Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  “This contract is respite from the many aspects of my life I do not enjoy,” she whispered, clasping her hands. “I won’t give it up. But I cannot be foolish, either. And kisses in public are exceedingly foolish, even if we are in a tent. We must restrict intimacies to the cottage.”

  “Agreed,” he said, nodding.

  Ada smoothed the white apron covering her bronze-striped gown. Then she smiled a little. “I do hope our next tryst will be very, very soon, though. The last few days have seemed endless compared to those hours at the cottage, which flew by.”

  I feel exactly the same way.

  “Your decision,” Jasper said instead. “My schedule is a lot more flexible.”

  “Today?” she replied, those big brown eyes widening hopefully. “I just remembered, Father is meeting a possible new curate this afternoon, so won’t want me around for their discussion. He believes spiritual matters are too complex for women to understand.”

  Jasper snorted. “His loss is my gain. I’ll wait for you with great anticipation at the cottage. Oh, and by the by, I have sourced those items you wished to try.”

  Ada sucked in a breath. “All of them?”

  “Each and every one.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she replied in a hushed tone, as she waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. “I cannot wait. Gracious me, this is exciting.”

  “Then I’ll take my leave,” he said, turning to glance out through the tent flap. “Ah, bloody hell.”

  “What? Is Father returning?”

  Jasper scowled. “That might be preferable. Have you heard of the Cheltenham Pigeon Appreciation Society?”

  “Yes, but I’m no pigeon admirer. I know many like the bill and coo, but they are not the ones who have to scrub bird business from steps and windows.”

  “Quite. Well, it is the lifelong quest of these bacon-brains to see pigeons properly recognized for discovering the Royal Well. I’m sure all British heroes wish it were as easy as pecking at salt crystals to receive a large bronze statue in the town square.”

  “How large?” asked Ada, her eyes glinting. “Three or four feet?”

  “Ten.”

  She burst into giggles, her shoulders shaking with merriment. “Oh…oh my.”

  He’d always thought Ada a beauty, but never more so than when she laughed. For it wasn’t a society titter like he heard in London, but a full body activity. Her curls bounced, her breasts jiggled, her feet tapped, and fine lines appeared at her eyes, reminding him that she wasn’t a young miss, but a mature woman.

  “Miss Blair,” he said mock-sternly, “this is not a laughing matter. Especially when they want me to pay for it.”

  “Do not fret, Your Grace,” she said, moving to stand in the doorway of the tent while waving an invisible sword. “I shall protect you and your money purse from the clutches of the terrible pigeon people.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, you may thank me later. Most thoroughly...hmmm, I think they’ve gone. Best you go start dusting,” Ada finished mischievously.

  Jasper stared at her for the longest moment, tempted beyond measure to kiss her again. Or something even more foolish, like take her in his arms and hold her tightly so he might imprint himself upon her, a warning to others that they must keep their distance and not even think of hurting her.

  Which meant he absolutely had to leave at once.

  “Until later,” he said, inclining his head as he ducked through the tent flap and walked out to the stall. Miss Lacey was serving two musicians a glass of lemonade, but wiggled her fingers in farewell, and he sketched a bow in return.

  Over to the right he could see Reverend Blair lecturing the unfortunate group of cheroot-smoking lads, but Jasper managed to catch Miss Kinloch’s eye and nod. Then he turned left and walked back down the High Street, making purchases as he went: lemon drops for his housekeeper, and a pair of elegant silver thimbles for Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch as a token of his appreciation.

  Should he buy something for Ada? In the past he’d bought gifts for his mistresses, so it was hardly out of character. Besides, this would be more like…a gift between friends. Yes, just a man buying his friend a gift. Of course, it didn’t mean anything more than that. Although any gift would have to be small so it could be hidden from her father. Nothing too intimate, easily explained away if discovered.

  “Will you buy some flowers, sir? Fresh from the garden.”

