She smiled at once. “If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Only…”
The countess frowned a little. “Yes?”
Blake held her gaze as he cast aside the damp washcloth onto a nearby side table, then flashed his never-fail-to-seduce, half-smile at her. “May I kiss you, before I go?”
Lady Well’s eyes widened momentarily, but then she smiled back. “Yes, Mr. Blake. You may.”
* * *
Bianca could scarcely believe that Blake had so readily agreed to her proposition. And now he wanted to kiss her. For so long she’d dreamed of being kissed by those perfectly chiseled lips of his. She prayed that the reality would be much better than her fantasy.
Blake took several steps closer, until he was standing right in front of her. He was so tall, she had to tilt her chin slightly so she could still see his eyes. The sweep of his thick sooty lashes almost hid the emerald depths as he gazed down at her face—at her mouth. She couldn’t read what he was thinking, although she suspected he was planning what sort of kiss he would bestow.
Why didn’t he just do it? Her heart was pounding so hard and fast, the suspense would kill her, she was certain of it. She swallowed past a dry throat. “Have you ever kissed a countess before?” she asked, her voice breathless, barely a whisper.
He smiled gently and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “No. I trust I won’t disappoint, my lady.”
But her question seemed to at last embolden him to action. He gently curled one of his hands around her shoulder, drawing her closer and she was immediately enveloped by the intoxicating scent of him—the citrusy soap or cologne he used and the muskier scent of highly aroused male.
The first time he dipped his head, his mouth brushed against hers briefly, as soft as satin, the mere tease of a kiss. Another brush, but maddeningly, the caress was only a little firmer. She twisted her hand into his lapel, almost whimpering with frustration. “I might be a countess, but I’m not a virgin you know,” she murmured against his lips.
She felt his mouth curve into smile. “Patience, my lady. Patience. Aren’t the best things in life worth waiting for?”
She couldn’t help but humph a little. “I wouldn’t know, I’m still wait—”
The third time he kissed her, he claimed her mouth completely. And it was heaven.
The smooth, wet glide of his firm lips, the slide of his tongue inside her, the rich taste of him were headier than she had ever imagined. When he sucked on her lower lip, she moaned. It was so good. So wickedly good. She slid her hands inside his jacket, impatiently searching for the solid planes of his chest beneath his satin waistcoat and cambric shirt. She’d never touched anyone like him before. So hard and hot and virile. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she wantonly pushed her aching breasts against him and the folds between her thighs grew slick and heavy with throbbing arousal.
And all this from only a kiss. What would it be like when they…
All thought fled as Blake slowly slid his hand from her shoulder to her breast, his fingers brushing up and down the side of the sensitive curve, teasing her mercilessly, whilst he continued to gently ravage her mouth. His other hand pushed into the mess of her hair and he tugged, gently loosening what remained of the pins so that within moments, her hair cascaded freely about her shoulders. She longed to reciprocate and run her fingers through his cropped dark hair, but as much as she wanted to knock off his periwig, indeed tear off his jacket and shirt, she knew Blake had to go and check on Yates’s whereabouts.
Indeed, the same thought must have occurred to Blake as he began to draw back from her by bestowing smaller, lighter teasing busses across her lips, cheeks and jaw. He gently disengaged her hands from his neck and kissed her fingertips. “We should stop here…for now, my lady…or I may not be able to bring myself to leave.”
She nodded and smiled, secretly pleased to see he was as breathless and flustered as herself. Perhaps he did desire her after all. “Yes…I know.” She smoothed his lapels and straightened his simple cravat, then stepped away. “I trust you won’t be long.”
God, she hated sounding so needy and desperate, but after a devastating kiss like that, it seemed she couldn’t help herself. Oh, you are in a sad state, Bianca.
Blake smiled softly and at least had the decency not to look smug. “I won’t, my lady.” He kissed her forehead as tenderly as one would kiss a child, then without a backward glance, quit the room.
