Jess Michaels (14 page)

“Finish what you started,” she ordered with a teasing grin. “And I will.”

His mouth quirked into a hint of a smile and he went to work unlacing her slippers. Then he tugged them off one by one, tossing them over his shoulder to clatter against the floor. Finally, he tugged each stocking free and let them flutter away.

She was naked, at his mercy.

“Your turn, Cass,” he murmured, sliding away so that he no longer touched her. “I want to see you come merely by thinking about me. And explain how you do it.”

Cassandra settled back against the pillows. “It was a fan
tasy,” she explained, keeping her gaze firmly focused on him. “I was lying in bed, too exhausted even to pleasure myself.”

He nodded, but she thought she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” she whispered. “I had been to a party a few days before and I started imagining what it would have been like if you came to me there, in the middle of all those men and women of my class.”

“And what did I do?” he said softly, but she heard the tension in his voice and saw it lining his face. He was already aroused just by the idea of what she was describing. It was taking every ounce of his control to keep himself from lunging across the bed and slipping his fingers inside of her to make her come.

She shivered, but didn’t break her gaze from his.

“I imagined you would come into the room and cross the dance floor to find me. That you would want me so much that you wouldn’t care who knew or saw. In my fantasy, I tried to tell you we should go somewhere private, but you were like a beast, possessed by need and desire.”

Her breath was coming shorter now as she stared at Nathan, but continued to picture her fantasy in her mind. She could see it so clearly.

“In my mind, you grabbed me, kissing me like you were hungry for me. A starving man finally given sustenance.”

“And in your fantasy, did you resist?” he asked, shifting on the bed.

She shook her head. “I tried, but what you wanted was so powerful, so overwhelming that I couldn’t resist. Even as you tore my gown and bared my body to the room full of onlookers who were now gathered around us.”

“Watching?” he whispered.

“Leering
,” she responded, holding his gaze steady. Her body was beginning to react to both his stare and her fantasy. She was wet and tingling, her pussy contracting around emptiness as it searched for fulfillment.

“And what happened next?”

She lifted her hips, never touching herself even though she ached to do so. “You thrust my legs apart, rubbing your fingers along me, pushing yourself inside until I was…” She caught her breath as pleasure began to make her twitch. “Until I was shivering and ready. And the crowd was moving closer, then. Watching, getting aroused just by seeing us together.”

“They must have begun to respond to each other, too,” he urged, sitting up straighter. “The men touching the women, the women moaning and jealous of your pleasure.”

She jerked out a nod, his rich voice ratcheting up her desire and pleasure all the more.

“Finally you couldn’t wait any longer. You mounted me, as randy as an animal. You filled me with your cock.” Her breathing was so harsh now that she could hardly speak. “You fucked me right there, hard and fast, in front of a roomful of strangers. And I came.”

The moment she said the final sentence, her body trembled
around the emptiness. She tipped back her head and the orgasm rushed through her like thunder, sweeping her away and making her body jolt and shiver.

She cried out, clinging to the bedclothes, well aware that Nathan was watching her and that knowledge only heightened her release.

But then suddenly he wasn’t only watching. She felt the bed shift as he moved. Without preamble, he moved between her legs. She opened to him and cried out when she felt his tongue spear her channel, filling her with wetness before he stroked up to suckle hard on her clit.

Her orgasm increased in intensity and her cries turned to screams as he held her down with one hand and stroked her with the other, all the while alternating between filling her with his tongue and using it to stroke her clit.

She writhed beneath the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted to return the pleasure. To make him cry out as she did. To make him say her name.

“Let me please you,” she cried out as she grasped his cheeks and pushed him away. Her body continued to pulse and she rolled her eyes back with a moan as she fought for focus.

“Together?” he asked, changing position to lie on his back beside her. He fumbled with his trousers, pulling and yanking until he could kick them down around his ankles, and his ready cock bounced free of its confines.

She nodded, unable to form coherent words when she was so lost in release and pleasure and desire. Instead she moved, positioning herself so that she could take his hard erection
between her lips, but straddled over his chest so he could continue his mouth’s torments against her aching entrance.

Immediately, he went back to work with that wicked tongue and her orgasm continued as if he had never stopped. She cried out, stroking his cock in time to her own thrusts. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her body felt weak.