  He paused and looked at the young Black woman sitting on a plaid rug spread with colorful blooms and green herbs in buckets of water, and also a collection of pretty satin drawstring pouches containing dried herbs that could be hung in rooms, or stored in chests.

  Inspiration struck.

  “Those herb pouches there,” Jasper said slowly. “This might sound like the strangest question in the world, but I don’t suppose you have one that offers, er, protection? I have a friend who greatly admires Mrs. Radcliffe and enjoys exploring old buildings but, ah…”

  The woman nodded. “But doesn’t actually want to meet a ghost? I recommend dill for your friend, sir. Long believed to assist in protection, prosperity, and good fortune. The pouches are hand sewn and only a shilling each.”

  He almost smiled as he opened his money purse and retrieved a coin. “I’ll take one.”

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him a blue satin pouch about half the size of his palm, and he sniffed appreciatively at the strong, tangy aroma of the herb. Even the haunted privy closet would be no match for this little weapon.

  Dangling the pouch from his fingers, Jasper marched on. While he paused to admire a pen of fat cattle, and agreed with several farmers that this year’s herds were perhaps the finest in a generation, he was eager to return to his carriage and depart for the cottage.

  Like all good dukes, he had cleaning to do.

  Chapter Five

  Ada hated running. Her breasts and backside bounced, her knees and ankles hurt, she wheezed and puffed, and her face resembled a pink pincushion. But for an afternoon in bed with Jasper—and accessories—she would sprint the length of the county.

  Her father hadn’t even blinked when she’d told him she was going to Ruth and Martha’s for afternoon tea; he was too intent on counting the funds raised from the stall and preparing for the meeting with this potential new curate. As he was offering a pittance for the position, it was easy to see why there were so few applicants. The man would have to be from a well-to-do family, and there were very few society pleasures to be had in Charlton Kings even if the scenery was beautiful.

  But that was her father’s problem. She had much nicer things to contemplate.

  Glancing both ways to ensure she wouldn’t be run down by a carriage or cart, Ada swiftly crossed the London road that bordered Gilroy Park, and climbed over the stile cleverly hidden in the trees surrounding the old gamekeeper’s cottage. For no other reason but vanity she paused on the doorstep to catch her breath, smooth her gown, and remove her bonnet.

  When she raised a hand to knock, the door swung open.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Blair,” said Jasper, his hot gaze devouring her.

  Ada’s pussy clenched and she whimpered, so overcome it was difficult to move. “Jasper…”

  As though he understood, one strong arm curled about her waist and hauled her inside the cottage, while the other slammed the door shut and latched it. Soon she was pressed against the heavy wood as he crushed her lips with his.

  Oh. She’d had a taste earlier in the tent, but this was so much better. Now she could moan and cry out, now she could beg to be pleasured and discover even more new sensual delights with her experienced lover.

  “Tell me what you need,” Jasper said, as he nipped her shoulder. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

  Ada wound her arms around his neck and shamelessly ground herself against him. “I can’t wait. I can’t.”

  He rucked up her gown and slid one big hand along her inner thigh until it cupped her mo
und. When he discovered her wetness, his satisfied growl reverberated to her very soul, but he tormented her pussy with butterfly-light caresses before finally sinking two fingers inside her.

  “Poor sweetheart,” he murmured. “That hot cunt all wet and aching…you need to come very badly, don’t you?”

  Ada moaned as he lazily swirled his fingers while teasing her throbbing clitoris with his thumb. “Please, Jasper. Please.”

  He began to pump them, penetrating her deeply, and the orgasm hit with the power of a spring tide: brutal and overwhelming. Her wild cry echoed in the kitchen, and if it weren’t for the solid door behind her, she would have ended up a puddle on the floor.

  “Better?” he asked softly.

  Still trembling, Ada rested her head against the wood, panting for air. But eventually she managed to blink pleasure-dazed eyes at him. “Compared to nearly everything, yes. But what about you?”

