Unfinished (Historical Fiction) Read Free

in the mental ward was done. It could not be undone.
    But this? This she could control.
    Lilith smiled through another sloppy kiss. Jack took it as encouragement and a slow hand slid up her ribcage, searching for a breast. His other hand slid up her leg, past the garter clasp and under her bloomers to find her already wet. She'd known it would feel illicit to have a man's touch under dress but had not anticipated how her body would respond, the maddening flush of need and craving that would replace her racing thoughts. The quelling of intellect and the piquing of passion, the rush of want that only his mouth, his hands, his manhood could fill.
    And all on her terms.
    He groaned and she threw herself into the kiss, less from passion and more as an object lesson. This is how you kiss someone when you are about to make love. This is how it feels when his hand caresses your inner thigh. This is how it feel when his touch is wanted. This is how it feels when he places your hand on his clothed bulge. This is how you grasp an erect –
    And then her father's voice boomed into the open air above their heads.
    Now she began to enjoy herself, welcoming Reed's mouth against her own, a yearning tongue finding each inch of her, movements strong and close, helping to unleash a pent-up frustration that she'd carried for years, desperate now for release in the arms of a man whom she invited into her body.
    “What a lovely night for a party, Fitzgerald.” A voice replied, its tone accented with an Irish lilt, but Lilith couldn't make out the words. “What's the return on investment, then?” her father replied, his voice conspiratorial and cunning.
    He paused. His tone changed, a smile coming through his words. “And, apparently, young love is in bloom, even in this late autumn!” His baritone laugh carried through the garden and Jack froze, his arm wrapped around Lilith, holding one hip in his hand, inches from consummating the moment.
    She pulled back and Jack's face made her laugh, his features a mask of horror, a guttural, yet silent, scream trying to come out. If her father, the richest man in Toronto and one of the richest in Boston, learned he'd slept with his daughter, not only would Jack lose his job, he'd likely be blackballed forever. Yet he wanted her still, a fact that warmed her. No one had dared make advances on John Stone's daughter. She'd been the one blackballed, rejected for her too-strong opinions and for the random event of being the gateway to a billion-dollar fortune that simultaneously attracted and repelled.
    “Lilith!” Jack hissed.
    “Kiss me,” she said, shifting her head to the right, the light from a gas lamp on the upper balcony spilling over her forehead and eyes.
    Jack stayed still. Her heart dropped.
    Lilith looked up without thinking, her head bent back, and met her father's eyes. The shock made her go slack, a chill running through her, driving all arousal from her as if she'd jumped off the Titanic in a fit of panic.
    Seeing her wiped the smile off his face. Red coals of anger ignited in his eyes. He whipped around and stomped off the balcony.
    Jack pulled away from her and began tucking his shirt back into his pants. “Your father! He heard us. What was I thinking? What were you thinking? I was drunk. You, you...tricked me!” Jack hastily made up his clothing, buttons half done and jacket askew. He wouldn't meet her eyes and she hardened.
    “How did I trick you? Did I cast a spell and force you? Poison your drink? Make your penis attempt to enter my vagina?” She arched one eyebrow and now viewed him with disdain that – she hoped – covered her humiliation. For all she'd thought she would feel about losing her virginity, she'd not expected to find the man she'd nearly slept with to be so mousy. Cowardly. Relief filled her; she'd narrowly avoided giving herself up to this disappointment.
    The relief battled an overwhelming vulnerability.
    Sarcasm won out.
    His nose wrinkled and his upper lip