He reached around her back and attended to her buttons, kissing down her corset as it was exposed.
Her breath hitched. Too slow, way too slow. She’d go mad before he was done. She’d have to take matters into her own hands.
She gathered her skirt around her waist and hoisted the dress over her head. The fabric stretched and strained as she struggled. When she pulled herself free, she tossed the lavender silk in a corner, eliciting a hiss and scurry from Arte. Now she wasn’t going to need to fib.
Jay laid a kiss on the bare skin just above her laces.
She turned to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re skilled with corsets.”
“It isn’t particularly difficult.” Jay lifted her chin and kissed her, first with a light flutter.
Soon though, he’d pushed open her lips and breathing no longer mattered, only that his mouth was on hers. Cloves and cherries.
Jay slid her chemise from her shoulders, tracing her newly bare skin. He glided his fingers to the edge of her corset once more, tugging at the ties on her back for a moment or two. The cover and boned prison fell away of their own accord.
He slid his hands beneath the remaining layers of fabric. “Now, where were we?”
“Right about here.” With a moan, she pressed against his body.
He knew her too well, somehow. He slipped her chemise down to her waist, so her entire torso was bare. Jay leaned and his eyes lit.
“Bloody Hell. Incredible. You’re so beautiful, Urs.” His voice was deep and thick.
Never had she appreciated—more loved—her own body so much as in that moment with all the sincere lust and hunger in Jay’s eyes.
Ursula rose on her knees and leaned forward, rubbing her nude chest against him, reveling in the texture of the crisp cotton against her naked skin, the wetness between her legs growing with each movement.
He was beautiful himself, even exhausted. The dark circles somehow added to his appeal, made him real. She brushed a lock of hair from his brow and stroked his cheek, from his jaw to his chin. “You aren’t too terrible to look at either.”
“Not ‘too terrible’?” He laughed. “You know how to make a man feel humble, Miss Nunes.” He reached around with both hands and cupped her bottom, holding her to him with a firm squeeze.
The lower half of her body throbbed and she sucked down a moan. “So better than not too terrible—much, much better.” The titter at her own joke died in her throat as his lips called to her. She opened and drank him in once more.
He eased her back against the silk bedding and repeated the trail his fingers made, this time against her bare torso. She shivered as he repeated the action with his mouth.
Ursula bit her lip to stop from squealing as his tongue flicked her nipple. He glided his hand down and paused on the ribbon tying her drawers, his long fingers just above her most sensitive area.
Her breath rasped as she gazed up at him. He was so handsome under any circumstances, but when the battle between concern and lust was evident in his eyes—she nibbled her tongue and blushed as all the liquid in her body pooled just below the tips of his fingers, right where he could feel it.
“Before I go any further, Urs, I just want to make sure this is acceptable. I want to make sure you want this.”
Every single cell in her body begged for him and only him.
“I think we’ve had this discussion.” She forced herself to make eye contact and almost swooned. Lust was an inadequate word to describe what held her heart, head, and body. “I may not know what I’m doing, but I know I want it and won’t regret it, Jay.”
As long as I live.
Ursula ran her fingers through his thick, brown waves of hair and tugged him closer. Hers. He needed to become hers.
Jay threw a hand behind her neck and kissed her again, a sharp, needy invasion. She returned with equal force, her mouth hot against his.
With her own hands she guided his, so he’d pull the drawers over her hips. Together—this was a gift for them both.
His fingers finally inched below her waist. He circled again, edging closer to the center, each new area he explored more sensitive to his touch.
“Good God.” Her body was going to come apart, going to explode, going to do something glorious and terrifying.
“Shhh.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear as he trailed a finger between her folds. “This is too wonderful. You’re so beautifully wet, just for me.”
The pride in his voice crowded out all embarrassment until only shameless, wordless need remained. She whimpered again as he slipped a finger inside her.
“Not too quickly, Urs, I want to be able to taste you, though I suppose there’s always a second time.”
“If you don’t kill me first.” The words though were half scream, half moan as he pressed deeper inside her with a second finger, undulating at a rhythm that made her entire core hum.
He kissed down between her hip bones until he found the center right above his fingers. He lavished attention on the spot with his tongue. Lazy circles became firm hard strokes. In moments she was coming undone, sailing through the stars, as her body trembled and shook in the most fantastical way possible.
She cried his name. The shudders lasted both an eternity and far too short a time until she lay, panting. Jay slid up her body, marking the path with his mouth once more, this time in a slow, lazy, meandering way until he tucked his chin on her shoulder.
“So.” He traced her lips with his fingers. “Did I live up to my sales pitch?”
She blinked. Oh, he was so—attractive, handsome, beautiful, there was no accurate word. The way his eyes sparkled, and the warmth as well as the humor in his voice. If only she could lay beneath his body forever, clothed, or better yet—
“Perhaps. Though, I thought I was supposed to learn something, gain some skills for myself.”
