Authors: Kate Pearce

Simply Carnal (7 page)

BOOK: Simply Carnal

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He spun her around, his expression cool. “You do not need to use whores’ tricks on me. Watching you dress and undress for half an hour was quite arousing enough. I don’t need any more stimulation and you know it.”

Elizabeth glanced down at his pantaloons, which amply displayed the evidence of his lust. She reached forward and ran her finger down the length of his satin-covered shaft.

“I thought you might wish to climax quickly. Most men do.”

“And I’m not most men.” He stepped away from her. “Don’t try and distract me, Mrs. Smith. We are here to seek out your pleasure, not mine.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard and smiled into his eyes. “My pleasure is in satisfying you, Mr. Delornay. Is that not enough?”

“We’ve already had this conversation.” He stripped off his coat, cravat, and waistcoat and tossed them over a nearby chair. “My pleasure can only be enhanced by yours. Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Elizabeth caught the note of implacability in his request and slowly turned toward the bed. Her heart was beating far too erratically as Christian followed her over, his cool gaze on her body, assessing her, much as she was used to doing with men. She realized she didn’t like it, that she wanted to run from the room and hide in a dark corner somewhere until he forgot about her.

“Is something wrong?”

And by all that was holy, he was far too perceptive. In the candlelight his hair gleamed like a wheat field in the sun. His shirt fell open at the neck to reveal the fair hair on his muscled chest. Without his coat, she could plainly see the strength of his legs and tight buttocks. An angel, a devil, she couldn’t make up her mind.

Elizabeth forced a smile. “What do you wish of me?”

“Take off your shift.”

Although she’d expected the request, she still found it remarkably difficult to bare her body completely to him—a body that he’d already seen, caressed, entered ...

“Touch yourself.”

“What?” Elizabeth brought her startled gaze back to his face.

He shrugged. “If you will not allow a man to bring you to a climax, perhaps you can manage it for yourself.”

“While you watch?”

He smiled. “Are you suggesting that no man has ever watched you climax before?”

She held his gaze and saw no hint of leniency in his hazel eyes, only a calm certainty that she would refuse and that he would be the victor if she did. And she wanted to refuse, wanted to slap his face and ... and what? She had nowhere else to go and she needed money.

She brought her hands up to cup her breasts and pinched her nipples between her finger and thumb until they were hard points. Christian continued to watch her, one shoulder against the upright corner post of the bed, one hand casually unbuttoning his pantaloons. She closed her eyes and allowed her right hand to drop between her thighs to play with her sex.

Of course she wasn’t wet and the friction of her finger only made it worse, but she pretended all was well.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

She obediently did as she was told and continued to touch herself, writhing a little more, allowing gasps of “pleasure” to escape her.

“Oh for God’s sake.”

Elizabeth froze in place as Christian headed for the door. He didn’t leave as she had anticipated but opened the top drawer of her bedside table and withdrew a glass bottle. He uncorked the bottle and returned to her side, bringing the pleasant scent of flowers with him.

He coated two of his fingers with the oil and knelt in front of her, sliding his fingers in alongside hers, easing her work. She moaned as he lowered his head and licked at her clit, threaded his fingers between hers, and probed her now-slick entrance.

She felt herself grow tense until the ache and the need threatened to overcome her, until she wanted to scream out her frustration. Christian didn’t stop, his mouth an incessant presence against her most tender flesh, his fingers driving into her as she ground against him.

She wanted this, oh God she wanted this. She grasped his shoulder, her nails digging into his shirt, desperate to anchor herself against the gathering tension low in her belly.

“Stop, Mr. Delornay, I can’t ...”

With a sob, she shoved him away from her and tried to scramble off the bed. But he was too quick and she was soon under him again, her face pressed into the mattress as she struggled to be free of his weight.

He made no attempt to stop her fighting him, but he refused to let her go. After a while, she gave up and just lay still, awaiting his judgment and his likely contempt. But he said nothing and continued to hold her, one arm locked around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. He was murmuring to her, a litany of soothing, meaningless words in French that made her want to cry.

She realized she had to speak, had to try and regain some control of the situation.

“I’m sorry. I just
can’t . .
.”

He remained silent, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She gasped when he moved and rolled her over onto her back. His smile was the last thing she had expected to see.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Smith. I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me in bed.”

