by Lacy Danes
He searched Elizabeth’s face, looking for any regret he might see at Adrian’s absence. And it was then that he finally admitted the truth. He was afraid that when compared to Adrian in Elizabeth’s eyes, he might come in a poor second. He was only a duke, no match for the brooding artist who seemed to know how to bring a woman to her knees with his sensuality and silky tongue.
“Why don’t you rest,” he said to Elizabeth, taking her hand in his. “You look tired.”
She ran a self-conscious hand over her hair and he wanted to kick himself for saying such a thing. So much for romance and courting. Fuck. Why was he so inconsiderate to Elizabeth’s needs? Why couldn’t he remember that she was a woman, and that women did not want to hear they appeared tired and worn. Adrian would not have said something like that. He would have made such an observation into a sexual invitation, not a criticism.
When was the last time he told her she was beautiful? Or how damn arousing her body was? Or how erotic he thought it was when she dragged her tongue along her bottom lip.
“Elizabeth?” He bent his head and captured her gaze, hoping he could muster some grace and skilled conversation. “I will stay with the children while you rest. Perhaps I will come and look in on you later, hmm?”
Her eyes instantly flared to a brilliant shade of blue. He saw the invitation shining in them. Yes, she wanted that, him coming to her in the daylight when the children were outside running around and Jamie was fast asleep in his crib. And God, how he wanted it, too.
She reached for his hand and pulled him through the door, away from the children and the servants’ curious gazes. Jamie was asleep against his chest, oblivious to what was happening, and they were alone in the empty hallway.
“Christian, I missed you,” she said, her gaze warm and inviting. She reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair as she brought his mouth down to hers. With a groan, he kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and moaning as she reached for his free hand and brought it to her breasts. Hungrily, greedily he cupped her, squeezing her, feeling her flesh spilling over his palm. God, he wanted her, just like this, against the wall, her breasts freed from her bodice. He wanted to raise her skirts and palm her full bottom. Wanted to take her legs and wrap them around his waist. Wanted to fit his cock inside her and whisper heated words in her ear. He wanted to tell her of his dreams, of every secret fantasy he had ever had of her.
On and on they kissed, and he mimicked with his tongue what he wanted to do with his cock. She moaned and pressed against him, rubbing her belly against his prick, which was bursting behind his trousers. Over and over she tantalized him, until he wanted to say Get me off and shove her hand down his waistband so that she could stroke him till he came.
She controlled him with that kiss, and when he finally opened his eyes, he found his fingers down her bodice, resting against the cleft of her breasts. He felt the paper there, nestled tightly, and smiled as he slowly pulled it out from between her breasts. He brought it to his face, indulging in the warmth of the paper, heated by her flesh. He inhaled it and closed his eyes. It smelt of floral soap and honey, of talcum from his children’s morning baths, and Elizabeth’s own womanly scent. It smelt of his wife.
She kissed him once more then left him standing alone with their sleeping child against the wall, his heart still beating madly in his chest, his fingers shaking so much he could barely open the letter.
Tell me these fantasies you’ve had of me.
What an erotic game this could be.
Looking up, he watched her round the corner to the upstairs apartments. Her gaze found his, and he saw her lashes lower. Was it shyness? Sensual invitation?
Yes, they could have a lot of fun with this little amusement. In fact, it might be exactly what they needed to find their way back to one another.
He was definitely game for writing Elizabeth some very wicked letters. And, he mused, he looked forward to receiving some of hers, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE FIRST LETTER APPEARED ON THE PILLOW NEXT to her when she awoke from her nap. Breaking the wax seal, Elizabeth tore it open and devoured his words.
Fantasies? There’s so many. Where would you like me to begin? In my dreams I’ve had you so many ways. Of course, they are most shocking, not at all appropriate for a lady of your station…yet I’m aroused by just thinking of sharing them with you. Are you aroused, Elizabeth, thinking of what I might write, what illicit dreams I’ve had of you?
What would you think of performing for me, Elizabeth? I always thought you’d look stunning dressed in tawdry silks and lace. There is something so very erotic, so forbidden about a lady of breeding acting like a fallen woman.
In my fantasy you make me a lovely, skillful whore, with your full pink lips and gorgeous breasts. And your soft thighs…what I would want to do with them.
That is my first fantasy: I’d love to pay you for a night of service. I would command you to do so many things with those lovely full lips and glorious…tits. I’d want to sit in a chair and watch you undress for me, watching your lush thighs being revealed through layers of cheap, flashy petticoats and satin. I’d want to take you standing up against a wall, wearing only your silk stockings and garters…I’d like to tie you up, and have you all to myself so that I could explore every inch of you with my hands, my tongue, my cock…
Looking up from the letter, Elizabeth fanned herself with it. Reading his words aroused her in a way she never had been before. Her thighs were damp. Her womb was clenched tight in anticipation.
This was a side of Christian she had never seen. He had been passionate, yes. Skilled, most assuredly. But this…she never would have dreamed that he desired her to play the part of a common whore. It titillated her to know he wanted to play games. It made her want to haul out the laciest thing she owned and parade before him bringing his fantasy to life. But she wanted to know more. She craved more of these letters and the naughty intimacy they created.
