The Stallion by Georgina Brown Page A

fingers, she slid slightly forward on the chair so he could invade her more fully. All the while his fingers dived in, his thumb dancing over her clitoris in short, sharp flicks. Now he used his other hand to hold back her fleshy lips and the sleek black hair of her pubes. And then it came, flooding over her in a torrent of electric release. Her hips lifted against his hands and, crying out, she threw her head back, closing her eyes, her orgasm pulsing with each murmur of breath.
    Reggie removed his hands and washed them in the bowl of water at the side of his fork. The bowl was dark blue. A slice of lemon floated on the surface. It was a relaxed and effective action, emphasising cleanliness, opulence and sensuality at one and the same time.
    Tossing her hair and still breathless, Penny eyed those around the table.
    ‘Splendid, darling!’ exclaimed Nadine, cheroot gripped in her teeth and hands clapping. ‘A splendid effort indeed. If you ride your horses like that, then you’ll get no complaints from me.’
    Auberon just smiled, and Reggie winked at her again, refilled his glass and raised it to her before sipping.
    Alistair was staring at her, his mouth grim set and eyes glittering. She could see him swallowing consistently, and noticed that his lips were dry and that he seemed unable to say anything. Had he not seen enough? Or, perhaps, he had seen too much; perhaps she had blotted her copybook without meaning to.
    At last, he cleared his throat. Then he spoke. ‘Outstanding.’
    Penny flashed her eyes as she savoured the word. That one word clarified exactly what he thought. Not the word itself: there was nothing much in that, it was ordinary, just a word. But she’d detected something else in the way he said it. Deep inside it had come into existence, yet had stuck in his throat, had grated its way to the surface so that when he
did
say it, its meaning was intensified. His voice had been as low as the depths from which it had come. She knew then that he wanted her; that in time her wager would be won.
    Like liquid fire she returned his stare with her own. When, she asked with her eyes, exactly when?
    Alistair’s gaze shifted, almost guiltily. From the centre of the table he took hold of the half-empty wine bottle – one of three that sat on there – and poured into his own glass.
    But other eyes watched. Other eyes surmised and made plans for these two people.
    Nadine still held the key to her brother’s torment. Thoughtfully she played with the black cross that hung from her ear. It jingled playfully as she touched it. With each jingle, Penny noticed that Alistair’s jaw clenched, and a nerve beneath his eye quivered.
    Nadine saw her look but did not answer the question in her eyes. Nadine was taking pleasure from her brother’s clenching jaw and the nerve that quivered just below his right eye. She knew what he was going through and understood how much the key, which hung behind the earring, meant to him. Only the shadow of a smile played around her mouth as she toyed with the earring and then touched the cold metal of the small key itself. Time and place was controlled by her. Nothing had changed, nothing would change. All in good time, her brother would have what he craved, and Penny would have more than she could ever have bargained for.
    ‘More wine, Penny?’
    Thoughts melted and scattered, Penny looked up into the soft, boyish face of Auberon Harding, another horse rider lucky enough to get a place under Beaumont’s roof together with a wedge of his bank account.
    ‘Yes please,’ she replied. For some reason, she used her sexiest voice to answer. Perhaps it was because of the burning she felt deep inside; the need to have a real cock inside her rather than just be played with, probed and brought off purely for the benefit of other people.
    She smiled her thanks to Auberon Harding, the Honourable Auberon Harding to be exact, whose family were something in the meat trade and had been for generations.