Improper Pleasure

by Charlotte Featherstone

  “What I feel right now defies words, Emmy. I have never felt so vehemently about anything, as I do about you.” She swayed again and he gripped her arms, holding her tight.

  “You must release me,” she said in a breathless sob. “You must. You don’t understand. I am not who you think I am.”

  “Are you a widow, lonely for your husband? A scorned woman, searching for a man to make it right? Tell me who you are, Emmy. I want to know. I must know.”

  “I am nobody.”

  “No, you are not. When I close my eyes all I can see is you. Even now I can smell you, almost taste you…Christ, how I want you, Emmy.”

  Amelia allowed herself to sag against the hard breadth of Adrian’s chest. The inner struggling, the war waging so deep inside her was almost over. Today she would go against everything she had ever believed—would toss aside every fear she had ever clung to. Today, she would allow Adrian to take her on a journey he had begun and only he could complete.

  Only Adrian made her feel this way; like a woman in every sense of the word. In this little copse she was nearly his equal in mind and beauty. In station and wealth. Here in this little spot she was simply Emmy, and he Adrian. Nothing of their lives outside of this spot intruded.

  Droplets of cold rain began to fall from the sky and Adrian reached for her hand, pulling her so that she was running behind him as he steered them toward the secluded alcove, where there was a roof of carved stones and pillars that resembled obelisks. They would be dry. It would be dark. And they would be utterly alone as the rain fell down around them.

  Chapter Three

  Catching her around the waist, Adrian pressed her against the stone wall as another echo of thunder rumbled across the sky. The scent of cool, spring rain and fresh churned soil saturated the air. She could also smell him—Adrian—the scent a mixture of spice and wool and a hint of tobacco. She could feel him, the heat radiating off his broad, tall body as he stood before her.

  His head was bent to hers and his breath ruffled the tendrils of hair that had escaped from beneath her bonnet. “Let me see you,” he asked in a whisper as the pad of his thumb caressed her lips that lay hidden beneath her veil.

  Fear and pride ate away at her confidence and Amelia struggled to hold on to the only shield that prevented him from seeing how very ordinary she truly was. And even if she were a beautiful woman, she couldn’t remove the veil. Her face, her name, must forever remain a mystery to him.

  “I mustn’t allow it.”

  “I must see you,” he said in a hard rush of breath. “I must.”

  He pressed a kiss to her brow as his hands slipped beneath the edge of the lace. His bare fingers grazed along the column of her neck as one finger hooked beneath her chin, drawing her face up to his.

  Thunder rolled once again and the sky grew dark, casting a murky, forbidding shadow. The alcove was now dark, her identity safe from discovery. Adrian’s face was shielded as well, and without her spectacles, his features were blurred and cloudy.

  The rain continued to pour down from the heavens and for long, unbearable seconds only the unrelenting sound of the rain could be heard above their breathing.

  Then at last, he spoke. “Tell me what you love, Emmy. What you desire. Tell me who you are. I will tell you anything you want to know about me. I will not demand your secrets and give nothing of myself in return.”

  “I know all I need to know about you. I can feel what I need to know while I am standing in your arms, craving the touch of your hands—needing—your touch.”

  “Is it anonymity you need? If it is, I will give it to you; if that is the only way you will allow this. I will be only Adrian, and you will be Emmy, and we will come together here, at Highgate, where no other soul shall ever discover us.”

  Amelia closed her eyes, unable to believe she was actually here with him. It was her most secret fantasy come to life. Yet she hated knowing she was deliberately misleading him. She was not this person, this woman of mystery. She was not what he believed her to be.

  “Have you ever wanted to be someone else, Adrian? To be anyone other than who—what— you are?”

  She felt him shudder against her. “Yes. Nearly every day of my life I have longed to be anyone other than who I am. And when I am with you, Emmy, I am someone else. Someone infinitely better than who I really am.”

  “I…I have never done this, met a stranger and given so much of myself. In fact, I have never let another see so much of my soul.”

  “Neither have I, Emmy.”

