Authors: Kate Pearce
Simply Carnal (5 page)
She hastened to obey, her eyes never leaving his, her fingers busy untucking and unbuttoning him until his cock was a hard, thrusting presence in her hand. She started to go down on her knees but he shoved a hand into her hair and kept her upright.
“Later. I want to be inside you.”
He drew her over to the bed and followed her down onto the soft mattress, his body covering hers, his hard thigh separating her legs and rubbing against her already-wet sex. Elizabeth anchored her hands on his shoulders as he continued to kiss her, the slick wet presence of his cock sliding against her belly. She reached for his shaft, but he drew her hand away and pulled back from her.
“Wait one moment.” He turned to the bedside cabinet and took out a bottle of tansy oil and a small piece of sponge tied with thread. “I want my come in you. This will prevent conception.”
Elizabeth didn’t bother to tell him that she already knew that. His intentions were good, and she didn’t want to destroy the promising mood. He took the sponge and slid one long finger deep inside her, and she arched against the bed. His thumb settled on her bud and she sighed his name.
With a growl, he came down over her and his cock penetrated her sex. She let herself relax as he rocked deeper and deeper until his whole length throbbed inside her. His mouth returned to hers, advancing and retreating in the same rhythm as his cock, a slow demanding dance that invited her participation.
Elizabeth kissed him back and allowed her body to share his rhythm and absorb his thrusts. She kept her eyes open, noticed his expression intensify and reacted accordingly. She tightened her inner muscles around his cock until he groaned her name and lost his smoothness. He gathered her buttocks into his hands and thrust harder.
“Come for me, come with me.”
Elizabeth tightened her muscles even more and began to pant and writhe beneath him, her fingernails biting into his flesh as she bucked and rubbed herself against him as if in the throes of passion. He went rigid and then she felt the hot gush of his seed deep inside her and obligingly screamed his name and made her body go limp.
He collapsed over her, his shoulders slick with sweat and his breathing uneven. After a little while, he rolled off her and lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Elizabeth stayed exactly as he had left her, her legs parted, her arms over her head. Experience had taught her that men liked it if they thought they had exhausted her with their passion.
With a soft curse, Christian rose from the bed and went to light some more candles. He glanced back at Elizabeth Smith, who despite the speed of his lovemaking looked well satisfied, her pale body relaxed against the sheets, her nipples still hard from his mouth and hands. His cock jerked and he touched himself, enjoying the quick return to form that had eluded him for quite a while. There was something about Mrs. Smith that made him hard.
He set the candles down beside the bed and crawled back in between the sheets, his gaze on the luscious wetness of Elizabeth’s now-swollen sex. She’d taken him easily, her body as welcoming as he’d hoped....
“You are obviously as skilled as you claimed.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Thank you.”
“I’d almost say that was a command performance.”
A small frown appeared between her brows. “Did I not please you?”
She sat up and came toward him, her gaze fixed on his half-erect cock. He watched her approach and waited until her tongue flicked out to circle the tip of his crown. He imagined her with a collar around her throat like the man in the Roman room, imagined himself guiding her to do his bidding.
“Do you want more, sir?”
“Of course I want more.” He fisted his hand in her long hair and held her still, the crown of his cock jammed against her lips. “Suck me.”
She opened her mouth and he surged inside her, groaned as she let him cram himself down her throat, taking all of him and starting to suck. God, and he wanted it hard, liked it hard, and wanted to fuck her mouth like this every day whenever he wanted it.
Her hand cupped his balls, her long fingers caressing them, circling the pucker of his arse and making him even stiffer and more eager to come. He groaned her name and surged deeper, felt the kick of his climax deep in his balls and the back of his spine and spent himself in her warm and willing mouth. She released his cock with a small kiss and retreated to the other side of the bed, her gray gaze fixed on him as if daring him to suggest he found her wanting now.
He eased back against the headboard and waited for his breathing to settle down, waited to see what she would do next. She did nothing but watch him, her eyes calm, her expression dutiful and politely willing. He knew that if he wanted her again, she’d take him, and that excited him despite what he’d begun to suspect.
She fingered the sheet and he tensed. “Is there something else, sir, or may I go to sleep?”
He held her gaze. “What if I wanted to lick and suck your cunt? Would you allow that?”
She shrugged, the motion as graceful and as empty as anything he could achieve at his most annoying. “I have not told you no yet, have I?”
“Would you ever?”
Her smile didn’t dim. “Most men seem to enjoy a woman who allows them to use her as they will.”
“Do you feel used, Mrs. Smith?”
