“You are to be my wife,” Ash said stiffly. He knew his face reddened in shame, for he was ashamed of the discomfort he had caused her. “However,” he continued, ignoring the ripple of excitement her query had aroused, “not my whore. I respect you.”
“I would be better off as your mistress and get the body and the fucking I desire,” she said frankly. “Lud, Ash. I want your love, your body, and to be fucked. If that is not to be my culmination, then let me be your whore. For a twelvemonth, I have spied and regarded you in secret, stroking myself after peering at you without your knowledge. Lud, I ache for your touch. If, as your wife, I do not receive all that I desire, I do not desire to be your wife. Why should I settle for less than all you can—if you chose—give me?” she demanded. “Just because it is assumed women of our class do not enjoy more than the mere mechanics of sex, or indeed, merely tolerate a husband’s touch, do not assume that of me. If, as your mistress, I will receive more than duty demands, then make me her. However, don’t bother to make me your wife. I have too much esteem to settle for less than I deserve.”
He wondered if he imagined what he heard. “And you feel you deserve to be my mistress?”
“Well, I deserve more than a ten-minute fumble once the lamps are dimmed.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. Bloody hell. This was a woman after his own heart...or cock.
“Know you what you are asking? For the pictures you are conjuring have my cock throbbing. It knows, as I do, the pleasure to be had in showing you. I believe,” he said slowly, “you do deserve more, my love. My whore you shall be.”
***
Adriana stared as her mind began to assimilate all that had occurred that day. To find the man she dreamt of—brought herself to fruition thinking about and was due to marry shortly—deep inside another, benefitting from all the things she had been longing for, was a bitter pill. For it then to be intimated she would not be enjoying such depths was beyond acceptance. Respect, if it included none of the proclivities she had understood could be enjoyed between a man and a woman, was not respect, but duty. All her life, until setting up her own household, she had been regarded as a duty. No more! She would have what she wanted and if that entailed being a mistress to the man before her, then by God, that is what she would be. A role unknown to her. A role she would learn and assimilate quickly—before he changed his mind and her taste buds were left unsatisfied.
“My lord.” She curtsied. “I believe you do me a great honor. Where, when, and how?”
Ashley laughed. “Soon, here, and I will show you now, my love.” He pulled her close and teased her lips with his tongue until she opened them, allowing him to invade the depths of her mouth.
Adriana gasped and let her tongue dance and mesh with his, her senses reeling, her quim moistening. If this was being a mistress, how glad was she not to be a wife. She leant into him and gulped as his hand slipped under the fluted neckline of her gown, unerringly honed in on her nipple, and pinched to a degree just on the pleasure side of pain.
She caught her breath.
He smiled. “You like this.” It was a statement, not a question. “I feel sure you will like what else we do even more. Close your eyes.”
She stared, uncomprehending.
“Close. Your. Eyes. Or I blindfold you.” Still, she stood and neither moved nor spoke, shocked at her feelings of excitement. Was she at last going to discover for herself what happened between a man and a woman?
“Riana.” For the first time, he used her diminutive—so beloved of her family in her younger days, before she became persona non grata. “Do you hear me?’
“I hear you? Why?” She was puzzled. He gave a ghost of a smile.
“Because I desire you to use those senses other than sight. To hear, taste, and feel. Not see. So, I say again. Close your eyes. Now.”
Her breath quickened. The word dominant had been whispered in their circles whenever Ash had been mentioned. She knew not fully what it implied, but felt this imparting of desire was the first step in a curve of learning.
“Do as I say. You wish to be my mistress? Mistresses obey without question.”
More fool, they. She thought the words but did not speak them. Her sense told her he wished to see how far she would acquiesce, how far he could push, until she gave notice for him to stop. For then, he could demand she cease being foolish, and return to meek and mild Adriana, a doormat and a wife. Well, she opined silently, for one considered a lady’s man, he knows little of the working of a woman’s mind. He would be the first to break. This time, she would obey without question, for it interested her to see, or she pondered inwardly, not to see what he chose to do.
