Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3)

by Victoria Vale

  Now he really was amused. Leaning against the back of a sofa, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed her. He’d never seen her in such a state, magnificent in her anger. She was all vengeance and rage, looking as if she would strike the other woman down with nothing more than a glare if she were able.

  “Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you might have noticed that I’ve done nothing to encourage her. But if my attentions as your courtesan have been lacking, I am more than happy to remedy that.”

  She went still, jaw dropping and brow furrowing as if she’d just come to a realization. “Oh, my God. I didn’t realize it until just now, but it makes perfect sense. Lady Thrush … the two of you … she was your …”

  “My keeper, yes … years ago. There is no need to be jealous, Callie. It’s you I want, not her.”

  “Is that supposed to be some sort of compliment? Do you suppose that means anything coming from a man like you?”

  “What kind of man is that, exactly?”

  A pained expression marred her features, making him want to kiss it away. “One who revels in giving away his attentions as easily as he does his smiles. One who would find his way into any woman’s bed for the right price, but who would have me believe he somehow sees me as different than all the rest!”

  She’d ambled closer during her tirade, near enough for him to yank her closer. She fell into him as he pressed her hand flat against his chest and held it there, forcing her to feel the rapid beat of his heart, the yearning vibrations that had rattled him to his very soul.

  “My body might have been for sale, but it is the only part of myself I ever gave to any of them. Surely that isn’t so difficult for you to understand, hating me as much as you do, yet still finding it in yourself to feel lust for me.”

  Her shoulders slumped and the fight went out of her as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, holding her close.

  “I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “Most times, I think I even like you. But, I …”

  She tipped her head back to look at him. He intertwined their fingers and brought their joined hands up to his lips. She sighed when his mouth brushed her knuckles, eyes growing heavy-lidded as her resistance began to wane.

  “I’ve never felt this way. I’ve lived the way I do because no one ever made me believe I could be any better. But you’ve made me want to be, if for no other reason than the need to be worthy of even a shred of your affection. This isn’t about lust, Callie. If it was, I could have found some way to move on. I could have found someone else to satisfy my baser needs. But, what I feel for you isn’t so base or simple that it could ever be compared to the cheap, meaningless transactions I have conducted with others.”

  Her fingers tightened around his and tears filled her eyes, bringing amber and honeyed tones alive in the deep prisms of brown. Chin trembling and chest heaving, she lowered her gaze as if afraid to go on looking at him.

  “I want to believe you,” she murmured, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. “I want to let myself feel all the things I’ve been fighting since the moment I met you, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You have no idea what it would cost me to give in only to find out that none of it was real. I’ve felt that pain far too many times, and I cannot bear it again.”

  “So, you would rather choose the safer man.”

  “Don’t you dare judge me for wanting to feel secure. Martin may not be the most romantic man, he may not make me feel the things you do, but he and I want the same things. If I choose him, I’ll have a respectable life, and children—a family! If I choose him, I know how this will end, and I don’t have to be afraid.”

  Dominick frowned, watching as another tear escaped the corner of her eye, then another. “Are you afraid of me, Callie?”

  She let out a choked sound, a sob she had tried to stifle but failed. “I am terrified of you, of this. I told myself I would be practical, that it was useless to let myself think I could have love and passion and … and I thought I no longer wanted it. I’m not a girl anymore. The other men who made me feel as if I wasn’t worth the honor of their names or titles meant little to me. I could carry on once the initial shock and anger of it had passed. But you … you would destroy me, and I cannot risk that.”

  Dominick’s chest ached at the pain he heard in her voice and the truth of it all radiating from her gaze. It made him want to hunt down every man who had ever tried to use and discard her and make them pay. It made him want to do whatever it took to make her forget about them all. Only, he knew all-too well how such disappointment could leave a lasting impression. He’d never been jilted in a romantic sense, but he had opened himself to the possibility of doing and being something more, only to have door after door slammed in his face. He knew what it was to give up because everyone around him had made it clear they didn’t believe his efforts would ever amount to anything.

  He strummed his knuckles along her cheek, finding more tears. “I’m afraid too. Do you know how difficult it is for me to tell you how I feel, knowing I stand no chance against Lewes, knowing I may never be good enough for you but still wanting to be? But, I’m here and I refuse to pretend watching you marry him will not tear me apart. I understand your fear, but I need you to understand that you don’t have to feel that fear alone.”

  She trembled in his hold, but did not pull away when he rested his hand lightly on the back of her neck, urging her closer. She closed her eyes and another tear fell, but the tension left her body as she sank into him.

  He pressed his lips to her with the barest of pressure, and her mouth opened beneath the touch of his, a soft, desperate mewl escaping when his tongue sought hers.

  “Shh … it’s all right,” he whispered, kissing her nose, her brow, then her mouth again, surging deeper this time. “I just want … just let me, Callie … let me show you how badly I want you. God, how I want you.”

  Her forehead pressed against his as she leaned in, but reticence still stiffened her spine. “We can’t … I have to think of my future. If we do something we cannot take back—”

  “I promise you, we won’t. Can you trust me with that much at least?”

