It was especially difficult to keep her emotions in check when he bestowed gifts upon her. Only yesterday, the village dressmaker had delivered several new summer gowns and a spencer—the garments Abigail had been measured up for in Mrs. Graham’s office. And a pair of new kid slippers had arrived the day before that to replace the ones she’d lost in the storm.
But they weren’t the only gifts she’d received. This very morning, Sir Nicholas had presented her with a beautifully wrapped gift box containing several pairs of silk stockings, a thin-as-gossamer nightgown and a peach-hued lace and silk peignoir. Even though she knew he bought these items for his own titillation, she couldn’t help but be delighted. She’d never been given such exquisite garments before.
In her eyes, Sir Nicholas truly was a generous man. A most wonderful man. Not a rakehell at all. And as time went on, Abigail realized she was very much in danger of losing her heart to him.
Perhaps things would be easier when she moved to London. Then she wouldn’t see him half as much. Certainly not every day. And night.
But oh, how she would miss him.
Her heart twisted and the title of the book in her hand grew blurry. She bit her lip, angry with herself. Stop this foolishness, Abigail. You must not fall in love.
“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Adams.”
Abigail started. Sir Nicholas was behind her. She hadn’t heard his approach at all.
He slid his hands around her waist and kissed her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you jump.”
“That’s all right.” She blinked away her tears and plastered a smile on her face before turning her head in his direction. “I was just deciding where I should shelve this book.”
Sir Nicholas chuckled. “Well, I’d certainly like to hear your thoughts on that. I had no idea such an illicit book was contained in Hartfield’s collection.”
Abigail frowned. “Whatever do you...?” And then she glanced down at the volume she still held. Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. Volume One.
Oh. Heat washed over her face. “My goodness.”
Sir Nicholas’s voice brimmed with amusement. “Judging by your reaction, I would say you are familiar with this classic piece of literature.”
Classic piece of literature? “I’ve heard of it...” Which was a lie. She’d more than heard of the scandalous tome by John Cleland; in fact, it was so scandalous, it had been banned and the author had been imprisoned. But how could she admit such a thing to Sir Nicholas? To cover her embarrassment she added rather unconvincingly, “I’m sure many have.”
He took it from her hands and lounged against the sideboard beside her. “So,” he said, opening the old, red leather-bound volume and carefully turning the yellowed pages, “which part is your favorite, Miss Adams? I personally like the scene at the beginning when Fanny Hill and her friend, Phoebe—”
“You don’t have to describe what they do!”
Sir Nicholas cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Aha. So you have read it. Do tell, sweetheart. Did you read this particular copy or another one?”
“I haven’t read all of it. It was only a few chapters from Volume One.” That much was true. “And it wasn’t that edition.” She nodded at the book Sir Nicholas still held. “It was such a long time ago that I encountered it, I barely remember it.”
His grin grew wider. “Was it at Mrs. Brooke’s Academy for Young Ladies that you came across it? Was there a dog-eared copy passed around the dormitory? I’d love to hear all about it.”
She tried to purse her lips but they twitched with reluctant mirth. “I’m sure you would.”
He closed the book and fixed her with an intent look. Although there was also a decided twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I’m all ears.”
“My maiden aunts, Euphemia and Meredith—”
“Whom you lived with until you were fourteen. Yes, I recall.” Sir Nicholas’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me they kept a copy? The minxes!”
“Well, I’m not sure it was theirs.” Abigail leaned against the sideboard next to Sir Nicholas so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes and fiddled with a gilt knob on one of the drawers. “When I was eleven, I found several trunks of old books in the attic. And over the next few years I slowly worked my way through them, because believe me, there was scarcely anything interesting to read amongst my aunts’ meager collection of books. Both volumes of The Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure were in the very bottom of one of the trunks. I... I knew it must have been wicked, just by the title. When I was fourteen, I became curious, and I decided to take a look. I hid the first volume in my room, beneath my bed. But not well enough it seems.”
“You naughty girl.”