“Good girl.” As her eyelids fluttered together, she felt his hand on her back, gently rubbing circles on her skin while he spoke his approval.
“So when and where, my love, have you regarded my fucking?” He spoke casually, as if he were talking of such mundane matters as the weather. She was hard-pressed not to gasp at such language. Somehow it seemed all the more shocking spoken by him in such a cavalier manner.
“Did you enjoy you your voyeurism? Make yourself come as I did? Wish you were the lucky lady? Or whore?” His hand moved lower and circled each globe of her ass.
“Did you see my cock fill my partner here, Adriana?” One finger pressed the folds of her skirt against her tiny entrance. “Did it make you wriggle, your breath quicken? Make you wonder how ‘twould feel for my cock to be in your arse? Make you wet and needy?”
Condescending whore-son. At that moment, Riana decided her best behavior would be very, very bad. Meanwhile, she would enjoy the tingles beginning to explore her spine, moving ever downward, increasing both her excitement and her dampness. Did he know there were no curls to contain her arousal?
As she explored these feelings and let him tease and excite her, she began to plan his downfall.
“Feel my hand on your skin.” His voice was seducing, enticing her senses, as with one hand still caressing her arse, she felt the other edge farther down her bodice. Cool air on her body made her moan. How could the cool air be so arousing when her skin was covered? The answer hit her at the same time she realized her arms were immobilized. By cloth. He had loosened the ties on her gown, slipping it downward to bare her breasts and pinion her arms, allowing her no give or take. How had she been so immersed in those deliciously new sensations that his movements had been undetected?
“Ah, my love, ‘tis a sight to devour. No.” His voice sharpened as she began to open her eyes. “I trust you to do as I request. I will say when you may look.” His hands continued their exploration as he pulled her tight to his body, and she could feel the power of his erection hard against her mound. She leant in closer and with soft sighs and incoherent mumbling, tried to rub against him. The hand on her arse stopped its delicate probing of that tiny, puckered hole through her gown, and moved solely to her buttocks where it gripped firmly.
“Riana, as your master, I can control you as I desire. Perchance my desire is to spank you each time you cross my will...” He paused, and now his hand caressed her curves. “Of course, as my wife, you would command respect that does not allow this.”
Arrogant swine. “So your wife—whatever else she does—receives no physical chastisement? Your mistress does. Whatever she does, if it not please you, you react in such a manner?” She paused, and an impulse made her continue. “So, if as your wife, I took a lover, you would accept this? Maybe that is the route to take?”
“Open your eyes now and look at me.” This she was happy to do, and after a swift glance at her dishabille and the yet-immaculate set of his clothing, looked him straight in the eye.
“Oh, my.” She schooled her tone into a mocking lilt. “You feel this is equality? You so unmoved by my body and me...well, me in a state of semi-undress, with my emotions in chaos from your touch and craving more. Perhaps if the day arrives that I do accept the position of your wife, and you have no need of my attentions, I may turn them
to another.” She waited for his reaction. It was not long in coming.
“If my wife took a lover, I would kill both her and him.”
Well, that sounded definite. Her palms began to sweat. He had not finished, however.
“That is the length of it. The differences are numerous.” He seemed to be waiting for an answer.
Adriana smiled, putting as much sex and promise as she knew how into her mouth, her eyes, and her demeanor.
“Some do say to be spanked by a dominant is highly arousing, that ‘tis erotically charged.’” She opened her eyes to their widest, aiming for a look of innocence, unsure if she achieved her goal. “Are you such a person, Ash?”
She would swear if he had been drinking, none would be left in glass or mouth; it would all be spread over the room as he spewed it out in surprise.
“What, my lady, know you of such things?” His tone was stern, but try as he might to control it, Riana could see the light of more than casual interest in his eyes.
“I know as much as I need at present. If I wish to know more, I will discover.”