A faint flush colored her cheeks and she looked away from him. “What else can I do for you? Do you wish to fuck me again?”
His cock liked that idea, but his mind did not. “Do you always befuddle men with sex?”
“Befuddle them?” She raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He gestured at the rumpled sheets. “You use sex to distract a man from asking questions about your pleasure.”
“I took my pleasure, sir. Perhaps you were so engrossed in your own that you failed to notice my small efforts.”
He almost wanted to smile at that. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not quite that conceited. You were very convincing, but I know you didn’t climax.” He paused to make sure that she was listening to him. “Do you ever climax?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” She licked her lips and started toward him again. “I’m sure I can show you that you speak nonsense. You are a superb lover and you know it.”
“I
am
a superb lover, and that’s why I know when a woman is faking her pleasure.” He caught her by the elbows and held her still, their noses almost touching. “Don’t try and pretend otherwise.”
am
a superb lover, and that’s why I know when a woman is faking her pleasure.” He caught her by the elbows and held her still, their noses almost touching. “Don’t try and pretend otherwise.”
She swallowed hard. “You are wrong, sir. I am perfectly satisfied.”
“And apparently an excellent liar—let’s not forget that.” He disengaged himself and climbed off the bed. “I’m going to my own room to sleep now. Good night, Mrs. Smith.”
She knelt on the bed, her hands clasped together in her lap. She looked the picture of hurt confusion. Part of him admired her acting abilities; the rest felt an unaccustomed sense of annoyance.
“I have disappointed you, Mr. Delornay.”
He didn’t bother putting on his clothes. His room was only across the hall. “You haven’t disappointed me at all. I enjoyed myself immensely. In truth, what man could be dissatisfied with a woman who gives everything and takes nothing in return ?”
“Most men would agree with you.” She raised her chin, and he was glad of it. Had he finally managed to needle her into a fight? “Perhaps that is what I intended.”
He faced her and she held his gaze. “Then you have succeeded in your aim. I can only hope that your current state of sexual frustration is satisfactory to you. Or was that the whole point? Do you prefer to take your satisfaction into your own hands?”
“I ...” She stopped speaking and simply stared down at the floor. “Good night, Mr. Delornay.”
“Good night, Mrs. Smith.”
He nodded and left the room before he entered into a conversation he was certain he would not win at this hour of the night, or ever, if he was honest. The real question was whether Mrs. Smith was incapable of achieving a climax or whether she was deliberately choosing to withhold her pleasure from him.
Christian carefully closed the door to his room and stared at his untouched bed. It was ironic that she’d given him exactly what he’d asked for, excellent sex without cloying emotions, and here he was fuming over it. He smiled. Mrs. Elizabeth Smith would soon find out that he was not the sort of man to accept defeat in any area of his life, particularly in the bedroom.
5
C
hristian stared down at the parchment on his desk and carefully underlined the date for the third time. It was almost nine on a typically cold, gray autumn morning, and he was supposed to be meeting with Ambrose and Mrs. Smith to discuss their new proposals for the pleasure house before he shared them with his mother.
hristian stared down at the parchment on his desk and carefully underlined the date for the third time. It was almost nine on a typically cold, gray autumn morning, and he was supposed to be meeting with Ambrose and Mrs. Smith to discuss their new proposals for the pleasure house before he shared them with his mother.
Helene would insist that all women were capable of experiencing pleasure. She believed that men were the problem because they were too selfish to make the effort to bring a woman to orgasm. Had he been too fast? He grimaced as his pen spat out an ink blot. He hadn’t exactly taken much time getting between Mrs. Smith’s legs....
“Mr. Delornay? Are you listening to me?”
He looked up to find Ambrose staring at him.
“I wish you to make some inquiries about Mrs. Smith.”
Ambrose looked resigned. “I assumed you would. I did talk to her landlord when I went to retrieve her belongings, but he had very little to say about her.”
“Did you look through her bags?”
“Of course not!” Ambrose frowned. “But from what I saw, I doubt her few pitiful pieces of clothing held many secrets.”
“She had no papers or letters?”
“As I said, I didn’t search her bags. If you really want to find out more about our mysterious guest, you will have to ask your mother. Her social circle is immense and extremely influential.”
“Perhaps I’ll do that,” Christian muttered, and glanced again at the clock. “Where is Mrs. Smith anyway?”
“Don’t you know?”
Christian frowned. “Don’t make it sound like an accusation. I am hardly to blame for her tardiness. I left Mrs. Smith early last night to sleep peacefully in my own bed.”
“You left her bed?”
“Yes. Why do you sound so incredulous?”
