Virtue and Vice

by Kimberly Brody

  His hand dipped between her legs, finding her slick and hot to the touch, setting off a primal urge within him.

  Mine!

  Though his body yearned to make her his right then, he knew he could not.

  He could not!

  Gritting his teeth, he eased her back on the table and settled more snugly between her legs. Then he gripped his shaft and placed it flush against the opening of her body. Izzy’s eyes widened. He smiled to reassure her and once again her eyes drooped to half-lidded. A mixture of wonder and curiosity flowed across her features as she watched everything he did with avid interest. The trust she placed in him humbled him.

  What the hell am I doing?

  His tortured mind didn’t know the answer, as all the blood used to operate his brain had fled south.

  Placing the head of his shaft against her slick folds, he rubbed forward and back, coating himself with her moisture. Her breath hitched as he moved against her sensitized skin. She became slippery with need and Ram was in hell, excruciatingly aware of how easy it would be to take her right then; with just one thrust of his hips the deed would be done and she’d be his. But he mustn’t. He reined in his control and continued to rub against her, denying the demands of his body. Her head dropped back and Ram watched, fascinated, as her breasts rose and fell in time with her heavy breathing. She was beyond beautiful, beyond breathtaking. He didn’t own the words to adequately describe her in that moment.

  Pulling back, he placed the head of his cock at the entrance of her body, pushing forward just the smallest bit. He needed to be inside her, to claim her, even if he went no farther. Which he wouldn’t. Her head snapped up and she gasped at the entry, but there was no apprehension on her face. She looked…mesmerized.

  He pulled back again, then moved forward a little further, shifting so his cock rubbed against her swollen bud. He was on the edge. Her body was so hot and tight around him, urging him onward, it was wholly possible he’d reached the point of no return, his promise to Miss Spencer be damned.

  With one hand he rotated his shaft from side to side, noting the increase in her breathing and the swelling of her flesh as signs of her impending climax. The thumb of his other hand delved into her moist curls, finding the sensitive nub hidden beneath, and moved in tiny circles, progressively applying more pressure.

  She whimpered and thrashed and when she finally came, it was with such force her cry of pleasure was no doubt audible outside the little cottage. Her inner muscles clenched around his tip, convulsing, grasping at him, beckoning him to thrust forward until he was embedded within her hot sheath, but he somehow managed to resist. Instead, he pushed down on the table and withdrew from her body, placing his cock between her slick folds lengthwise. He slid back and forth, back and forth, as the pleasure built and his balls tightened against his body. With a great shudder he came, throwing his head back with a growl as his seed erupted, landing on her bare belly in hot spurts.

  For a moment there was no sound at all. His climax had been so powerful it dulled his senses. Then a buzzing filled his ears and his blurred vision came into focus. He stared in wonderment at the woman before him, the cause of it all.

  He’d made a hell of a mess. Ram yanked his breeches to his waist and then bent to retrieve a linen napkin from where it landed on the floor. He approached again, and her eyes twinkled as she lay back, allowing him to clean her.

  The sight of his pearly semen on her pale skin once again set off primal, possessive, and altogether new urges. He’d placed his brand on her in the most intimate way possible.

  Mine!

  She didn’t yet know it, but she belonged to him. And there was nothing she could do to change that, nothing he’d countenance coming between them. Not her lies, nor even his own. He would find a way, no matter what it took. He wasn’t a whimsical man by anyone’s reckoning, but what he’d found with Izzy was magic, pure and simple.

  When they were both clean and had retrieved the remains of their lunch from the floor, they lay on the pallet snuggling. By the time they had to leave, lingering over parting kisses that turned into hot passionate kisses because another week would go by before they saw one another again, he was in a state of painful arousal once more. He became obsessed with thoughts of their wedding night. Perhaps he’d keep her abed for a fortnight after the wedding. After all, he had much to teach her and she was a most apt pupil.

  For now, however, he needed space, he needed to keep his distance or he’d break his vow. Lucien, the younger son of the Marquess of Bideford and Ram’s closest friend, might be in residence at the family seat in Devon. Ram would go there for the next se’nnight.

