One Wicked Night Read online

  Richard is discreet, necessarily so. And highly intelligent. But he had his own life and much to do besides the employ­ment I provided, and could not always be with me when I needed him most.

  If only I had listened to him concerning my affair with Xavi...

  Her beautiful face was worthy of immortality. That was why her formal portrait was redone in elegant mezzotint and displayed in a Piccadilly shop, before Don Diego had paid for the original done in oils. Quinn was horrified. He had not au­thorized the reproduction but there it was. At least she was not identified by name—the engraving bore the title A Portrait of a Lady and nothing more.

  But the indignation of Don Diego Mendez y Cartegna knew no bounds. According to Spanish custom, women, whether married or not, were rarely seen outside their homes and here was his wife, gazing out serenely through a shop window.

  He communicated his wrath in a letter to Quinn, who wrote back that the mezzotint was not his doing. Such things hap­pened all the time to famous artists, and he had no idea who had copied Xavi's portrait.

  Don Diego was not satisfied with this explanation. Fiercely proud, he was furious that the image of his young wife could be sold to anyone with the money to buy. It mattered not to him that the portrait was decorous. In his mind, Xaviera was his and his alone. Yet she persuaded him to control his anger and let well enough alone. The reproduction showed only her face, after all, and not the lissome body beneath. But that face capti­vated many a man who stopped to look.

  Not since the young wife of the Persian ambassador had come to London had there been such a stir. Everyone knew her name: Laila. The papers printed many images of her lounging on velvet-draped divans and invented vignettes of harem life— bare-breasted, bejeweled slaves dancing for the caliph, scimitar-wielding soldiers at the gates of this forbidden paradise, eunuchs in splendid robes and so forth.

  The trade in such tawdry fantasies was brisk.

  Have I mentioned that I have an extensive collection of Quinn's erotic work? I had even attended a few of the soirees that inspired the best of it. As models he hired shopgirls down on their luck and strumpets who had not yet gone to ruin— these drove a hard bargain and charged by the piece for each part of the body he wished them to reveal. Genteel women and noblewomen posed for free, delighted with their decadent im­mortality so long as he concealed their identity.

  In the positions they chose—on their backs with legs spread, on all fours, arses up—it would have been difficult to determine this in any case. Above all, Quinn drew Woman, not individual females.

  It could be argued that a certain man portrayed taking his pleasure among his models resembles me. I do not deny it—but then, it is only a resemblance. And that happened before I met Xavi and fell in love for the second time in my life.

  She wanted to hear all about those soirees. Having been in Quinn's studio off and on for weeks, she enjoyed a peek behind the curtain, so to speak, that separated one aspect of his life from another.

  Quinn made his reputation as a society portrait painter whose clients wished to be remembered for all eternity and maintained suitably solemn expressions while he did so. But he was also a free spirit who saw nothing wrong with naked bac­chanals.

  Highborn ladies flocked to him for their portraits. Just to be looked over and sized up by him brought a becoming blush to their cheeks. And elsewhere. His models were no better.

  And what I told Xavi of him became the first story in the lit­tle book. Here it is.

  The woman on the dais was a perfect nymph. But her ori­gins were more St. Giles's than Grecian, although she was lovely indeed. Corinne Perry was a milliner's assistant in need of an extra shilling now and then who would rather not whore for it—well, not right away. She had seen Quinn's notice request­ing models on a Soho notice board and applied at once. Her pure white skin and delicate features guaranteed her employ­ment by him, but he had no time for dalliance, as the painting she sat for was to go to the king's private collection.

  Corinne sighed and willed herself to stay absolutely still. The material that Rob had soaked in watery clay and draped around her lower half had dried upon her legs, leaving every fold of the fabric set in place for Quinn to sketch.

  "May I scratch?" she asked after a while.

  "Indeed not.” The porte-crayon in his hand continued to move swiftly over the primed canvas. "Goddesses never scratch.”

  Corinne frowned and looked down at her classical drapery. "But this damned cloth itches unbearably.”

  "Great art requires sacrifices. Please do not move.”

  She scowled.

  "There must be easier ways to earn a shilling, " she said at last.