Abigail slid Sir Nicholas a glance but he was smiling. “Yes. I suppose I always have been.”
He squeezed her hand. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Abigail shrugged. “My aunts certainly thought my descent into wickedness signified. When Aunt Euphemia discovered what I was reading... Well, it confirmed what they’d always thought—that I was too wild and required discipline. And that’s when they decided to send me away to school.” She winced. “And I really don’t think they have ever forgiven me. If they ever found out what I do now... What I’ve become... I don’t think they’d be surprised.”
“I’m sorry to hear you are estranged from your aunts.” Sir Nicholas threaded his fingers through hers. “Forgive me for remarking upon it, but it makes me sad indeed to think you are quite alone in this world, my sweet Abigail. You told me your parents died when you were an infant and that you have no other family to speak of.”
“Yes. And it pains me to think I do not remember them at all.” Abigail paused. She was reluctant to share too much of her history with Sir Nicholas. When the expression in his blue eyes became tender, that was when he was most dangerous. And she was at her most vulnerable. It was best she changed tack and steer the conversation into safer waters. “At any rate, my aunts were, and still are, quite pious women and well-meaning. I do not bear them any ill-will for sending me away to school. In fact,” Abigail summoned a smile, “it was the best thing for me. I adored it.”
Sir Nicholas smiled back. “I enjoyed my school days too. And that’s where I first came across the memoirs of Miss Fanny Hill. It’s in the unofficial curriculum for just about every school boy.”
“I’m sure it is.”
He turned over a page in the book, now lying on the sideboard between them, before looking up at her from beneath his black lashes. “I learned quite a lot.”
Abigail laughed. Flirting was far safer than sharing confidences. “Well, that, I can attest to.”
“However,” Sir Nicholas leaned closer and traced a path with his finger along her collarbone down to the neckline of her new apricot-pink muslin gown, “a spot of revision never goes amiss. Practice makes perfect, wouldn’t you agree?”
Relief as well as desire washed over Abigail. It was better when Sir Nicholas did things like this. Then lust—pure and simple—would take over and she could quell anything else stirring inside her.
“And what is the lesson of the day?” she asked. Her nipples had pebbled beneath Sir Nicholas’s teasing touch and it was clear that she was aroused. As he’d requested, she’d stopped wearing anything beneath her gown except for her stockings. The thin muslin of her bodice hid little.
“Hmm.” Sir Nicholas’s fingers drifted over one of her breasts. “Latin, I think. Perhaps we could begin with cunnilingue. I have a novel technique I’d like to try with you.”
Abigail’s voice was more than a little breathless when she spoke. “As you wish. Where would you like the lesson to take place, sir?”
Sir Nicholas’s mouth lifted into a wolfish smile. “The sofa. Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the arrangement of chairs before the fireplace where a low fire crackled in the grate. The weather had turned cooler during the last few days and heavy showers of rain had precluded most outdoor pursuits.
Abigail didn’t mind at all when there were so many entertaining diversions to be had within the walls of Hartfield Hall.
She studied the cerise and ivory striped chair. “But we’ve used the sofa before...”
Sir Nicholas kissed her neck, scattering her thoughts as exquisite tremors of anticipation danced down her spine. His deft fingers loosened her bodice and then his hands skimmed down her arms, tugging the muslin as he went until her breasts were exposed. “Yes, but not this way, “ he murmured against her ear as he rubbed his thumbs back and forth over her aching nipples. “I want you to bend over the arm of the chair. Put your hands on the seat.”
Oh. Abigail’s lower belly tightened with longing. She turned around and complied with his request, taking her weight through her arms. With her belly resting on the sofa’s plump, cushioned side she couldn’t see, only feel Sir Nicholas behind her. She was so excited, she was almost panting. Sir Nicholas had taken her from behind on more than one occasion. But he’d never given her oral pleasure in this position before.
It felt wild and gloriously wicked. With her lower arms still caught in the sleeves of her gown, her movements were restricted, as if she’d been tied up. She was completely at Sir Nicholas’s mercy.