All she could do was try to make him feel the same way. With another husky cry, she took him deep into her throat, stroking her tongue over his velvety skin. He groaned against her flesh, but didn’t slow the pace of his mouth or his fingers. She met him stroke for stroke, speeding up when he did, slowing down to torture when he tried the same tactic.

Soon she was utterly spent and he was panting beneath her, lifting his hips to meet her mouth, driving himself deep into her throat as he growled out terms of ownership and desire. She felt him moving to the brink, his cock swelling with impending release. She welcomed it, needed it.

But before she could claim her prize, he shifted, dragging her up his body and flattening her on her back before he covered her. He kissed her and she tasted her own release on his mouth, earthy and heady and utterly arousing. She drowned in the flavor and the knowledge that he had done that to her. Made her shiver and quake and beg.

She tore at his remaining clothing without breaking the contact of their lips. He helped her, shedding first his shirt, then the trousers that still clung around his ankles. She opened her legs, wrapped her thighs around the muscular curve of his hips, and lifted in invitation.

He took it immediately. His cock slid past her opening, sliding into her channel with no resistance. As he fitted himself completely into her body, they let out a simultaneous sigh of pleasure and lay still. He kissed her on and on, dragging her tongue into his mouth, thrusting in mimicry of what he would do with his hips in a moment.

But then he pulled back and looked down at her. The room had grown dimmer as they slept, but enough light remained from the fire that she could see his expression through the shadows. He was purely focused on her, watching her with such tenderness that her eyes stung with tears.

Nathan shuddered as Cassandra reached for his cheek, cupping it as they lay joined together. He covered her soft fingers with his own and they tangled, holding hands as he began to move in rolling, wavelike thrusts that filled and retreated. She clung to his hand, her eyelids fluttering.

“Don’t leave now, angel,” he murmured, desperate not to lose the powerful connection they now shared. If she closed her eyes, it wouldn’t be the same. “Look at me. Let me see you.”

She let out a cry, but kept her eyes open, gaze locked with his as the first wave of ultimate pleasure struck her. Their fingers squeezed together as she moaned and arched, slamming her hips into his from below. Her inner muscles worked him, milking and releasing his cock in perfect time to his thrusts. But it was the look of pure pleasure on her face and the way she never looked away that really drove him over the edge.

His seed began to move and he let out a low, guttural
cry before he withdrew from her clenching body and spent himself. His heart throbbed as the last tremors of pleasure rocked him.

Nathan rolled to his back, dragging Cassandra with him as she settled her head into his shoulder with a contented, shivering sigh. He looked down at her with a smile.

“That was amazing,” he said softly.

She nodded, her stare holding his evenly. “It was.” She sat up a little, resting her chin on her hands against his chest. “Nathan, I want you to know that no matter who I was with, no matter what I did or learned…there was never anyone like you. There never could be.”

He drew back, surprised that she would admit such a thing to him. Surprised but also proud. He knew the kind of men Cassandra had been with; he had met them and heard of their reputations. Surely, she had felt pleasure from their bodies.

“No matter what happens,” she continued, her fingers smoothing his skin in little circles, “you will always remain with me.”

His smile faded. No matter what happened. Of course, she was referring to their eventual parting, the inevitable moment when he let her go…on his terms…and went about the serious business of finding a wife. That was what he had planned, wasn’t it?

He glanced at the little clock beside her bed and stifled a curse. “I must go now.”

She nodded, no hesitation in her eyes. She made no effort
to stop him. That should have made him happy, but somehow he wished she cared enough to hold him. To ask him to stay with her all night.

But he couldn’t, even if she requested it. He was due at another endless party, and this one his mother and father would attend. Since he had no doubt that his father was having him followed, the old man would know if he stayed all night with Cassandra. And Nathan wasn’t up to yet more lectures on his future.

Especially since he already couldn’t have the one future he had once longed for.

He pushed out of the bed and grabbed for his abandoned clothing. As he put himself back together, he watched Cassandra from the corner of his eye. She was staring, quite blatantly, as he dressed. And from the twinkle in her eyes, she was enjoying his accidental show.

Perhaps he could return in a day or two and give her the show in reverse. She would probably laugh if he stripped for her like a showgirl onstage. And then moan when he reminded her what he could do with his body.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering for far too long as he enjoyed her taste, the memory of the passion they had just shared. Then he moved toward the door.

