London Calling

by Sorcha Mowbray

  When his lips once again crashed against hers, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. The softness of the mattress welcomed her as he settled her in place. Clad in nothing but his dressing robe, she waited as anticipation raced over her nerves like an electric current. Griff dropped one last kiss on her lips, straightened, and then commenced removing his garments. Since he had forgone a coat he started with his vest, which hit the floor with a whisper of sound. The need to touch him, to help him drove her up on her knees, but he rebuffed her assistance.

  “You are to be resting, not exhausting yourself,” he said, chiding her like a babe. Hands on hips, she tsked at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Griff. What is about to occur does not remotely resemble resting.”

  He shook his head. “I plan on making slow, sweet love to you. Nothing over-taxing.”

  Jo snorted. “When have you ever done anything slow and sweet? You are nothing if not a passionate lover who enjoys a good romp. And, as it happens, I am of a similar mindset. So save the slow and sweet for when I’m eighty and have the stamina for little else.”

  He offered her a Machiavellian smile. “Oh, my dear Ms. Stanton, you have no idea what I am capable of.” Then he untied his cravat, and lunged at her in the most unexpected of moves.

  She shrieked in surprise as she tried to fend him off, but he was ready for her every attack. It took him a solid five minutes to subdue her—though truth be told, she didn’t fight too hard. Curiosity led her to give in and see what her lover had in store. As he looped the end of the neck tie around her wrists, he stroked her skin with his fingertips and murmured nonsense as though soothing a savage beast. Then he tied the trailing end off around the spindle of the headboard and propped a pillow beneath her head. Once he was certain she was comfortable, or as much as she could be tied to his bed, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. He shook his head. “No, something’s off.”

  Then he reached over her and lifted her head to release the ribbon holding her hair back. He proceeded to arrange the golden locks so they fanned out over the pillow. Then he stepped back again to observe. To Jo’s dismay and frustration, he once again shook his head. “Still not right.” Then his gaze skimmed down over her body and back up. “Ah, yes.”

  Again, he drew closer, but this time he released the belt of her robe and spread the panels open. The cooler air caressed her flesh, raising a swath of goosebumps. Her nipples pebbled, though it was more from her own excitement than the cool air. His gaze caromed down her length, taking in each rise and hollow, almost mapping her in a thorough inspection. By the time he reached her knees, her toes were curling and her torso arching up with need. Just a touch. One simple touch and she was certain she would shatter into a million pieces.

  Instead, he returned to disrobing. And talking. “Now that you are properly arranged, I am going to slowly undress. Then I am going to do as I said before and slowly, torturously, make love to you.”

  Not for one moment did she believe he would follow through on his threat.

  Had a woman ever been so wrong?

  Griff crawled on the bed near her feet, knelt over her lower half with one hand planted for leverage, and then he gently kissed the top of her foot. With the other hand he stroked the opposite foot as he commenced his leisurely ascent. His next kiss landed in the vicinity of her ankle, right in the inner hollow by the small bone to be precise. The combination of his touch mixed with the feathery brush of his breath set off a series of sensations that had her writhing beneath him.

  Next he eased up her legs, but switched to the other one as he reached her knees. There, he reared back and lifted the whole leg, running his hands over the length of flesh and bone until he found what he sought. Unfortunately, that meant he did not touch her any place on her body that currently clamored for his attention. No, he stroked the hollow behind the knee with a delicate touch that set her nerve endings off as though she were a tuning fork he’d struck against a stone.

  Focused on wringing every ounce of pleasure from her body, he lowered her leg and continued his way north. To her utter delight he stopped, wedging himself between her thighs, and planted a kiss on her mound. Desperate for more, she pressed up into his touch, but it was to no avail. He immediately moved on to the sensitive skin that lay between her mons and her belly button. There he leisurely dragged his hot, wet tongue over the taut skin, causing her to gasp as pleasure stole her breath. And then the shaking set in as he dipped into her belly button only to swirl around it and push up her torso, an inexorable assault on her sanity, because she was certain she would soon be a lunatic.