Ambrose regarded him intently. “Because it is not like you. When you take a new lover, you are normally insatiable.”
“This is hardly normal, is it? I haven’t taken up with one of my employees before.”
“That is true.” Ambrose sipped at his coffee. “And I’m still not sure if it is a good idea.”
“I don’t believe I asked you for an opinion,” Christian retorted.
Ambrose grinned. “I’m offering one anyway.”
“And it is not welcome.” Christian shuffled the papers on his desk and looked impatiently toward the door. “Do you wish to go and find Mrs. Smith, Ambrose?”
“There is no need.” Mrs. Smith’s pleasant voice came through the open door. “I was talking to Lieutenant St. Clare in the kitchen.”
Christian stood as Mrs. Smith came into the room. She wore the plain blue gown that was too big for her and had a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her long hair was tightly braided into a complex coronet on the top of her head. He remembered how soft her hair felt against his skin when she bent her head and ...
“Good morning, Mrs. Smith. You are fifteen minutes late.”
She curtsied to him, her expression calm. “I apologize, Mr. Delornay. It is quite difficult to stop Lieutenant St. Clare when he is in a talkative mood. He was telling me about your sister.”
“Which sister? I have several.” Christian gestured to a chair in front of his desk beside Ambrose and then sat down again.
“Your twin, Lisette, who I understand is married to the lieutenant’s best friend.”
Christian grunted. “I’m surprised Paul didn’t insist on accompanying you to this meeting. He seems to be here more than I am these days.” He tapped his pen on the paper. “Now, may we proceed? I told my mother I would offer her some suggestions as to the improvement of the pleasure house.”
“Actually, Paul might have some good suggestions of his own.” Ambrose crossed his legs. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch him?”
“Let’s see what we come up with between ourselves first, and then we can ask everyone else for their ideas.” Christian pointed his quill at Elizabeth. “Let’s start with you.”
“I have several ideas, Mr. Delornay.”
He met her calm smile with one of his own. “I’m sure you do, Mrs. Smith. Perhaps you would care to share them.”
“You will not be offended?”
“At this point, I am beyond taking offense at anything you might say. My mother has humbled me far too often.”
“Then might I suggest you offer some more structured entertainment ?”
“What do you mean by that?”
She sat forward, her hands clasped together in her lap. “You offer the occasional ‘show’ in the main salons, but I think you should offer such entertainment more regularly and involve the guests more intimately.”
“Go on,” Christian said.
“For example, perhaps you could organize games such as hide-and-seek or Simon says, childish games, but with a more wicked and adult purpose? These games might even appear to begin spontaneously, but would, of course, be carefully instigated by your staff.”
Christian caught Ambrose’s eye. “That sounds like an excellent idea. What do you think, Ambrose?”
“I think it would work very well on both of the main floors. We would have to train our staff, of course, but that wouldn’t be an issue. They would probably enjoy it.”
Christian wrote the bones of the idea down on his piece of parchment and continued to write as the ideas began to flow. Ambrose became quite animated, and even Mrs. Smith looked flushed. By the time the clock struck eleven, Christian had quite a list in front of him.
“There is one more thing,” Christian said. Ambrose and Mrs. Smith looked expectantly at him. “The room of hidden desires.”
Ambrose frowned. “Is that still in use? I haven’t directed anyone toward it all year.”
“Exactly, but I believe it will reintroduce an element of forbidden erotic excitement that has been missing at the house.”
“What exactly is the room for?” Mrs. Smith asked.
Christian met her interested gaze. “It is a room where guests can express their most private and illicit sexual desires, and they will be provided within the shortest time available.”
“But surely everything is openly available here?”
“But not everyone wants to be seen participating publicly by their peers. And some people truly do believe that what they desire is so shocking that they can barely acknowledge it to themselves.” He of all people knew that. “The room is very strictly monitored and controlled so that no mention of what goes on in there ever gets out.”
He fixed his gaze on Mrs. Smith. “I would expect both you and Ambrose to participate in the fulfillment of these special sexual desires.”
Ambrose nodded. “I assumed you would ask me. I’d also suggest Paul as a candidate. He’s always willing to try new things.”
Christian groaned. “Paul again? I’m not sure why I don’t simply cancel his membership and employ him permanently.”
“Perhaps because he is officially still employed by the army—if only on half-pay.” Ambrose stood and nodded to Mrs. Smith. “And I suspect his family would be horrified if they knew he would be paid a wage like a tradesman for having sex.”
Christian smiled. “I suspect you are right. Despite his ragged appearance, he has the most lofty connections.” He sighed. “Ask him if you like. At least I know he’ll keep quiet about it.”