As soon as the door snicked shut, Bianca collapsed onto the settee and wrapped her arms about herself. Her legs were shaky, her breathing erratic—and it wasn’t just because of the aftermath of Blake’s kiss.
Dear Lord, she must be insane. She’d been close to ruin once before, and she didn’t know if she could face it again.
Tonight was either going to be the best night of her life or an utter disaster. She just prayed it would be memorable for all the right reasons.
Chapter 2
It wasn’t difficult at all to locate Yates. As Blake had suspected, the coachman was in the taproom, deeply engrossed in the process of trying to seduce a rather buxom local lass. In fact, Yates was so busy looking down the girl’s ample cleavage, he didn’t even notice Blake when he pushed his way past him to the bar.
Because the one thing Blake really, really needed right now, was another drink.
He briefly contemplated ordering a fortifying ale or a shot of rum, but then just as quickly dismissed the idea. When he returned to Lady Wells—dare he think of her as Bianca?—he didn’t think it would be wise to reek of beer or rough spirits like any old commoner.
But wasn’t that exactly what he was? A bastard commoner?
Sod it. He ran a hand down his face—uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe how he felt right now. His gut was a veritable bramble thicket of knots whilst his balls ached and his cock throbbed at the memory of plundering her sweet, sweet mouth. He couldn’t believe that his angelically beautiful yet completely fuckable mistress wanted him—someone like him—to have sex with her. How was he supposed to deal with that?
He really had no idea.
But deal with it he must, and probably in a state of stone cold sobriety, depending on how much change he had. He thrust his hand in his pocket, digging for coins, whilst at the same time trying to surreptitiously adjust his damnably tight breeches so his half-arousal wouldn’t show. Something strong might subdue the lust rampaging through his veins. Port—yes, port would do.
He ordered his drink, downed it in one gulp, then turned back to survey the crowd. Yates and the girl had disappeared. The coachman would no doubt be busy until morning. Which meant Blake hadn’t a reason in the world not to return to Lady Wells.
He just hoped to God he could put a smile on her face.
* * *
Ignoring the discomfort of a wrenched shoulder and twisted neck, Bianca was trying very hard to reach the last of the devilishly small and slippery pearl buttons at the back of her bodice, when there come a soft knock at the door.
Blake.
Damn, damn, damn. So much for trying to change out of her gown and hellishly tight stays into something more flimsy—and dare she think it—titillating? Despite the fact that she was far from a novice in the bedroom, she blushed hotly at the thought of appearing in an alluring state of dishabille before Blake. She couldn’t help it—he might be her employee, but she wanted to look attractive for him.
The knock came again. “Lady Wells?” Yes, it was definitely Blake’s cultured baritone.
“Just a moment.” Bianca sucked in a steadying breath, ran her fingers through her disheveled hair in a vain attempt to tame it, then crossed to the door in her silk-stockinged feet.
Stop quailing like a skittish bride on her wedding night, Bianca. Remember you want this.
You need this.
Pasting what she hoped was a confident smile on her face, she turned the key in the lock then swung the door open.
“My lady.” Blake bowed i
n a perfectly courtly manner then met her gaze with his customary self-assurance. “I do believe Yates is…otherwise engaged for this evening. I do not think he will remark on my absence.”
The coil of tension twisting so tightly inside Bianca’s belly eased a little. “Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “That’s…comforting to hear.” She stepped back from the threshold and Blake moved past her, his arm lightly brushing against her sleeve.
And so the dance began.
Except this time, it seemed she didn’t quite know the steps. She wasn’t even sure who was supposed to lead.
Trying to ignore the hammering of her heart, she pushed the door shut and relocked it, but didn’t turn around. Despite her resolve to appear both nonchalant and worldly in front of Blake, she was clearly out of her depth. She was not like her other friends—both widowed or unhappily married—who took lovers with such impunity, it was as if they were just simply selecting a new gown. Seducing her footman was proving to be a harder task than she had anticipated.
