by Evie North
Gervais peeled it for her and handed her the first luscious piece. She bit into it and groaned with pleasure, the juice running down her chin. He smiled and continued, piece by piece, until it was all gone. Katherine couldn’t remember having anything so delicious, the taste of it sweet on her tongue, like ambrosia trickling down her throat.
In the silence that stretched between them, Katherine began to feel less apprehensive. Of course she knew that tonight Gervais Hawley would have her in any way he wished, and she had agreed to it. Of course she knew that. But as yet he had barely touched her, and he had been kind. Perhaps he would leave her be until the morning, and she would escape at cock crow without having to fulfil her promise.
Slyly, she glanced up at him through her pale lashes, trying in vain to read his expression, to understand how this man felt and thought. With Edward it had been important to learn his every twitch or smirk and what it might mean for her, but this man...he was an unread book.
Now he caught her look and chuckled. “Feeling better?”
“Much, thank you.”
“Then perhaps it is time to begin.”
“Begin?” she whispered, blue eyes wide. He could not mean what she thought he meant. Could he?
As if to divert her fretful thoughts, he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers against her long hair. “Your hair is curling now that it is dry,” he said. He drew forth a lock, stretched it to its fullest extent, and then let it tumble softly against her breast.
Katherine didn’t move, could hardly breathe, as he played with her hair. He smoothed it into a bunch at her nape and then let it fall free again. He lifted it to his face and nuzzled into it, his eyes closed. “Like finest silk,” he murmured, and smiled. “Do you know every woman has her own scent? One that is hers alone?”
Katherine shook her head uncertainly. “And what is mine, sir?” she asked, then wondered if she should have stayed silent. What if it was something nasty?
He thought a moment, idly running his fingers through the threads of her hair. “You have an exotic scent, Katherine. You may look like a cool English rose but I think you have the fire of exotic lands in your blood.”
“I am the daughter of a teacher and a scholar,” Katherine retorted. “The only thing exotic about me is the stories I read.”
Gervais raised his brows. “What stories are they? Surely nothing that isn’t perfectly respectable?”
Katherine knew he was laughing at her. As if he knew. But how could he? “Of course,” she said, and forced herself to meet his gaze directly, daring him to call her a liar.
Instead he reached out to trace the flesh above the neckline of her gown with a long forefinger. “Of course,” he echoed. He caressed her skin as if it were a delicate wonder to him, and the more he touched the warmer she became. A tremble began in her lips and then her throat, and then spread down to her breasts. She felt them tighten, a little ache of sensation, before the tremble went lower still, to the place between her legs where Edward had forced himself inside her. Always in the darkness, as if he were ashamed of his own needs. Wrenching up her nightdress so that he could fumble his way to snorting, gasping ecstasy.
But this was different, very different. Gervais was moulding the shape of her breasts with his hands, feeling the weight of her, his thumbs finding the hard nubs her nipples had become through the worn cloth. Her breath was ragged. She could hear it in the silent room and tried to calm herself, but the more she tried the more ragged it became.
“Sir,” she tried, “I...”
“Hush.” There it was again, that gentle word. And yet he turned it into a command. Or a promise.
He leaned toward her and his mouth was so close to hers that she felt the warmth of his breath upon her lips, and then his lips touched hers, gently, but with practised expertise. His tongue tasted her bottom lip, darted inside her mouth, and she felt herself opening before him. Helpless and yet eager, too, to experience what he had to give.
“Exotic indeed,” he murmured. “You taste of the sun, Katherine. Kissing you is like escaping to fantastic places.”
His words were soft and mesmerising, and Katherine made a soft sound, more of a moan than a whimper. The heat of the fire and now the heat of his body were enclosing her. His mouth grew more determined in its exploration and she felt his tongue claim hers, stroking it, as if to perform some strange mating dance.
This was unlike any kiss she’d ever experienced, and the sensations it created in her mind and body were also beyond her understanding. Her breasts ached, and as if he knew it he reached again to place his open hand over first one and then the other. Beneath the borrowed worn-out clothes was nothing but her bare skin, and she knew he was as aware of the weight and softness of her flesh as she was of his warm hand.
By now her nipple was so hard it was almost painful, and it butted against his palm as if to demand his attention. He smiled at her, a knowing smile, as if he was secretly pleased by her reaction, before bending his head to nip and kiss at her throat, which she obligingly arched to give him better access.
Katherine already knew she wasn’t going to stop him. His touch, his kisses, had begun a fire and she wanted to let it burn. She was on a voyage of discovery just as she was whenever she opened a new book and began to read.
But this wasn’t like any book she’d ever read before, not even the handbill with the crude naked images someone had left behind in one of the bedchambers at the inn. Women astride men, women wide-eyed as men drove into them. And everyone looking as if they were enjoying themselves immensely.
But how could that be? Katherine had asked herself, her hands trembling as she’d carried the crumpled papers to the window to see them better. Were such things really this pleasurable? In her experience the sexual act was something to be endured, not enjoyed.