But hadn’t she always been, even from the very first moment they’d met?
The thought skittered away when Sir Nicholas’s hands caressed her exposed back, sliding downwards to her hips... where he paused. She quivered and moaned, grinding her sex restlessly against the arm of the chair. “What are you waiting for?”
Sir Nicholas chuckled. “Tut, tut, Miss Adams. You are always so impatient.”
And then he flipped up her skirts, exposing her legs and derrière. And she moaned again, but this time with pleasure. The cool air in the room felt wonderful against her bare thighs and her quim. Her folds were hot and slick with moisture. She was ready. Oh, so ready.
The wanton in her made her part her legs a little, inviting Sir Nicholas to touch. To taste.
“Beautiful.” Sir Nicholas kissed one cheek of her bottom then the other. His fingers slid with tantalizing slowness up one inner thigh, skimming over but not quite touching her where she wanted him. She sensed that he was now kneeling behind her, rather than standing. And that he was studying her like a work of art.
“Please,” she whispered, circling her hips a little. “Please start.”
“All right, Miss Adams.” Sir Nicholas gently parted the lips of her sex with his fingers. His breath was hot against her wet folds. “Let the lesson begin.”
Abigail gasped as Sir Nicholas ran his tongue from her core all the way up her drenched cleft to her bottom. She squeezed her cheeks together but Sir Nicholas stopped her, spreading her wide with his fingers again. “Fie, Miss Adams. There will be no skipping over any part.”
Oh, dear Lord. Sir Nicholas was merciless in his quest to own every little piece of her. It was deeply thrilling and shocking to realize she would let him do anything he wanted to. That she wanted this intimate possession too.
She clamped her eyes shut and made herself relax into Sir Nicholas’s touch, welcoming his exploration. His fingers slid in and out, up and down, spreading her juices whilst his tongue circled and flickered over her most private places. An agonized mewl tumbled from her throat when he focused all his attention on her clitoris, drawing on it with his lips. The delicate yet unrelenting suckling sensation was exquisite; it triggered something deep inside her womb and her folds were bathed with a fresh rush of moisture. Sir Nicholas growled his appreciation and ruthlessly thrust his tongue inside her whilst his fingers took over from his mouth, mercilessly teasing and tormenting her core, rubbing and circling, driving her wild.
Oh, God. It was too much. Too much acute sensation. Too much spiraling tension. She couldn’t resist the inexorable pull toward the brink of pleasure. Clutching the cushions, she buried her face in the silk and let go, crying, sobbing as she tumbled over the edge into blinding ecstasy.
It was so easy to be a fallen woman when Sir Nicholas could send her to a heavenly place like this. She prayed she could do the same for him.
* * *
Nicholas kissed Abigail’s lower back, then each cheek of her exquisite peach-shaped arse. He loved how adventurous and responsive she was. How aroused she became whenever they had sex.
He was only beginning to realize that sexual intercourse with Abigail Adams was completely addictive. She enflamed his desire like no other and it seemed the more times he had her, the more he wanted her. Right now, he had an erection that could drill a hole through the oak floorboards beneath him.
Whilst he was thrilled Abigail had found her release, his body now demanded satisfaction too. He was confident she wouldn’t deny him. He got to his feet and leaned over Abigail’s back, kissing the nape of her neck, then her exposed shoulder. “The lesson isn’t over yet, my sweet,” he murmured against her ear.
He felt rather than heard her laugh. Her body vibrated with mirth and there was a smile in her voice when she spoke. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
“Can you straighten your legs?” After her climax, she had sagged over the overstuffed arm of the sofa. “I want to take you from behind.”
“I think so...” She raised herself and freed her arms from her gown so that it slipped downwards with a soft sigh, puddling around her ankles. Now naked but for her stockings and slippers, she bent over the sofa again, presenting herself. Her dusky pink quim opened before him like a flower, lusciously swollen and glistening with her dew.
Nicholas’s cock nearly exploded right then and there. “Sweet Jesus, Abigail,” he rasped, “you’ll be the death of me.”
