Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  “Your nipples are hard. Tell me, do they hurt—do they ache?”

  She shuddered at the word nipples. “They ache.”

  He rewarded her with another half-smile. “Touch them—pinch them. Hard.”

  She froze like an animal in the glare of a lantern.

  He cocked his head. “Did you not hear me or understand my words?”

  “I uh-understood.”

  “Then do as I say.”

  His order caused a—now predictable—ache in her sex. Her cool, trembling fingers slid over her hard tips and she gasped.

  His nostrils flared. “Again, harder.”

  Her body bucked at the painful pleasure that arrowed from her breasts to her belly and pelvis.

  His lips shifted into a satisfied smile and his eyebrows rose.

  She pinched herself again, not needing to be told, shuddering, her eyelids impossibly heavy.

  His thumbs stroked a feather-light touch over her damp, plump lips, and then parted them, opening her to his probing gaze.

  “My God you’re beautiful. I want to taste you.”

  She made a mortifying squeak.

  His lips curved, his eyes still on her sex. “Is that a yes?”

  Alicia nodded, as if in a trance.

  He leaned close and laved from her entrance to her core.

  She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down to stifle a cry, but a strangled grunt escaped her.

  He looked up at the sound, sitting back on his haunches, absently stroking her slick, still spread lips with his thumbs.

  Alicia’s head was so hot she was surprised she didn’t lose consciousness.

  “Don’t you like my mouth on you?”

  God—she loved it! But still …

  “Yes, but—” if she admitted to being embarrassed, would he stop? Because that was the last thing she wanted.

  He cocked his head. “Have you never had a man make love to you with his mouth, my lady?” Whatever expression he saw on her speechless face made him frown. His eyes flickered from her face to her sex, which his thumbs were continuing to tease.

  “But—”

  He glanced up. “Yes?”

  “It is so . . . dirty.”

  To her surprise, he laughed—a quick, startling illumination of his harsh features. But his amusement fled as quickly as it had appeared.

  This time, when he lowered his mouth, he kept his eyes locked on hers while he bathed her in exquisite, wet, heat.

  He groaned as he sucked her into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering.

  Alicia’s head dropped against the back of the chair with a soft thud.

  Good. Lord.

  He stroked that most sensitive part of her with his lips and tongue, moaning as he worked—as if he enjoyed what he was doing.

  Just like the other evening, he drove her toward her climax far too quickly.

  As she shuddered, her flesh painfully sensitive, he released her swollen bud and moved to her entrance, spearing her with his tongue.

  He kept her open, his suggestive, rhythmic penetration leaving her in no doubt as to what he wanted.

  Alicia forced her heavy lids up; she needed to see him. She needed to watch as he feasted—yes, there was no other word for it—on her body.

  He’d dropped to his knees at some point, his broad shoulders shoving her knees wide as his dark head bobbed between her thighs.

  The heat in his eyes made her gasp.

  When he pulled away, his chest was heaving, his lips, chin, and even his nose glistening.

  He licked her wetness from his lips. “You taste delicious, my lady.” He slid one of his big fingers into her, his eyes watching his hand, his expression wondrous. “So soft and wet.” He withdrew and pushed back in, his arm trembling, as if he were restraining himself.

  The sound of their labored breathing was deafening in the silent room. He began to pump her as he’d done in the carriage, and then he lowered his mouth over her throbbing peak and commenced to drive her wild.

  Alicia felt like she was racing toward the edge of a cliff in a vehicle she had not a chance of stopping. She thrust her hands into his thick hair, as if to cling to him.

  Her passion built quickly—too quickly, she didn’t want it to end, but every muscle in her body grew tighter and tighter—until she exploded.

  ∞∞∞

  Joss hurt with wanting her.

  She looked like a haughty queen as she stared down at him, her jewel-blue eyes dark with passion, full lips slack, cheeks and chest and breasts flushed. Yes, a queen, and not one made of ice.

  Her eyelids were heavy and he wasn’t surprised when they drifted shut and her breathing became more measured.

  Joss shoved a hand through his hair and winced—she’d just about pulled it out by the roots. But the pain only made him harder, reminding him of how she’d come apart.

  He also realized just how easily and quickly he’d slipped back into performing for a woman who cared about as much for him as she had for Byerly.

  She came to you, not some toff. The greedy, wanting part of him pointed out. She all but begged you. Now take her to bed and possess her. Bury yourself in her so deeply you—

  Joss shrugged away the goading voice and stood. He stooped to lift her from the chair, her body warm, soft, and yielding.

  She blinked up at him, confused and sleepy. “Where—”

  “Shh,” he said, taking her to his bed, grateful he’d changed his sheets today. He lay her down and pulled the bedding over her, folding her into an envelope of blankets.

  “You’ve no fire.” The words were slurred and dreamy.

  “I will soon.” Joss went to the dormant fireplace and lit the fire that had been laid for ages. It would take a long time for the fire to catch and warm the room. In the meantime, he would warm her with his body.

  His blood thundered to his cock at the thought of wrapping himself around her.

  But when he returned to the bed it was to find her sleeping soundly.

