Jillian Stone - [Phaeton Black 03]

by The Miss Education of Dr. Exeter

  Exeter’s jaw muscle twitched as it always did when he was vexed or undecided on a matter. “You are correct about one thing. I don’t trust you.” He tossed back his whiskey. “But I will look into your story.”

  Mr. Tandi descended into the pantry. “There are three gentlemen in the foyer, looking for a—” He turned to Prospero and bowed. “This man.”

  The wizard pushed off his stool. “Please stay. Have your tea and drink your whiskey.” He nodded to the black-skinned manservant. “With your escort, Mr. Tandi.”

  The Outremer wizard started up the stairs and turned back. “ ‘As I foretold you, were all spirits, melted into air, into thin air—yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And like this insubstantial pageant fade’ ”—Prospero’s gaze traveled from Exeter to Mia. “ ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on . . .’ ”

  Exeter poured himself another whiskey. “A shot of this might help us both get some sleep tonight.”

  “Pour me a glass, then.” Mia set down her teacup. “You must be exhausted—that was quite the battle of wizard wills, Doctor Exeter.”

  “Don’t give too much credence to Prospero’s assertions—I am just a practitioner of the manipulation of powerful elements. The superstitious call them dark arts and attach names like sorcerer or wizard to those who apply them.” Exeter finished the last of his whiskey. “The quote from Shakespeare was apt—most of it is theater.”

  Mia shot him a wary glance. “Those cuts and bruises are no such illusion. You’re just being modest—or evasive.” Swallowing half a dram, she hiccupped.

  “Come—let’s find you a place to sleep.” Exeter reached for her hand and intertwined fingers. As they neared his bedchamber, he turned to her. “You can’t sleep in your room—you’ll catch a chill—then a cold.” He opened his bedroom door. “Sleep in here tonight.”

  A good amount of heat radiated from the hearth, and his bed had been turned down. She untied her dressing gown and slipped under the covers. He caught a glimpse of long limbs as she tucked herself between the sheets. The moment her head touched the pillow there was a sensuous exhale. Exeter removed his waistcoat and shirt.

  She cracked an eye open. “Where will you sleep?”

  “Here, beside you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, bare-chested. “Here, Mia—beside you. Do you mind?”

  She lifted the covers. “Come to bed and let me show you how much I have missed you, for I am more than ready.” She stretched like a sleepy cat and curled up in his arms.

  “Wet, are we?” His voice was soft and deep.

  “Sopping.” She rubbed his ruff of stubble with the palm of her hand. “How long until dawn?”

  He inched the covers below her breasts and nibbled. “A few hours.”

  She moaned as he tongued a nipple. “Then we must make the most of this night together.”

  Exeter gently pulled the sheet past her belly, and let his hand travel farther, sliding down into her labia. He massaged gently, the kind of circling only he knew how to administer. He understood her subtle signals, what kind of rubbing she wanted, the rhythms and pressure to apply to the secret places that made her shudder and moan.

  “I wish to reach my paroxysm with you inside me. Can we try?” Mia pushed the covers off and opened her legs wide—enough for him to view her pink folds of glistening flesh. Thoroughly aroused, Exeter dipped between her legs and gently licked as she squirmed with pleasure. Climbing over her, he held her arms at her sides while his tongue delved inside—in and out, laving broad strokes. He tickled her clitoris with his tongue and felt her shudder in response, as her sex grew swollen and her vagina flooded in readiness. Hovering above her for just a moment, he enjoyed the look of pure desire in her gaze. Firmly, he pushed inside the wet, warm sex of her, slippery with excitement.

  “Slowly.” She whispered.

  This was only her third time. “Is it painful? I can stop if you wish.” His voice was husky with desire.

  “Don’t stop. I want you to love me so that I will remember it for days and days,” she ordered softly. She wrapped her legs up around his body and moaned; her breathing became harsh and rapid. With firm, deliberate strokes, he concentrated on her pleasure while building his own fervor a little at a time.