  His arousal made it uncomfortable to ride and he groaned aloud as he ambled back to Royston Manor with Mercury. On his way out of town, he’d stop to take a dip in the cold waters of the River Camel. Perhaps that might cool his ardor.

  Damn. He was behaving like a youth crazed with his first taste of desire. He would never sully himself with another woman now that he had the anticipation of Izzy in his bed for the rest of his life. But if ever there was a time he could use the services of a prostitute, it was now.

  Chapter 10

  Izzy needed the services of a prostitute.

  She’d come to the determination while pacing in her bedchamber, contemplating the delay in the loss of her virginity.

  It was very sweet that Julian wanted to build the anticipation of their lovemaking, but she didn’t have time to wait on romantic notions.

  She needed an expert. Someone who could teach her what she must do to drive a man over the edge, make him incapable of controlling his lust.

  And she knew just the woman.

  In the village of Egloshayle, a woman called Maura was rumored to have pleasured every man of the village at some time or another. Even Izzy’s own brothers had been her customers a time or two. Of course, if they ever discovered she’d followed them on their adventures in their youth, they would box her ears for it. She knew when her youngest brother turned fourteen the elder two had brought him to Maura so he could be “initiated,” as they’d called it.

  Izzy wasn’t proud of her spying, but today it would stand her in good stead. She would hie to the village and seek the woman’s advice, if Maura still made her home there.

  Dressed again in the peasant clothing she’d worn on May Day, Izzy grabbed a handful of coins and put them into a purse. After all, she had no idea what a prostitute might charge for her services. Gathering the courage for what she was about to do, she used the servants’ stairs, sneaking out of Rendstell Manor while praying nary a soul would miss her.

  At a brisk walk it took less than thirty minutes to reach the village. Maura worked in the tavern by night, but by day she kept a small thatched cottage nestled in an alleyway off the High Street. Situated conveniently close to the tavern, she was able to take customers home at the end of the evening with only a few minutes’ walk.

  Taking a deep breath to bolster her courage, Izzy lifted her hand and knocked on the crooked wooden door.

  When it swung open, Izzy stared at the woman on the other side of the door in shocked surprise. Had she stumbled upon the wrong house? It was true it had been near a decade since Izzy had seen her, but the woman standing in the portal had aged drastically in the ensuing years. No longer plump and rosy with youth, the woman staring back at Izzy with hard eyes was haggard and drawn. Her frame was lumpy beneath her clothing, and breasts that were once her pride and joy now hung woefully low, like teats on a nursing pig.

  She took Izzy’s measure in a glance, her gaze going from the top of Izzy’s cap-adorned head down to her feet. And then she waited in silence.

  “Maura?” Izzy whispered, afraid she might offend this woman if she were not the famed prostitute.

  “Aye,” the woman acknowledged, as she leaned around Izzy to spit against the outer wall. “I’m Maura. And yer the Baron’s gel.”

  Izzy’s breath caught. So, her disguise wouldn’t conceal her after all. Dra
t. Well, there was nothing to be done now. She could only pray no one might happen by and recognize her at the door of a prostitute’s home.

  “May I come in? I’ve business of a sort to discuss with you.”

  “I don’t imagine wot kind of business the likes of ye might ‘ave with me, but come in, if’n ye want.” Maura held the door wide and Izzy entered the little cottage. To her surprise, it was very neat inside. A pot filled with a meat stew boiled on the hearth and the aromatic smell of bundled herbs hanging from the rafters wafted through the room.

  A sturdy table stood pressed against the wall near the door, and the rest of the room was taken up by a large pallet. Izzy couldn’t help but wonder how many men had awoken in that bed after an evening of debauchery.

  After she’d looked her fill, her glance came back to rest on Maura, who seemed to be waiting for her to explain her presence. Nervously Izzy pulled the small purse she’d tied to her waistband and ventured to the table.

  She laid it on the wooden surface, and then turned back.