  Ignoring her growing desperation and need, he traced over her sternum, licking through the valley between her breasts and then to the right along her collarbone. But when he returned the way he’d come, and then over the left collarbone, she came close to begging him to fill her. But she held strong, refusing to give in to his lingering seduction.

  Of course, as much as she desired it, Jo was not prepared for the moment his lips wrapped around one nipple—and sucked. With a cry she arched up into his mouth, arms bowed back over her head as her mouth gaped open. Relentless in his attentions, she wondered, as he let go and shifted to the other nipple, how she would survive the night. And then, as he repeated the action on her other breast, she lost all thought and gave in to the swell of need wrapped in pure pleasure.

  When he pushed up to hover over her, she only registered the sudden absence of his heat and the welcome weight of him. “Don’t leave me.” The words flew from her mouth before she could even register their meaning, let alone the note of panic that laced her plea.

  He returned to where he’d been and kissed each cheek. “I will never abandon you.”

  The truth of his promise sank in and filled her with a warmth reminiscent of a sunny summer afternoon. The simple declaration soothed her fears and pushed her back toward the edge of sanity she’d been dancing along since he first wound his cravat around her wrists. Once more eager to dance until she tumbled, she all but purred beneath him as he returned to his stroking and caressing punctuated by the occasional kiss or nip. Time spun out, as though he were a magician who could manipulate it, bend it to his will as he did her body.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he slid back down between her legs and parted them. The warmth of his breath superheated her body, made her ache with want as she waited for him to taste her pleasure. A wriggling mass of nerves, even the slightest touch from him set off a round of shaking as she teetered on the precipice. “Please,” she begged. A thousand words tumbled through her brain, but that was the only one she could manage to speak in the moment.

  And to her everlasting joy, it was the only one she needed.

  The heat of his tongue seared her like a firebrand as he traced along her slit. The pleasure-pain of the moment made her groan as her body lit up like a steam engine come to life. And when he licked her from her opening to her clit, all cylinders fired, launching her off the cliff and into the oncoming wave of bliss. She exploded as he drove his tongue deep inside her channel and lapped at her juices while he flicked her clit relentlessly with his thumb. Like a ship caught in a storm, she climbed each wave of her climax until she plunged off the crest and into the valley only to do it again a moment later. Painstakingly, he eased her down from her sexual high until she merely floated gently in a tingly limbo.

  At some point, she’d be hard-pressed to say when precisely, he released her wrists. As she came back to the moment, he held one hand as he gently rubbed the chafed skin. Then she felt his thumb rub over her damp cheek. She opened her eyes and found concern etched on his face. “Jo, I am so sorry.”

  “Whatever for?” She glanced down at her reddened wrists and back up to him.

  “You’re crying.” He looked down at her hand. “Your wrists.”

  She laughed a little. “Don’t be silly. I’ve suffered far worse injuries, this is nothing.” She had no interest in discussing her surfeit of emotions. So, when her di
smissal of his concern seemed to settle him back down, she decided to wrestle control from him. With a surprise shift of her weight, she levered over him and settled on his stomach as she shed the cumbersome robe. “I believe it is my turn to do as I wish with you.”

  Trepidation shimmered in his gaze for a moment as he considered all he had done to her. But then he smirked. “Do your worst.”