“Is everything all right, my lady?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She could sense Blake, his heat, his undeniable male solidity right behind her. She placed a trembling hand on the cool wood of the door and turned her head slightly, inhaling the deliciously potent smell of him—pure aroused male and spicy alcohol. Rough, hard masculine scents. Addictive scents.
I want him. I can do this.
“Yes,” she repeated more firmly. “It’s just that…I’ve never done anything like this before…” Drawing in a breath, she turned around to face him. So, so handsome.
“Neither have I, my lady.” Blake searched her eyes, his gaze intent yet hesitant. He was obviously waiting for a cue from her.
Don’t think about the consequences, Bianca. Don’t think about tomorrow.
Just be with him. Just reach out and…
She placed her palm on his shirt front and she could feel the thunder of his heart, the deep rise and fall of his chest as he took a great shuddering breath. Like her, it seemed as though he was experiencing a storm of emotions—a tempestuous collision of jangling nervousness, feverish anticipation and blood pounding, animal lust.
She might wish to do this, but what if Blake had changed his mind? She didn’t want to force him into anything. “If you don’t want to…”
Blake’s wide mouth lifted in a slightly sheepish grin. “I think my desire for you is evident, my lady.” At his words, she couldn’t help but glance down to his breeches—the outline of his erection was plain to see beneath the ivory silk. Bianca swallowed and heat scalded her face. Oh my goodness. He was massive. So much bigger than her husband or her first lover. How would it feel when Blake fucked her?
Before she had time to consider the possibilities, Blake lifted her hand to his lips, dragging her gaze back to his. “And might I be so bold as to make a suggestion?”
Bianca knew she would agree to just about anything right now. She nodded, and sucked in a breath to speak. Her voice was little more than a rough whisper. “I wouldn’t mind at all…if you were bold.”
He smiled again, a rake’s smile. “Perhaps if I were to remove…” He gestured at his attire.
Blake was right. Perhaps if he didn’t look so much like her footman, this would be easier for both of them. If he undressed…
Her mouth lifted into a smile. The embodiment of her deepest, most secret desires was about to strip himself bare. She could hardly wait.
She cleared her throat. “If you like…” she managed to murmur, her gaze still locked with his, her heart pounding with unabashed lust and excitement. “Let me help.” She reached up and removed his periwig, at last revealing his black hair, cropped relatively short except for a delightfully disheveled wave that fell over one slashing dark brow. Without thinking she ran her fingers through the spiky but silky locks until her hand came to rest just above the collar at his nape.
Eyes closed, he tipped his head back into her palm and groaned a little. “My lady.”
It was as if her touch had suddenly made him boneless. In her thrall. A hot, purely feminine thrill shot through her just to think that such a simple caress could affect him so. “Bianca,” she breathed. “Call me, Bianca.”
His eyes flew open, emerald sparks flaring within his deep green irises. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, smiling softly. “Very sure.” He was about to see her naked and touch every part of her—she wanted him to use her name. She trailed a finger along the line of his square, lean jaw, enjoying the scarcely remembered rasp of stubble beneath her fingertip.
He nodded once. “Bianca then.” And before she could take another breath, he seized her for a kiss. A glorious, breath-stealing kiss.
Capturing her face between his large hands, he covered her mouth with his, his lips and tongue claiming her with such gentle ruthlessness, she felt as if her very bones were melting. The velvet-rough slide of his tongue in her mouth, the pull of his teeth on her lower lip, soon had her desperate for more. So much more. He pushed her against the door, one of his long muscular legs pushing between her own and he rocked himself against her, his rock-hard cock nudging insistently against her hip.
Naked, she wanted him naked. And on top of her.
And inside her.
She wanted everything.
Moaning, she grasped the lapels of his liveried jacket and tugged until he released her face—he then roughly pulled the garment off before dropping it unheeded onto the floor. She leaned back against the door, panting, watching with avid attention as he swiftly loosened and discarded his cravat, then removed his gold satin waistcoat. His gaze stayed on her the whole time, focused, heated. Burning her from the inside out.