  “I have high hopes you might take pity on me and return the favor. After payment, naturally.”

  Return the favor? He would let her touch his cock? Huzzah!

  She wriggled until he set her feet back on the ground. “Come along, then. The daybed is more comfortable than the door. Your shilling is in my reticule.”

  Jasper took his coin and followed her into the bedchamber. Once again, he’d made up the bed with those wonderfully smooth and cool linen sheets. It was such a kind gesture. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter to others, but it was so lovely to have a bed she didn’t have to make. Ada gestured to her gown, and he swiftly removed it and the rest of her clothing until every garment lay in a neat pile on the small side table.

  But Ada didn’t get into bed. Instead, she perused him, hands on hips. “You were my lady’s maid, now I should like to be your valet.”

  Jasper nodded. “Very well.”

  Mimicking what he’d often done to her, she took her time removing each item of clothing while stroking and caressing him. First his jacket, waistcoat, and linen shirt, then she knelt to tug off his boots and stockings. Ada perched on the side of the daybed to attend to his trousers, smiling in satisfaction when dancing her fingertips over the bulge of his cock provoked a colorful curse.

  “Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully. “One moment please.”

  “Ada?” he spluttered, as she darted back to the kitchen, but when she returned wearing her spectacles, he relaxed and unbuttoned the fall of his trousers.

  “Thank you for the assistance,” she said with a smile. “I thought since you found my spectacles so fetching, I might wear them while I kiss your cock. You’ve tasted me. I think it only fair I get to taste you.”

  Jasper’s fingers clenched on his thighs, that splendid erection now bobbing against his lower belly. “You may do so.”

  Frowning in concentration, Ada glided her fingertips along his length. She circled the swollen head and cupped his heavy balls, brushing aside the coarse dark hair at his groin. Not that she had any measure of comparison, but he certainly had a beautiful cock. So thick and hard, yet smooth like satin as well. “Do you like this?”

  “I do,” he said hoarsely. “So much.”

  “But you need to come very badly.”

  “Wicked, wicked minx. I’ll remember this later.”

  “Now, Your Grace. No need to unleash the bear,” Ada replied, both hands encircling his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  When her tongue flicked across the purple head, Jasper’s breathing grew more and more ragged. Growing in confidence, she lapped at his length, and as his hips thrust in a tiny, unconstrained movement, she boldly took the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked.

  He groaned, dislodging the pins from her coiffure as his fingers tangled roughly in her hair. “That feels…so damned good.”

  “Mmmm,” she replied, sucking harder, eager to taste his seed as he’d tasted her honey when she’d come on his tongue.

  Jasper groaned again. His cock was enormous in her mouth, but he abruptly pulled out and came on her breasts, his seed releasing in several harsh spurts before he collapsed on the bed beside her.

  Ada blinked in affront.

  No!

  Why hadn’t he spent in her mouth? Had she done something wrong? Was she terribly gauche and untalented compared to his previous lovers?

  Or had he made a decision on her behalf?

  Confused frustration and no small measure of irritation churned within her. But she couldn’t stay quiet and smile like it didn’t matter. She was annoyed, blast it. And he had told her she mustn’t stifle herself.

  Ada turned her head and frowned at her errant lover. “Why did you spill on my breasts and not in my mouth?”

  He stilled, obviously taken aback by the question. “It was your first time. I did not think you would like it in your mouth.”

  “What I like and do not like is for me to decide, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes,” he said hesitantly. “But while I am certainly no expert, I understand the taste is not particularly pleasant. Perhaps not as bad as taking the waters, but certainly not ripe peach juice, either.”

  Ada squared her shoulders. “You are very kind to think of my welfare and shield me from unpleasantness. But I must ask…no, I must insist that I be allowed to learn and experience without interference so that I may decide my own preferences in the bedchamber.”

  Jasper looked so startled she almost apologized. But no. Even small lines in the sand needed to be drawn.

  Would he accept it?