  Exeter pushed his knees between her legs and without missing a single thrust, his hands reached under the small of her back and lifted her upright onto the tops of his thighs. Leaning back on his haunches, he impaled her on his penis and showed her how to rock her hips. He took a mouthful of breast and let their pleasure build to the next level.

  “Good God, Mia.” He kept it slow, and with each withdrawal, he pulled out enough to rub her swollen nub with the tip of his cock. He pressed his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks and brought himself deeper inside. His thrusts became rapid and violent as her trembling grew stronger until she responded with her blissful cry and shudder of release. “Oh . . . Asa.” All she had to do was whisper his birth name, and his seed exploded into the depths of her body.

  Exeter did not speak as he gasped for breath and chastised himself. He had become so highly aroused that he had not curtailed his behavior. He held her, clung to her, for he feared he had hurt her. She was not ready, yet, for such rough sex. Finally he managed an apology. “I’m so sorry. Are you well enough, Mia?”

  “You must not treat me as though I am a piece of Royal Doulton china—brittle and easily broken,” she chided.

  He swept a few locks of hair over her shoulders and held her face in the palms of his hands. “No, you are brave and strong, and might I say so very delicious?”

  “I came to pleasure with you inside me.” Her chest rose and fell in soft slow intervals. Her nipples were relaxed, opalescent rose in color, and her skin glistened with the sheen of lumière de l’amour. He sometimes felt like he could drown himself in her body. He lifted a finger to the tip of her breast and watched it ruche in response to his circling.

  There had been a kind of savage intimacy to their mating that felt as if their very souls had participated in a deep and profound intercourse. As it was, this night was to last in both their memories for a very long time, perhaps forever.

  Epilogue

  Pier 10, Southampton

  MIA SWAYED as the hansom made a sharp turn onto the quay. Finally. She was to be away from England—and Exeter. She’d left London by train yesterday, accompanied by Mr. Tandi and a mountain of luggage. Their train had arrived in Southampton in time for a late supper. She hadn’t slept particularly well; in fact, she’d tossed and turned most of the night. Troubling dreams had plagued her—Exeter chasing her through misty passageways. A hint of warm breath on her neck as she hid in the dark. Fear shuddered through her body as she turned to find Prospero standing behind her wearing that enigmatic half smile.

  Twice she had been jolted awake, gasping for air, icy cold and trembling.

  Shortly after breakfast, Mr. Tandi had informed her of a delay in departure. She’d spent most of the day pacing in her room. Finally, by late afternoon, word came the SS Teutonic was ready to board guests.

  She’d left a rather hasty note for Exeter, who had attended a lecture at the Royal Society of Medicine and was expected to dine out with a colleague. It was better this way. No awkward good-byes, and no tears. Mia dipped her head for a better look at the sleek ocean liner. The cross-Atlantic voyage would take four days. They would arrive in New York, where she would have a brief visit, and then it was on to Boston, to start her new life.

  She and Exeter had worked out an arrangement of sorts. He would visit during winter break and she would return home in summer. He assured her that medical school was an all-consuming experience and time would pass quickly.

  The hansom stopped behind a long line of cabs and carriages, passengers alighting from all of them. The pier was a scene of mass confusion—a veritable uproar of passengers and baggage handlers all attempting to board ship at once. Stepping down from the cab, she paid the driver and began her search for Mr. Tandi
, who had left the hotel well ahead of departure time with their luggage. Mia craned her neck looking for a tall, African man dressed in white. She wandered through a maze of trunks and suitcases being checked with porters.

  There, just ahead—a tall man dressed in . . . Mia skirted a baggage trolley for a more advantageous view. The gentleman wore a top hat and traveling coat, certainly not Mr. Tandi. But there was something familiar about . . . he turned abruptly, and Mia gasped.

  Exeter? On the pier in Southampton. Standing beside a pile of luggage and instrument cases. He spied her almost immediately and smiled from ear to ear—the rare grin that caused a dimple with a deep crease. The one that made her heart flutter.

  Mia approached him slowly. “So, you missed me.”