* * *
Jay blinked. Ursula couldn’t be suggesting that? He brushed a finger through the billowing golden curls. So beautiful, almost unreal, almost like a dream, a flight of fancy, though her reality was so much better than anything he could have created in his mind.
She pushed herself on an elbow and poked a finger against his chest. “I believe I need to show you what I’ve been taught about buttons.”
Mother of—she recovered quickly. He leaned back and permitted her to straddle his hips. If only he could burn that image into his brain forever. Urs, naked save her stockings, inches from his—no, he couldn’t think about that.
He could never have that, not from Urs. Not even using two condoms. He shouldn’t even dare imagine, not that he didn’t every night—he wanted her so much, but losing her was not an option. He opened his mouth, but could only gasp.
She tugged at the first button not with her fingers, but with her teeth. She’d be the death of him.
Making quick work of each and she spread his shirt. His breath caught in his throat. What was she going to think when she saw...?
“Oh my.” She squinted. “Is that a dragon?” She leaned back, presumably receiving a full view. “English by the look of it, but London isn’t one of your haunts, so Hong Kong?” She whispered the name of the city.
He froze, unable to respond. What did she know? His mind though soon went blank as Urs traced the dark ink in the middle of his chest.
His toes curled as her whisper of a touch awakened his skin. Jay grasped a fist full of curls and wound the golden silk through his fingers. A mermaid or a fairy or a sprite, but yet so human.
She licked her lips. “How far does it go?”
Good lord, she was—well—him.
“Do you really want me to answer or can you think of the right quip?” His voice was husky though. He cupped what had to be breasts conjured by witchcraft. Heaven. He clutched harder and she writhed above him, rocking her hips and bottom against his arousal.
<
br /> “Jay.” He almost came undone at the sound of his name on her lips, a half admonishment, half moan. He reached underneath her. So wet again. His cock strained. Bloody Hell—he could come from her reactions alone. She was glorious.
Urs slid down his chest and away from his grasp, her chin resting just above his navel. “No, you don’t. You don’t get to be the only one in control. I’m supposed to prove to you that the student can best the master.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Those eyes, those wide, guileless yet aware eyes were going to be his undoing—the bluest blue he’d ever seen, morning glories and sapphires and the noon sky all paled in comparison.
“I won two hands off you.” She shimmied on top of him. “I’m learning.”
Jay throbbed from the connection. Before he could say anything more, she traced two fingers down his chest, closer and closer. His body responded with dizzying speed. She was danger and such trouble.
Urs popped back up and flaxen hair tickled down his ribs like fairy kisses. He could only gasp as her tongue connected with his skin and she traced the lines of the dragon. Genius. She was good, oh so very good.
He groaned. “Jesus, Urs.”
“You really aren’t a particularly good Christian, are you?”
“Truitts—” he gasped as she flitted her tongue lower, towards the creature’s belly “—go to church when we—” he moaned as she unbuttoned his trousers, thank goodness he’d gone with the latest style, the front was so much more pleasurable than the sides “—are born, die, and get—” wait, was she really going to—she couldn’t possibly “—married.” He almost choked on the last word as she yanked down not only his trousers but his breeches as well.
“Oh goodness.” Ursula half giggled, half gasped.
He glanced up and saw she was on her knees, off the bed, her eyes wide.
Jay smirked. “You’re finally at a loss for words?”
“Only because I’ve found a much better use for my mouth.”
His eyes might have popped out of his head before they rolled back as she went back to work on his dragon, now flitting around the tail, lower and lower. He’d never been so proud or grateful for that drunken night with the British soldiers.
Urs slid her hand down and her mouth followed and...ecstasy. She licked the length of him, first light and slow, in swirls. She changed to strokes and increased tempo and pressure. She teased his sack and he writhed. When she took him all the way in her mouth, he cried her name so loud it was a wonder half of Philadelphia didn’t hear.
How in the world could she possibly know how to...she really was the most intelligent person in any room.
He held on as long as he could, delighting in her attention—the way she read him, responded to every twitch and every movement of his body.
She was pure pleasure, but so much more. She was Urs, the best friend he ever had. Images of what could be, what was possible tormented him moments before he sailed over the edge. He managed to cry something of a warning to her, but instead of releasing him, she slid him far back in her throat and Jay’s back arched as he flew.
He landed, panting, spent, but still somehow not satisfied. Something was missing. He opened his eyes to see her, still on her knees, her hair wild and her cheeks flushed. She cocked her head and, to his amazement actually licked her lips.
Death, but what a way to go.
Jay drew in a breath. He craved her or more, needed her. With all his remaining strength he reached out and grasped both of her hands off his knees, pulling her on top of him, her skin against his skin. This was what made him feel right, feel content, feel whole.
Urs laid her head on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through the silken tangles. She turned and kissed his neck, a light breeze of satisfaction.
He squeezed her closer. They’d need to get up. Judah would return from his meetings. Rachel and Lydia and Isaac would get bored and come looking for them.
If only.
He breathed in all of her, the lavender and cherries and jasmine. If he could just make time stand still. His throat constricted. No, he wasn’t permitted to even think about her that way. He’d forfeited his rights to such dreams.