Christian stared down into Elizabeth’s startled gray eyes. At least he hoped she was being honest. One could never be entirely sure with a woman. The scent of the oil drifted up to him, and he realized his cock was still hard and pushing through the confines of his unbuttoned pantaloons. But there were more important things to deal with than a little sexual discomfort.

“In the spirit of continuing our honest discussion, have you ever climaxed?”

She swallowed hard. “I wanted to climax for you.”

“So you can make a choice?”

“I thought I could, but it seems I have denied myself for so long that I have lost the ability.”

“I doubt that.”

She moved restlessly against the sheets, drawing his gaze to the lush curve of her breasts and her tight nipples. “I tried, Christian.”

“I know, but I’m not willing to leave it there. I’m sure we will find a way to make you climax again.”

She grabbed for his arm. “Please, don’t bother.”

He smiled at her and closed his fingers around her wrist, repositioning her hand on his cock.

“Perhaps I might ask a favor of you before we discuss this matter more thoroughly.”

She bit her lip. “Surely there is nothing more to be said?”

“I’m sure you would prefer it if we didn’t speak of it ever again.” He shoved down his underthings. “But you will have to indulge me a little further.”

She contemplated his cock. “Do you wish to fuck me?”

“As if I would subject you to that after what you have just said.”

Despite his words, his shaft jerked at the thought. Her attempt to get away from him had excited him more than she could possibly imagine. But it was not the time to share that unwelcome revelation. At the moment, he was still selfish enough to need relief, relief he would take at his own hand if she balked. He sat back against the headboard, releasing her completely, allowing her to come to him—if she wanted to.

“I would appreciate the pleasure of your talented hands and mouth on me.”

She regarded him carefully, her knees now drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them. “And you will be satisfied ?”

“For now.” He stroked his cock, pulling down the foreskin to expose the sensitive gleaming head where he was already wet. “But I’ll give you fair warning. Probably not forever.”

E
lizabeth was sitting in the kitchen drinking her morning cup of coffee and chatting in French with Madame Durand when Ambrose came in with the latest newspapers. As was her custom, Elizabeth immediately went to the back of each paper and checked the personal announcements. She had no idea if the Saint-Brieuc family would attempt to contact her but reckoned the advertisements were the only way they could possibly hope to reach her.

She wanted to write and find out if everything was well, but there was no one left at the château she trusted not to betray her to Armand. She paused, one finger on the tiny print, and stared blindly at the jumble of letters. Were any messages being conveyed to France in these still-troubled times?

“Is everything all right, Elizabeth?”

She looked up to see that Ambrose had taken the seat opposite hers. Would he help her? Could he? But Christian controlled the staff at the pleasure house just as completely as Armand Saint-Brieuc controlled his, albeit with less violence. She shuddered at the thought of confronting Armand again. It might have to be done, but she hoped subterfuge would work instead. When she had enough money, she would employ people to help get her back across the English Channel and break into the château.

“Everything is fine, Ambrose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pardon my continuing curiosity, but it looks as if you are searching for something in the newspaper. Did you contact your family in England after all?”

Elizabeth sighed and put down the paper. “The trouble with letting my guard down with you, Ambrose, is that now I feel obliged to explain myself.”

He chuckled. “That is indeed the price of friendship.” His smile died. “Do you believe I would betray you?”

“You work for Mr. Delornay—we both do. I wouldn’t feel right confiding in you and then expecting you to keep my secrets from him.”

He grimaced. “I see your point.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Mr. Delornay anyway, and then we both can help you?”

“I wish I could,” Elizabeth said. “But I fear I will have to keep my secrets and strive to deal with the problem on my own.”

Ambrose stood up and bowed. “If you change your mind, you can always ask for my help.”

Elizabeth smiled up at him. “I know that and I appreciate it more than I can say.” She rose to her feet as well and smoothed out the skirts of her new green gown. It was imperative that they move away from this all-too-painful discussion and concentrate on the here and now.

“I was wondering if you could take me to see the room of desire. Mr. Delornay said it probably needed refurbishing.”

Ambrose offered her his arm. “Of course, Elizabeth.”

The room was situated at the end of a long hallway on the second floor, right next to the servants’ stairway. Ambrose unlocked the door and they both went in. As the door swung shut, darkness engulfed them, and Elizabeth grabbed Ambrose’s arm.