“You will discover naught unless from me. In this, there is no debate.” He glared at her, his eyes becoming angry slits. In response, she smiled virtuously.
“And you know the answers, of course. Otherwise...” She shrugged.
“Otherwise,” he retorted grimly, “they will be so insignificant, you will have no need to know or understand.”
“In that case, I ask again. Are you a dominant?”
“And I say again, what know you of such things?”
Dare I say that is for me to know and you to find out? Perhaps... She glimpsed the storm clouds in his eyes. Not.
“Relax; I know no more than gossip bandied about over dishes of Bohea and cakes. But it is said you are a dominant. You need to take charge. It is whispered this is both disturbing and arousing. Sadly, the gossips say little more. Nonetheless, I read, speak, and am inquisitive. This, along with a few careless comments dropped into conversations remembered, aroused my inquisitiveness. So I researched in general and you in specific.” She smiled, feeling her arousal increase by several degrees.
“There you learned what?” His hand was still caressing her buttocks through the thin muslin, its presence nigh rendered superfluous, she decided, as she felt the sensuous slide of the thin material moving beneath his hands. Once again, his other hand unerringly found one hard and eager nipple and pinched gently, and again, a sharp bolt of desire went straight to her quim.
“That your control is absolute, your staying power legendary, and your generosity overwhelming. You are faithful and true for the length of time you are amused, on average, which is believed to be between four and seven months.”
“Any more?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement. “Do I defend myself?”
Riana looked at him, considering. “I know not, my lord. Do you have a need to?”
Ash laughed. “Minx, I feel I may have a need to spank you until you cannot sit down for a sennight.”
She smiled in satisfaction, enjoying his teasing tone. This, she had been given to believe, was one area of depravity he excelled in. “Ah, so ‘tis true.”
“I crave your pardon?” He sounded bewildered.
“The kittle-cattle are correct in their surmise, dominant.”
“Oh, my dear,” he purred. “Of a surety. As you as my beloved mistress will discover.”
She was interested beyond belief. “What if I decided to be your wife, and I chose to be that alone, and you chose not to renege?”
He mimicked her smile. “As my wife,” he replied slowly and deliberately. “I begin to think you may also find out.”
“Then, my lord, when you change may to will, ask me again if you so please, and I will reconsider.”
“Perchance, my dear, I may so enjoy you as a mistress, I will feel no need for a wife, be it you or another.”
“Ah, well.” She strove to make her voice light and unworried. “Time will tell. In the meantime, what next?”
That did earn her a short, sharp tap on her rear. She felt her dress pulled back into place, freeing her arms.
“In the meantime, I bid you farewell and ask you make preparations to facilitate my easy and unnoticed entry to the house and your bedchamber this evening. At eleven. Before then, I have to show my face at Lady Pevensy’s ball. I believe we may meet there, and I will escort you to supper. Being cognizant of this, will you agree we keep our change in circumstance to ourselves at present?”
“Ash, we cannot. I have sent the directive to the papers.” She frowned. “Now I regret my hasty actions of earlier, but I felt sorely ill-used.”
“Ah, my love.” He finished retying her ribbons. “Worry not. Mister Barnes, the esteemed editor of The Times, contacted me in fear of the notice being a jape, and I persuaded him it was so.”
Argh. She could scream. The bugger had been aware of her plans from the beginning.
CHAPTER THREE
“It seems, my lord…” Her voice was glacial. “…you have the edge.”
Ash laughed and kissed her hand. “My love, I will always have the edge. You will do well to remember it.” He watched her mouth drop open as she stared at him. He returned the gaze, his own face blank. So now, my dear, you are out of kilter. And out of kilter you will stay...until I decree otherwise. He made sure none of this showed on his perfectly schooled face as he took his leave, his mind already plotting the hours after the ball. He would bet his newly purchased hunter she was perplexed and, by now, beginning to seethe. He looked forward to the fireworks with a hunger that surprised him.