  “I want this,” she gasped, biting her lip. “I know I should not. I know, what you do not—how wrong this is of me.”

  Reaching for her hand, Adrian brought it to his chest, flattening her palm against his waistcoat. His heart was beating hard, she would feel it. He was breathing hard, she would feel that too. He moved her palm lower over his breast, down over the flat hardness of his belly, where it rested at the waistband of his trousers. He pushed her hand lower and made her feel his cock that was hard as iron beneath his woolen trousers. She went utterly still, but did not attempt to pull her hand from beneath his. She could if she wanted to. He barely held her hand against him now.

  “Take what you want,” he said, brushing her hand against the placket of his trousers. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, savoring the feel of her hand on his prick, despite the fact it was still innocently covered. He was so damn hard. So hungry for the feel of her flesh against his flesh.

  “I can give you what you need, Emmy. I can give you everything you could ever imagine.” She whimpered, a husky throaty sound that told him she was struggling with what she wanted to do, and what she knew she should not. “Take this, Emmy. Take what you need.”

  She was watching him and he saw the acceptance shining in her eyes, despite the shadows that cloaked them. “Take this for yourself, Emmy. For me. For us.”

  Angling his head, he captured her face in his hands as he cursed the clouds and the rain that engulfed her face in shadow. Only her vibrant eyes, the color of precious lapis lazuli, could be seen in the gloomy shadows. He could drown in those eyes.

  As their gazes locked, he inched his head lower. Felt her breath caress his lips, felt every nerve in his body tense and tighten as he lowered his mouth to hers. Clutching her face in his hands, Emmy opened her mouth to him, allowing him to search between her lips with his tongue. He kissed her long and slow, his tongue moving and tangling lazily with hers as his hands slid down the column of her neck, to the little lace choker she had tied around her throat.

  It was a kiss with no ending and soon she was so needy, so reckless that she was grasping him to her and rubbing her mons against his body and the large, erection straining against his trousers.

  Adrian tore his mouth from hers and set his lips against her pounding pulse. His fingers sought the edge of the lace she had bound around her throat. “You smell of innocence,” he murmured before untying the ribbon and pulling it from her neck. “But you taste of sin. Such tempting, forbidden sin…”

  Tipping her head back, Amelia allowed him to suck at her neck with his hot mouth, knowing he was going to leave marks that she would be forced to conceal, but she didn’t care about any of that now. She only wanted more.

  “How long, Emmy?” he asked, kissing his way down her throat to the opening of her cloak. “How long has it been?” His fingers worked on the buttons of her black cape, parting it and pushing it back over her shoulders. She felt him reach around her waist for the buttons that secured her gown. He undid them slowly, teasing her with the movements of his fingers and his breath against her neck. Her legs shook as he slid the wool from her shoulders and kissed his way down her arm, until the bodice of her gown fell to her waist.

  She gasped in pleasure as Adrian’s large hand reached into her corset, past her thin chemise, to cup her breast, pulling it from the harsh confines of muslin and whale boning. Once free, his hot palm rubbed the flat of his hand along her nipple, sending it straining against his
smooth skin.

  His gaze passed over her face, then down to where he held her breast in his hand. “It has been far too long since a man has loved you, hasn’t it Emmy? I can hear your body crying out for it.” He traced the contour of her breast that rested in his palm. “Beautiful. Breasts made for a man’s pleasure. Made to be drawn into a man’s mouth.”

  Unable to stand the torture, she looked down and saw how he used his fingertip to trace the circle of her nipple; her areole puckered in response to the featherlight caress. Sharp stabs shot through her, straight to her belly, as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, lengthening it as he gently tugged and plucked at it.

  She was wet between her thighs, restless with the need to curl her fingers in his hair and guide his mouth to her breast. As if aware of her desires, Adrian lowered his head and ran the tip of his tongue along her nipple. Sharp sparks of desire ignited deep in her belly and she gasped, clinging to him, her fingers biting into his upper arms—arms that felt so solid and strong beneath his jacket.