The sun was shining on the grass as Christian walked in a large circle, the leather reins in his hands. Slowly he guided Rachel’s pony and laughed as she giggled in delight.
“Mama! Mama!” she squealed. “Look, I’m riding.”
“I see, darling,” Elizabeth said as she fell into step beside them.
“Have you come out to ride with me, Mama?”
“No, I have not, sweetheart. I have come out to tell Papa that I am taking the carriage into the village.”
“Now?” he asked. Narrowing his eyes against the sun, Christian studied his wife. Elizabeth’s color was high and her fingers were fidgeting with something. Had she found his letter? What did she think? Did she think him perverse to have written such a thing, confessing his long-hidden fantasy to her? Was she shocked and offended that he dreamed of her, a lady of breeding, a duchess, acting the part of a harlot?
“I won’t be long,” she whispered before reaching up on tiptoe and brushing his cheek with her lips. He felt her fingers engulf his, felt the sharp point of a folded piece of paper being shoved into his palm. “I’ll be leaving in three quarters of an hour.”
She left him then, and he watched the way her hips swayed beneath her muslin gown, the sun illuminating the contours of her rounded thighs through her shift as she retreated from them. When his daughter’s attention was diverted by the pony’s mane flapping in the breeze, he opened the missive.
How I would love to play the wanton for you. But what does a harlot do? Tell me what a man wants when he goes to a courtesan.
With a smile, he looked up and saw that she was glancing back at him over her shoulder. Tell her…indeed he would.
The carriage door opened. Elizabeth accepted the hand of the footman as she stepped up into it. She half expected to find Christian inside, waiting for her. He was not.
With a little pang of disappointment, she took the bench and settled her skirts around her. He was much too busy with estate affairs, she told herself. He’d been gone a week and had things to see
to. He did not have time to accompany her to the village for an hour of shopping, even though she had purposely orchestrated the whole affair so that they might be alone in the carriage. He had once ravished her in a carriage and she had never forgotten the feeling of it, of the hurried loving and the threat of discovery by the coachman.
The carriage rocked as the footman jumped onto the back. The horses whinnied and jostled in their harnesses, making the carriage sway from left to right. As she waited for the coachman to crack his whip and give the command to begin trotting down the lane, Elizabeth looked out the window and saw that Christian was standing at the window of his study, watching her with an intent stare that seemed to go all the way to her soul.
She broke it by looking away. Something white caught the corner of her eye. It was then that she saw the letter awaiting her on the opposite bench, its red seal bearing the mark of the Duke of Sutcliffe. Snatching it off the velvet squabs, Elizabeth tore open the seal.
Tell you what I want? In graphic detail, Elizabeth?
I could show you, I suppose, by tearing out an explicit drawing from a book. But I think what you are asking for is something altogether different. You want the rush that comes with reading something naughty. You want the excitement of reading my words and imagining them being uttered by me in your ear…You want to become aroused—wet—by reading something vulgar and forbidden.
She swallowed hard, trying not to give in to the urge to nod her head in agreement. Yes, this is exactly what she wanted, to see this other side of her husband. Not the elegant and poised duke who was everything proper and honorable. Not the dutiful husband or father, but the man. The primitive male inside him that he had never allowed her to glimpse.
You want to know what sort of things I would do to you. You want to know how I would ask you for what I want, is that it? You want me to talk commonly…to write something dirty to you…
Her heart was near to bursting, it was beating so hard. How had he known? How had he guessed that secretly she longed to hear him say something so very improper? Something the duke would never say, but that the man longed to.
Admit to me that you long for that, and I will tell you everything I want you to do. In base words I will tell everything I think, everything I feel. I will tell you everything I’ve ever whispered to you in my mind while I have been loving you.
She looked up, just as the carriage began to rock forward. She found him, still standing at the window, watching her. She nodded, telling him that yes, she wanted that, to know what he thought when he was making love to her, to hear his fantasies. She wanted nothing more than to connect with him like this, to connect in a way they never had before.
His eyes, so dark, almost black, seemed to darken even more as he watched her nod, silently admitting the truth to him. His gaze, so intense upon her, made her shiver. There was a promise in those eyes. A promise of the sinful, carnal delight that awaited her when she returned to him.
Elizabeth almost ordered the coach to stop, yet she didn’t. It wouldn’t do to fall too easily into his hands. A common whore might do such a thing, but a grand courtesan would not. An elite member of the demimonde would know that she must keep her prey hungry, keep him yearning if she was to successfully snare him.
“So, you’ve finally returned.”
Elizabeth whirled around at the sound of Christian’s voice. He emerged from the shadows as he strode toward her. “I didn’t think I was gone all that long.”
He stood before her and caught her face in his hands. “It felt like forever.” He kissed her then, a slow, seductive kiss that made her heart pound. He couldn’t know what that simple admission had done to her.