  "Yes, I suppose there are, " Quinn said absently. He stepped back to inspect his preliminary sketch, seeming satisfied. The convoluted shadows of classical drapery were his specialty— admirers of ancient art liked them as much as the bare breasts and flowing hair of the goddesses he produced in quantity. "I am done, I think. I can work from this drawing. Help her down, " he said to his apprentice.

  The lad peeled away the stiff material with care, too ab­sorbed in his task to see Corinne flinch as it came off. Eventu­ally she was entirely bare, if muddy. She stepped down from the dais and walked to a tub of water set nearby in readiness, stepping in to wash herself standing up, shivering from the cold.

  She picked up the sponge that floated in the water, and squeezed it over her skin. Trickles of water dissolved the mud and made it run down her legs and over her buttocks. The painter and his apprentice stood rooted to the spot—there was something deeply sensual about her bath, even to their jaded eyes. Models posed in stiff drapery had to bathe afterwards; they had seen it before.

  But she was a marvel of femininity. Dipping into the water had made her long hair curl into fetching ringlets that bobbed over her breasts, one little spiral even encircling a pink nipple as the men stared, fascinated.

  Little by little Corinne got herself clean, dawdling at the task. She slid the dripping sponge over her breasts and belly, then twisted round to get her buttocks clean, scrubbing them until her white skin was glossy and faintly pink. She stepped from the bath and stood dripping upon the floor, shivering again.

  "I need fresh water, " she said imperiously.

  "Of course.” Quinn propelled his apprentice toward the door. "Get it warm this time, Rob. Whatever milady wants.” Rob came to his senses and left the room to shout downstairs for more, which two scullery maids lugged up in pails, trying not to look at Corinne. Once the tub had been emptied and filled, Corinne kneeled down in it. She looked more than ever like a nymph gazing down into a reflecting pool. The two men pulled up chairs and sat together.

  She glanced up at them. "And what must I do to earn more money?"

  "Anything you like, my girl, " Quinn answered. His voice was rough, and his cock was up, straining against his breeches. The younger man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to calm the erection that threatened to burst forth.

  Corinne settled down into the water, laughing a little as her breasts floated up. "Come closer then.”

  Quinn and his apprentice looked at each other.

  Did she mean to be shared by them? There was no telling but they did as she commanded, dragging their chairs to the side of the tub.

  She continued to tease them, letting them look and only look at her body shimmering under the water. She tugged at her nipples and fondled her breasts, pushing away the first hand that reached for them. Then she slipped a hand beneath the water to play with her cunny and pleasured herself as they watched closely, the fire in their eyes giving away their agita­tion, as if the increasing length of their cocks were not proof of that.

  Corinne sighed. She extended one wet leg and then the other out of the water, resting her calves on the rim of the tub. Quinn and Rob had an even better view between her legs. She con­cealed herself primly with both hands. "Get to work. Folded towels, please. The metal edge presses into my skin.”

  Qu
inn shoved Rob's shoulder, and the younger man got up, searching through the painter's rags for some that were cleaner.

  He dragged two from a pile in the corner and folded them care­fully before he knelt by the tub.

  "Ah, I should have done the honors, " Quinn said regret­fully, realizing that his apprentice would have the pleasure of lifting the model's legs and making her comfortable.

  Rob clasped one slender ankle and lifted her leg, resting it on his shoulder. He positioned the folded cloth over the rim of the tub with care. Then he set down her leg where it had been.

  "Taking your sweet time about it, you are, " Quinn grum­bled.

  "Be still, " Corinne said. "He is very gentle and I do like him. He may take as much time as he likes.”

  Rob turned crimson and kept his eyes averted from the painter—but not from Corinne. She patted and played with her cunny while he put her other leg on his shoulder and arranged the cloth. He was still kneeling, looking almost worshipfully— at her face, for a wonder.

  Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shone with impudence. The apprentice's lovemaking agreed with her. Toiling in a hat shop or posing in clay-caked drapery was a far cry from loung­ing in a bath, enjoying the ardent attentions of two men.

  "You are a sweet fellow, " she murmured to him. "So you shall have me first.”