“I will return, Cassandra,” he whispered.

She smiled, but there was something sad in her stare as he moved away. “Goodbye, Nathan.”

With difficulty, he left the room.

Long after Nathan had gone, Cassandra lay in the growing dark of her bedchamber, staring up at the canopy above. He was everywhere around her now, his scent clinging to the sheets and her skin, her memory placing him in her chair, in her bed. He would taint this place forever. Just as she had feared the first time he entered, she could never look at the room the same way again.

Because soon enough he wouldn’t ever be in this room again.

Years ago she had been naïve. Filled with girlish love for Nathan. She had foolishly believed that they could overcome his elevated status. That they could overcome the disapproval of his parents and Society.

More than that, she had believed his feelings were as powerful as her own and that they were all that mattered.

Time and heartache had changed all that. She knew now that there was no way the daughter of a tailor, a woman who made gowns for the rich, a woman who made toys for their husbands and lovers…she could never be accepted by Society.

If they were together, they would be shunned, locked out of the sphere he had grown up in, reveled in. So they could not marry, even if he wanted to marry her again. Which he didn’t. It was clear that the best she could get would be an offer to be his mistress.

In some way, even that would be all right if they truly loved each other. She could live with being second choice, with seeing him raise sons and daughters with some prissy daughter of a titled lord, if she only knew she owned his heart.

But she didn’t. She had recognized that the moment he was told she had betrayed him…and believed it without hesitation. He still
did
believe it, even as he came to her and held her and made love to her again and again and again. Some part of him still despised her for “her actions” on a long ago night.

No, Nathan didn’t love her. He cared for her, she had seen it today. He lusted for her still, probably in spite of his own intentions and angers.

But that wasn’t enough.

He had promised to return to her in a day or two. That gave her ample time to prepare herself. Practice her speeches. Be ready for the worst.

Because the next time she saw him, she would have to do the impossible.

She would have to let him go, once and for all.

N
athan spun around the room, his hands positioned along the curve of a woman’s hip as he turned them deftly in the country dance. She looked up at him, brown eyes wide and fawn-like, her smile coquettishly inviting. And he realized he had no idea of the woman’s name, even though they had been dancing and talking for a few moments.

“So tell me about the fashions in India, my lord,” the young lady said with a smile. “Or could you even call what those savages wear ‘fashion’?”

Nathan pursed his lips at his companion’s harshly chosen, ignorant words. But a vicious set down wasn’t really appropriate in their current setting, so instead he forced his own tight smile.

“Actually, the women there wear what they call a ‘sari,’ a
long swath of brightly colored fabric that they wrap around themselves.”

He smiled as he pictured Cassandra in such garb. How beautiful she would be among those women. And how excited she would be, as a seamstress, to learn new techniques and discover new colors and fabrics. He was certain she would adore India as much as he had grown to love it.

“It sounds positively scandalous!” his partner squealed, her sharp tone dragging him away from his pleasant daydream. “Their women must all look like they are…are…common
street
women.”

She blushed as she said it and Nathan realized she was naively referring to whores.

He blinked a few times as he stared at the young lady. God, she was empty. A pretty vessel, but insubstantial and with no real purpose. She had spent her whole life being sheltered and prepared for a future existence exactly like her past one. She would ultimately become mistress over a family identical in every way to the one she had been raised in.

She had no humor, no free thought, no dreams or goals, at least that he could see from their albeit brief discussion. And she was the best of a bad lot that he had met over the past few weeks. Not one of those women sparked his interest. Not one of them made him feel even a twinge of the draw he still felt toward Cassandra, who was forever surprising and impressing him with her mind, her body, and her soul.

“You are looking at me in a very strange way,” the young woman in his arms cooed as the music came to an end. “Per
haps you would like to take a walk in the gardens with me?”

Nathan blinked a few times. “No!”

She stepped back, yanking her hands from his as her cheeks filled with dark color. “No?” she repeated.

He shook his head and tempered his tone. “I only mean that your chaperone is approaching, and I have already promised the next dance to a very insistent young lady who would likely follow us if we were to go into the garden together.”

That seemed to appease his partner, for her high color left her cheeks and she smiled. “Perhaps another time, then.”

Then her chaperone arrived, talking boisterously about good matches and uniting families. Nathan stood for it for a few laborious moments before he slipped away and headed straight for a drink.