  She looked like a princess from a children’s story: skin white as snow, lips like cherries, and long, thick lashes fanning her cheeks. Her pale, lustrous hair had come loose from its moorings and tendrils lay spread across the pillow—his pillow.

  Well.

  Joss tucked the blankets in around her and went back to his chair. A chair that was already becoming precious to him as he could now imagine her sitting in it, thighs spread, her eyes dark and her mouth open and panting as she came. For him.

  Joss lowered himself into his chair, picked up his book, and tried to read.

  Chapter Eleven

  Naturally Maude was awake and waiting for Alicia when she entered her rooms just before dawn.

  “I told you not to wait up.” Alicia took off the hat and tossed it onto the bed along with her cloak. Maude immediately picked up both items and marched into her dressing room without answering.

  Alicia wanted to scream. She did not need another conscience berating her in addition to the one she already had.

  She’d woken in near darkness, confused about where she was. A dim light had guttered and she realized she was in his room, asleep in his bed.

  He was in his chair, an open book resting face down on his chest. He still wore his trousers and shirt, but had draped a robe over himself, no doubt to keep warm.

  His head rested against the back of the chair and his lips were parted, his breathing deep and even. She’d taken the rare opportunity to study him unobserved. He looked younger in sleep, but his slack features were every bit as harsh and craggy. No, he was not a handsome man. Yet she had never met a man who drew her eyes so powerfully.

  Like a thief in the night, she’d quietly gathered her things, terrified he would wake and they would be faced with an awkward scene.

  Just the mere thought of seeing him again made her stomach clench.

  Back in her own bed, it had taken hours to fall asleep and she’d not woken up until almost two o’clock.

  She took her very l
ate breakfast in bed and was just enjoying her second cup of chocolate when Maude entered.

  Alicia cut her a glance and then returned her attention to the Gazette.

  “So.”

  She looked up at the word to find her maid with fisted hands planted on her hips.

  Alicia sighed and lowered her cup. “How fortunate that you are speaking to me again.” She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Maude had undressed her in silence and left without a word. And when Alicia had rung for her breakfast, it had been another maid who’d answered—the pretty, fresh-looking country girl named Annie.

  “Why are you doing this?” Maude didn’t bother to explain what she meant.

  Her maid’s censorious expression was like a hot poker, prodding her into recklessness. “I will answer your question, Maude. Not that I’m sure why you think you are in any position to demand explanations from me. I will see him whenever I wish.” This was news to Alicia, who hadn’t come to conclusions of any kind on the matter. Still, she did tend to react impulsively when baited or challenged.

  “And what happens when you tire of him?”

  Alicia had a difficult time imaging that would ever happen but she hardly wished to share that with Maude.

  Instead she shrugged and picked up her cup. “Why should anything happen. We will go back to our usual roles.”

  Maude snorted. “Are you really so without any idea as to how other people—normal people—are put together?”

  Alicia lowered her cup with a noisy clatter. “You are insolent, but you do amuse me so please go on. Tell me what it is you mean—but you had better explain it slowly, as I’m so deficient.”

  “What if he grows to care for you? What if he thinks this—this whatever you are doing—means something? What if he cannot simply curtail his emotions so easily or—” She paused and then added with emphasis, “What if he becomes angry and violent—like Viscount Byerly?”

  Alicia thought of the calm, impassive man who’d given her such tender pleasure, who’d carried her from Byerly’s house as if she were made of spun glass. “I don’t believe that is his nature.”

  “What if you are wrong?” Maude hissed through gritted teeth.

  Alicia shoved aside the tray and the blankets, not caring when crockery and cutlery clattered. “What if I am? So what if it’s a servant? Does it matter who gets angry and behaves childishly—a viscount? A groom? A boatswain in His Majesty’s Royal Navy? A gaucho from the South American Pampas?”

  Alicia could see her logic had momentarily paralyzed the other woman. She marched toward her and didn’t stop until their bodies were almost touching. Maude was a good five inches shorter than Alicia and had to tilt her head to an uncomfortable angle to meet her gaze.

  “I am mistress here. I will make any decisions I please and I refuse to answer to anyone for them—even you. I will,” she hesitated, and then narrowed her eyes, “I will fuck,” Maude was unshaken by the vulgar word, “anyone I please, as often as I please, wherever I please. If you don’t like it, you know what to do.”

  Maude’s jaw moved side to side as if she were chewing over possible retorts, and then swallowing them.

  “Do you understand?” Alicia asked. She did not wish to humiliate the older woman, whom she loved, but she also did not wish to argue every time she decided to see the man.

  The man? Her aunt Giddy’s voice demanded. You’re so ashamed you can’t even say his name.

  Joss. His name is Joss, and I will see him whenever and as often as I please.

  Aunt Giddy did not respond.

  “Very well, my lady.” Maude’s stiff words brought Alicia back to herself. “I have spoken my last word on the matter.”

  “Good,” Alicia said, sounding far more certain than she felt. “I would like to take a bath.”

  ∞∞∞

  Alicia had behaved. She’d wanted to go to him every night—or to summon him to her—but she had exercised restraint. She knew she was doing so to impress Maude—to show one servant that she had not become obsessed with another.

