“Ooooh,” said Ada, stretching like a cat on the soft, smooth sheets. “Please do begin.”
The only thing better than watching her move so sensually was pleasuring her. But he made her wait until she frowned in consternation. When she whimpered, he took the quill feather and brushed the tip across her foot and around her ankle.
Ada sighed and spread her thighs wide, an unspoken invitation to plunder. Ha. She thought he would trail a path up her calf, straight toward her glistening cunt. But today his employer would learn a lesson in patience—the thrill of pleasure repeatedly denied and granted at last.
After flicking the quill tip against her belly button, Jasper teased her with long strokes of the tapered feather on the underside of her right arm. Then he slowly circled the taut pink peak of her left nipple.
“You’re playing with me,” she mumbled, shivering.
“How does it feel?”
“I can’t adequately describe it. Like every hair on my body is raised. And blood is pounding in my veins. I can hear you move on the sheets and the rasp of the quill feather, and I think I know where you are going to touch me next, but it’s always somewhere else. You have full control and I’m helpless. It’s so…so wicked. So delicious.”
As a reward for her frank answer, he glided the feather down to nudge her swollen clitoris.
Ada gasped, her hips lifting from the daybed. “There. Touch me there, Jasper.”
Naturally, he refused, instead skating the feather tip around her knee and eventually returning to her inner thigh, delighting in her hiss of frustration. That was what he wanted to hear. The slow crescendo toward pure need.
“Something the matter?” asked Jasper innocently.
“I thought we agreed not to tease.”
“We did nothing of the sort. I must admit, I’m rather enjoying having you at my mercy. Your skin is flushed pink, your nipples are hard, and your cunt is dripping wet. I’m at a most delectable banquet and unsure which dish to sample first. Perhaps here?”
When Jasper captured her right nipple with his teeth and gently bit it, Ada arched with a ragged moan. But he continued to play havoc with her senses, alternating the tip of the quill feather with kisses to her lips, collarbone, belly, and inner thighs until she writhed on the daybed.
“Let me come,” she begged hoarsely. “Please.”
Benevolent now Ada had surrendered, Jasper parted the hair between her legs and rubbed her clitoris. She shrieked, soaking his fingertips in fragrant honey as she came. Greedy to capture every pulse, every spasm of her orgasm, he cupped her mound and shallowly penetrated her cunt. When he leaned down and kissed her clitoris, forcing her to come a second time, his name echoed in the bedchamber as a wild, broken cry.
Good. Ada knew exactly who she belonged to.
The shockingly possessive thought crashed through his mind like an anvil.
What the bloody hell?
He wasn’t looking for his forever. Ada was a temporary lover, paying him a token shilling each time to be bedded, and at the end of the month they would part ways for good. His existence would remain neat and orderly, exactly as he liked it.
Is that really what you want?
Jasper rubbed a hand across his jaw.
Christ. He didn’t even know anymore.
Each time she thought she knew what pleasure felt like, Jasper proved her wrong.
Still blindfolded and shaking in the aftermath of her orgasms, Ada breathed deeply in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart and order her thoughts. But only two remained in her head: that Jasper was a master in the bedchamber, and that walking away at the end of the month would be nearly impossible.
How would she live without this? Not simply the expertise of a skillful lover, but someone she could be herself with, someone who made her feel beautiful and sensual, witty and clever?
No. She couldn’t think like that. She had to enjoy this day and the others to come until her duke returned to London.
“Ada?” Jasper’s voice was low and soothing. “I’m going to remove the blindfold now.”
After complete darkness the sunlight was harsh, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. “What next?”
He gestured to the remaining items on the bed. “Do you want to try them? Or rest awhile longer?”
Ada didn’t hesitate. “Try them. But…my skin is quite sensitive right now.”
“I suspect your clitoris might be also. Is it?”
Remarkably, the question provoked a faint wash of heat across her cheekbones. Once a vicar’s daughter, always a vicar’s daughter it seemed. “Yes.”