He stared around the room as he took a sip of watered down sherry. How different was he from all these people? He had grown up in the same circumstances, with the same rules and regulations and goals pounded into this head by his father. He had been just as empty as he had secretly accused his dance partner of being.

Until he met Cassandra. Only then had he felt alive. Free. Full, and in the best sense, for she had opened his eyes to a whole new set of feelings and interests. She had made him dream of love, regardless of its effect on his standing. When he was with her, he had forgotten standing altogether.

He still did. Even in his anger, when he had made snide comments about finding an “acceptable” bride, that hadn’t been what was in his heart. The distance he maintained be
tween them was about her lies and betrayal, never about her status.

Those things hadn’t been resolved, and yet he still had feelings for Cassandra. Deeper and more powerful than the ones he felt all those years ago. He wanted her. But more than that, he found himself still
liking
her. Her quick-wittedness, her humor…those things drew him in as much as her lush and willing body.

“You must be the famous Lord Blackhearth.”

Nathan shook out of his reverie and turned to find Stephan Undercliffe standing beside him. He jolted at the sudden appearance of Cassandra’s former lover.

“Mr. Undercliffe,” he drawled when he had regained his composure.

“You know, there is far better liquor in old Whipplesham’s parlor. Care to join me for a spot?” the other man said, motioning to Nathan’s drink.

Nathan stared at the unsatisfying spirit swirling in his glass, then back to his companion. Although he despised the sight of Undercliffe since he knew the bastard had been in Cassandra’s bed, at the same time he might learn something of use from him.

And he did badly want a strong drink.

“Very well, sir. Lead the way,” he said, motioning for the door.

They walked through the winding halls of the Whipplesham home in silence, though it was anything but companionable, until they reached the parlor. There was a tension
that hung between them, an unspoken animosity that clung to the air and charged every movement. Nathan knew why he hated Undercliffe, but judging from the stiffness in the other man’s shoulders, the feeling was mutual, though he had done nothing to the other man that he could recall. And he intended to find out why.

As he shut the door behind them, Nathan said, “It is interesting that both of us know of each other, although we have never been properly introduced.”

Undercliffe crossed to the poorboy across the room and made two drinks. When he turned back and held out a glass to Nathan, he was smiling that wicked, knowing smile that Nathan had hated when he saw it at the Rothschild gathering.

“Well, I could very well know you because you are the prodigal son returned, the man whose name is on everyone’s lips.” He tilted his head. “How could you know me?”

Nathan took the offered drink and downed a swig before he said, “I
could
know you because you were pointed out to me at the Rothschild gathering a week or so ago.”

Undercliffe laughed. “Yes, you glared holes into my new waistcoat. I shall have the bill sent to you.”

Nathan’s mouth twitched with a strange urge to laugh, but he didn’t allow it. “But those aren’t the reasons we know each other, Mr. Undercliffe, are they?”

Undercliffe set his drink down. His focused gaze had gone from humor-filled to hard. “No. Indeed they are not. I believe the true reason is that we share a mutual acquaintance. Cassandra Willows.”

Nathan arched a brow, surprised that this man would so blatantly bring up Cassandra. But then again, he had to respect Undercliffe’s brutal honesty.

“Yes,” he acknowledged, filled with caution. “That is true. I am aware that you know her.”

“I more than know her. She is one of my best and closest friends,” Undercliffe said as he took a seat in the closest plush chair and dug into his vest pocket for a cigar. He chewed on it without lighting it as he stared up at Nathan. “Did you know that someone is blackmailing her?”

Nathan fought not to flinch. “She told you that?”

“Yes, a few weeks ago. Some cad, some bastard, who is threatening to ruin her.”

“Hmmm,” Nathan murmured, noncommittal since he felt he owned this man no explanation.

“Actually, I thought the culprit might be you, sir.” The other man arched a brow. “I mean, you two do seem to share…
something
.”

“You’ve been spying on your so-called friend?” Nathan asked, fighting to remain as calm as Undercliffe seemed to be. He wasn’t about to give up even a quarter to the man.

The other man didn’t smile. “If she is being threatened, damn straight I’ll do anything to uncover more information. And the only new man in her life is you.”

Nathan watched Undercliffe for a long moment before he acknowledged the truth with a negligent shrug of one shoulder, nothing more.