  He nodded but made no other reply, sitting back on his haunches. Corinne's foot slipped off his shoulder and she rested it against his chest, wiggling her toes. Her feet were slen­der and pretty, and she used them like a dancer, lifting the one on his chest to the side of his face. Rob turned and pressed a kiss against the high arch of her instep. Whatever she would give him, he wanted. It was almost as if Quinn were not there. The older man kept quiet, his arms folded across his chest, watching intently.

  Corinne laughed in a low voice. "Go on then. Do as you will.”

  Rob clasped her foot in one hand, rubbing the sole gently and deeply with the other.

  "How good that feels, " she said with satisfaction.

  He pressed his thumb against the ball of her foot, rubbing that in slow circles that made her arch with pleasure as far as the confines of the tub would let her. Then Rob moved to her toes, caressing each one in turn. Corinne sighed. He kissed her foot again and again, then applied his mouth to those pretty toes, sucking them one by one.

  "Ahh.” The exclamation was almost involuntary.

  Quinn stood up. "Two can play at that game, Miss Perry. "

  She glanced up at him. "Then have at, Mr. Quinn. "

  The older man took his place by the younger, taking her other foot and treating it to rubs, kisses, and tender sucking. Corinne behaved as if such treatment were entirely her due, picking up the rags and refolding them to make a pillow for her neck. She wriggled around a bit to get it into position, then leaned her head back, letting her ringlets fall outside the tub. Dreamily, she watched the two men play with her feet and move on to stroking her calves. In silent agreement, they spread her legs farther apart. Corinne understood her cue. Her hands pulled apart the lips of her cunny and she let them have a good, long look at it.

  When Quinn finally spoke, his voice was once again rough with lust. "Let us continue this on dry land, my dear. Come— we shall help you out.” He extended a hand to her, and Rob followed his lead.

  A little awkwardly, they pulled Corinne up and out. Quinn had the superior strength, having apprenticed as a housepainter in his youth. Hauling himself up a scaffold had built powerful shoulders and arms that he had never lost. She stood by the tub for only a moment before Quinn whipped off his linen shirt and began to dry her thoroughly. "My apologies—it is the only clean thing about—but it will do—"

  She wriggled, enjoying the light texture of the linen upon her damp skin, turning this way and that to let him get at every inch of her. Then she put one foot upon a chair and took the shirt from him, wrapping her hair in an improvised turban that let a few wet ringlets escape.

  The arms-up position showed her breasts to best advantage and put her bum on display as well. Rob reached out to stroke her buttocks.

  Corinne looked over her shoulder, smiling at him. "Your hands are nicely warm. Keep on, " she said.

  Quinn cupped her full breasts. "And I shall warm these for you.” He rubbed and squeezed the white flesh, trapping each of her nipples between his fingers, bending down to suck each one in turn as he had sucked her toes.

  "Mmm, " Corinne murmured. She placed a hand upon his bare, lightly furred chest, playing with Quinn's flat nipples in return, pinching one delicately and making him flinch. But his cock inside his breeches grew more stiff. She trailed her hand over his well-defined muscles, scratching him lightly with her fingernails and pinching his nipples again. Quinn relinquished her breasts and his head came up. He kissed her very roughly indeed, holding the back of her head and keeping her mouth where he wanted it, tonguing her and nipping at her lips. All the while, Rob stroked and fondled her arse, ceding the domi­nant role to his master.

  Quinn broke it off, his breaths coming faster now. "Do you like her arse, then?" he asked Rob.

  The apprentice nodded but stopped what he was doing.

  "Then kneel and spread her cheeks. We shall tease her as she teased us. Apply your tongue to that nice, clean little arsehole and then push in the tip. It will not go far, but that will be all the more pleasurable for her. Lick and push, lick and push. We shall see how she likes it.”

  Corinne's eyes widened but she made no protest.

  Rob dropped to his knees behind her and separated her but­tocks. Quinn held Corinne where she was, looking over her shoulder and down at the apprentice. "Yes. That's the way, lad.”