Jasper smiled briefly. “I won’t touch you there. Actually, it will be easier if you turn onto your hands and knees for this.”
“Very well,” she replied, as she rolled onto her stomach and rose on all fours. “Explain…in great detail…what you are going to do.”
When he didn’t reply, Ada knew a moment of dismay. Had Jasper changed his mind? Did he find her backside too big and dimpled, her thighs too thick? But when she peeked over her shoulder, he appeared transfixed by her Renaissance figure, an expression of such lusty appreciation on his face that she couldn’t help a mischievous little wiggle of her hips. Nor could she resist spreading her thighs so he might look upon the wet pussy he’d pleasured.
How perfectly wonderful it was to have a man admiring her body rather than offering suggestions on how to improve it. In truth, such suggestions were annoying. God had fashioned her tall and plump, and while she sometimes felt ungainly next to women who were petite or slender, and shopping could be a disappointing experience, she didn’t feel any urgency to change. Ruth and Martha loved each other as they were, and that was the kind of love she wanted. Something that built up rather than tore down.
Eventually Jasper sighed. “Forgive the silence, I was just admiring the view. You’re so…so lush and soft. It is very appealing.”
Ada wiggled her bottom again. “Feel free to add some hardness to the equation.”
He laughed as he trailed his fingers across her skin and delved between the full globes to lightly caress her back entrance, causing her to shiver in anticipation. “Minx.”
“Indeed,” she replied. “Now, please tell me in great detail what you are about to do.”
“Hmmm. I’m going to take the oil, coat my finger to help ease the way, and penetrate you here. Next, I’ll slide the dildo in and fuck your backside with it. That might be enough to make you come. If not, and you beg me prettily enough, I’ll use my fingers in your cunt, or perhaps my cock. Your choice, Ada. Dildo alone, dildo and fingers, or dildo and cock.”
Ada’s hands clenched on the sheets, and she closed her eyes briefly against a powerful wave of arousal. “I want that. Hurry. Please hurry.”
Curious at how he would prepare, she peered over her shoulder and watched Jasper uncork the oil bottle and warm some of the golden liquid in his palms before coating his index finger. He circled her tight hole, once, twice. Last of all, he slowly and carefully pushed the tip of his finger inside. In. Out. In. Out.
Ada gasped at the unusual sensation, her confused body both welcoming and rejecting the invader. The stretch burned a little as he pressed on, but the resulting throb in her pussy had her lifting her backside, trying to encourage him even deeper.
“How is that?” he murmured.
“It is very odd. I never thought being penetrated there would feel so good. Can you put the dildo in? I should like to compare it to your finger.”
First dipping the jade dildo in oil, Jasper then hooked his finger through the gold ring and began pushing it into her backside. How different it was! So smooth and cool and unrelenting. Ada groaned at the feeling of fullness as her inner walls seemed to melt around the object, her hips circling as her mind debated whether it was too much or not nearly enough. At the same time, her pussy ached, furious at being neglected.
“Talk to me,” he said sternly. “Are you comfortable? Does it hurt?”
Ada pan
ted, her forehead resting on the pillow. After the sweet torment of the feather and two shockingly intense releases, wanting another so desperately was hard to fathom. But her entire body clamored for relief, reduced to one critical need. Not air, not food, not shelter, but to orgasm. “Jasper…I need to come…”
“I’ll make you scream with pleasure, sweetheart,” he said gruffly, stroking her back. “But you must choose: the dildo inside or out, if you want my fingers or cock.”
“Inside. And cock. Hard, I need it hard. So deep that we are one…oh!”
Good gracious.
From behind his cock seemed even longer and thicker than usual. The jade dildo was an unyielding presence in her backside, the two held apart by the thinnest wall of flesh. Each time he moved her pussy gripped him tighter, and the friction, the heady pressure of the double penetration, was utterly overwhelming.