  He freed her other breast so that he could nuzzle the scented valley and bury his face between them while his palms skated down her waist to grasp her buttocks. He cupped her bottom, pulling her forward so that he took her breast into his mouth and suckled her hard and greedily.

  Amelia purred, called his name as she ran her hands through his hair, holding and tugging with the rhythm of his mouth. He moaned and grasped with impatient hands the fabric of her gown. Cool air suddenly kissed her buttocks as he raised her skirt and petticoats from behind. His palm glided over her bottom, squeezing and rubbing, gently slapping at her full cheek.

  “You’ve a beautiful bottom to play with, Emmy,” he said against her throat as he traced the cleft of her derriere through her drawers. “Soft and plump. The sort of bottom I like to hold and caress—and grip—in the throes of passion.” His fingers skated along her crease, probing at her opening before his palm came around the front of her drawers to cup her sex. “Warm. Wet. A hungry quim. God, you’re perfectly made for pleasure, Emmy. Designed for hours and hours of fucking. Could you do it for hours? Could you fuck me for as long as I wanted with this lush body?”

  Burying her face in his hair, Amelia closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to answer him. “Have I shocked you?” She shook her head and allowed her lips to trail along his neck, feeling the stubble of his morning beard brush her tender flesh. “You shouldn’t be, you know. In my dreams I’ve had you every way possible. I’ve seen myself between your thighs, Emmy, my mouth tasting and licking your cunt. I’ve heard your cries of pleasure.”

  What agony it was to discover that there had been times when she had been so close to him, so close she had heard his breathing and felt his warm breath against her, and he had never known, never known it was her—his lover he came to meet on Tuesday mornings. And yet he had thought of her—had fantasized about her. It was more than she had ever dared to hope for.

  “Do you want that, Emmy? Hours of pleasure? Do you want me—my body?”

  “Yes,” she cried as he pressed his palm against the muslin of her drawers. She was aware of her hands on his arms as she pushed him down the length of her body. She moaned in anticipation as he slid down and rasped an uneven breath against her. Then he put his mouth to her sex, blowing hot breath through her dampened drawers as he held her skirts in his hands. He blew again, this time closer, harder, and she felt her womb begin to ache and her thighs begin to dampen and quiver, and she thought she might have discovered heaven then.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed deep as she felt his mouth press against her. She felt the firm flick over her clitoris, wanted to beg him to rip the gown from her body so that she could feel that hot, hard tongue all over her.

  So in tune was he to her needs, he pulled at the opening, ripping the slit of her drawers so that his mouth entirely covered her. Wantonly she moaned, fisting her hands in his hair, rubbing her pelvis against his seeking tongue. He pulled her toward him and lifted her leg over his shoulder. Parting her with his hand, he spread her wide while his tongue lapped at her.

  Writhing in pleasure, Amelia closed off all thoughts. The tension continued to build inside her. Despite her trembling legs, her limbs seemed to stiffen. Her nipples tightened and her breasts bobbed freely in the air as she rocked against his mouth. Mercilessly he drove her on, ruthlessly tasting her until she was shaking. She could not stop. Could only hold him to her, forcing him to finish her off until she could no longer stand without his help.

  He tugged her gently to her knees, seeking her mouth with his as his fingers slipped deep inside her. He did not stretch her slowly, but gave her two of his fingers and plunged deep—so deep that she moaned into his mouth.

  “I want to be inside you,” he groaned. “Let me inside, Emmy.”

  She heard the rustling of her skirts at the same time she felt his hand moving between them. The unmistakable sound of his trousers being opened made her blood hum in her ears. He sought her fingers between the layers of wool and cotton and brought it to his trousers. Instinctively her fingers curled around his length. She was stunned by the size of him, the satiny texture of him, the fierceness of the blood she felt throbbing inside his shaft.

  Sliding her hand down the length of him, she stroked him, taking pleasure in his erratic breathing and the way he hungrily sought out her breasts. He sucked at the nipple and she gripped him firmer, quickening her strokes. His breath rushed out and he pressed forward, his lips nearly touching hers, his breath bathing her mouth as his breathing escalated in his excitement.