Ambrose left, closing the door behind him, and Christian turned his attention to Mrs. Smith, who remained quietly in her chair.
“Would you be willing to participate in the sexual fantasies of the room of desires?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you’d already decided that I was.”
“And then I thought better of it.” Christian put down his pen. “From what little you’ve told me about your life, I have to suspect that sex might not always be a pleasure for you.”
“In truth, it became far more pleasurable when my husband was unable to bed me.”
“Because you were left alone?”
“Because my husband shared me with other men.”
Christian barely managed to hide his surprise at her bald statement. “I find it difficult to believe you were so sanguine about it at the time.” He abandoned his desk and went to take the seat next to Mrs. Smith that Ambrose had vacated.
“Why?” She held his gaze, wry amusement in hers. “Are women not supposed to enjoy themselves with men other than their husbands?”
“If that were true, the entire British aristocracy would be miserable as sin.”
“Exactly.”
Christian tried again. “But you did not make a choice, did you?”
She folded her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. “I was eighteen when my husband first started to have problems in my bed. At first he blamed me and beat me for my supposed failings. Eventually he preferred to let others fuck me while he watched. He seemed to derive satisfaction from the sight, and I was simply relieved not to be beaten.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
She raised her head to meet his skeptical gaze. “It was simple. What would you prefer me to say? None of the men he brought to me were vicious or depraved. Some of them were very drunk, and it wasn’t as if I was left alone with them to fend for myself.”
Christian had a sense that she was hiding something important from her calm recital, but he couldn’t yet pinpoint exactly what it was.
“Then why run away?” There it was, the hint of fear in her gaze. “Why, if everything was to your liking, did you run?”
“Because my husband died, and his family ...” She stopped speaking.
“And his family did not approve of what he had made you?”
“They ...” She paused. “They wanted certain things from me, certain guarantees that I was unable to give them.”
“Such as?”
She smiled. “My husband also had a mistress living with us who hated me ever since my marriage. She used her considerable influence with his family to make sure the conditions they wished to impose upon me were intolerable.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I am not,” she protested.
Christian frowned at her. “Are you saying that the family considered you more of an embarrassment than your husband’s mistress?”
“It was quite complicated. The lady was also sleeping with my husband’s cousin and he—”
“And he wanted you to stay.” Christian nodded. “I begin to see how it all fits together.”
“Then you will also understand why I had to leave.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons, although I’m not sure if you have explained them to my satisfaction.”
“But surely my reasons have nothing to do with your original question as to whether I was happy to engage in the more intimate sexual games of the room of desires?”
She opened her eyes wide, and he fought a smile. It was almost a pleasure sparring with a mind that was as devious as his. He was also becoming aware that her apparent openness about her past life was yet another device to shield the complete truth.
“Touché, Mrs. Smith.”
“Indeed, sir.”
He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I need to work on this paper for my mother. Perhaps you might take the time to familiarize yourself with the rooms on the second floor and speak to Marie-Claude?”
“I will do that, sir.”
He lightly kissed her knuckles. “And I have arranged for a local modiste to visit you at six this evening. She will meet us in your room.”
She drew her hand away. “Meet
us?
”
us?
”
He shrugged. “I have some ideas as to how I wish you to be dressed.”
For the first time, her gray eyes flashed fire. “And as you have obviously decided to pay for my garments, you feel you have the right to dictate what I wear?”
“Dictate? Surely not, but a second opinion is always valuable.”
She exhaled and favored him with her usual calm smile. “Of course, sir. And perhaps my opinion could be taken into account, seeing as I intend to pay you back for everything.”
He patted her cheek. “Don’t worry. I intended to deduct the cost from your wages anyway.”
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Oh, thank you, sir.”
Her smile was quite beautiful to behold, and for a moment he was almost taken in, until he noticed it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He kissed her back. “You are quite welcome, Mrs. Smith.”
He watched her leave and returned to his desk. The thought of watching her undress for the modiste was already exciting him. The thought of what he intended to do to her after the modiste left made him impatient for the day to end. Mrs. Smith would not be able to resist his lovemaking for a second night in a row.
Elizabeth took herself back down to the kitchen and lovingly imagined Mr. Delornay’s head on a platter with an apple in his mouth, being served for supper. He was as difficult to argue with as a French lawyer. Yet it was also quite exciting to bait him. She shook her head at her own stupidity. She was not here to speculate about her employer. She was here to provide him with the sexual services he required and receive a wage in return. She must not forget that she needed all the money she could gather to fight against her husband’s family.
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