The Miss Education of Dr. Exeter

Chapter Twelve

“WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO WITH THAT FINGER?” Mia snarled as he pulled off her trousers and yanked down her pantalettes, She was so close . . . so close. She might shift any second. But she didn’t—instead, she let him tear at the lace edge of her camisole.

He plunged into her labia and she jumped from the sensation. His finger was warm, almost hot, and the tip vibrated against the place he called clitoris. She arched away from the wall as her eyes rolled back in her head. The sensation was so intense, she thought she might climax on the spot.

“Open to me—wider.” The panther’s tamer used his finger like a whip and chair. He roughly parted folds, exposing more of her to pleasure. Whimpers deepened into moans as her stomach fluttered with arousal. “Exeter,” she gasped, pushing against the finger that hummed and flicked, coaxing her raw need to the very edge. He reached under her camisole, rolling a nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Dropping to his knees, he hooked her leg over his shoulder. “Bloody gorgeous clitoris,” he groaned, and buried his face in her. She was completely exposed from the waist down—deliciously naked and vulnerable—and completely open to him. “Exactly the way I want you, Mia.” She rocked with each stroke of his tongue, urging him on as he licked his way around her swollen spot using that wickedly skillful, tormenting finger of his.

This was only their fourth intimacy—was she counting? Yes, she was. It was if he already knew the secrets of her pleasure. How to make her whimper and beg for more—grind into him like a wanton shameless hussy. He reached behind and cupped her buttocks, pressing her into his mouth as he flicked his tongue and sucked her throbbing clitoris.

On the verge of climax, he rolled back on his haunches. He was teasing her—leaving her pleading for one more stroke—the one that would send her over the edge. “Please, Exeter,” she begged. He shook his head, breathing hard. His beautiful eyes, slightly glazed—his mouth and chin wet from her arousal. She had done that to him.

“Lift your camisole above your breasts.” She did as she was told, as he angled the torchlight against a large rock—his lips moved from her glistening thighs and lingered on the hollow, trembling curve of her belly. He moved his hands higher, over her ribs to the peaks of each mound—he rubbed softly at first, and then harder—tweaking both nipples into hard points.

He rose to her chest and swirled a nipple into his mouth—he nipped and she cried out. The fingers of one hand raked through her hair—pressing her head back so he could kiss . . . the tip of her nose. “You are near paroxysm, Mia, and I will watch your pleasure.” Two fingers massaged a nipple, while his other hand—the one with the devilish, vibrating index finger—delved between her legs. He kept the magic finger on her clitoris, while two fingers stroked the length of her—toying at her entrance. Her virginity was still very much intact. He had not entered her yet, but she wanted him to.

“Look at me.” His whispered.

Her eyes locked with his golden green gaze. Eyes that had turned into burning embers. Her arousal was climbing in force, pounding through her, pooling in her womb. God, how she loved him for this—not just because he gave her such astounding pleasure, but because he risked relieving her here—in the middle of the catacombs.

“Exeter—Mia, are you down there?” Jersey’s voice filtered down from above.

His finger did not stop, but continued to pulse. “There’s another tunnel, lower down,” Exeter called up. Then he leaned close to her ear. “Come for me, Mia.”

Aroused to the point of climax, she drew in gulps of air as quietly as possible. “We’ve found a tunnel—be right there.”

There was a silence. “Is everything all right?”

“Answer him.” Exeter insisted, as his finger insisted she climax. With each stroke, the cat readied to make her leap—unless she held the great cat back. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, and tossed her head back. “We’re fine—I just want to get a bit closer.”

She glimpsed a hint of a grin on Exeter. “You couldn’t get any closer.”

“You wretched man—you’re enjoying this.” She thought about his penis as she crashed over the edge of her pleasure—the great length and width of him—the arousing fantasy of him inside her. As sheer bliss consumed her, she bit into the fabric of his coat to muffle a cry.

“You think you’re the only one this is hard on?” His words rushed past her ear, causing a second shudder. She reached down and found a rock-hard shaft straining at his trousers—proof of his discomfort. “Obviously not.” She stroked him lightly as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“You’re sure you don’t need me down there?” Jersey called again.

Exeter shoved her hand away and pushed back. He was a most inscrutable character, often hard to read, but tonight his breath was harsh, and he wore a look on his face that spoke of agony and ecstasy. If she could put words to his expression it would be “what did I ever do to deserve such torment?”