  Exeter tilted his head slightly. “Did you know in French you don’t really say, ‘I miss you.’ Tu me manques means, quite literally, ‘you are missing from me.’ ”

  She nodded. “’Tis how it feels.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her in public. In front of all the passengers crowding the terminal and boarding the ship. And this was not a chaste public kiss—if there ever could be such a thing. This was a bedroom kiss, and she was flushed and breathless when he finished. “You are missing from me,” he whispered.

  Mia took a closer look at the stack of luggage and instrument cases surrounding them. “Does this mean you have changed your mind about living in Boston?”

  “Rather apparent, I’d say.”

  “And what of your work in the Outremer?” she queried, arching a brow.

  “Tim Noggy assures me there will soon be a portal in Boston proper.” He continued to hold her close. “Mia, would you consider marrying me, on board ship, in approximately”—Exeter slipped his pocket watch from his waistcoat—“four hours’ time?”

  She stared, slightly openmouthed. “I had quite given up hope on this matter, Doctor Exeter. But it seems you have finally succeeded in collaring me.”

  His eyes crinkled, but he kept his tone solicitous. “I may have captured you, but I will spend my lifetime trying to tame you.”

  A tug on his lapels brought him close enough to kiss. “There are certain attributes we wish to remain animal and passionate—do we not?”

  If you enjoyed

  THE MISS EDUCATION OF DR. EXETER,

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  The Seduction of Phaeton Black

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  Chapter One

  4 FEBRUARY 1889

  SCOTLAND YARD, SECRET BRANCH

  MEMORANDUM TO: E. CHILLCOTT

  FROM: Z. FARRELL

  RE: AGENT REASSIGNMENT

  Believe I have located Phaeton Black. Appears to have let a flat below Madam Parker’s brothel. Though the suggestion will undoubtedly cause you pain, I must continue to recommend Phaeton as the best man for this unusual case.

  “OH, PLEASE NO, MADAM, HE IS A BEAST,” THE HARLOT WAILED. “I beg of you, Mrs. Parker, do not send me down to Mr. Black.”

  Phaeton Black turned his back on the hubbub and paced the length of corridor between the foyer and staircase. A sultry sway of hip caught his eye. A luscious copper-colored wench descended the stairs. Her dark eyes lusty, curious, she ventured closer. “Fancy adding another dollymop, sir?”

  Slouched against the stair rail, he swept a lazy gaze over her every curve. “Yes, why not? The more the merrier.” He ducked his head around the corner and caught a glimpse of the bickering females in the salon. “We are waiting, my timid little sparrow.”

  The pretty whore beside him tilted an ear toward the clamor and quirked a brow. “Lucy?”

  The din from the parlor hardly dampened his grin. “I believe so.”

  Right on cue, the reluctant whore let loose a shriek that pricked up the ears of every hound in the neighborhood. “I promise I’ll work double the number of gents, just don’t send me—”

  “Hush, Lucy, before you have all the customers in an uproar.” Esmeralda Parker stood just inside the parlor, arms crossed under an ample chest.

  His stare trailed the baroque details of velvet flock-work wallpaper. “Does my reputation precede me?”

  “Oh yes, something the size of an elephant’s trunk, sir.” The cocotte flashed a flirty smile.

  He foraged back in his mind through a blur of absinthe and opium. “How long has it been since I rented the flat below stairs?”

  “Near a week, Mr. Black.”

  He sighed. “I toss up a few petticoats, just to try out the wares, and already I am obliged to face down frightfully depraved and exaggerated rumors.”

  “Not a bad thing if you ask me, sir. Pay no mind to Lucy. She’s a nervous little goose—believes everything she hears. Hasn’t yet figured out a girl can pretty much work any size in, as long as she has a bit o’ sloppy down there.”

  He dropped his head back against the wall, angling his gaze at the bronze beauty. He patted his leg. “Come closer.”

  She pressed against him and rubbed.

  “Lovely.”

  The whining and whimpering from the parlor continued unabated.

  “And your name is?”

  “Mason, sir.”

  “What kind of a name is—?”

  “Mason.” She sucked in a breath and pushed her breasts up and out at him.

  Mentally, he undressed her voluptuous curves. Cheeky tof-fer, this one.