Undercliffe’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I see. Then
tell me, my lord, do you intend to make good on your threats and ruin her? Because know this, if you do, I have the capability of making your life quite uncomfortable. I may not have the clout or the standing that you do, but I do have my own means. And I think you know that Cassandra has
other
, far more powerful friends.”

Nathan arched a brow, truly surprised. “You are threatening me?”

“Only if you are threatening her.” Undercliffe did smile now, though there was nothing friendly about it. “I’m sure you know Cassandra and I once shared…
something
, as well. I cared a great deal for her, I still do. So you had best watch yourself with her.”

Nathan stepped closer, but Undercliffe stayed in his chair, just looking up at him with a bored expression. Nathan clenched his fists at his sides.

“You don’t know a God damned thing about me, Mr. Undercliffe,” he said, his voice low and even. “Or Cassandra, for that matter. And I would thank you to stay out of my arrangement with her.”

The other man raised his glass in mock salute, but didn’t reply. And he didn’t make any move to stop Nathan when he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, filled with jealousy, frustration…and guilt that he could no longer deny.

When Cassandra had been informed that she had a gentleman caller, she assumed it was Nathan, returning to her at last after a two-day absence when she had alternated between
working until her eyes blurred and crying, since she had to let him go. She trudged to the parlor, her feet leaden. This was it. She had no choice but to send him away and hope…pray…that he could accept it.

She opened the door and drew in a breath to steel herself, but the man who rose from her settee and turned to face the door wasn’t Nathan. It was Stephan Undercliffe, and he held out a bouquet of her favorite roses as he gave her that crooked smile that had always made her laugh.

Today her eyes stung in response. Relief and disappointment merged as she closed the door behind him.

“Stephan,” she managed to choke out as she reached for the bouquet.

His smile faltered a bit, but his voice remained light as he responded, “Beautiful roses for my beautiful Cass.”

She took the flowers. Already, an industrious servant had deposited a vase filled with water on the table across the room. She took the opportunity to busy herself by arranging his gift in the waiting receptacle.

“You should not have brought these, Stephan, though they are lovely.”

She heard him move toward her a few steps, though he never went so far as to force his touch upon her. Stephan had always been gentle, coaxing rather than demanding, as if he had sensed she was broken by her past, even though he never pried. Today was no different.

“I needed to see you,” he said softly. “And I knew they were
your favorites. Though I’ve never seen you accept roses with such stark pain in your eyes, my dear.”

Her fingers faltered in her work, but Cassandra forced herself to continue as if his keen observation didn’t trouble her. She didn’t want to be so easily read.

“Pain? No. I am tired, that is all,” she said with a hollow laugh.

Now he did move closer and she felt his warm hands gently caress her upper arms. He turned her to face him, cupping her chin with one big palm and forcing her to look up into his eyes.

“You
are
tired,” he agreed. “But the pain is about something emotional, not physical.”

Cassandra felt tears sting at her eyes as she stared up at him, his expression so kind and accepting. He had always known her so well. In another life, she might have loved him. But she didn’t. All her heart belonged to someone who would never look at her like Stephan did.

“I cannot talk about this,” she stammered, moving away.

He let her go with a low sigh and for a long time the room was silent.

“I saw Nathan Manning…the great Earl of Blackhearth,” he finally said, his voice filled with disdain as he spoke Nathan’s name and exalted title. “I know he is the one who has been blackmailing you.”

She caught her breath as she lifted her fingers up to cover her lips. “How do you know that?”

He tilted his head. “Even if your stricken expression hadn’t given it all away, he admitted it when I confronted him at the Whipplesham soiree.”

For a long moment, Cassandra was quiet, uncertain as to how to respond to Stephan. Even less certain of how she felt about the truth being exposed to her friend. She had been willing to tell him certain details, but she hadn’t wanted anyone to ever know her association with Nathan. For too many reasons to count, making that fact public could only cause her trouble and heartache.

“I see,” she finally whispered. “He bragged about it, did he?”

Stephan’s brow wrinkled as if he were considering that question. Then he shook his head.

“I would love to tell you that he did, to tell you what a bastard he was about the whole disgusting business.”

Cassandra clenched her fingers into fists as her stomach turned.

“But that would be a lie,” Stephan continued softly. “In fact, he looked a good deal sicker about it than I would have expected. He seemed to take no pleasure in his actions.”