pleased with you,” Alex said, and drew her to him.

Daniele observed the couple on the golden bed with the objectivity of a connoisseur. Margot was astride, her white hands splayed on his wide chest, her head thrown back above her arched back.

“It is one of the few times a man allows the woman the upper hand, so to speak,” he said to Giana. He saw that Giana had lost her negligent pose and had grown silent beside him.

Giana watched the man’s hands as they stroked through Margot’s hair and down her back to knead her full hips. There was both gentleness and power in his hands. He swung Margot onto her back in an easy graceful motion, and knelt above her. Giana wanted to look away, but she couldn’t seem to move her eyes away from him. She had never seen a man’s body so perfectly proportioned, so severely elegant. His chest was covered with a mat of curling dark hair, and his waist and belly were lean and sculptured with muscle. She drew in her breath sharply as he gently raised Margot’s legs to his shoulders. She saw him meet Margot’s wide eyes before he smiled and lifted her hips to his mouth.

Giana felt her blood rush to her face. She felt oddly warm, especially in her belly, and her lips were suddenly dry. “What is he doing, Uncle?”

Daniele smiled in genuine pleasure. “It appears that you haven’t seen everything yet, Giana. He is giving Margot a woman’s pleasure, something one rarely sees in a brothel. And from her response, my dear Giana, I would say he is doing it admirably well.”

Margot was trembling, breathing in short gasps. She tried to pull him over her, to give him his pleasure, but he held her tightly to him. He was a master, this one, she thought vaguely.

“Relax, Margot,” he said to her, raising his head. “I want no playacting from you. I want to feel your pleasure.”

“No, signore,” she panted, her body aching with sensation. “I am not important. It is you—” A great shudder coursed through her body, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out, but a groan tore from her throat. He moved astride her and gently parted her with his fingers, his eyes on her dazed face. She tasted herself on his lips as he plunged inside her. She felt her body stiffen and let her cries fill the room. It had been so long, so very long since she had felt such pleasure.

Giana couldn’t seem to breathe easily as she stared at the heaving couple. The heat in her belly seemed like a fire in a hot desert. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but she felt herself shudder when Margot shuddered, felt herself flush as Margot writhed beneath him, her face contorted, her hips thrusting upward frantically, almost desperately. What was happening to her? Giana had never seen a woman so abandoned, only the men. To be certain, the girls groaned and moved about when the men took them, but Giana knew that they were pretending, nothing more.

Giana saw the sweat glistening on Margot’s white flanks. The man’s huge body was still pressed against her. He seemed to be devouring her, consuming her. She was suddenly terrified at the answering response in her own body. “Please, Uncle,” she cried, her voice hoarse, clutching at Daniele’s sleeve, “I want to go home. Please.”