The party broke up around two in the morning. Tristan Lord was one of the first to leave, leading his sons out while Melissa carried little Lynne Ann who was fast asleep.
The others were all spending the night in the huge mansion with the notable exception of Britney. The woman was half carried, half helped to a car and Lucien gave terse instructions that she should be deposited in the Townhouse. Philippe nodded as he drove away with a man in tow. He glanced back at the house where he knew Ria was observing him.
Damn, but she had looked adorable, enticing, in that little dress and he had felt more turned on than ever as he looked at her, knowing she was unattainable.
***
Ria watched them go. She had already decided what she was going to do the next day. Firming her lips, she moved from the window where she had been watching Philippe drive away with that drunk creature in the back seat, her lips twisting in disgust as she thought of Britney.
All the children would be staying on for a few days and then returning to their respective places of study and in Claude’s case, back to the academy to train for his upcoming fight.
***
Paddy disappeared into the depths of the house, to the basement, intent on ferreting out information. He was a nocturnal person and he knew that he would probably be awake all night long. Not that he minded. There were a few contacts that he had to reach out to, via his online avatar. In the world he inhabited online, he was a formidable fighter and a vigilante. There were many like him, crusaders who worked tirelessly to uphold the right way, fighting cybercrime along with others who remained just as anonymous as he.
Settling down on his chair, he yawned and stretched his long, lean arms. He had a long night ahead of him.
***
Claude, who had also been drinking a little, padded off to bed, scowling at Cole who was still chuckling with Tara. Her twin brothers looked askance at Cole but Tara whispered ‘Good night’ and gave him a tentative hug before disappearing up the stairs like a little wraith.
***
Cole turned as his stepmother approached him along with the crusty housekeeper. His father had stridden off to the study, citing some work that had come up unexpectedly. He had been accompanied by Handsome James who was obviously important enough to rate a room to himself, thought Cole jealously.
***
‘Cole,’ said Proserpina, determined to be pleasant, ‘We have fixed the room at the end of the corridor for you…’
“Is it a room reserved for the outcasts?’ he retorted and then covered up his spiteful jab with another light laugh that grated on Proserpina’s nerves. Beatrice folded her arms and said crisply,
‘You can always have the rooms above the garage. Where some of the men live.’
Cole chuckled but it was an ugly laugh.
‘No thanks. I shall stay right here.’ he said and his eyes slid over Proserpina in a way that made her skin crawl. Beatrice fumed beside her but Proserpina sent her a look and the old woman tipped her chin to a maid who stood waiting, her arms full of bed sheets and blankets.
Cole followed the women to the room, his eyes riveted on the hypnotic swing of his stepmother’s wide hips, feeling his c*ck harden. What would it be like, he thought, to take this delectable-looking woman who was years younger than his father? After all, she was no blood relation of his. He smiled to himself. The prospect was interesting.
When she turned to speak to him suddenly, she caught his gaze and a deep flush rose in her cheeks, eyes sparkling with anger. But she controlled herself, taking a deep breath.
‘This is to be your room till Lucien gets you another place to stay,’ she said stiffly, looking at a point behind his shoulder. He grinned again, the rows of sharp pointed teeth making her flinch. Knowing that his attitude was riling her, made him feel aroused
Deliberately, he brushed against her body and pretended to stumble as he passed her, gripping her waist to steady himself, a hand brushing against her breasts and she jerked away from him at once, as though scorched.
She turned her face away immediately and he felt the shudder of revulsion course through her body as she pushed him away.
Beatrice moved forward quickly and pulled him away
‘You drunk or summtin’?’ snapped the old woman fiercely, tugging him off Proserpina.
He spun around and fixed her with a serpentine glare. Beatrice held her ground but he saw the flash of fear in her eyes that was quickly gone. Proserpina had moved away and she stood, hugging her waist, trembling slightly.
Without meeting his eyes, she instructed the maid to check if there were fresh towels on the rack.
He stepped to her.
‘Great rack.’ he murmured lowering his head to her small ears so that the words were only audible to her.
She turned to him in apprehension and anger but once again, he chuckled, an ugly sound and pointed to the bookcase on the far wall.
‘I meant that one. That RACK. Why, what did you think, Step Mommie?’
And this time, his beady gaze rested openly on her firm breasts, the nipples visible through the material.
She moved away; he was too close, almost in her face.
‘ Boris will help you settle in,’ she said in a clipped voice and stepped back. He glanced at the impassive-faced man, built like a wrestler, who stood in the doorway, watching him gravely, burly arms folded across his chest.
Proserpina made to leave the room with a soft ‘Goodnight,’, tucking her hair behind her ears as she moved, clearly in a hurry to escape from him, avoiding his eyes.
‘Hey Step Mom!, ‘ he said with a grin, hiding his fury at being treated like an unpleasant thing that the cat had brought in,
‘Hey, don’t I get a goodnight hug and thingy too?’
He had watched as she embraced her children, every single one of them as they left the dining hall, the look of love on her face.
Both the maid and Beatrice had already marched out and Proserpina stopped in surprise, her brown doe-eyes like that of a trapped animal as she said, shaking her head slowly and trying to step back,
‘No…’
The young man covered the distance between them swiftly, moving to her so suddenly, he took her unawares and before she could respond or stop him, he had brought his fleshy mouth down on hers, his hands gripping her soft waist. A hand snaked to her round a*s cheeks and he squeezed hard.
He felt his c*ck rise in ecstasy and unashamedly stabbed it at her soft belly; ah, but she smelt good, fresh and clean and her softness, the full breasts digging into his chest …
Her fists were pushing ineffectually at his chest as she struggled but lean as he was, Cole was stronger than the woman before him and her resistance seemed to egg him on.
A voice roared ‘
“THE F*CK IS HAPPENING HERE?’