  Meanwhile, she spent her time obsessing about her groom. Obsessing about what he thought about her. Did he see her as just a lonely older—because she was older than him, by over a decade!—woman who was merely using him for sexual gratification?

  Was that all she wanted from him?

  She tried to convince herself that bed sport was all she wanted, but she couldn’t lie convincingly enough to fool herself. She was. . . smitten by him.

  God, the thought of being smitten at her age made her want to scream; but there it was. Perhaps it was only his air of mystery that had, er, smited her? Maybe if she got to know him she would lose interest in him?

  Still, what if her interest didn’t wane? What if she became even more obsessed? It had never happened to her before, but there was always a first time in life, wasn’t there?

  When she’d been young, she’d not been looking for love. When she’d married Edward, she’d first been mesmerized by his status—and then she’d spent the years with him merely struggling to stay alive.

  And since Edward’s death? Well, she’d just wanted something to make her feel alive. And now that she was feeling alive, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  So, for the last four days she’d stayed away from him, a coward to her own emotions.

  But today she had a legitimate excuse for summoning him. She needed him—wanted to have him with her when she picked up Elizabeth.

  She told herself the reason she wanted him at hand was because she planned to use him for Elizabeth’s needs while her stepdaughter stayed with her. The way he’d carried her that night—like a feather—had made Alicia think of him when it came to engaging a strong servant for Elizabeth.

  But that wasn’t the only reason—and not even the most compelling one. The truth was Alicia wanted him to accompany her to Selwood House and be nearby when she spoke to David.

  She’d been more badly shaken by that night at Byerly House than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure why it had affected her so profoundly. After all, she’d endured far worse than Viscount Byerly: she had endured and survived her last husband. And his vile son.

  She might not need Gormley nearby when she went to see David, but she wanted him there.

  So, when the carriage was brought around later that afternoon it was Gormley who waited to hand her inside.

  Alicia didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but she couldn’t help feeling a certain sense of anticlimax when he simply lowered the steps and offered his hand, his eyes downcast like any good servant’s.

  “My lady?”

  Alicia realized she was staring at him. She ignored his quizzical look, her throat unable to produce any words even if her mind could have formulated them. She looked away and her gaze landed on his hand. On his gloves.

  Gloves which had touched the most intimate part of her.

  Gloves? What about those lips? That mouth? His tongue? Those fingers?

  Her face, already hot from anticipating this first meeting, was now scalded.

  He waited patiently until she was settled and then raised the steps. When he would have closed the door she stopped him.

  “You will ride inside, Gormley, I wish to inform you of your new duties.” Alicia made sure to speak loudly so that the other servants might hear. Not that she cared what they thought, but, no doubt, it made the man’s life easier.

  Alicia forced her body to relax against the luxurious leather as he folded his powerful body onto the seat across from her, her heart pounding as fast as a terrified rodent’s.

  “How is your shoulder?” She could see her question startled him.

  And why wouldn’t it? When was the last time you showed any concern for him or his needs?

  Alicia grimaced at the too-accurate thought.

  “It is almost healed, my lady.”

  “I somehow doubt that, but Finch says you have been working in the stables, so I assume it is not paining you too much.”r />
  “No, my lady.”

  “If you feel any twinges, I want you to tell Mr. Carling not to work you so hard.”

  He hesitated only a fraction of a second, but it made her consider what she’d just said: about working him hard.

  Her face heated so quickly she felt dizzy. She lowered her eyes from his face and concentrated on even, deep breathing. Of course that just meant she was looking at his body. His huge, muscular body that had knelt between her thighs and—

  “I am bringing you along today to carry my daughter,” she blurted, her loud voice causing him to startle. “Lady Elizabeth is my stepdaughter, but I consider her my own.” She paused, and then continued. “She is chair bound. She can walk a little, and it is possible she might, one day, become stronger, but for now she is—” Alicia hesitated, wondering how much one should tell a servant. She glanced at him.

  He was attentive, but expressionless. He’d seen her lover beating her; he’d had his mouth on the most private part of her body, and he’d made her beg and writhe. What else could she possibly do or say to surprise him?

  “She has spent all her life at the family house in the country. This is her first visit to London. I’m afraid Lord Selwood, her brother and my stepson, believes her too fragile for town pursuits. I do not. But he is her guardian and I have no say in the matter.” That was hardly anything he needed to know. “As a result of her condition she is accustomed to spending almost all of her time at home—which means a good deal of time with servants. In particular she enjoyed her governess.” Her lips twisted with fury.

  “Unfortunately, Lord Selwood dismissed her governess several months back and I’m afraid Lady Elizabeth is at loose ends. Add to that the fact work is being done on Lord Selwood’s country house, so,” she stopped babbling and waited.

  But he did not speak, because he was a servant. And servants did not volunteer opinions. Not even a servant who’d given his mistress the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever experienced.

  Good God! Can you not complete a simple thought without digressing?

  “What I am trying to say is that you will be needed often as I will be taking her out and about as much as possible. Do you understand?”