  “Named after me da, who was a stonemason by trade—all I know of him.” Her deep, coffee-colored eyes brightened. “Mrs. Parker calls me Layla.”

  “Ah, the ancient Persian tale, Layla and Majnun.” The wanton strumpet brushed back and forth across his lower anatomy. “And do you promise to drive me mad, Layla?”

  The parlor door rolled open and Madam Parker swept down the hall, dragging the miserable little tart behind her. He noted the vitality in Esmeralda Parker’s determined stride; she was a fine-looking middle-aged woman. Truly a shame she had retired early to run one of the more reputable bawdy houses in town.

  Things grew wonderfully cozy as two more women crowded onto the stairs. He inhaled the myriad scents of the female flesh surrounding him. “Esmeralda. Care to join?”

  “Phaeton, be a dear and assure Lucy you will be reasonable with her.”

  Blinking back tears, the pretty whore shrank behind Madam’s skirts.

  He considered her again. Round bosom, tiny waist, lovely hips. Yes, there were very good reasons why he had selected her. “Lucy, might I assure you I am a man of . . . tolerable size, bone-hard?” He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted upward. “Though I am not entirely safe to play with, at the moment I am far from dangerous. In fact, it may take the two of you to flog me into a state of excitement.”

  Esmeralda snorted. “I imagine that will be quick work, ladies.”

  He held his hand out until Lucy placed a trembling, clammy palm in his. He frowned. “This one has been on the job how long?”

  “She has a crippled brother and rummy father. Teach her well, Phaeton—she is their only means of support.” Esmeralda stuck him with a fierce look before she turned to climb the stairs.

  The sway of Mrs. Parker’s bustle captivated him. He had attempted several times to lure her into his bed. So far, to no avail. With each refusal she became more attractive.

  He cocked his head. “Any house credits for the instruction?” A faint echo of laughter and the muffled rumble of a door rolling shut answered the question.

  Two delectable lovelies stood before him.

  “Are you done crying and being afraid, Lucy?” In the darkened stairwell, he could just make out a nervous nod. A terrified doxy just wouldn’t do.

  “Suppose I make you a bargain. If, at any time during the frolicking and frivolity, you decide things have gotten a bit—”

  “Whopping?” The copper-colored vixen offered.

  He dipped his chin. “Do try to be helpful,
Layla.” He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Now, where was I?” A hooded gaze shifted from one comely wench to the other. “If our interchange gets a bit too impassioned, shall we say? You may call a break in play. Exactly like a game of rugby—not entirely an unlike activity. What do you say, Lucy?”

  “Very kind of you, Mr. Black.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Her eyes shone with relief. “Yes, sir.”

  He leaned closer. “Prove it with a kiss.” He touched his mouth. “Here.”

  Tentative, soft lips pressed to his and shyly pulled back. “Charming.” He pulled Layla close for a taste. Ah yes, sensuous lips with a bit of tongue. “Delightful.”

  “I believe this might turn out to be satisfying.” Hands pressed to his lower back, he stretched. “Well then, shall we visit my den of iniquity? After you, ladies.”

  Descending into his flat, he opened the stove and poked at a few coals. The act of love should be something reasonably well-enjoyed by all participants. Even for ladies who made a living on their back. Phaeton bristled at the thought of Lucy’s inexperience and terror. Well, he would make it a point to show her some pleasure. Pleasant enough duty.

  “Madeira, or perhaps something stronger?” He perused several pantry shelves, upper and lower, and shuffled several packages and bottles about.

  He passed through a cold spot and shivered. A low, unearthly vibrating snarl drifted up from below. The ghastly creature’s purr was familiar enough. Phaeton took a peek at the girls. Predictably oblivious to his otherworld intruder. A shadow of movement swept past the corner of his eye. The end of a leathery scaled tail slithered around a cabinet opening. Phaeton stomped hard but missed. The fey creature disappeared into the blackness of the cupboard.

  “Damned little demon.”

  “Rats, sir? Mrs. Parker set traps out just last week.” Keen-eyed Layla dipped to get a look. He suspected she didn’t miss much.