“Why aren’t the curtains open?”

“They’ve always remained closed to maintain an air of privacy. Wait a moment and I’ll light a candle or two.”

Elizabeth reluctantly released her grip on his coat sleeve and tried to get her bearings. She had no idea how large a space she was in. There was no sound from the street or from the rest of the pleasure house.

“There, that’s better.”

Ambrose returned to her side, a candelabra blazing with light held above his head. Elizabeth realized she was in a small circular space that contained little more than a chair and a card table. At least five doors opened off the space, and all of them were closed, which at least accounted for the silence.

“The guest waits here until someone asks him or her what they desire,” Ambrose said.

“And how does anyone know a guest is here?”

“When the main door is opened, a bell rings in Christian’s office and in the kitchen. There is another entrance into this room directly off the back stairs.”

Elizabeth examined the walls and frowned as her fingertips encountered a thick layer of dust on the wainscoting. “It definitely needs to be cleaned and at least painted.”

“I agree.” Ambrose opened the nearest door and angled the light through the doorway. “I suspect all the rooms need to be redone as well.”

Elizabeth looked past Ambrose. There was nothing of interest in this particular room except a bed, which was not even made up.

“The rooms vary in size. They are all quite plainly decorated, as we tend to bring the necessary props from other rooms in the pleasure house.”

“Because you never know what someone will ask for.” Elizabeth nodded and walked back toward the door. “Well, we should definitely tell Mr. Delornay about the state of the place. I believe he wishes to start using these rooms as quickly as possible.”

“So I understand.”

Ambrose blew out the candles and followed Elizabeth out into the main hallway. “Are you still willing to play your part in the sexual games?”

“Of course I am.” Elizabeth forced a laugh. Why would Ambrose suddenly ask her that? Surely Christian would not have mentioned to Ambrose what happened between them?

He paused to look down at her. “I only ask because some people would be reluctant to touch a man of color.”

Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and kissed him deliberately on the mouth. “Obviously, I am not one of them.”

He kissed her back, his lips firm and warm. “Thank you.”

She cupped his cheek in a brief caress before continuing on down the stairs, still chatting about the necessary improvements. She proceeded into the kitchen and found Christian ensconced at the table drinking coffee and scowling at the newspaper. Elizabeth gathered her courage and approached him.

“Good morning, Mr. Delornay.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Smith.” He briefly looked up at her before returning his gaze to the newspaper. Elizabeth took a seat at the table and contemplated his averted profile. It was not often that she got a chance to observe him. He was usually far too aware of her and she of him.

Ambrose poured some coffee for Elizabeth and himself and took up position beside her. “Mr. Delornay, the room of desires needs to be painted, dusted, and cleaned.”

“See to it, then. I don’t want to leave those rooms idle for much longer.”

“I will, sir.”

Christian suddenly looked up, his gaze directly on Elizabeth. “Perhaps Mrs. Smith might advise you about the choice of color and furnishings. Expense is no object.”

For a moment Elizabeth pondered the idea of double-crossing Mr. Delornay by claiming huge expenses while stealing the money for herself. Unfortunately, she suspected he was an excellent bookkeeper and would spot any discrepancies immediately.

“Mrs. Smith, there is a very calculating look in your eyes.”

Elizabeth tried not to look guilty. “Only because you said no expense spared. Every woman dreams of those words.”

“And every man,” added Ambrose, making Elizabeth laugh out loud.

Christian studied them both and then smiled. “It is nice to see you laughing, Mrs. Smith.” He stood up and held out his hand. “May I speak to you in my office?”

Elizabeth followed him out, her stomach filled with dread. Despite his words in front of Ambrose, was Christian planning to dismiss her after all?

She took a seat by the fire and he joined her, his expression pensive.

“I wanted to make sure that you still wish to participate in the sexual games we will be playing in the room of desire.”

Elizabeth smiled brightly. She was becoming quite tired of answering this particular question. Did all the men at the pleasure house think she was so fragile? “Of course I will, Mr. Delornay. Why ever would you doubt me?”

He studied her, his hazel eyes skeptical. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Do you think that just because I can’t climax I can’t enjoy sex?” Elizabeth asked, a deliberate challenge in her voice.

“Well I wouldn’t enjoy sex if I couldn’t come.”

