Chapter 7: A Night of Pleasure Is Better Than All
1791 Words
Chapter 7:
A Night of Pleasure Is Better Than All The Gold in the World
In the steamy bathroom, Lance vigorously rubs a washcloth across his body. Bloody woman! He can’t believe that she threw up on him. Is kissing him really that disgusting? The thought makes him burn with rage.
He adjusts the water pressure and the water drips down his bronze skin. It flows across his defined abs, highlighting the sexy musculature of his torso. He gets out of the shower and towels his hair dry, and then puts on a dark robe, tying it loosely at the waist.
The maids have cleaned the bedroom while he was in the shower, and it looks like they’ve done a good job. The lights are off, but a fragrant candle burns and flickers passionately in a candlestick on the carved wood cabinet. The dim light creates a romantic atmosphere.
A woman with a perfect body is lying on the bed with her back to Lance. The thick, white quilt slips enticingly from her shoulders, revealing a fair and beautiful back. Her hair falls loosely across the pillow in a way Lance finds seductive and charming.
Images and memories flash through his head. He remembers the way Andrea touched him: how her agile fingers moved across his body, sometimes light and sometimes heavy and lingering, how she scratched his back as she orgasmed. He remembers how she moaned like she was weeping, the sound of a woman beyond ecstasy.
He feels his loin tightening and his heartbeat increases. He can feel the blood pulsing through his body and pounding in his head. He lifts the quilt and slides beneath it, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. Suddenly he freezes. The woman is completely naked.
So she was playing hard to get earlier, he thinks, feigning unwillingness to touch him and determination to divorce him. But she hasn’t changed at all; she still craves his touch. Anyway, he decides, it’s not possible for someone’s personality to change as suddenly and drastically as Andrea’s seemed to. He has to admit she’s getting better and better at seducing him.
The s*x last night was too good, arousing and satisfying him in a way he’d never felt before. He recalls burying his head in Andrea’s neck, inhaling her fragrance wildly and greedily. He eagerly buries his head in her neck, craving that familiar scent. But there’s something wrong. She doesn’t smell the way he expects her to.
She moans quietly, suggesting she can’t wait to be loved. Gently, she rolls over and looks at him with big, misty eyes. He reads s****l desire in her expression, an open invitation to him.
Lance is shocked, and for a short moment his whole body freezes. The woman is not Andrea—it’s Leonie.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.
Quickly, he jumps out of bed and calls for the maids.
“Lance, wait!” Leonie stretches her fair and graceful hand toward him but touches only air. Embarrassed, she grabs a pillow to cover her chest. She curls her body around the pillow, trying to warm herself, but her back and bottom remain exposed.
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton?”
A maid enters the room but stops abruptly when she sees a naked woman on the bed. Leonie’s legs are now wrapped around the pillow in an obscene way, and she’s wriggling back and forth.
“Where is Mrs. Hamilton?”
Lance raises his eyebrows and turns his head away from the woman in his bed. She seems to be out of control, tormented by some kind of aphrodisiac.
“She’s gone out,” the maid answers.
“What?” he demands, “Where?”
She thinks she can just walk away after throwing up all over him? He can’t believe her nerve.
“She didn’t say,” the maid says nervously, “She asked us to deliver a special candle and said…”
The maid pauses abruptly wondering if she should keep talking.
“What?” Lance demands.
“She said a night of pleasure is better than all the gold in the world. She wishes the best for you and Miss Summer,” the maid lowers her head with embarrassment as she talks, “The candle is meant to increase s****l pleasure. She said she’d be here if you change your mind about the divorce.”
Increase s****l pleasure? Change his mind? Lance suddenly understands what’s happening. Andrea arranged for Leonie to come to his bedroom, and she sent the special aphrodisiac candle to guarantee that he’d have s*x with the other woman. It’s all been part of her plan to make him get a divorce.
Lance breathes heavily. He kicks the lamp on the nightstand. The metal lampshade hits the ground hard and the lightbulb blinks and then flickers out.