He helped her back into pantalettes and trousers. “Button yourself.” Exeter removed a pocket square from his coat and wiped his face. Stepping away, he brushed against the torchlight and it fell off the rock, illuminating something they’d missed—a good-sized hole in the wall of the pit. Mia could make out less and less in the dark as her panther vision faded—still, she sensed something at the far end of the passage. Their own shadows, perhaps?

“Exeter,” she whispered, nodding to the newly exposed hole in the ground. “There’s something moving beyond the end of this shaft.”

Jersey landed between them, with a thud. She was quite sure he paid particular attention to her. “Before I venture into that hole in the ground, please assure me the cat is sated.”

“For the time being,” she murmured, grateful for the cover of darkness, as a flush of color swept over her cheeks.

Exeter frowned. “How long were you up there?”

Jersey almost never smiled, and rarely laughed. But he released a dry, throaty scoff. “Since bloody gorgeous clit—”

“Never mind.” Exeter swept the flashlight off the ground. “Why don’t you fire up that sword and forge the way?”

They entered the hole in the ground single file, on hands and knees. At one point, the ceiling lowered, forcing them to crawl on their bellies. Mia balked, as a sudden sensation of panic nearly overwhelmed her. She tried to reverse gears and run—only she backed straight into Exeter, who sensed her alarm. “Your hysteria is temporary—you’re experiencing a bit of claustrophobia. Take slow breaths—rapid shallow breathing causes your heart to race. Slow down and push on, Mia.”

Mia managed to squeeze a look back at Exeter. He rubbed her leg. You’re doing fine.”

She exhaled and faced forward. Jersey had already cleared the passage. Up ahead she heard talking, she was sure of it—and something that sounded like a bit of backslapping. Overcome with curiosity, she ignored her anxiety and moved forward. Thankfully, the ceiling of the tunnel was also growing taller again.

“Hey—cheers in there.” A familiar voice greeted them.

“Is that you, Tim?” Up on all fours, she shuffled toward the voice at the end of the shaft.

Jersey reached in and pulled her out. It was Tim Noggy, all right—in all of his largeness. A wonderful sight, indeed. Mia dusted herself off as Exeter crawled out of the tunnel.

“Gadzooks, it’s good to find you all. My compass is broken.” Noggy pointed to a small device that flashed illuminated numbers and letters.

Exeter passed his compass over. “When the needle isn’t spinning it appears to point in the opposite direction.” Tim studied the dial as he pivoted in a circle. “Which would make sense if we were in the Outremer.”

“Is it possible we are in the Outremer?” Mia asked.

Tim shrugged a shoulder up and down. “I’m pretty sure I just came from there.” Their large inventor friend checked his portal device. “December eleven, eighteen eighty-nine.”

Exeter glanced at the date. “Have you any idea where Ping and the young ladies are?”

Tim shook his head. “I just got here, mate.”

“What about Prospero? Any sign of him?”

Tim’s gaze crinkled and his grin widened. “I’ve got some news on him, all right, but first let’s find the others.” From one of the many pockets in his greatcoat, the young inventor pulled out yet another contraption. “This will set off the bugs—they’ll find our missing party in no time.”

“No need to waste battery power.” They all whirled around to find Ping standing in the middle of the cavern. Valentine and America peeked around the corner of a passage that led south, that is, if south truly was . . . north. Good God, they really were down a rabbit hole.

“I do hope your tour of the catacombs was as interesting as ours.” America smiled, as she and Valentine joined them.

Exeter sucked in a breath, exhaling quietly. They had managed to find each other more by accident than by design. Still, he was greatly relieved. “I promised Mia I’d buy her breakfast—shall we debrief?”

Tim brightened. “I almost forgot, we’re in Paris—Croque Monsieurs!” He gazed at the raised brows surrounding him. “It’s kind of like a grilled ham and cheese—only better.”

Mia lead the way out, with Exeter right behind her. They found the ancient brewery without much trouble, and the third secret passage. Tim ushered them ahead while he set off the miniature locators. As it turned out, they had surfaced in the basement of an apartment building just south of the Luxembourg Gardens. Finally, Tim poked his head aboveground and declared: “The bugs have been animated.”