  The younger man buried his face where he had been directed to do so, applying his tongue to the well-scrubbed hole. Held fast by Quinn, Corinne began to moan. She reached down a hand to stimulate her cunny, but Quinn grabbed her wrist be­fore she could.

  "No. Play with your tits, my girl. Both hands now. Give me a good show.”

  Steadied by Rob's hands upon her spread-open arse, Corinne kept her foot up on the chair, and caressed her breasts as Quinn watched. She took her erect nipples in her fingers and tugged at them, pulling her breasts into points.

  "I would not have handled you so roughly, " Quinn mut­tered. "But I like to see you do that.”

  "Kiss me again, " she begged.

  He bent down to oblige her, capturing her moans with his mouth. Rob stayed on his knees, providing tender stimulation to her arsehole, stopping now and then to nip her bum cheeks and kiss them too.

  "Now then, " Quinn said at last, his voice ragged. "Which of us shall go first?"

  Corinne shook her head. "Neither.”

  He drew back as if he would slap her and Rob scrambled to his feet. "What?" Quinn asked angrily.

  She patted his face. "I want both of you at once.”

  The older man relaxed. "Well, then. Decide what goes where.”

  Corinne whispered in Quinn's ear, as Rob stood sentinel, waiting with eager anticipation, as if he knew he would like whatever he would get.

  "Very good, " Quinn said, breaking into a smile. He let her go and went to a cabinet to take out a rolled rug, a prop for his paintings, of Oriental design, thick, soft, and new, unrolling it on the floor. "One to suck and one to fuck. On all fours, my dear Miss Perry."

  She inclined her head as elegantly as any duchess and the turban unwound, letting her hair spill over her shoulders. Corrine stepped upon the rug and kneeled down. Quinn was close enough for her to lay a hand upon the huge bulge in his breeches. He let her squeeze his rod several times, then set his legs wide apart so she could fondle his balls as well.

  "Fair is fair, " Quinn said in a minute. "You must do Rob as well. But take his cock out. Let's see how long he lasts, skin to skin.”

  With an indrawn breath, the apprentice hastily undid his breeches, pushing up the shirt he still wore. He had a fine, long rod that sprang forth, then stood up smack against his belly.
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  "Handle yourself, lad, " Quinn said. "Don't mind me. Give the lady a mouthful if you want.”

  Looking down at Corinne on her knees before both of them, Rob began to masturbate with slow strokes that quickly became faster. His youthful balls, not so large as Quinn's, rose so high that the base of his cock swelled with them. She clasped his wrist and made him stop.

  "You will come too soon, " she said softly.

  "Ah—don't—I want to—"

  He let go and, without him touching himself at all, strong jets of cum shot from his rod, spraying freely all over her breasts. Corinne laughed for joy and rubbed the hot fluid into her skin. Rob struggled to catch his breath, unable to speak.

  "Never mind. Rest a few minutes and it will happen again, " Quinn said. "There are many advantages to being twenty-one.”

  The apprentice collapsed into a chair, the front flap of his breeches down, still holding up his shirt. His cock had not lost an iota of its stiffness.

  "Young Man In Repose. A fine title. I ought to paint you, " Quinn said thoughtfully.

  "Not now, for God's sake, " Rob muttered. He wrapped his member in a fold of his shirt and squeezed hard, taking away some of the sensitivity. A few extra drops of cum appeared at the hole in his knob and Corinne came forward on her knees to lick them up, polite as you please.

  Rob moaned and closed his eyes.

  "You licked my arsehole very nicely, " she said. "I must re­turn the favor—"

  "You must see to my pleasure now, " Quinn interrupted. He had shed his breeches, hose and shoes, and stood naked, tower­ing over her.

  "Very well.” She stayed facing Rob, and wiggled her arse to indicate that the older man could come behind her if he wished to fuck her on all fours. Quinn walked around her as if he were at a Tattersalls horse show. Then he stepped over her body, his back to Rob, who watched them both through half-closed eyes, recovering. Quinn bent over to part Corinne's buttocks again, looking at the folds of flesh snugged between them. He squeezed her buttocks together, then separated them quickly, repeating the action several times, enjoying the juicy noise her cunny made, ignoring her faint protests at his rough play.