  Maura’s expression turned sour, as if she’d tasted something unpalatable. “I don’t do women.”

  “What?” Izzy blinked, at a complete loss.

  Maura sighed. “I’ll not lay with ye. No matter ‘ow much money ye put afore me.”

  Izzy gasped. Was such a thing done? Did women lie together? How was that possible? Questions swirled through her mind, her curiosity piqued to the highest levels, but she wrangled her thoughts back to the matter at hand. There was time to ponder Maura’s words another time. Right now, she needed the woman’s aid.

  Maura seemed prickly at the perceived offer, so Izzy sought to put her at ease. “Nay, Maura. You misunderstand. I only have need of information. Advice. Lessons, if you will.”

  Maura’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, though her glance shot to the bag of coins on the table. Had business slowed in recent years? Surely younger, prettier prostitutes had taken her place in the village, even more so with the King restored and morality loosened after a decade of tight-fisted puritanical rule. Izzy couldn’t help but feel sorry for this woman, so ravaged and aged before her years. Her life must be very difficult.

  “Wot kind of information would ye be needing?”

  Now that the moment was upon her, Izzy found it difficult to force the words from her throat. She’d had trouble bringing the subject up with Julian, and he was her lover. This woman was a complete stranger.

  “I need advice in your, um, area of expertise.” Feeling her cheeks heat, she couldn’t meet the other woman’s gaze, her eyes flitting all about the small hut, looking anywhere but at the prostitute.

  But she could sense Maura’s surprise. “Ye need to learn how to tup a man?” she asked, right before she cackled.

  The heat rose even hotter in Izzy’s face. “You see, there is a particular gentleman. I would like for him to, um, tup me, but he’s…resistant.”

  “Into the gents, is ‘e?” Maura nodded knowingly.

  “Nay!” Izzy cried, shocked and unnerved, again. How could a man be “into” other men? It made no sense at all! She lowered her voice. “Nay. He desires me.” She took a deep breath, seeking fortitude. “He’s made it very clear he wants me. But each time I think “it” will happen, well, it doesn’t.”

  “Ye mean ‘e won’t fill yer ‘ole?”

  A small moan of dismay slipped through Izzy’s lips. It would be easier to just die of embarrassment, but she held onto her composure as tightly as she could. And nodded her confirmation. “N-nay. He’s done everything else, he just won’t do that.”

  Maura turned contemplative for a long moment and when she turned to speak, Izzy steeled herself for whatever the prostitute was about to say. In the span of the five minutes or so Izzy had been in the woman’s company, she’d discovered there was a wealth of information she lacked about the world. Apparently, she was woefully ignorant. And Maura had no qualms about enlightening her in a very outright manner.

  Maura didn’t disappoint. “Is yer cunny clean?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

  Izzy blinked. “My cunny?”

  Maura pointed towards Izzy’s groin.

  Her mortification now complete, Izzy wanted nothing more than to flee the small cottage and this woman with her blunt statements. She wanted to forget she’d ever heard anything about women “doing” women, men desiring other men, and prying questions about her own cleanliness. But she needed Maura’s help more than she needed to avoid this embarrassment.

  “Aye.” She struggled with the words. “I take care to cleanse very well.”

  “Does ‘e go soft on ye then?” Maura ticked the question off on her finger. Izzy shook her head to indicate that wasn’t the issue, then braced herself as Maura raised another finger. “Does ‘e spill ‘is see afore ‘e can get it inside ye?”

  “Nay! He claims he wants to take the…consummation of our relationship slowly, he believes he’s being respectful!”

  Maura snorted. “If the man is taking ye to bed wi’out fucking ye good an’ hard, ye can be sure ‘e’s got sumthin’ planned, sumthin’ ‘e ain’t tellin’ ye.”

  Izzy went still, considering for a moment whether Julian might be lying to her about something, then rejected the idea. What reason would he have to deceive her? Nay, she’d know if Julian were trying to trick her in some way. She trusted him completely. She ignored Maura’s statement.

  “What can I do to get him to, um, go all the way?”