Smiling at Archer, he asked for pen and ink and executed a brief note with a polite request it be delivered to premises in an unassuming street nearby. Once assured it would be sent immediately, Ash retrieved his coat, sauntered down the steps, and then walked slowly along the square until he was able to hail a passing hackney. Directing the driver to Addersley House, he sat back on the squabs, satisfied with his opening skirmish. To say he had been aghast when Mister Barnes had sent word to beg his indulgence and to call upon him at his earliest convenience was a severe underestimation. Knowing Barnes as he had from when he was a young man, he knew he would not ask for his attendance without considerable provocation.
Reading the retraction of their intended vows had not only jolted him, but also angered him. It was nothing to do with the attitude of the Ton or the sniggers and tittle-tattle that would follow. It was to do with Adriana. He lusted after her. Not merely desired, but lusted. Love was not a word in his vocabulary. Having seen what so-called love had done to his father in the face of his mama’s disinterest and flagrant flaunting of her lovers, he had vowed never to fall prey to that particular emotion.
Lovers he had taken in their dozens. His prowess was legendary. Even the most reticent of individuals swore one look from Lord Addersley and they would do anything. Judging by the numbers of eligible, young women he had found ready to lure him into compromising positions, he agreed with that statement wholeheartedly. One of the few things he surmised his whole heart was involved in. Perhaps, if truth be told, any of his heart, except for where his hunters were concerned.
So now he had to decide what happened next. All previous ideas of a gentle, steady pursuit of her, in the eventual hope of more than a gentrified coupling, were now dead. Her ultimate capitulation was his final, nay, immediate, aim. He knew once she was his in every sense of the word, she would be bound to him. Not as a mistress but as his wife. Then he could sate himself when he so desired as well as continue his life as he determined, with a mistress or not. Why then, did this scenario not please him as he thought it should? More than this, why did he have a persistent quibble in the back of his mind that somehow things may not play out just as he so desired?
Dismissing that niggling feeling, he relaxed as the hackney carriage lurched over the cobbles. Time enough to worry later, if indeed, he had a need to. Now he would plot and scheme. He thought his jaded
palate was about to be amused.
The movement of the cab, the way it swayed his body, reminded him of an on-dit passed to him a few days earlier. To whit, a close friend, a prominent member of the Ton, had recently created a circular, cobbled track in the grounds of his countryseat, with the specific purpose of creating cock-arousing friction and eventual climax. Ash remembered Ivo talking about such amusements months earlier. It seemed he had executed his idea. Ash could imagine just how arousing and agreeable that would be. Perhaps he needed to wangle an invitation when next they met? Even more interesting was the thought of what that chafing could do to a smooth, uncovered cunt. Once more, his cock responded to his thoughts with instant approval.
“Addersley House, gaffer.” The tone was respectful, the title not so. However, he forbore commenting and left the hackney after paying the jarvey his fare.
As if by magic, his front door was opened as he mounted the wide steps leading from the pavement, a new addition to this select area of London.
“My lord.” Higgins, his majordomo, stood to one side and bowed low as Ash entered his spacious hallway. “Moulton awaits your pleasure in the green salon.”
Excellent, the next phase of seduction was almost in place. His manhood swelled as if to signal its eager anticipation of forthcoming events.
Two hours later, it was very firmly in place, and Moulton left, satisfied with the large commission that had been put his way.
Ash sauntered up to his bathing chamber to enjoy a deep, relaxing bath and gave orders for the following day. Satisfied he had done all he could at present to ensure his demands were met, he dressed. A perfect gentleman from head-to-toe, from his artfully dressed curls, à la Brutus, to his crisply starched, perfectly arranged—in his own personal style—cravat and immaculate knee breeches, to hessians glossed and shined to perfection. Many a dandy had tried to get his valet’s recipe for blacking. None had succeeded. Elsome was too attached to his master to let another in on his secrets.
A Most Unusual Mistress (Rogue Scandals) Page 2