Authors: Vanessa Devereaux
“I will wait out here,” he said as I turned and saw him no longer on my heels.
“It is snowing and you will catch your death.”
“I will be just fine. You know where I am if you need me.”
I knew he felt they would never catch the man responsible for Sir Michael’s murder. Soon they would not insist on him being my protector, and maybe we would go back to our former routine. I would miss him, and life would never be quite the same.
I rang the doorbell, and a servant answered it. “I am here to see your master.”
“He is waiting for you upstairs. First floor, and it is the door on the left.”
She took my cloak and then I headed up each stair, noting the paintings of country houses and military personnel. I arrived at the first floor and went to my left, slowly turning the doorknob and going inside to see a man in his thirties sitting in a chair by the fire.
“Good morning, sir. Mrs. Siebert said you requested the services of such a lady as myself.”
“I certainly do, and please come in. Stand by the chair here so I can take a good look at you.” I walked over to him. He eyed me up and down. “Perhaps you could take off your clothes for me so I can take a better look.”
I nodded. “I should tell you my rules before we get started,” I said, unbuttoning my dress. “Until I have serviced you for two months, there will be no blindfolding, tying me up in any way and no second or third person involved in our coupling.” I slipped off my dress and then sat it across the chair opposite where he sat. “You can, however, spank me with your hands, and after two months use a paddle or ridding crop.”
I took off my petticoat and stockings and then the rest of my garments. I now stood naked before him.
“Such curves, such full breasts,” he said. “Splendid. And just one step closer so I can touch the goods before I make a purchase.”
I walked to the chair. The heat of the fire warmed my skin. He stroked my belly, ran his hands over my pubic hair and then drove his finger downward.
“Part your legs.”
I slide them apart, and within seconds, his finger was inside me.
“Um, merchandise feels good to me. I think you will do.”
“One last request from me. I have to inspect your cock, sir, to make sure you have no diseases.”
He pulled out his finger and then stood, dropping his pants and underwear. I kneeled before him and checked him out, lifting his cock, feeling it go hard before I could lower it again.
“Perfect,” I said.
He took off his shirt before he kicked off his clothing. “Bed,” he said, pointing.
I walked over to it, feeling him close on my heels. He went ahead of me and laid upon it.
“I want you to straddle me, but with your back toward me.” I got onto the bed and did as he said. “Now up on all fours.”
I got up on my hands and knees, noticing a mirror opposite us. He ran his hands over my cheeks and then pushed his finger inside me and wiggled it before finger fucking me.
I suddenly thought of Mark and our two nights together. I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about this man outside. My orgasm stirred, and I wished it was Mark, that it would always be him pleasuring my body. Never another strange man.
I came, and suddenly felt ashamed of how quickly I had enjoyed any man’s hands and fingers on my body.
He pulled out of me. “Okay, now sit back.”
I eased myself down, feeling his cock strike my left ass cheek before he eased it over and it slipped into my pussy.
I lifted my buttocks up and down, his cock going deeper each time I sat back down on his thighs. I looked at myself in the mirror. Face flushed, breasts bouncing up and down. Perspiration broke out on my face. I leaned over so he could get a better angle and perhaps find his release quickly so I could leave and get back to Mark. As I came closer to his legs, I smelled something familiar. The same odor, the cologne I had smelled that day.
I looked in the mirror, trying to look at him. He stared into it too and then pulled a knife from underneath the pillow at the top of the bed.
I could not release myself from him quick enough, and he slashed my back. I held it and slipped off the bed, running to the window. I managed to bang on the pane, hoping Mark was there. I saw the catch and opened it, letting the cold air hit my face.
“Help me,” I cried just as the knife slashed the back of my arm. I spun around, and he slashed my face. I could smell the blood, the metallic tinge to the air, the cold draft drifting in from the now open window, making me lightheaded.
I was losing blood, losing consciousness, and I hoped someone would take good care of my son for me now that I was obviously departing this life. Mark hopefully would get his Christmas presents to him. I wished I had gotten to see Sam and hold him and tell him how much I loved him one last time.
I slumped to the floor, and through my blurred vision, I was sure Mark had come to my rescue. Two figures fighting with the knife flashing through the air. I put my head upon the carpet and remembered nothing else.
I was cold and afraid. I opened my eyes and saw a wall in front of me. I hurt. Hurt as I never had before. I tried to get up, but cried out. Nothing looked familiar, and I wondered if this was the afterlife. My punishment for doing the work I had on earth. I would spend eternity in pain as I had spent my life having men bring my body pleasure.
“It is okay. You are going to be okay. Do not you worry now.”
It was a woman’s voice. A lady with an Irish accent. She held my hand, and I focused on her face. She was a nurse.
“Where am I?”
“You are in St. Thomas Hospital. Do you remember anything about what happened to you?”
“The knife. A man cut me.”
She nodded. “You lost a lot of blood, but luckily he did not strike you deep enough that he got anything vital.”
“It will heal nicely, and you will be just as pretty as you were before.”
I put my hand up to my cheek, feeling what I assumed were stitches where a doctor had put me back together again.
“Ah, yes, fine young man, very handsome too. He saved you. Got cut up badly himself too, but he is just fine now.”
“Is he at the hospital?”
“Not right now, but he will be back soon to see you. He has been pacing up and down, waiting for you to wake up, but I sent him home for some rest.”
I began to cry and the tears stung my wound.
“Now, now, I will not have a patient of mine crying like this.” She squeezed my hand as someone tapped on the door.
I looked over and Mark stood there, his arm in a sling.
“Ah, talk of the devil, if I may so say. Come in and visit with this pretty young woman. I am sure she wants to thank you for being her hero.” The nurse stood and left me alone with Mark.