  Lost in the world-tilting, consuming haze of an orgasm, he’d done something unwise. And Ada had scolded him.

  Certainly a rare occurrence for a duke, and yet with Ada he actually felt relieved that she had done so. For as their contract stated, she hadn’t stifled herself or behaved as she did with her father, smiling and pretending all was well when she wanted to hurl him into prickly shrubbery. Even better, she’d been so precise in the manner that he’d blundered that he didn’t have to stumble around or coax the truth from her.

  “You are correct,” he said. “I should have given you the choice. That was badly done.”

  “Yes, it was,” said Ada, glaring at him over her spectacles.

  “I hope you can forgive the lapse in judgment. And I’m glad you said something. Truly. I want our time together to be…happy. Er, I mean beneficial to you. As per the contract.”

  She cleared her throat, her gaze softening. “Well. I am glad you understand my position. One must be stern with wayward employees.”

  Jasper’s lips twitched. “Especially a humble pleasure tutor—”

  “What have we decided about your jests?”

  “I refuse to believe they are that terrible.”

  “I refuse to believe that a body cannot survive on pastries alone, but apparently I am wrong. Now you have two things to atone for. Making a decision on my behalf, and jesting with reckless abandon.”

  Jasper grinned. Ada was so…glorious. A fascinating mix of bold and innocent, proper and blunt. How rare it was to meet someone who could both arouse him and make him laugh. “Perhaps you will allow me to atone with afternoon tea and accessories?”

  She squirmed on the daybed, another quirk that he liked. No coyness or feigned modesty, just open and honest excitement. “What did you bring?”

  “Everything you requested. A blindfold, a quill feather, scented oil, and a charming little jade dildo for your backside.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “I meant what did you bring to eat. I find bedsport gives me quite an appetite.”

  Now he laughed. As someone with an equally large appetite for lust and sweets, that was a sentiment after his own heart. But she looked so damned lush and beautiful sitting there naked on the daybed, it was actually difficult to think of food even after an astonishing orgasm. “I shall fetch the basket like a good employee, rather than a wayward one.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I must warn you though, once fed, I will be thorough in the use of those accessories,” Jasper said over his sho
ulder as he walked to the kitchen.

  When he returned, he unpacked a small leather sack containing the sexual accessories and placed it on the other side table. Next, he poured Ada a glass of wine, and arranged a small feast of bread and butter, apple tarts dusted with sugar and cinnamon, and fresh raspberries on a starched linen napkin. They both ate their fill, but her gaze kept returning to the leather sack.

  “Are you finished?” she blurted, dabbing at herself with the napkin.

  Jasper raised an eyebrow as he popped the last raspberry in his mouth. “One might almost think you were eager to be blindfolded, Miss Blair.”

  “I am. Among other things.”

  Desire scorched through him, and he quickly moved the remains of their afternoon tea and the basket to the floor. Then he retrieved the sack and tipped the contents between them. A black satin blindfold; a quill; a small glass bottle filled with pale golden oil; and a dildo carved of jade with a sturdy gold ring at the end, about the size of his thumb.

  “Before we start,” he said gruffly, wanting to be sure she understood the rules of the game, “I wish to remind you that you may decline or call a halt to any act at any time. This is strictly for pleasure, Ada. Not to cause you anxiety or physical pain.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze warm. “It is reassuring to know you have a care for my well-being. And I will do so if need be. For now I would like to be blindfolded, please. And have the quill feather used on me.”

  “Very well. Lie down.”

  Ada settled her head on the pillow, allowing him to arrange her arms above her head in a rather decadent pose, and also remove her spectacles. Next, he took the satin blindfold and placed it over her eyes, gently lifting her head so he might fasten the ribbon behind it.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Suddenly it seems like everything has a stronger scent. Me. You. This cottage.”

  “Often happens when one sense is suppressed,” he replied. “You may hear things more clearly and be more sensitive to touch as well.”