  Eyes squeezing shut, she nodded her acquiescence. He fell on her, freed by her tentative surrender. He didn’t care that she might be missed, or even that someone might realize they’d both gone missing at the same time. Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms, clinging to his shoulders as he lifted her off her feet, carrying her to the nearest piece of furniture.

  The settee was plush and soft at his back, Calliope a pleasant weight across his thighs. She stiffened when he spread her legs on either side of his, hitching her skirts up past her knees. But, he went on kissing her, soothing her with nonsensical murmurs meant to reassure her. He stroked up her legs, past the edges of her stockings and garters, his palms skimming soft, bare skin.

  “Stop thinking,” he urged, nuzzling at her bodice as his hands left her thighs and traveled up her rigid back, flicking buttons loose along the way. “Just this once, just for now, let go and simply feel.”

  She met his gentle command with wordless submission, accepting the kisses he trailed down her neck. Her bodice sagged, her stays loosening as he pulled at the laces. His hands shook as he reached up to peel the layers down, just far enough to uncover the flesh he longed to see, taste, and touch—but not enough that he’d be tempted to undress her completely. There was no time for that, but he would accept what he could have of her for now.

  He groaned as her breasts fell free of her chemise, high and firm and tipped in the richest shade of dark brown. Unable to help himself, he latched onto one without preamble—no tentative touch or soothing licks to ease her in. It was too much, her straddling him, half-undressed, and finally his for the taking. She issued a strangled cry as he suckled and flicked at her nipple with his tongue, her hips pressing tighter against his with the arch of her back. He couldn’t help but watch her as he feasted on first one breast, t
hen the other, hypnotized by the graceful arch of her neck and sumptuous display of her parted lips. She gasped and panted her pleasure, the sounds heavy with shock and awe.

  Cupping the soft mounds, he pressed them upward, his busy tongue laving across both at once, back and forth, circling and teasing. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she held him to her, watching him as if hypnotized by the sight of his face buried in the plush offering of her bosom. He lightly pinched the tips between thumbs and forefingers, delighting in her startled gasp, followed by a powerful shudder and a helpless whimper. He did it again, a little harder this time, and soaked in the shrill sound she made, so wild and wanton.

  “Yes,” he crooned, cupping her face and smoothing his thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. “That’s it, love. Let me pleasure you.”

  “Yes, Nick,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please.”

  He accepted her fiery kiss, sitting up to let her help him peel his coat away and toss it aside. Then, he was lifting her, turning her so she lay across the settee, gown and underpinnings fallen to trap her arms at her sides, skirts pushed to her hips. She seemed heedless to her indecent state, her eyes unfocused and glazed as he settled over her, gripping one knee to hitch it upward and open her.

  “Nick!” she exclaimed when he pushed her skirts higher, baring her below the waist.

  She had gone rigid beneath him, eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment … but he lost his hold on coherent thought the moment his gaze lowered to the black, silken thatch between her legs and the glimpse of pink flesh glistening with her arousal. His cock throbbed with agonizing insistence, his mouth watering at the heady scent of her.

  Calliope writhed beneath him, trying to close her legs but finding the way impeded by his body wedged between them. He palmed her thighs, pressing his thumbs against the taut tendons stroking as he met her gaze.

  “There is no shame in this, goddess,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the dainty point of her chin. “Don’t hide yourself from me. Yes, that’s good … relax.”

  Her thighs eased open as he went on kneading and stroking, working his slow way up. He stopped short of touching her, his hands braced just on the edges of her lower lips, his thumb hovering over the swollen protrusion of her clit.

  She bit her lip, breasts heaving as she held her breath in anticipation, thighs quivering. He licked her nipple, holding her gaze as he let his thumb whisper ever so lightly over her swollen nub, drawing a soft gasp from between her lips.

  “Do you want me to touch you here, stroke you and tease you until you spend?”

  Her head jerked in a nod, but it wasn’t enough for Nick. As badly as he wanted this, he had to be sure she wanted it, too.

  “Say it, love,” he urged, his thumb whispering down her slit and circling the taut opening. “Tell me you want me to play with this pretty cunny.”

  Her eyes widened as if his words shocked her, but he saw the glint of primal longing in the depths, the spark of something in her that responded to his wickedness. It made him want to push her, peel back her layers to explore the parts of her yet to be discovered and expose them to the light of day. It made him want to debauch her until she was as wicked as he.

  “I’m waiting,” he taunted, pressing against her clit and making her eyes roll back into her head. “‘Touch me, Nick,’” he prompted.

  Her legs spread wider, hips raising in invitation as she repeated, “Touch me, Nick.”

  He pressed harder against her pulsing nub, dragging his thumb in slow circles. The feel of her struck him dumb for a moment, and he could do nothing but let himself experience her, soft as satin and slick, her silken curls tickling his knuckles. His fingers brushed against her folds, coming away wet with her juices.

  “Look at you. So wet for me already and I’ve barely even touched you.”

