Page 1 of The Devil's Bargain
1
Opportunist
Devlin Elmstone tried to focus on Sage’s curvy bottom slapping against his thighs while she rode his member, but his mind wandered back to his fixation of the day. Restless and frustrated, he pulled the other woman, a buxom blonde,Laura or something, to her knees. He buried his face in her bosom while her supple flesh overflowed his large hands. But even two harlots weren’t enough to distract him from his preoccupation tonight.
“What’s occupying your mind, darling?” Sage rose from his lap when his manhood began to lose interest. Devlin nudged the blonde away and relaxed his posture.
“Business as usual,” he murmured, lifting the crystal snifter of brandy to his lips. With the whisper of fine muslin against silk, Sage settled gracefully onto his lap, her skirts arranged in elegant folds. Devlin’s arm found its customary place at her hip, completing the intimate tableau they often formed during their evening discussions.
“What manner of business?” she inquired, her voice honeyed as she draped one arm across his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin against hers.
“Production lags. Efficiency wanes. But above all, I require water. Pure, abundant, and with haste,” he declared tersely before draining his brandy in one decisive motion.
“But surely you’ve established means for such things?” Sage traced an idle pattern across his chest with one delicate fingernail, its rosy hue borrowed from crushed beet root.
“Indeed, though it proves insufficient. The thirst for our beer grows daily.”
“Surely that bodes well?”
“Until one delivery fails to materialise and we lose a patron of consequence. Word spreads like wildfire in our trade. The grand public houses live in terror of running dry on a Friday evening. They’ll seek more reliable suppliers without hesitation.”
“Hmm.” A small furrow appeared between Sage’s brows, catching Devlin’s keen attention.
“What knowledge do you possess?” His hand moved to caress her bottom, as though to coax forth her secrets through tender touch.
“I hesitate to say whether this bears relevance, but I’ve heard whispers...”
Devlin mastered his impatience. “Continue.”
“Are you familiar with London Water Works?”
“Naturally. Their filtration system is unrivalled.”
“I understand Mr Thurlow lies near death.”
“What?” Devlin straightened sharply, one hand steadying Sage as he moved. “I encountered the man mere days ago, the very picture of vitality.”
“A matter involving a horse, I believe... a kick of some sort. I cannot speak to the particulars, but I’m told his wife has begun to arrange his final affairs.”
Devlin eased back into his chair, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. Should Thurlow indeed perish, his bereaved widow would likely part with the company for a mere fraction of its worth. Nothing quickened his blood like the prospect of an advantageous acquisition.
“I perceive your spirits have lifted considerably, Mr Elmstone,” Sage observed, her voice rich with knowing amusement.
“I have you to thank, Sage.” He pulled on her bottom so she could straddle him.
“What’s your pleasure?” she cooed.
“Your cunt. Ride me hard. I’m feeling rather energised.”
Sage buried his cock in her cunny and began to slide over him. Pinching her nipple between his teeth, Devlin slapped her bottom twice, urging her to go faster. As he gripped her ass and rocked her over his rod, he thought about all the ways he could improve production and his profit margin.
The sickroom’s heavy drapes filtered the afternoon sun, casting Edward Thurlow’s ashen face in a gentle gloom. Caroline stood at the foot of the massive oak bed, her fingers white-knuckled on the brass rail, while Miss Hampton lounged in the bedside chair normally reserved for the wife. The solicitor, Mr Finch, cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles.
“The terms are quite clear, Mrs Thurlow. London Water Works is to be jointly owned by yourself and Miss Hampton, with equal share in both responsibilities and profits.”
Caroline felt the room tilt. “Surely there’s been some mistake.”
Miss Hampton’s painted lips curved into a satisfied smile. “No mistake at all, dearest Caroline.”