Elizabeth looked down at her hands and realized she was twisting her fingers together into a knot. “You are the only man who has ever noticed that I fail to climax. I can assure you that no one else will ever know I’m not enjoying myself
immensely
.”

He frowned and she kept speaking. “Mr. Delornay, I need this job and I need the money. Please don’t let your soft heart deprive you of my excellent services.”

“My soft heart?” He blinked at her. “I’ve never heard myself described thusly before. I am, however, concerned about you.”

“Then, please, don’t be. If you no longer wish to bed me, I understand, but don’t make a poor business decision because of that.”

Christian rose and bowed to her. “I rarely make poor decisions, Mrs. Smith, either in or out of bed. I’ll continue to fuck you, and if you insist that you wish to participate in our sexual activities, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth kept smiling as he went to open the door for her. “You will not regret your decision.”

His expression clouded. “I hope I won’t, Mrs. Smith. You make me feel far too much as it is.”

On that cryptic note, he ushered her out of his office and firmly closed the door behind her. For a long moment, Elizabeth stayed where she was, simply allowing her breathing to calm down. She had to stop baiting Mr. Delornay and concentrate on earning her keep. Eventually she headed up to the second floor, where she was due to meet Marie-Claude. Her feet slowed on the stairs. What had Christian meant about her making him feel too much already? She hadn’t noticed any outpouring of emotion on his part. All the excessive sentiments had been hers.

Marie-Claude awaited her in the smallest salon, which was closed off to the guests. She was unpacking a large straw-filled crate and beckoned Elizabeth over to view the contents.

“One of our longtime clients, Mr. Peter Howard, has a friend, Mr. Fan, who resides in Southampton and imports interesting artifacts from the Orient. When Mr. Howard is in Southampton, he always visits Mr. Fan and sends a couple of boxes of unusual items for us to use at the pleasure house.”

Elizabeth peered doubtfully at the newspaper-wrapped package. “Unusual in what way?”

Marie-Claude removed the paper to reveal a jade phallus. “The kind of things that most Christian civilizations would consider sinful.”

Elizabeth stared at the intricately carved dildo. “Oh.”

She settled beside Marie-Claude and began to unwrap one of the packages and found another shorter carved phallus, this time in red stone. As she worked, Elizabeth tried to gather the courage to ask Marie-Claude a question, but years of not confiding in anyone were harder to overcome than she had imagined.

After a while, Marie-Claude glanced up at her. “Is there something wrong? You seem a little quiet. Mr. Delornay is not being his usually impossible self, is he?”

“Mr. Delornay is”—Elizabeth sighed—“being remarkably understanding.”

“Now that is something to ponder.” Marie-Claude chuckled. “I would be worried too.”

Elizabeth looked into Marie-Claude’s warm brown eyes. “There is something I would like to ask you.”

“Ask me anything you like about that man. I’ve known him since he arrived here as a sulky, disruptive eighteen-year-old hell-bent on disapproving of everything his mother had created here.”

It was tempting to allow Marie-Claude to change the direction of the conversation, but Elizabeth had a sense that if she didn’t continue, she’d never find the courage again.

“It’s not actually about Mr. Delornay. It’s about me.”

Marie-Claude took her hand and patted it. “Are you breeding?”

“No, thank God,” Elizabeth said. “It’s something far more personal. I don’t even know if I can explain it to you. I feel so unnatural.”

Marie-Claude squeezed her fingers hard. “Elizabeth, I am almost forty years of age, and I have worked here for half my life. I truly believe that apart from Madame Helene, I have seen more people fucking in more peculiar ways than almost any other woman on Earth. You can tell me anything and I doubt I will be shocked.”

Elizabeth stared down at their clasped hands and took a deep breath. “I can’t climax anymore.”

“Have you ever been able to?”

“When I was first married I could.”

“Why did you stop, then?”

“I stopped because I didn’t want to climax for the other men my husband introduced into my bed.”

“Ah.”

“I learned how to pretend. It amused me to see them imagine themselves to be such great lovers.”

“And I assume Mr. Delornay wasn’t fooled.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Do you want to climax for him?”

Elizabeth thought about that. “No, I want to do it for myself.”

Marie-Claude laughed and patted her hand. “That is the answer I was hoping for. There are many ways to help you. In fact, I have one just here.”