Ada whimpered, balancing on a knife edge of pain and pleasure. A cataclysmic orgasm beckoned, and she bucked against Jasper, encouraging him to fuck her properly. When at last he curled an arm around her waist and cupped her left breast as he thrust and withdrew, she moaned in relief. All she could feel was the heat of his body around her. All she could hear was a lusty symphony of flesh slapping flesh, the rasp of knees on sheets, wet pussy welcoming hard cock, and their mingled gasps of delight.
“Who do you need?” he gritted out, as he took her brutally hard. “Who is the only man who makes you come?”
“You,” she sobbed. “Jasper. I love it. I love you…”
OH NO.
Even in her passionate delirium she couldn’t believe the words that had escaped, and worse, he’d heard them. The infinitesimal pause in his thrusts confirmed that. But just as quickly he resumed, holding her tighter and nipping her shoulder. In seconds she tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, her guttural cries of pleasure blending with his low roar as he withdrew to come on the small of her back, the harsh spurts of his hot seed lashing her sensitive skin.
They both collapsed onto the daybed. It might have been minutes or hours later, but eventually Jasper fetched a damp cloth to give them both a hasty sponge bath. However, he didn’t address her words, and she was torn between pique and pure relief. That particular conversation could possibly end their contract. When he’d said not to stifle herself it certainly wasn’t in regard to love, and to blurt it out like a passion-addled twit was quite beyond reason.
Determined he should forget her blunder, Ada smiled and chatted about inconsequential topics. Jasper laughed and jested in return, yet she couldn’t help noticing that hint of distance creeping back between them.
Fool!
If intemperate words brought the most wonderful experience of her life to a premature end, she would never forgive herself.
Chapter Six
In a series of exceedingly odd decisions, attending St. Mary’s in Charlton Kings for the sole purpose of talking to Ada was probably the oddest. And the most hazardous to his peace of mind.
An Ernest Blair service could only be described as loud. And rather frightening.
From his secluded position at the very back of the church, Jasper winced as the vicar’s booming voice bounced around the cool limestone walls, high carved arches, and stone slat roof, and viciously attacked the few hundred souls tightly packed inside. While Reverend Blair stood behind the raised pulpit, he never remained still. From one moment to the next he tossed his head, thumped his fist, and gesticulated wildly, causing his black cassock to swirl menacingly about. Not once did he speak of love or kindness or grace unto others.
How on earth had Ada survived thirty years of this? The relentless judgment and correction? No wonder she’d sought a lover for respite and pleasure.
While Jasper remained more than happy to provide that, the gamekeeper’s cottage now housed a second troubled specter: the conversation Ada was steadfastly avoiding. He’d tried broaching the topic of her love declaration on several occasions in the past week; each time she very successfully distracted him with her naked curves. And her spectacles.
He had the fortitude of syllabub when she wielded either.
But they needed to discuss the matter. Ada was stifling herself; and in truth everything he thought he believed, the opinions he’d long held on tender sentiment and finding forever love, were becoming unusually…disorderly. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t yet given her the satin dill pouch. It never seemed to be quite the right time, and the damned thing spent half its days hidden in his satchel, and the rest sitting forlornly on the side table in his bedchamber.
Jasper grimaced. He should have brought the pouch today. Forget protection from ghosts, protection from tempests of hellfire and brimstone masquerading as a vicar was a far more pressing concern.
Three hours later, after confession, psalms, readings from the Old and New Testament, the reciting of the Apostle’s Creed, and a sermon on the sins of vanity and pride, it was finally over. Standing up and discreetly stretching his numb backside, Jasper watched parishioners practically sprint for the double doors. The adults congregated outside on the lawn to talk while their children dashed about the neatly-tended gravestones nearby, all thrilled to have left the cool church and unpleasant smell of tallow candles behind. Ada was the last to leave, as she’d been dutifully sitting in the front row with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch.
“Miss Blair,” Jasper said softly, as she walked past him.
The two older ladies smiled conspiratorially and continued through the door. Ada halted, her cheeks going pink. “Your Grace! What…what brings you to St. Mary’s?”