  “Have no fear.” She pressed a kiss to his bare chest, just over his heart. “I shall torture you with as much passion and fervor as you so recently showed.” Slowly, and with great care, she nibbled her way down his body. Tasting, teasing, and nipping him until she was able to wiggle between his legs. His cock had long since risen to attention, swollen to a pinkish purple color that begged for her regard. Which drove her to pause and appreciate his manly endowments. Using only a fingertip, she lifted his erection out of her way and explored the underside, especially the thick ropy vein running along his length. Curious, she reached out with her tongue to trace the ridge and reveled in his gasp of surprise. Satisfied with her discoveries, she shifted lower down to cradle his sac with her free hand. The soft, delicate skin intrigued her, drew her. Again, she ventured closer, looking to learn every inch of him in the most intimate way. So she popped one ball into her mouth and swirled it around with her tongue. Griff’s hips rose up off the bed as a low moan escaped him. Just because she could, she slipped her hand down lower as she continued to suck on his gonad and stroked the flesh between a man’s sac and his arsehole. Again, Griff groaned and strained not to buck her mouth free. And then she achieved her ultimate goal.

  “Please, for the love of Trevithick woman, I beg you to stop torturing me.” The low growl he let loose at the end of his plea—because obviously she’d ignored him—drove her onward.

  Ready to turn up the steam, she released his sac and shifted up toward his rod where she firmly grasped him at the base and positioned herself over him. Once again teasing him, she pulled up along his length while swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock, scooping up the clear fluid that had seeped out.

  “Please…” Oh how he begged, and she adored the masculine plea that assured her she held him in her thrall as much as he held her.

  And so, she pulled her hand back and sank down on his cock in a slow slide, taking him little by little until he was lodged deep in her throat. His hands sank into her hair as he cursed in three languages—and she’d had no clue he spoke anything but English.

  Content, she worked him with her mouth and throat, tempted to let him find release, but in the end her desire to feel him deep inside her grew greater than the need to taste his seed. So, she waited for him to climb closer to the edge and then pulled up short, releasing him. The growl of desire should have warned her, not that she would have cared. In a flurry of motion he flipped her onto her back and drove into her in a sharp, deep thrust.

  Pinned beneath his weight, she wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust upward to meet him. He laughed at her impatience and slapped her on her hip. “Cease trying to take control or I shall resort to restraints once more.”

  Determined to push the boundaries of his control, she offered him a winsome smile. “Faster, please.”

  To her dismay, he paused mid-thrust and unwrapped her legs. He then lifted them up over his shoulders so her feet and ankles were near his head. With a slow, simmering smile that promised more pleasure to come, he answered her plea. “Slower. And every time you ask I shall reduce speed.”

  Jo blinked once and then nodded. “Slow it is then.” And she settled in for the ride, because clearly Griff was not going to be rushed.

  “Excellent.” He sank all the way into her body, his balls pressed against her ass. “You know, a beautiful woman is like a fine wine. She should be opened, allowed to breathe, and then savored.” Then he returned to the agonizing pace that had her wiggling to get the right pressure on that magical spot inside.

  He continued the slow ride for what seemed an eternity, pushing her up the hill one excruciating moment at a time. How he managed the self-control it must have taken for him to hold back was beyond her ken, but manage it he did. And then in a moment of desperation, as the first shimmers of the pleasure to come danced off in the distance, she clenched around his cock. With a curse, he fell forward over her and immediately struck up a bruising pace. To Jo’s everlasting delight, she had pulled her very last trick out of the bag and it worked. He fucked her hard and fast, and she loved every jolting pump of his hips. With his own climax clearly chasing him, she held on and met him stroke for stroke as the long sought pleasure rushed to the fore.

  “Great Trevithick! I love you, Jo!” The words reverberated off the walls and straight through her soul, carrying her with him.

  “Griff! Yes!” The tide of bliss swept over them, rolled them under, and shot them out of a steaming geyser. Shattered once more, she was certain that this time there would be no putting the pieces back together. She was absolutely ruined for any other man. And the notion made her pleased as punch. As they both lay there, still joined with the blissful shivers of orgasm rolling through them, she answered his earlier call. “I love you, too, Griff.” And then she yawned mightily and drifted off to sleep.

  13

  By morning, Griff found himself pacing the breakfast room, waiting anxiously for some clue as to their next move.

  Jo smiled patiently. “The waiting is always the hardest part.”