And then Edward had come looking for her, snatched the handbill from her and she’d never seen it again. That night he’d come to her bed, pawing her, breathing hard as he thrust into her again and again.
She’d born it with gritted teeth, telling herself this proved that the little book was a lie. A fairytale. A fantasy. What woman would look so when a man took her body with his?
But now Katherine knew her own face looked like the women in the pamphlet. Passionate, wondrous, full of bliss.
Because what Gervais Hawley was doing to her was bliss.
Yes, Katherine was on the road to self-discovery and she had no desire to turn back.
3
Gervais stroked the pearly flesh of her throat, drawing his finger down so that he could dip beneath the frayed neckline of her gown. He could see she was already enthralled by his skills. Although, he admitted wryly, he hadn’t used many of them yet.
He’d had it in his mind that he would tempt Katherine into his power with the promise of setting her free. Once he had her then he’d punish her for her lover’s underhanded actions. Edward Prime was the cause of Gervais’s downfall. Why shouldn’t Katherine pay for Edward’s treachery just as she was already paying for his debts?
But she’d looked like such a frightened little mouse when she came into his cell that he’d abandoned all thoughts of such a brutal revenge. He’d almost abandoned the thought of tupping her. Why not leave her be and wait out the night in separate chairs? Then he could be the sort of man he’d always aspired to be. Honest, upright, worthy. Decent.
Yes, he’d be all of those things and more. He would save the wench and go to his death like a hero.
But Gervais Hawley was no hero. Katherine was a beautiful woman and when she’d stood there in the doorway, staring at him as if she were a maiden in a fairytale, waiting for her prince to awaken her, he’d known he would have her once, twice, many times before cock crow. And she’d wanted him too, even if she didn’t realise it. He’d seen her desire in the tremble of her mouth, and the beat of the pulse in her throat, even the way her thick dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was a woman made for the carnal pleasures.
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Lust had fired its arrow at him and the decent man fled.
Separate chairs be damned! he’d thought. He would have her this night, his last night before the devil took him to Hell. And wasn’t that a better revenge than punishing the woman for her man’s sins? Edward Prime had kept his Katherine out of sight, hiding her away like a fabulous jewel for his own delectation. How he would have hated the thought of Gervais handling that jewel, tasting it, taking it again and again.
Gervais smiled. “Shall we rid you of this abomination?” he asked. His fingers hooked into the thin cloth of her dress, testing it. He felt her body tense, just before he gave a savage tug.
The cloth rent, all the way down to her waist. Her body was pink and white in the firelight, perfect to his eyes. He—the rake—found himself dazed by the sight of her.
“Oh!” She tried to cover herself with her hands. He caught her wrists, lifting her hands up and away, baring her again to his greedy gaze.
“Peerless,” he whispered.
Her breasts had lifted with her arms and, though in proportion to her small frame, they looked swollen and heavy with growing desire. Her nipples were pointing toward him, and his mouth watered to taste their sweetness. His dark gaze ran up to hers, noting her pupils growing larger. With fear? He didn’t think so. His Katherine had the look of a woman who was ready and willing for the delights of the flesh.
Gervais had wanted to see her naked the moment he first saw her. Not, as she no doubt thought, in the court of the Old Bailey. He’d first seen her in Edward Prime’s inn, through a gap in the parlour door. She had been arranging flowers in a bowl on a polished table and her beautiful face had been entranced with the task—lips slightly parted, pale lashes long on her lowered lids. He’d wanted her then, with a heat and craving he’d never felt before. The sight of her had gone straight to his cock, and if there had been a small longing ache in his chest—where his heart was meant to be—then he ignored it.
He’d wanted her. He’d thought about her for days afterwards.
So when he saw her again in this grim place, well...surely it was the fates giving him permission to have her? And if it made Edward Prime writhe in fury beneath whatever rock he was hiding under, then so much the better.
“Enough thinking,” he muttered, and reached for her.
The time had come to feast on her bare skin, the perfect shape of her breasts with their pale pink peaks, and the darker rose-coloured buds that seemed to tighten even as he watched. He bent closer, breathing warm air upon them, and heard her catch of breath.
“Do you like that?”
“I don’t know,” she demurred, her eyes very blue.
“I think you do know.”
He bent closer still, so that the tip of his tongue trailed over the rounded curves of each breast, finding first one nipple and then the other. He whirled his tongue around the little buds, and then sucked hard. Her body went rigid and she made a keening sound. He sucked harder and she arched upwards, her body bowing toward him.
“Do you like that, Katherine?”
“Yes,” she gasped raggedly. “I do.”
“Should I do it again?”
“Yes...” Her hands closed on either side of his face, a little clumsy in her sudden, desperate need to keep his mouth upon her.
Gervais’s cock was pressing uncomfortably against his tight trousers. He wanted to reach down and free it. He imagined pushing it deep inside her, taking her now, hard and fast. Panting, shouting, releasing the lust within him like an animal.
But he stopped himself.