It was well past dawn before they tucked themselves into a corner of Le Procope, 13 rue de l’Ancienne Comédie. “Bonjour, mademoiselles et messieurs. Café or tea?” Their waiter was wonderfully patient with Tim as he struggled to describe a Croque Monsieur, a café staple that hadn’t been invented yet. “A jovial French waiter at this hour of the morning.” Exeter winked, and ordered savory crepes. Once everyone had ordered and settled in with tea or coffee, he encouraged Mia to relate her encounter with the chatty creature he called the breath of lost souls.

“We conversed in Lewis Carroll speak,” Mia poured milk into her tea. “Oddly diverting—and I’m almost certain I saw a cloaked figure recede into a maelstrom of dust.”

“An entity unknown to me nearly abducted America.” Ping shared. “I was distracted momentarily by a strange gust of wind and debris—not unlike the one you describe, though we had no conversation. Whatever it was, came and went quickly.”

America’s almond shaped eyes grew round for a moment. “Prospero?”

“Very likely.” Exeter exhaled an impatient sigh. “It seems to me we know very little about Prospero—just the most cursory of facts, actually. For instance, we know that he is a titan of industry in the Outremer—part scientist, part wizard. You have often described him as a tyrant and a hoarder of aether. I assume that operation is gone now that Victor’s rebellion blew up Prospero’s refinery plants.” Exeter scrutinized the young inventor. “What do you know of Prospero, the man, Mr. Noggy? For instance, is he well known for his exploits with the ladies?”

“There are reports he’s bisexual—not like Ping—not sure what to call it in 1889,” Tim shoveled a spoonful of sugar into a second cup of coffee.

“He enjoys the company of men as well as women,” Exeter clarified.

Tim nodded. “Victor obsessed on it for a while. He thought he might be able to get to Prospero using prostitutes.”

Exeter suspected Tim Noggy knew more than he was telling. Originally, Tim had identified himself as an Australian, but as it turned out, he was brother to two very powerful men in the Outremer. Tim’s twin, Oakley, ran a highly successful technology company called Black Box, and the dwarf, Victor, self-proclaimed conscience of the three siblings, was a wily political tactician and rebellion leader. Exeter remained convinced the brothers had not revealed half of what they knew about Prospero, nor the history of the troubled, unraveling world they hailed from. He had shared his concerns about the brothers with Mia on several occasions. “Is Victor still in self-exile?” Exeter queried.

Tim slurped his coffee. “He checks in from time to time—he’s planning an outright assault on what’s left of the wizard’s resources. Victor believes we’ve got him on the run. Prospero is down to rationing his aether, and since it fuels everything in our world, including his own powers, he’s been forced underground.”

“Into the Paris catacombs.” America mused aloud.

A round face bobbed up and down. “Looks like it.” Tim’s eyes shifted back and forth, with a sparkle of mischief. “I’ve got something to show you when we get back to the hotel—something Victor recorded.”

Mia had ordered eggs scrambled in butter and chives. The corner of her mouth glistened—tempting him to taste. Instead, Exeter reached up and dabbed a napkin at the edge of her lip. “A bit of butter—” he winked, as his gaze swept across the table to Noggy. “So you do manage to communicate with Victor.”

“You asked about Prospero’s proclivities. They’re sort of . . .” Tim rocked his head back and forth. “Pornographic .”

Exeter stared at Tim. “Sort of?”

Tim eyed the young ladies at the table. “Okay, not sort of.”

America swallowed. “Have you . . . received any word of Phaeton?”

Tim nodded. “He’s holding his own—for the time being.”

“How long will it take the bugs to home in?” Exeter forked up a bit of ham and crepe in Hollandaise sauce.

“I expect to see some bug clusters by late afternoon—hard to say for sure. There’s a hundred and eighteen miles of quarry tunnel. And those are just the ones on the map.”

“You believe there’s more, off the map?” Exeter asked.

“I know it, mate. The bugs are going to find more than one or two warm bodies, especially the bugs I laid down in Outremer Paris. There’s an underground nightclub, art galleries—all kinds of illegal stuff going on in the catacombs. Prospero will have a hideout in both worlds—likely close together.”

Ping shot a piercing look over the rims of his dark glasses. “And how is Outremer Paris?”

The question stopped Tim’s fork midway to his mouth. “The Eiffel Tower is looking more like the leaning tower of Pisa—it has a few weeks at best.” He shoveled food and shrugged. “Just a guess.”