She laughed, a throaty sound, and wiggled her arse at him. “You’d best be quick then.”
Nicholas gave her a light playful slap on one creamy globe. “Cheeky wench.” He freed his cock with a shaking hand. His seed was already leaking from the head and dribbled over his fingers. She was right, he had to be quick before it was all over before he’d even started.
Holding her hips steady with one hand, he positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and nudged forward. Her hungry, wet cunt immediately sucked at him and he couldn’t resist the urge to thrust all the way in. With a groan, he slid into her welcoming heat, all the way to the hilt, then paused, not daring to breathe, struggling for control as searing pleasure licked along his nerves. Blood pounded in his ears and his balls.
Christ, she felt good. Tight and hot and sleek as satin. An earthly version of heaven.
Abigail seemed to sense he was on the edge as she stayed perfectly still; it was as if she too was holding her breath. God, how he loved how attune they were to each other’s needs. He bent forward, covering her and tugged her head around so he could kiss her, his tongue plunging inside her sweeter-than-honey mouth. She opened for him and kissed him back. Moaned into him when he used his other hand to tease her breasts. Her nipples were as hard as marbles. He wished he could taste them too.
But the desire to move suddenly became overwhelming. Nicholas released Abigail’s mouth and straightened. Grasping her hips, he withdrew on a slow glide then slammed back into her. Another excruciatingly slow withdrawal, another hard thrust, and then his restraint completely disintegrated. The sounds of frantic fucking filled the air as he pounded into Abigail over and over again—his harsh panting, her rhythmic cries, the slap of naked flesh upon flesh, the thud of the sofa against the wooden floorboards. For Abigail’s sake he should care they were being so loud, but it seemed he was a slave to the desperate need inside him.
An almighty orgasm was building like a storm on the horizon. Sweat dripped from his brow, slid down his back, his coiled muscles shook with tension. And Abigail hadn’t come yet. As his balls began to draw up and the pressure built to agonizing proportions, he knew he couldn’t wait for her. He had to pull out before it was too late.
With a hoarse cry he wrenched himself away and gripped his shaft, preparing to spend his seed over Abigail and the floor, but
before he could blink, Abigail turned and dropped to her knees and engulfed the head of his cock with her mouth.
Oh, God. His control shattered. Gripping the back of Abigail’s head, he rammed his cock further into her mouth and the dam inside him burst. She gripped his shaft and somehow swallowed everything he poured out. The hot torrent of his release seemed to go on forever.
When at last he ceased spending, as the aftermath of soft, warm pleasure ebbed through him, he released Abigail and opened his eyes. She was smiling up at him through the fan of her long brown lashes. “Well, that is a lesson I will never forget,” she whispered.
“Neither will I.” Nicholas helped Abigail to her feet and kissed her softly. “But I’m sorry.”
A slight frown creased her brow. “What for?”
“I...” Nicholas swallowed. “I failed to please you a second time...” Was it just male arrogance or something else behind his need to satisfy her? He’d always prided himself on his skills as a lover but he’d never gone out of his way to please his mistresses before. But there was something about Abigail that was different. He cared about what she thought. What she felt. She’d bewitched him like no other woman ever had before.
She smiled and touched his arm. “I don’t mind at all. I was more than satisfied the first time. And it pleases me to know that I have satisfied you.”
As Abigail bent to retrieve her gown and Nicholas helped her to re-lace it at the back, it suddenly occurred to him that there was something else irking him. Because he’d assured Abigail he’d make every effort to prevent conception of a child, neither of them would ever know the thrill of climaxing at the very same moment in time. Except for the few occasions when he visited brothels, he didn’t put much store in prophylactic sheaths. He would always be pulling out of her.
And that made him feel strangely incomplete... And disgruntled. Not with Abigail but with the whole situation. Like they were both being cheated. Something else he’d never felt before.
A sharp rap on the door made them both start. Bollocks. Who the hell wanted him now?
An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 Page 10