  Unsure what she meant, Griff stopped and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “The waiting. The stillness of it while you wait for a mark to show himself. Ninety percent of being an assassin is patience. For me it was a hard won lesson. In my early days, I nearly managed to get myself killed on more than one occasion.”

  He must have flinched. “I cannot imagine you ever being bad at what you do. It is a strange thing to try and picture.”

  Jo chuckled as he returned to pacing.

  “Now, I never said I wasn’t good at what I did. I said I was impatient. I was still quite effective, I simply drew more notice than a good assassin ought, or I wound up fighting the mark instead of making the clean kill.”

  Her obvious indignation had Griff stopping again. It was an odd thing to discuss killing people as though he’d just told her she did a poor job of the wash. “When did you say Holt would be by again?”

  The clock in the hall struck ten just as a knock sounded at the door.

  “That should be him.” Jo rose, a picture of serenity despite her recent adventures.

  A moment later, Holt appeared looking grim-faced.

  “Oh, I dare say you haven’t good news.” Jo’s façade cracked ever so slightly.

  “No. My network has lost Dell. Sir Hathaway was collected at the air-port, hauled down to the ground, and back to London. He should arrive in a few hours by steam-car.” He reached out and placed his hands on Jo’s upper arms. “How are you faring?”

  “Fine, all things considered. You know I detest flying.” She made a little moue that Griff found entirely too enticing.

  “I do, hence my concern.” Holt released her and turned to Griff. “And you? Keeping it together despite the revelation about your friend?”

  Griff shrugged, but continued to tread the breakfast room rug. “We’d been headed in different philosophical directions for a while now. I’m sad that things have come to this, but I knew when I became the Lord of Cogs that something of this nature might one day come about. Dell was always stubborn when he took up a cause or topic. I’d say it was the one trait that perhaps kept the three of us from being better friends. Instead, Cole and I often had to team up against Dell when debating certain topics.”

  Holt nodded. “I see. Well, I hope that sense of friendship will prompt him to reach out to you soon.”

  “It may. The question is will it be to warn me off or lure me in?”

  Higgins entered the breakfast room bearing a silver salver with a letter resting upon it. Griff took the correspondence and broke the non-des
cript seal. He read through the terse missive once and then shared it with the rest of the room.

  You’ll find me at the sign of the Electric Cock, I cannot be responsible for what happens if you do not comply. Do come alone.

  —D

  They glanced back and forth, one to the other. “Well, it sounds rather dire. I guess I shall have to go.”

  “Steaming hell you will.” Jo rose in a swift move that stole his breath even as it reminded him once more just who he’d gone and fallen in love with. “At the very least we will take a moment and strategize about our options.”

  In the blink of an eye his woman had gone from all calm repose to a caged jungle cat. “I suppose it need only appear that I am alone, though I dare say Dell—while pretty enough—is not particularly stupid. He would recognize either of you in a moment.”

  Determination drew her face taught as Jo stood there. Griff felt certain that if he listened closely, he would hear the gears grinding as her mind whirled through possible scenarios and options. Once she seemed to have landed on something she liked, she smiled at both men. If he were honest, Griff would acknowledge that a trickle of fear slithered through him in anticipation of what she might suggest.

  “Most people will see only what you want them to see if given the opportunity. I will enter first, disguised as an old woman. He’ll barely consider me once before I am dismissed out of hand. Holt will enter through the rear, lightly disguised, a heavy cloak and low cap should suffice. You, of course, will enter after me dressed as you are. I will position myself as close to him as I can, but depending on the crowd it may be difficult without raising suspicion.” She paused and played with the plan a moment more in silence. “Yes, that should work. If I am not in earshot, and things are going wrong, you will throw your drink at him and run. I am going to assume that he too will have men planted in the tavern to stop you. Be prepared for a fight. Holt will be additional help if we are stuck in a brawl. If we can make a clean break, great. If Dell truly just wishes to talk then he will be none the wiser that anyone was there.”