The maid looks away from Lance in a hurry. She’s confused and embarrassed. Everyone said that Lance secretly wanted Leonie; now thanks to Mrs. Hamilton’s scheming, she’s lying naked on his bed. It makes no sense for him to fly into such a rage. The situation is hardly shameful—it’s normal for a man as powerful as Lance to have several mistresses.
Lance’s look is piercing and grim. He glances at the candle across the room. Its dark blue flame is still twinkling. He walks over, picks it up and brings it up to his nose. He inhales quickly.
“Ask Dr. Walter to come here,” he orders.
The first maid calls Dr. Walter and another enters to help Leonie get dressed.
Dr. David Walter comes quickly. He checks on Leonie first. Though she’s dressed, she’s still red in the face and she complains that she’s unbearably hot. After that, he takes the candle and sniffs it.
“It smells like it contains a very powerful aphrodisiac,” he says, frowning.
Lance clenches the glass jar containing the candle as if he’s determined to break it with his bare hands.
“Er…”
David is embarrassed. He knows that this type of aphrodisiac incites incredibly strong urges in anyone exposed to it for too long. Leonie’s symptoms certainly match the drug’s method, but he’s uncertain about what kinds of treatment Lance might accept for her.
Lance seems to read his mind and frowns, “Is there an antidote?”
David nods, “Yes. I can give her some medicine.”
“Just get her out of here then,” Lance orders, “Treat her as you see fit.”
David is about to open his medical bag, but he freezes at Lance’s words. How is he supposed to interpret that statement? It’s easy to get her out of the room, but the treatment can be complicated. The safest method is, of course, to give her what she wants. Medicine is only the second choice. If the aphrodisiac is strong enough and the medicine fails to function, the results could be terrible. But Lance clearly doesn’t want to know about this. In fact, he wants nothing to do with the problem.
David sighs. His parents worked in the mansion as butlers for their entire lives. Mrs. Hamilton treats him like one of her own grandsons, and he grew up playing with Lance like a brother, but he doesn’t dare to cross the line and touch Lance’s woman.
“Do you need this room?” he asks Lance.
“Yes,” Lance snaps.
“What a bloody mess!” David thinks.
He grinds his teeth and feels the hairs on his scalp rising. He hands his medicine bag to one of the maids, and picks Leonie up.
David’s arms feel wonderful to Leonie. She imagines she’s found floating driftwood after struggling for a long time on the sea. She wraps her arms tightly around David and buries her head in his neck to kiss him wildly. David loosens his grasp, embarrassed. Leonie feels a falling sensation and wraps her arms even more firmly around his shoulders.
David wants nothing more than to give her the medication and be done with her. She’s making it very difficult to hold her. He makes it halfway out the door when he suddenly remembers something and turns to Lance, “By the way, Mrs. Hamilton asked me for something half an hour ago. But I didn’t give it to her.”
Lance is toying with the candle and puts out the flame with his fingers, “What?”
“The morning-after pill.”
David gives Lance a long and serious look, conveying a meaning beyond words. Lance’s face suddenly drains of color. He is livid.
“I’ve never seen the ruthless Lance Hamilton so worked up over a woman,” David thinks.
Lance puts the candle back on the cabinet, banging the glass hard against the wood. He cracks his knuckles and clenches his hands into fists. Then he gestures for David to take Leonie and leave. He orders Robert Tinder to forbid every pharmacy in the area from selling morning-after pills for the next 48 hours. With his family’s power in both politics and the pharmaceutical industry, it will not be difficult to ban the pills.
Robert takes the orders and rushes away. In less than ten minutes, he returns with news.
“Sir, Mrs. Hamilton was seen at multiple pharmacies trying to buy the pills. None of them would sell to her so she went to St. Peters Hospital.”
“How persistent of her,” Lance mutters.
The vein in Lance’s temple bulges, and he paces the room with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he’s restraining himself from violence. The pure rage emanating from him sends chills down Robert’s spine.
He stares at the candle on the cabinet.
“Follow her,” he orders, “And tell Dr. Peters that his hospital will find itself in an unfortunate financial situation if Andrea comes into contact with any pills.”
“Before you leave, I want her file,” he adds.
In the last three years, he has never been so interested in any aspect of Andrea’s life.
- Writer