Haste wasn’t what tonight was about. This was his last night on earth and now that he had this woman he’d been thinking about for so long...He wanted to savour her like a delicate fruit. Like the orange he had fed her earlier. He wanted to lose himself in her and forget tomorrow in the pleasures of the night, but he also wanted her to enjoy what he was doing to her. He wanted her to remember him, to dream of this night for years to come. He wanted to spoil her for Edward Prime, so that she would look upon him with the contempt he deserved. And in the morning when Gervais went to the gallows he would go with her willing scent upon him like a benediction.
Well, that was the plan. But he was only a man after all. Now he was ravishing her breasts with his lips and tongue, his hands caressing the warm skin of her back and waist, paying little heed to thoughts of restraint. He wanted to have her all naked in his arms, and from her gasps and her eager writhing he believed that was what Katherine wanted too.
With both hands he gripped hold of the torn cloth at her waist, and with another savage tug, ripped it asunder.
She was panting and this time did not try to cover herself.
He took his fill of her. Skin, clean and soft, although her bones were a little too near the surface— but he would have expected nothing else in Newgate. Once she was gone from here she’d put some flesh on, grow more rounded and...Gervais shook his head. No point in dwelling on that. He wouldn’t be there to see her.
“What is it?” she whispered. She’d seen the shake of his head. She was trying to drag the torn pieces of dress over herself as though she’d done something wrong.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said, watching her intently.
“A-are you?” She licked her lips. “A-all right, sir.”
“No, my beauty,” he teased. “I’m going to kiss your other lips.”
“My other lips?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
Gervais leaned toward her, his tongue trailing down over her belly, planting hot and wet kisses against her skin. He pulled the remainder of the dress away. Oh yes, she was a beauty, and he wanted her. But again he would wait, he would subdue his own desire for hers. He had all night after all, and Gervais knew a great deal about the carnal act and all its variations.
“Lie back,” he instructed her.
Cheeks flushed she eased herself backwards onto the thick rug, watching him warily. “I’ve never lain naked with a man before,” she whispered.
He shouldn’t have been surprised but he was. Surely even Edward would have some degree of finesse? But it seemed not. He should have known that the dolt wouldn’t have considered Katherine’s pleasure in his couplings, only his own needs.
Well, Gervais was about to show her how she could share in the delights herself, rather than simply be the object of a selfish man’s lust.
He took her bare foot in his hand, examining the curve of her instep, the neat toes. He used his lips and tongue on her, working his way up over the swell of her calf to her knee and then the fleshy part of her thigh. She was trembling by the time he reached the apex of her thighs, and he could see the gleam of moisture gathering there.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She gasped as he slid his hands beneath her bottom, opening her to his ministrations. She lifted her head, fair hair tumbling about her face, her eyes blurred with desire.
“Sir?” she croaked.
His smile at her was sardonic. “I think in these circumstances you may call me Gervais,” he said. She smelt aroused, musky, and as he bent forward and trailed his tongue along her opening, he enjoyed the fact that she was already so wet. No shrinking violet, his Katherine.
Her voice was trembling now. “Sir...I mean, Gervais... Can this be right? I have never...he never...”
“We will not talk of Edward Prime,” he said with cold finality. “He was a poor specimen if he never thought to give you pleasure with his mouth.”
And he proceeded to let his tongue show her just what sort of pleasure he meant. Her bud was like a little swollen cock, raising its head for his attention, and he took it into his mouth as he had her nipples, running his tongue around it, and then sucking hard.
Her hips shot up and she squealed.
He did it again, and this time her body spasmed and he could feel her climax near as tremors ran through her hips and thighs. He slid his fingers inside her sheath, where
she was so moist and hot, and as she gasped, he groaned.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, his voice slurred as if he’d drunk too much wine.
Should he enter her now? Or should he give her this moment of pleasure? A foretaste of what was to come? He’d ruin her for men like Edward Prime forever, he thought wildly. If Edward tried to win her back she’d spit upon him because he, Gervais, had given her a taste of what a real man could do.
But while he was deliberating Katherine was moving against his fingers, rubbing her pearl against the palm of his hand as she sought her own pleasure. Now, with a sharp cry she suddenly arched against him, her sheath spasming around his fingers, her hips jerking. He bent, his tongue gentle now, soothing her heated flesh, tasting her desire.
Eventually he sat up and finished off the food on the platter, watching her as she lay, eyes closed, lips parted, floating in whatever paradise she had found.
He smiled in grim satisfaction at a job well done.
4
Katherine was having trouble catching her breath. Her body was so weak and limp, just as it had been when she had gaol fever. But this time the simmering heat came from Gervais. He was her fever. He had put his mouth upon her most private places, kissed her where before she had barely dared to touch or even glance at herself in the mirror. And then he had caused something so amazing to happen she wasn’t sure what to call it. That rushing sensation. That wondrous delight.
Her eyelids were still heavy but she knew she must move, she must confront this change in herself. She forced her eyes open and sought him out. He was sprawled close beside her, sipping from his wineglass, his dark eyes half-closed as he watched her.
There was a coldness about him she wasn’t sure she liked, but before she could begin to question it he changed, smiled, and warmth flooded her once more.
“Why did I not know about such things?” she blurted out, a touch of irritation in her voice.