Princes of Charming (12 page)

Nick was barely listening, having only gone there, obviously because he didn't trust his father in a darkened room with Mrs. Kent. He swayed and puffed on his cigar, while Brandon leaned over the globe and moved her finger off the mark.

"That's not even a place. It's a tear in the paper cover, or a squashed fruit fly."

"It is a place, Mr. Wilder. And the Princess Ella is from it."

"What's it called then?"

Her eyes glittered. She ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. "Sinder. The Isle of Sinder."

Incredulous, he chuckled. "Sinder?"

"That's right." She tilted her chin up a tad and spelled it proudly, "C...i...n...n...d...e...r...e"

"Oh, Cinndere," he exclaimed, striking his head with one hand. "Why didn't you say? I know the place well."

There went her tongue again, slipping over her moistened lip. Making him want to kiss it.

"We'd better get you home, Mrs. Kent," he muttered, unable to look away from her mouth.

Somewhere behind them, Nick said, "I'll take her in great-grandmama's carriage."

"I'm going home as I came," she replied crisply. "Alone in a hansom cab."

Oh no, she wasn't. He'd made other arrangements for this slippery, sly, fibbing creature. As they walked back into the hall, he sent the footman for her coat. His great-grandmama said her goodbyes and then, to Brandon's relief, insisted on Nick's arm to help her back to the drawing room. His son didn't dare refuse.

"I believe the cab is here for you, Mrs. Kent." Brandon helped her into her coat.

"Thank you."

They walked outside. Thin, warm rain drizzled on his head as he held the carriage door open and set down the little step for her foot. She didn't have time to see what she was entering. The woman was in haste to get away, but he leapt up behind her, no coat, no hat, no warning to anyone. He sat beside her and closed the door before she could even exhale a curse.

And they were off.

Ten in the Evening

November 30th

"I didn't eat my dessert. I saved my appetite for you."

He was persistent, she had to give him that. "This is
your
carriage!"

"Yes."

"Brandon Wilder," she shook her head, "what are we doing and why?"

"Here we are, alone again and it's another opportunity not to be wasted. You want me as much as I want you. We are two consenting adults, unattached. How many more reasons do you require, Dru?"

"How do you know I want you?" Had it been so plain? Had she given herself away? She must be losing her icy touch.

"The way you lick your lips," he replied thoughtfully, his eyes smiling at her, shining every time they passed a streetlamp.

"Is that all? You think every woman who licks her lips wants to be seduced by you?"

"No." He put his hand on her knee. "I think
you
want to seduce me."

"You've got a nerve."

"I have and you bother it. Like a toothache." He stroked her knee and his hand was heavy, warm through her black taffeta.

"I'm sorry to cause you any pain."

"Then do something about it."

She stared straight ahead and watched the cobbled street flickering by, lashed by amber streaks of light from the gas lamps. If he left England she may never return again. Her desire for him—when she considered the points he listed— made every sense and yet, at the same time, none. Drusilla considered herself a woman of some intelligence and logic, but there was no wisdom in falling for a man like Brandon Wilder. Since she left his hotel suite she'd convinced herself it was only a sexual encounter, casual and simple.

Tonight, when she saw him standing in his grandmother's drawing room, it took her a while to catch her breath and temporarily the strength was knocked out of her. Like being slapped hard by a sudden gust of wind and rain as she turned a street corner.

He'd cleaned up, of course, since their first meeting, and in fine evening clothes few men could compare. Watching him across the dining table, hearing his laughter, feeling his heated admiration follow her every move, she'd felt shattered. Not so that anyone might see. The hairline breaks and cracks were deep in her bones and they hurt; they threatened to stretch into one another, weaken her structure. Spread to her heart. It was a sickness, she decided. Perhaps he brought it back with him from his travels in the jungle. In which case, they might not have long to live. Another reason to seize the night.

He was no longer smiling playfully, no longer teasing. With one lean, sensual hand he swept his dark, wavy hair back from his brow and regarded her steadily, intensely. His mouth was hard, but beautifully carved, his jaw strong. Already she thought about kissing him again.

She'd imagined a few hours in his company would be enough to rid her of that ridiculous adolescent fantasy about the Prince of Charming. Usually, only a short amount of time alone with a man was more than adequate to remove any mystique. Only the Earl had held her interest for longer and even her relationship with him had become more profession and habit than pleasure. On honest days she could admit that to herself.

But a few hours with Brandon had not been sufficient to relieve her curiosity.

"Let's spend all night together," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.

"Very well," she said finally, "but this time the terms are mine."

His nostrils flared, cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a deep breath.

"You'll do exactly as I say," she added.

He hadn't blinked. She held him in her gaze and he held her. The grip was equally strong on both sides. Seldom had she met a man so well matched with her.

At last he dipped his head and conceded, "At your command, Mrs. Kent."

She lifted the layers of skirt and petticoat, bunching it over her thighs. "You may touch me. I suppose you want to feel the barber's work again." It had, in fact, been on her mind through much of dinner, as if he already ran his fingers over her mound, caressed and petted her under his grandmother's polished table.

His hand drifted over her stockings and garters. She parted her legs just half an inch as he neared his wicked goal with those brazen fingertips. The moist heat in her loins multiplied quickly. "Will you allow me to suckle your delicious bubbies, Mrs. Kent?" he whispered.

She pretended to consider his request and then raised her hands to her collar, carefully unhooking the jet brooch and unbuttoning the front of her bodice. Brandon ran his fingertip up and down the slit in her drawers without entering through it to touch her flesh. She felt her sensitive core expanding with need.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he said softly, his gaze on the upper curves of her bosom as it was gradually revealed a little more with every pop of a button.