Exeter settled back and returned the genie’s uneasy gaze. If Prospero enjoyed relations with both sexes, he would be unduly intrigued with Ping and Jinn. “We’re going to need all your talents for this one, Mr. Ping.”

Ping smiled as he sipped his Darjeeling tea. Mysterious silver eyes met Exeter’s over the edge of his cup. “Truly.”

Mia finished her breakfast in relative silence—as they all did. Afterward, she and Exeter trailed behind the others as they crossed the Seine on the Pont Neuf. “We have an appointment for a showing at the House of Worth this morning. Would you like me to cancel?”

Mia paused to admire dark and light swirls of water rush under the bridge. “Call it a premonition, but I keep picturing a hasty retreat out of Paris. It might be best to get the shopping over with.”

“I hate to rush you, but . . .” Exeter pulled her close, rocking her gently in his arms. “Let’s get your new wardrobe selected and purchased, Baroness de Roos.”

His reference to her title caused a flare of heat to sweep over her cheeks. Mia glanced at the emerald on her ring finger. “I’m quite a tireless shopper, Baron de Roos. We shall get the job done in one day.” Exeter grabbed hold of her hand and maneuvered through a tangle of carriage traffic to the tree-lined quay that ran along the Seine.

“I believe it might be time to discuss the next phase of your training, my dear.”

He hadn’t let go of her hand; in fact, he wove those long tapered fingers through hers. Mia’s heart did a bit of dancing about in her chest. “And that would be?”

“It is time for you to get comfortable in your cat suit.” His eyes crinkled, slightly. “Valentine’s notes were quite adamant about the fact that these metamorphoses are hard on the system, at least initially. To give your body a chance to recover from each shift, you must try to remain a cat for a few hours at a time.”

Exeter stopped beside a low wall overlooking the river. “We have yet to acknowledge this to one another, but we have begun to communicate telepathically.” He curled a finger under her chin and tilted her face upward. “When you are the panther, I am quite sure you recognize me—and you understand what I say. On the roof of the train, you knew Jersey and Valentine as well, did you not?” He moved closer, searching her face. The harsh morning light played across his dark beard stubble. He appeared tired, though ever her handsome, stoic protector. The man she loved with all her heart.

“Of course she knows you, Exeter.” She smiled to reassure him. “She understands instinctively who is friend or foe.” In fact, the cat was a rather excellent judge of character; she found Exeter to be the most intriguing male in all the world. “While I am the cat, I am completely present—aware of all the elements, some of them beyond my ken. Her sensory abilities are raw and unfiltered and she is both wary as well as enthralled by . . . everything.”

For a moment, she could feel her feline essence; a dazzling bit of sunlight off the Seine caused her pupils to narrow into slits. “I am seeing the world again, through new eyes.”

“We might encourage you to shift for several hours tonight.” Exeter smiled somewhat wistfully. “But, I must ask one thing of you, Mia.”

She searched his face. He appeared hesitant, as though he was embarrassed to ask. “What is it, Exeter?”

“May I collar you?”

A flush of heat moved across Mia’s cheeks. “You would put me on a leash?” The wild feline inside stirred.

“Only because . . . I don’t want to lose you. The cat often runs off, you could get lost in the catacombs.” Exeter swept a stray wisp of hair away from her face, and tucked it under her cap. “My word, you are provocative in newsboy attire.”

Mia chewed on a bottom lip. “I’m not sure she will take to it—but I suppose we must try.” Myriad thoughts, many of them wild and wicked, accompanied this strange idea he proposed. The flutter in her stomach reminded her of their first night together—when he had fastened her wrists to the poster bed. Mia leaned against Exeter and rubbed her cheek against his.

“We will continue your lessons this afternoon. This time, at the edge of climax, you will let her shift.” He used his husky bedding voice—the one that encouraged moisture between her legs, even when he hadn’t touched her.

“Might that be dangerous? Her fangs left you marked.”

“A mere scratch.” He kissed her lightly. “My darling, Mia, you have taken possession of me body and soul.”

Her pulse thrummed a strange, erratic rhythm as his soft kisses and sensuous bites angled back and forth across her lips. And she had neither solicited nor cajoled him into such affection. She badly wanted to ask, even as she repressed the thought.

But what of your heart, Exeter?