When he began to undo the fastenings of his cambric shirt, hot moisture flooded between her folds as the lean, smooth muscles of his chest were gradually exposed. The compulsion to touch, to explore was too strong, and with a needy whimper, she fell on him, pulling the shirt from his breeches, tearing at his buttons, frantically hauling the fabric up over his shoulders and his strong, corded arms until he was bared to her from the waist up.
He was perfection. An Adonis. The statue of David brought to life.
Her blatantly hungry gaze roamed over his body, down the long column of his throat, across his broad shoulders and the heavily muscled planes of his chest, the ridged length of his torso and his narrow hips. Along the thin line of black hair that arrowed downwards from his navel into his breeches. The bulge of his manhood.
“I’m…I’m speechless, Blake,” she whispered, a hand rising to her throat. “You are…truly beautiful.”
His mouth tilted at the corner. “Thank you, my la—Bianca.” He reached out and lifted her chin gently so her gaze met his again. “So are you. If you only knew—” He swallowed and his fiery green gaze fell to her heaving breasts. “If you only knew how much I’ve wanted you…How much I’ve thought about this…” He stroked the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I have another request.”
She shivered beneath his gentle caress, transfixed. “Yes?”
His gaze grew dark. Intense. “You must tell me what you want, how to touch you. So I know that I am pleasing you. Would you do that for me, Bianca?”
She nodded, a hot bolt of excitement shooting through her clear to her already wet and throbbing quim. Neither Roberto, her first ill-fated paramour, nor Algernon, her husband, had ever asked her to do that. Ever.
They had pleased her—made her come on occasion—but they had both taken the lead during sexual encounters. Never her.
But Blake was ceding control. The notion was more than thrilling.
It was intoxicating.
She ran her fingers lightly down his chest and abdomen until she cupped his cock. Wild desire made her reckless and bolder than she’d ever been before. “I want you to undress me. And then I want you to have me in every way I can think of. And more.”
Blake smiled slowly. “With pleasure.”
* * *
<
br /> Fuck. Have I died and gone to heaven?
Lady Wells’s—Bianca’s—direction had him almost spending in his breeches right there and then.
Never in his life had he been with a woman who had so blatantly stated her desires. Her sudden display of sexual fearlessness was arousing beyond measure.
And he would do everything in his power to please her.
He reached for her small, elegant hand. “Would you like me to undress you before the fire or in your bed, bella Bianca?”
Her brown eyes became as smooth and dark as melted chocolate. “By the fire.”
Excellent. She didn’t want to hide from his gaze, under the cover of darkness like so many of the young maids he’d coupled with since he’d first lost his virginity seven years ago.
He led Bianca away from the door to the hearth rug and then turned her so she faced the fire, her back to him. She swept her honey-gold hair over one of her shoulders exposing her slender, silk-covered back and the alabaster skin of her neck. He smiled when he noticed that she’d managed to undo all but four of the small pearl buttons on her bodice.
“I tried undressing while you were downstairs,” she murmured. “But these buttons…” She shrugged a shoulder and turned her head slightly toward him. “I didn’t think you’d mind playing ladies’ maid.”
“Not at all.” Blake deftly released the remaining fastenings then parted the russet silk back of her gown, revealing tightly cinched stays and a chemise of fine lawn and lace. He’d never seen such exquisite undergarments before. He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times, praying his ungainly fingers wouldn’t tear the flimsy fabric.
“My stays aren’t knotted too tightly are they? Tilly sometimes gets a little carried away.”
“No.” Blake traced the line of her willowy spine from her nape to the edge of her stays with one finger, enjoying the silken feel of Bianca’s skin beneath his own, work-roughened fingertip. “I’m just admiring the view.”
She huffed out a little laugh. “It’s only my back.”
An Improper Proposition: An Improper Liaisons Novella Page 2