Besides she wanted—well, she really didn’t know what she wanted. However, it wasn’t, couldn’t be him.
He kissed her head. Urs deserved so much more, more than Hugo and certainly more than him. She snuggled closer to his body, burrowing into him, her breathing melding with his.
Heaven was no place for a sinner like him. For a few minutes though, what was the harm in dreaming?
Chapter Seventeen
Ursula presented her card to the housekeeper with suspicious eyes while Rose hung back. The dour woman dressed in gray linen disappeared. Ursula’s palms stuck to her gloves. A low ringing buzzed in her ears. Outright confrontation—terrible idea, but after six sleepless nights no better plan came. One had to fight with the army one had, not the army one wanted. Poor Jay.
Minutes later the servant reappeared and motioned for Ursula to follow her down the corridor.
The hall was dark, as was the internal parlor, the shutters still closed to retain the prior night’s coolness. Even in the dim light it was clear that though ornate, the décor was old-fashioned. There was a great deal of linen and pine, certainly not the silks and mahogany adorning her father’s house or even her uncle’s.
A long navy and cream sofa was wedged between two curios. Upon it sat not only Agnes, but Priscilla and Katherine—all of Cerberus’ heads. Ursula swallowed.
Bollocks, double bollocks, blast, damn, tarnation and—um, ratbags.
What exactly had she done to deserve this?
“Miss Nunes,” the servant announced.
“Thank you.” Agnes’ voice was smooth beneath her sneer. “That will be all.”
The woman retreated. Ursula slid into a chair facing the trio of hostile faces with nothing but dread. How was it possible to appear both serene and malevolent at the same time? Was this the sort of thing one learned at the seminaries that rejected her?
“What brings you to this part of town?” Though the words were neutral, there was nothing bland about Priscilla’s tone as she trained her eyes on Ursula. She wrinkled her turned-up nose as if she’d smelled something rotten.
Ursula scraped her tongue against the edge of her teeth. Why did they all have to be there? Couldn’t Agnes do anything alone? Three against one.
No. This was about Jay and putting things right. Three against one, ten against one, it didn’t matter. He deserved someone to fight for him, even if it was only her.
“I came to see Agnes.”
“What you have to say to Agnes, I’m sure you can say to all of us.” Katherine smoothed the pale blue skirt of her day dress, anemic in color, but starched and unstained despite the heat. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we? We trust each other.” She extended a plate of sweets in Ursula’s direction. “Sticky bun? Come on, everyone has heard of your famous appetite.”
Trust each other indeed. To do what exactly? To accurately stab in the front, or, probably, with these three, the back as well?
If only she could have one of the buns. They were probably poisoned, or at least poorly made. The cinnamon wafted towards her.
Poorly made, that was it. Agnes’ family knew nothing about food. She’d been to one of their parties. It’d be a waste of effort to eat. She’d have something delicious, later, at her aunt and uncle’s. Her family might be obnoxious, but at least they had culinary taste.
She clenched her fingers. Damp. She should invest in talc, not merely purchase it.
Ah well, best get on with it. She cleared her throat. “I beg all of your pardons. I want to be as sensitive and discreet as possible. This is a delicate conversation. Would it not be better if Agnes and I chatte
d in private?”
“I have no secrets from my cousin and dear friend.” Agnes beamed at each of her companions and turned a glare on Ursula. “What exactly did you want to discuss?”
Ursula ran her nail across the edge of her thumb. Why was this so difficult? She was in the right. She could do this. She would do this.
“I’m here to discuss the accusations your family has made regarding my fiancé.” Ursula sucked in a breath through her nose. “I don’t appreciate naked extortion, especially as the underlying accusation is a falsehood. I still cannot sit idly by while you tar an innocent bystander to enrich your family.”
“A falsehood? Extortion? Those are serious accusations.” Priscilla’s voice was like a scythe roasted over a flame. “Are you accusing my dear cousin’s family of deception? If you are, you best have proof.”
Ursula swallowed and her mind raced. What could she do? What sort of proof could there be? There was no child nor woman, and no way of contacting either. The properties were to be transferred to the Pierponts, after all. The money wasn’t to benefit or help anyone, only to buy their silence. Because in their circles, that’s what actually mattered, the image, not what was right if the rumors were true. She gritted her teeth so hard they squeaked.
Based on some research, if one could call begging Isaac to bribe or trick or beg his sister to get more specific information from Lydia research, the situation was standard. No one had ever laid eyes on an infant belonging to Jay. Nor did any mother accuse Jay of fathering her child. Only employers of the so-called mothers made claims and were paid to keep silent.
J.T. Truitt’s quickness to believe any rumor regarding Jay had created quite the cottage industry.
If Jay ever found out the depth of his father’s mistrust...dash it.
She clasped her hands on her lap. She couldn’t get upset. She must remain calm and collected. The calmest person wins.
Think, Ursula. What do they want? What could you offer them to make them want to see your point of view? Besides the properties.
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