The grinding need he'd begun with his teasing caress between her thighs, now reached up into her belly and higher. It even tightened her throat so that her breath hurt. He made her open all the buttons until her gown gaped open to the waist. She knew her nipples, two dark brown half circles, would be visible through the lace of her chemise, the erect peaks just rubbing uncomfortably on the edge of her binding corset. Tonight she wore one that laced in the front.

"Untie it," he growled. "Just a few inches. Then pull down your chemise and cup those gorgeous titties in your hands."

"Mr. Wilder, I told you I am in charge tonight," she reminded him in a terse breath.

He cursed thickly and she took pity. Very slowly she loosened the ribbons of her corset, while he impatiently moved two fingers through the slit in her drawers and rubbed her roused pussy lips, almost frantically, until she gasped, arched her back. Now with trembling fingers she tugged on the ribbons and eased the lacy chemise down over her breasts. Brandon's fingers slipped between her wet labia and he grunted in approval.

"The hair has hardly grown back at all."

She'd kept it up, liking the touch of her silk drawers on her bare mound.

"You were more ready for me than I expected, Mrs. Kent. Perhaps you would like a servicing with my cock here and now?"

"You'll take what you're given and be content."

"Very well. Then hold those out for me. That's right. Lift them up. Come on." He spoke to her like a terse schoolmaster, leaning against her body, his hand still working between her legs, his fingers thrusting deeper into her cunt. He swept his tongue out to dampen his lips, his gaze on her nipples. "Now give me that one first. Bring it to my mouth and hold it while I suck."

"You're a very bossy gentleman. Must I remind you again—"

When his lips closed greedily on her puckered nipple, Drusilla caught her breath. His tongue flicked over and around her areola, while his fingers fucked her pussy. Now that he had what he wanted, his motion was slower, languid, even graceful.

The wheels of the carriage jolted over the bumpy cobbles, bouncing her slightly on the seat, pushing her nipple more firmly into his mouth, spearing her more deeply on his fingers. She moaned. Until this man took her into his hotel suite recently she'd been starving for the touch of another being. It had been too long for her. Of course she'd masturbated frequently in the years since her lover died, but that did not compare to the feel of a man inside her, or a man's weight laid over her, his breath on her skin, his kisses damp on the side of her neck.

Brandon curled his fingers to tease her neglected pearl, the treasure at her womanly core, and she was coming already, the vibrations of the carriage sending her to the peak even faster. He pressed the heel of his hand on her shaven mound, holding her intimately, his fingers sunk into her wet, throbbing pussy as she tumbled over her edge.

He groaned, half-laughing. "That was a fast one, madam. Shall I ask the driver to go around the park again?"

"No," she gasped. "We're nearly at my house."

He moved his mouth to her other breast and laved that one in the same hungry fashion, sucking, tonguing and licking until the waves gathered again deep in her sex.

Drusilla rose up a few inches, her muscles tightening on his fingers. Dear lord she couldn't do this all night or she'd lose the strength in her legs and he'd have to carry her up to bed.

This is what happens, she thought drowsily, when a woman neglects her own needs for too long—a no-good rake comes along, casually teases her clitoris with an entirely too skilled set of fingers and makes her feel like a queen. A very wanton, very desirable queen.

* * * *

He stripped her slowly, layer by layer. Like peeling a very lovely, very sweet, ripe fruit. She lay back on the bed in her chamber, candlelight making her soft skin glow, casting shadows in the valleys and highlighting the smooth curves. Under his palms she felt like velvet. A very fine, costly kind of velvet.

"You may," she said, spreading her legs, watching him from the nest of pillows under her head.

Brandon leaned down and tasted her beautiful pussy. He tickled her clit with the tip of his tongue and laughed huskily into her when he felt her body move, heard her moans deepen. Sliding his hands under her bottom he lifted her to his mouth for a leisurely feast and as she grew frantic, thrusting her hips, he slid a finger into her anus, feeling the squeeze and then tasting the honey as it trickled onto his tongue, sticky and rich. His cock was rigid, pressing into her silk counterpane as he lay on his stomach between her legs. But he waited patiently. This, as she'd said, was on her terms.

Hitched up on her elbows, she looked down at him, dark waves of hair tumbled over her shoulders. "Would you like a chocolate?"

Eyes narrowed, he watched her, his lips still pressed to her wet cunt, his tongue lapping slowly at the delicious stickiness. He wasn't sure he needed anything sweeter than that, but he was game for anything.

Dru reached for the opened box of Charming's Chocolates on her bedside table, took one of the truffles from its paper cup and placed it on her stomach. Brandon eyed it thoughtfully as she slipped another chocolate into her mouth and chewed slowly.

He took the treat from her belly and licked it. As the surface began to melt he rubbed it in a circular motion at the top of her labia and watched her blossom again. Her breath quickened. Brandon pressed the softening confection up and down her cleft, smearing her with chocolate until she moaned and panted. With two long fingers he placed the melting sweet between her pink, swelling nether lips and then he covered it with his mouth and sucked.

She fell back to her pillows, lifting her legs until her feet rested on his back and as she came violently yet again the chocolate dripped onto his tongue. As the last quakes shivered through her, Brandon scooped the remains of the truffle into his mouth and licked her clean.

Never before had he taken such pleasure in the family business.

* * * *

Bent across the bed, legs spread wide, she warned breathlessly over her shoulder, "Don't come yet. Not until I say you may."