Regarding the Events of One Sherlock’s Scandalous St. Valentine’s Day Read Free

and my hand moved spastically up and down. The fast, quick,
irregularity brought a new level of stimulation. I felt my body and
mind moving toward a black brink. My eyes were screwed shut. My
entire body arched and jerked. I was so very, very close.
    Annette cried out again, this time
throatily, and that was enough to push me over the edge. A wave of
sensation broke over me. I grit my teeth, riding in the wake of
that wave, hand still working my member until I hissed with pain
and leaned forward heavily, gasping.
    My gaze traveled across the floor of the
car, following a trail of my own seed until it came to rest on
Annette, who writhed feverishly, impaling herself against the
steamdroid's baton. Her breast heaved, and she vocalized
wordlessly.
    Suddenly, her body stilled and relaxed
against the floor. The steamdroid's thrusts did not stop, but
slowed. "Lick me," she begged.
    I grimaced as I released my worn cock and
crawled across the floor to her side. I could smell her sex and see
how very wet she was. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed hazily
at me, strands of hair trailing haphazardly over her forehead.
    I hesitated for a long moment to watch the
vibrating rod slide in and out of her--that divine, living art of
her lips encircling a shining girth of metal--then lowered my face
to her clitoris and stroked it with my tongue. I tasted her salt
and the brass of the baton. Cunnilingus is another act that Annette
had introduced me to--unwillingly at first, on my part. I cannot
say I remained unwilling.
    She groaned exquisitely, and I could feel
the movement of the instrument in and out of her. I licked her with
sure strokes, intermittently sucking, so that she wriggled under me
in pleasure. Her breath came in huffs, and she began to mutter
incoherently.
    Suddenly, she convulsed under me, panted,
and went still. I sat up, while the steamdroid continued its
motion, and presently she said something I did not understand. It
stopped and withdrew.
    I spoke her name quietly, questioningly.
"Yes?" she asked, breathless but sparkling as she looked up at
me.
    "Are you satisfied?" I asked, raising one
hand to trail over the curve of her silky breast.
    "Quite, my love," she said, smiling in a
tired, content fashion. "Now, would you mind untying these?"
    "I ought to leave you in them, though I am
not keen on traveling to Paris," I said, frowning. I worked the
knots loose, muttering, "I will not ask how you got into this in
the first place." Because I did not ask, she did not tell. Once
freed, she massaged her wrists, then kissed me sweetly on the cheek
and went to a shadowed corner of the car. She returned in her
walking dress, carrying a portmanteau; into this, she placed the
steamdroid, after having casually wiped the baton with the hem of
her dress.
    "Yes?" she asked, looking up at me boldly,
because I stared.
    I shook my head, speechless. "I love you,"
was the only thing I could think of to say.
    She rose to meet me and pressed her lips
against mine. "I love you, too," she purred, her mouth close to
mine.
    We doused the lamp and left it, with the
rope and the bouquet of violets, in the car. We tumbled from the
train, and I had the distinct pleasure of carrying that portmanteau
with the droid for an hour and half all the way home.
    Falling into bed with her that night,
exhausted, sore, and inexplicably content, I can't say that I
regretted the whole affair. No, I can't say that at all.
     
    ###
     
    About the author:
    Christine Danse is a native Floridian, a
rather rare species of hominid with an aversion to the sun and a
love of air conditioning. She has been writing stories of fantasy
and the paranormal since she was old enough to hold a pen, and she
has been telling them even longer. She is particularly fond of
shape-shifters and strange steampunk, although she has yet to write
a story that involves both. (The excitement might cause her to
spontaneously combust.) She lives in Ft. Lauderdale with her dog,
Bait; her best friend,