  “Yes,” he rasped as his hand came up to cup her cheek. His fingers, long and warm and gentle, slowly curled around her throat as he breathed faster and faster, his lips a hairbreadth away from hers. “Christ, yes, Emmy. I want your hand tossing me off,” he groaned, flexing his hips and encouraging her to work him faster and harder. “I’m so close—your touch—Christ, your touch is like magic. And your breasts, God, I can see them beckoning me.”

  “Beckoning you how?” she purred, teasing him.

  “Let me,” he said, breaking off. Reaching for her hand, he pulled it away and brought his shaft her breasts. Stroking her nipples with his cock, he watched in the thin shaft of light how his cock slid up and along her milky skin. He slapped at her nipples, heard her moan, and he slapped a bit harder. Christ, he grew thicker and longer, and the sight and sounds of what he was doing was driving him mad, close to spilling. But there was one more thing he wanted and she had the perfect breasts for it. Shoving against her, he slid his cock between her breasts while she pressed them together, cradling his cock.

  “Have you ever been fucked this way?” he growled as his gaze locked with hers, and then his eyes became hooded as he felt his seed snake up the length of his shaft. “Have you ever seen hot seed coming out of a cock that you’ve made want you? Have you had it splash on your beautiful skin?”

  Christ, what was he saying? He’d scare her with his aggression. Yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t be tender. He’d waited too long, and like a caged animal, he was going on pure male instinct.

  “Would you let me, Emmy? Would you let me mark these beautiful tits?”

  He didn’t give her time to answer. Instead, he shuddered and Amelia felt the rushing pulse of his hot seed spilling into her hands and her breasts.

  “Beautiful, Emmy,” he whispered shakily. Taking her hand, he pressed a length of linen in her palm and gently wiped away the stickiness. “I did not mean for it to come so quickly. Give me a moment and I will be hard and ready to pleasure you. When I’m buried deep inside you you’ll have so much pleasure. I swear it. I’ll fill you deep with my cock, and I’ll penetrate your beautiful bottom with my finger and give you an orgasm you will never forget.”

  “I can’t…I must not do this. I cannot be the woman you need,” she said, struggling to lower her skirts and push her breasts back into her corset. Reality had settled in, chasing away the passion that had run with abandon inside her
.

  “You are the woman I want, Emmy.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m not—please believe me, it can never be.” She reached for her veil which lay atop her bonnet. Pulling it forward, she covered her face.

  “I never believed in fate until I met you, Emmy. Not until that first moment when our gazes met and locked—then, I believed. I knew you were my fate. I will find you, you know, should you ever decide to run from me. I will grant you your anonymity. I will not ask you for answers or anything you cannot give me. I only ask that you do not end this—not yet—not when it’s only just begun.”

  How could she say no when he was looking at her like that? How could she deny what her heart was crying out for?

  “Next Tuesday I shall bring my carriage. I will draw the shades. I will make it black as night, if only you will agree to meet me here.”

  Raising her veil over her mouth, she rose up on tiptoes and kissed him tenderly. He reached out to touch her, but she evaded him and ran to the entrance of the alcove. Before she stepped out into the soft drizzle she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder.

  “Promise me, Emmy, that you will come.”

  “I promise,” she said, then ran out into the rain, and home.

  Chapter Four

  Amelia’s heart continued its unsteady rapid beating, making her warm and breathless long after she had arrived back home. Whenever she thought of Adrian and what they had shared that morning, an unbecoming flush marred her cheeks. It was a flush she was certain would not go unnoticed. But how could she conceal it, that blazing heat the memories of him produced?

  “Your color is very high.”

  Beneath her lashes Amelia saw that Lady Sophie was closely observing her from her spot by the window. She was always watching Amelia, as if waiting for the opportunity to pounce upon her for doing something wrong. Lady Sophie had the eyes of a hawk and Amelia feared that she was the lady’s current prey.