  She hissed from between clenched teeth, tiny squeaks and whimpers escaping despite her best efforts at holding them in. He found a rhythm she seemed to like, her hips undulating in time with his circling strokes, her entire body drawing taut, primed for release. He slipped a finger inside her, the silken grip enough to drive him mad. He needed relief, to take the edge off his all-consuming desire. Driving balls-deep into her wasn’t his aim—not while she was still half-dressed, and he would be forced to rush their coupling. When he finally took her, it wouldn’t be done under duress; he would take his time and worship her properly before finding his way inside her.

  But, he couldn’t stop himself from tearing at his fall as he went on stroking her, his first finger slowly plunging and retreating as his thumb pressed and circled. She raised her head to watch as his cock fell free, mouth dropping open as the thick organ fell into his palm, aching and iron hard.

  “Look what you’ve done to me,” he rasped, stroking along his shaft and smearing the drops of his own wetness over the head. “I’ve been walking around like this for weeks, burning for you, needing you, wanting only you.”

  He stroked faster, matching the pump of his fist around his cock to the surges of his finger inside her. He curled his finger, finding the spongy area hidden within her inner walls and stimulating it in tandem with her clit. She clapped her own hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, hips bowing up off the settee as she splintered. Her sheath clenched around him, her body shaking and arching beneath him as she gave herself over to her crisis.

  Nick’s forehead broke out in a sweat as he stroked her through her climax, still steadily frigging himself in his haste to join her. She went limp beneath him, her breaths sharp and unsteady, legs quivering. Her gaze slid down to his cock, clutched in his tight grip, the head furiously red and slick with moisture. Slipping his finger free, he brought it into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her.

  Her shy stare met his, and she reached tentatively toward him. He slowed, anticipating of the moment she would touch him, certain he would spend then and there. She wavered, biting her lip as if uncertain, so he took hold of her hand and urged her on, wrapping her slender fingers around his shaft.

  “Yes, Callie. Touch me … fuck, that feels good. Stroke me ... yes, just like that.”

  She followed his lead as he wrapped his fingers around hers, showing her what to do, guiding her up to his tip and then down to his base. His vision blurred, the world around him fading away and his entire existence narrowing to the feel of her soft hand.

  He situated his fingers beneath hers once confident she’d found the way of it, hips thrusting into the sheath made by their joined grip. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her close as his forehead pressed against hers, their gazes locking. It was easy to imagine being inside her this way, the wet clench of her sheath compressing around his cock.

  Her touch on his face was his undoing, sweet and soft as it ran along his jaw, her gaze filled with such tenderness and affection—two things no woman before her had ever shown him. It freed him to fall atop her, hips jerking as climax overtook him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, muffling his low groans as his seed left his cock in body-jerking spurts. Her arm came around him, her hand firm at his back as if she understood the need for her solid presence as he came completely undone.

  His limbs became heavy and ungainly as he did his best to keep from crushing her with his weight. He was suddenly exhausted as well as sated, as if he’d run a long distance, chasing after something unattainable, and now that he’d finally caught it, he could rest. But, only for now. There was still so much to be done, so many things he wanted to say. It would have to wait, because just now all he could do was lie there and rejoice in the knowledge that Calliope wasn’t out of his reach. He had succeeded in tearing through her defenses, at least temporarily. He knew it could be done, and he didn’t intend to let up until he had won.

  When he felt adequate strength had returned to his limbs, he lifted himself off her.

  Her face portrayed an array of emotions—confusion, awe, shock, satisfaction. Her hair was a riot of coils fighting to be free of its pins, her dark ey
es glistening, lips parted. She looked so delectable and disheveled that he nearly lost hold of his determination not to finish what they’d started. They needed more time—not just so it could be done properly, so that they could talk over all the things that had gone unsaid.

  Finding the glistening streams of his seed staining her lower belly, he grimaced and fumbled about for his discarded coat, rummaging in the breast pocket for his handkerchief.

  “It isn’t always so messy,” he said with a chuckle, offering her the linen square.

  She used it to clean herself, then folded it and handed it back to him with a shy smile. “Oh, well that doesn’t sound very promising. I don’t quite mind the mess if the making of it is to be so … so wonderful.”

  He paused in the middle of buttoning his fall, both surprised and relieved to hear that. He had expected her to withdraw, erecting her walls and shutting him out. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked completely at ease, her eyes open and clear, her lips curving into the sweetest, softest of smiles.

  “Have I shocked you?”

  Shaking his head, he tucked his shirt in and adjusted his waistcoat, then made sure his cravat was more or less presentable.

  “I worried that you might be ashamed or confused. There is still much for us to discuss, goddess … though we haven’t time just now. You are certainly missed, and while it is my aim to win you, I would never want to force your hand with a scandal. Not on purpose.”

  She allowed him to help her sit up, pushing her skirts down as he turned her to begin tightening the laces of her stays.

  “Dominick …”

  “Hmm?” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss her neck.

  “Thank you.”

  He chuckled, planting another kiss on her shoulder before resuming his role as lady’s maid. “I don’t think I’ve ever been thanked for curling a woman’s toes, but I think I like it. Say it again.”

  She turned abruptly to face him, her gaze intent and her voice thick with emotion when she spoke. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t think you understand what you’ve done. It wasn’t just about the pleasure. It was … the most wondrous thing I’ve ever felt. Is it always like this?”