  Maura grunted, stroking her chin as though considering Izzy’s problem in greater detail. And then, “’ave you polished ‘is knob?” A knowing smirk curved her lips as she awaited Izzy’s likely predictable response. Obviously the prostitute was gaining great amusement at her expense.

  “P-polished his knob?”

  Maura sighed with exaggerated exasperation, as if she was dealing with a small child who had trouble comprehending, “Have ye pleasured ‘im with yer mouth?” Maura asked, her question slow and deliberate.

  Izzy gasped again. And then shock gave way to a vivid image of the act Maura must mean. Izzy had never thought of doing that. Did decent women even contemplate such a thing? Would Julian enjoy it?

  “Surely ‘e’s pleasured ye in such a way?”

  Izzy nodded, not really paying attention to Maura as she pondered the possibility of using her mouth to pleasure Julian. Why hadn’t that idea come to her? After all, she’d enjoyed it so much when he’d done it to her. It made sense he might enjoy the same.

  “Would ye like to know ‘ow?”

  The question startled Izzy from her thoughts and she almost declined Maura’s offer out of hand. Now that the idea was planted firmly in her mind she doubted it could be overly difficult. But then doubts niggled at her. Obviously, if today was any indication, she was woefully ignorant in these matters. If she wanted guaranteed success she must do it right, and the woman before her was the expert. Perhaps she should accept the offer.

  “You could teach me?” Izzy whispered, wondering how that could be done and whether it would be worth her discomfort to accept Maura’s lesson and whatever it entailed.

  “I might as well earn those coins ye put on me table.”

  Izzy nodded in agreement, taking a seat in tense silence as she awaited the start of her lesson.

  What she learned in the next ten minutes would forever be burned into her memory in exacting detail. Maura, not having anything at hand to substitute for a man’s organ, used two of her own fingers, pushed upright and together, as a demonstrative tool.

  “Ye must lick at it like this,” she went on to show Izzy exactly what she meant, using her tongue to delicately lap at the tip. “Tease ‘im a wee bit, afore ye take him full into yer mouth.” Maura slid her fingers into her mouth, slowly moving up and down over them.

  Izzy gulped. Apparently it was much more involved than she could have imagined.

  “Don’t forget yer ‘and though. While you suckle on ‘im, make sure you squeeze ‘im and stroke it at the same
time. And never ferget ‘is balls. Ye can lick those too.” Maura continued to lick her fingers, but used her other hand in an up and down manner at the same time.

  What Maura was doing to her own fingers was graphic and disturbing, yet Izzy found her interest piqued, and she thrilled to the notion of pleasuring Julian in such a way.

  Then a thought occurred to her, ruining the anticipation. “Will it taste bad?”

  Maura stopped sucking her fingers. “Depends on yer man. If ‘e’s a clean one, ‘e should taste jes’ fine.”

  Izzy nodded, prepared to thank the woman and take her leave, but Maura continued on.

  “One last thing. If ye want ‘im in yer ‘ole, don’t let ‘im spend ‘isself in yer mouth, or ‘e won’t ‘ave nothing left.”

  Izzy swallowed hard, absorbing this last piece of wisdom. She was ready to escape from this hut and ponder the things Maura had told her, and perhaps even put them to use when Julian returned.

  “I am very grateful for your help, Maura. Could I ask that you not repeat to anyone I was here?”

  The prostitute chuckled, grasped the coin purse off the table, and tucked it into her voluminous blouse. “Yer secret is safe with me, gel. I know when to keep me secrets to meself. Go ‘ave some fun with yer man. An’ feel free to come back anytime if ye need to learn more secrets from ole Maura.”

  Izzy forced a smile and let herself out of the cottage. She didn’t know what more she might not know, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to find out. And if she ever needed further schooling, well, she was sure Julian, or later on Paul, would be more than happy to instruct her.

  When she reached the High street, she picked up the pace and dashed back to the manor. There were only four days until Julian returned and less than two weeks until her wedding to Viscount Royston. She had much to do if she were to achieve her goal.