They kissed, slowly at first, before giving in to the hunger of deeper, more passionate kisses. Breaking away to regain her breath, Elizabeth gasped as Christian proceeded to rain openmouthed kisses along her jaw and down her throat to the mounds of her breasts.
“I want you to touch me,” he murmured, reaching for her hand and bringing it to the tented folds of his trousers. “I want you to look at it. I want you to tell me how much you want to feel me inside you. I want to see how much you want it.”
Elizabeth ran the tip of her finger along his erection that was pressing against his trousers. He was long and thick, and harder than she could ever remember him being. “Oh yes, Your Grace,” she whispered as she wrapped her fingers around him, “I want all this inside me.” Elizabeth felt him swell even further.
“Then why did you leave this afternoon?” he rasped as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair. “I could have throttled you. I was achingly aroused.”
“Were you?” Elizabeth closed her eyes as his lips found the pulse in her throat. “Tell me.”
He inhaled sharply, his body tensing as he fitted his palms against her hips. His fingers bit into her before they skated over the shape of her curves. “My cock was so damn hard I had to palm it to relieve the ache. I haven’t tossed off like that since I was a schoolboy, so frenzied and hard and fast. But I needed to get off, I couldn’t wait for you.”
She leaned back against the wall as his hands slipped around her waist and coasted downward, to the apex of her thighs. She imagined Christian pleasuring himself while thinking of her and she grew wet. “I would have liked to have watched.”
“What, me with my cock in my hand?” he asked, clearly surprised. “Does it excite you to know that you forced me to masturbate?”
Nodding, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him, dragging her lips against his. She let her hand brush the front of his trousers again, then whispered into his mouth, “It’s not like I’ve never touched myself while thinking of you.”
He made a choking sound. “That is something I’d give my entire estate to watch. I’d want you on a lounge, fully open to me so I can see everything.”
“What else would you want me to do?”
“To fondle your breasts. As I watched, I’d imagine tonguing them.” Elizabeth placed her hand atop her breast and brushed her fingers along her nipple. He watched her, his tongue wetting his lip. “Show me.”
He didn’t wait for her to lower her bodice; instead, he did it himself, hurriedly pulling at the lace and exposing a large portion of her breast. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips along her, seeking her nipple. When he found it, he sucked it into his mouth. The sucking and tugging aroused her until she had more than dampened her linen drawers. Reaching down between their bodies, she stroked the front of his trousers.
“I want your cock.”
“I want to see it in your hand,” he hissed, bringing her hard against him. “I want to see it in your mouth.”
“Your Grace—oh!”
Shreeves, their butler, came to a grinding halt before them, his normally placid features a riot of red embarrassment. “Y-y-your, my pardon,” he exclaimed in a choked whisper as he turned his back to them.
“What is it?” Christian barked, making the servant flinch as if he had been whipped.
“Your land steward, Your Grace, he’s arrived with some papers you need to sign. Shall I have him return later?”
“I shall be there directly,” Christian stated, then looked down into her face with his black, intense eyes. “Touch me, Elizabeth,” he groaned. “Brush your hand along my cock. It’s so hard, so hungry. So wet,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
One glance over Christian’s shoulder told her that Shreeves had taken his leave. They were now completely alone in the hall outside her little salon. She was half tempted to pull him inside, but instead, she did something she had never done before—she unfastened the top buttons of his trousers and wrapped her fingers around him. Never had she felt him hotter or thicker in her hand.
“Oh, Christ, yes,” he moaned, as his hand came up to cup her cheek. Stroking him, she caressed him with her palm and fingertips until he was shoving himself into her hand and panting against her mouth. “Christ, Elizabeth, yes. Faster. God, I wish we were someplace where I could push you to
your knees.”
Her blood racing with excitement, Elizabeth stroked him faster and watched the emotions play across his face. He was so close…so close. And she wanted to do this, to please him. And there was no one about, and it would only take a second…
Sliding down the wall she came to rest on her knees. Looking up into his astonished face, she held his gaze as her hand engulfed his rigid cock.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, feeling her cheeks flush with excitement and with the fear of possible discovery.
“How very much I would love for you to take my cock in your mouth, and pleasure me right here, where anyone might happen to come across you sucking me.”
Closing her eyes, she took him between her lips. He was so hard and thick that she could only get a bit of him into her mouth. But it was enough for him, if his moans of pleasure were any indication. Wrapping one hand around her nape and flattening his other hand against the wall, he thrust into her mouth.
“Fuck.” It was a ragged half whisper in the quiet of the hall. His fingers pressed into her neck as he rocked his hips, withdrawing then pressing forward once more. “Looks so good, filling your mouth.”
She looked up as she curled her tongue around him and their gazes met. His jaw clenched and she felt his cock throb and lift in her hand. He was close.
“Take more of me,” he commanded, as his fingers pressed against her neck, angling her mouth to better take his length. “Yes, like that, Elizabeth. Christ, you’re going to suck it right out of me, aren’t you?”
And then he was coming, pulsing hot for what seemed like forever before he was able to draw her up and enfold her in his arms. He held her tightly, kissing her cheek, the shell of her ear, the corner of her eye.