He glanced to his left, relieved to see the vicar was presently occupied talking to a group of elderly men. “If you recall, I was chastised for attending church in my own parish, rather than the one adjoining. Never let it be said I do not welcome a new experience.”
“It is an experience for everyone,” she replied wryly. “As you lasted the full three hours, I hereby declare you to be stout of heart.”
“I shall have new calling cards made. But I had to see you,” he murmured. “Outside the cottage.”
Her blush deepened. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Ada sighed and her shoulders sagged a little. “Those three words.”
I love you.
Jasper nodded, fighting the urge to take both her hands and rub his thumbs across her knuckles to warm them. In this public place, they must be seen as nothing more than distant acquaintances politely conversing about the weather or other trivial topic.
“When can we discuss?” he asked. “I think we both know we need to.”
“Not here,” Ada said quickly, glancing again at her father, who was now talking to a young farmer and his heavily pregnant wife. “I am going to take the waters with Ruth and Martha tomorrow morning. It is our annual pilgrimage to the Royal Well. Perhaps you could accidentally bump into us there?”
“As long as I’m not expected to participate,” he said with a small shudder.
Ada sniffed. “Taking the waters is good for the soul. Cleansing. One small tumbler in exchange for my continued assistance in thwarting the terrible pigeon people.”
“Miss Blair. Surely you aren’t attempting to blackmail a duke? How positively Radcliffe of you.”
She batted her lashes at him. Ha. As if he didn’t know how perfectly wicked this vicar’s daughter could be. But before he could reply, a barked hail of “Your Grace!” assaulted his ears, and they both turned in dismay to see Reverend Blair approaching the church steps.
“Your Grace,” the vicar repeated, inclining his head like an emperor. “How gratifying to see you at St. Mary’s. I trust you found my sermon both educational and informative?”
“It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” said Jasper truthfully.
“Ah, yes,” said the older man, looking pleased. “I write the sermons myself you know. Others are far too meek and mild; one needs to be a lion when guarding a flock. What were you speaking to my daughter about? I can’t t
hink of anything you’d have in common.”
“The architecture of the church. Norman, I think?”
“Indeed. If you have any questions about it, please do ask me. Ada’s interests lie only in the feminine tasks of housekeeping, which is what she should be attending to right now.”
Ada’s shoulders stiffened. “Of course, Father.”
“Enjoy your excursion to the well, Miss Blair,” said Jasper with a bow.
Reverend Blair glared at him suspiciously. “I thought you had been discussing architecture. Do you have something to confess?”
Bloody hell.
Jasper lifted a ducal eyebrow. “I commented on the warm weather, and Miss Blair mentioned she would be taking the waters tomorrow with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch. Not an activity I would choose to partake in.”
“I take the waters each month. So cleansing.”
“Then I have great sympathy for your chambermaid.”
The vicar’s eyes bulged, and to Jasper’s right he heard a muffled coughing sound. Ada, trying her best not to laugh.
“Well,” bristled Reverend Blair. “Do not let us keep you, Your Grace. By the by, daughter, I have wonderful news. The curate I met with, Mr. Ambrose, has agreed to terms and will be returning to live here. Such a fine young man and so upright in his beliefs. He will make some fortunate woman an excellent husband. Of course, I have counselled him in the virtues of choosing an appropriate bride from Charlton Kings.”
Ada nodded. “There aren’t too many young women in the parish, but all are quite lovely. Perhaps one of them will look favorably upon the suit of a curate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and attend to my duties. Your Grace. Father.”
After she’d bobbed a curtsy and departed, the vicar looked at him again with a dark frown. “My daughter is not for the likes of you, Gilroy.”
“Beg pardon?” he asked icily, unable to feign politeness a moment longer. The way this cretin treated Ada was abominable. Hell, if a pigeon flew past and decorated the older man’s head, he’d commission a twenty-foot statue for the town square tomorrow.
Duke I’d Like to F… Page 17