“I am so sorry that I did not get to you sooner than I did,” he said, sitting on the bed.
I reached for his hand. “Was that the man who killed Sir Michael?” Mark nodded. “Why did he kill him?”
“He had once been a patient of the doctor. He has political aspirations, and wanted to destroy any notes the doctor had kept about his mental illness. However, Sir Michael walked in on him rifling through them so he decided to silence him and get rid of all and any evidence.”
“And as you assumed, he thought that perhaps I had seen him that day.”
“I should have taken better care of you, but I let my foolishness get in the way. If I had been in the house, I would have reached you quicker.”
“It is not your fault. It is no one’s fault.” A tear slid down my face. I wiped it before it stung again. “Is my face ugly?”
“Your face could never be ugly, and I am sure when the cut heals you will be back to your beautiful self.”
We were silent for a few minutes. I assumed now that the killer had been caught I would not see Mark ever again. Once I was on my feet, I would go back to my old routine. Except now that I had met him I did not want to. He was all I needed. Him and my son.
“I located your aunt, and when you are feeling up to it, she said she will bring Sam to see you.”
“No, please I do not want him to see me like this or to ask questions about the man who attacked me.”
“Will you tell him when he is older? I mean, what sacrifices you have made so he could have a better life than yourself?”
Did Mark suddenly look at me differently? Understanding why I serviced men’s needs?
“He must never know how I have made my living.”
“We all keep secrets, but sometimes they are our undoing.” He looked down at his hands. “The baby my wife died bringing into the world was not mine.”
“I am so sorry.”
“I could not stop loving her, even though she did not love me and clearly loved another man. It is the reason I was not there when she gave birth and died.”
I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “She did not deserve such a fine man as yourself.”
He shook his head, a tear spilling from his cheek. “Well, I must be getting on my way.”
“Will you come back and see me again?”
“You would really like me to?”
I nodded. “And my offer still stands for you spending Christmas with me and my son, and now obviously my aunt too.”
“I will stop by tomorrow, but I will need to give the Christmas thing some thought.”
Perhaps bad things are supposed to happen to us for a reason. Sir Michael being murdered, although a tragic event, without its occurrence I would never have met Mark. And me being almost killed so I could end up in St. Thomas where I found another road to take in my life.
“It is my soldier,” said Sam, opening the box on Christmas morning.
“Well, is not that the best thing a young man could get?” asked my aunt. She winked at me.
“Thank you, Mama.”
I looked out of the window. Mark had finally agreed to stop by my aunt’s house to eat Christmas dinner with us. It was snowing, and the windows were heavily frosted with ice.
“When it is warmer can I go outside and play with the hoop?” asked Sam.
“Of course you can.”
I turned my head toward the window when I heard footsteps heading to the front door. The brittle ice cracked louder as the person came closer to the house.
“It is Mark,” I said, standing.
“Is he the policeman?” asked Sam.
My son was too young to know the whole story about how I had ended up in the hospital. All he knew was that I had slipped on some ice and cut myself, but some nice young police officer had found me.
“Yes, that is him.”
He looked more handsome than ever when I opened the door to him that afternoon. His hair was combed back off his face, accentuating his high cheekbones and those beautiful blue eyes. He wore what looked like a new shirt and pants.
“Come in. My son is looking forward to meeting you.”
He followed me through to the kitchen where Sam sat in front of the fire.
“And you must be Sam who I have heard lots about,” he said, shaking my son’s hand.
I was so proud of my son as he stood and remembered how to address someone when introduced to them.
“And Father Christmas left this at my house for you.” Mark pulled a package from inside the bag he held and presented it to Sam.
“Thank you, sir.” He quickly opened the box and pulled out another soldier.
“Mama, I have two men in my army now.”
“You certainly do,”
, I mouthed to Mark.
“And for you, Aunt Hilda, Father Christmas left this.”
He handed her a box, which she opened. She pulled out a yellow apron.
“It is lovely, thank you.”
“And Father Christmas was a busy man and left you this,” he said, handing me a box.
I opened it and pulled out a nurse’s cap. “How did you know?” I asked.
“I am a detective, and nurses talk.”
I had wanted it to be a surprise when I told him that I had decided to give up my old line of work and instead study to be a nurse at St. Thomas Hospital’s training school. I was going to be just like Florence Nightingale.
“Mama is going to heal people,” said Sam.
“Well, maybe one day. I am not sure how we will manage all living with Aunty Hilda while I study.”
“A policeman does not make a lot of money, but I have heard being a copper’s wife is not half bad,” said Mark. I looked at him. “And yes, in case you are wondering that is my unromantic and terrible way of asking you to marry me.”
A tear ran down my cheek.
“Well, at least give the man an answer,” said Aunt Hilda.
I had not realized I had fallen silent until she had spoken. “You really what to marry me?” I asked him.
“Someone has to make an honest woman of you,” said Mark. He winked at me and ruffled Sam’s hair.
“Yes, yes, I would love to be a copper’s wife.”
He and Sam walked over to me and the three of us hugged.
“I think it is time to get out the port I was saving for New Year,” said Aunt Hilda.
New Year and my new life. What woman could ask for more?
About the Author
Vanessa Devereaux pens both erotica and erotic romances. When she’s not writing, she’s tutoring other writers and teaching workshops for various chapters of the RWA. Prior to her writing career, she worked in PR and was a book publicist. She was born in London, England, but now resides in the US. Find out more about Vanessa at her website, www.vanessadevereaux.com and her writing blog, www.thiswriterslife.com.
Also by Vanessa Devereaux
The Pleasure Room
Under the Master