Her body quivered. Pacing did matter and every inch of her craved fast and hard.
“But—” How could she say it? She flushed. “What if I’ve, as I said, practiced?”
He snorted and pulled her further onto his lap. He brushed his already erect and firm cock against her opening. She released a strangled cry and pressed against him, her body begging to take him within it, but with two firm hands on her hips, the bloody tease held her back. He bent to her ear and in that low, smug, baritone whispered to her, “Are you trying to insult me, Urs?”
What did he mean?
He grasped her hand in his and stroked her fingers before placing her palm around the length of him. Her face grew hot even as her body tightened with desire.
Oh.
No, she supposed not, he was quite a bit, well much, bigger than her fingers. He moved his free hand under her breast, bent down, took her nipple between his teeth and tugged. She gasped.
“There’s a size difference,” she managed to say. “A vast one. It’s just, I’ve been thinking of it ever since and how it will feel.” The last part of the sentence was garbled as he sucked on the area he’d just grazed with his teeth. She arched towards him and melted.
“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me. That sort of information is very dangerous. I may go batty at just the thought.” He chuckled, but gasped as she wrapped her hand tighter around his cock. Ursula stroked him once more as he expanded in her hand.
His response sent shivers through her body. If only he could react like that over and over, to her and only her. A silly thought, but so pleasing.
Ursula drew closer and guided him right to the edge of her slit once more, so he’d know how wet she was. “You don’t want to hear about me writhing on the bed, whispering your name?” She breathed the words right in his ear before she nipped his lobe.
Jay released another curse and with a deft movement had her down on her back, in between his arms. She licked her lips.
Blast, he was so good-looking it was obnoxious.
“Only whispering?” Jay lowered himself to kiss her collarbone. “See, that’s why in person is better. This afternoon, I hope to have you screaming. Good thing no one is around.”
He knelt at the foot of the bed and before she could react, he pulled her all the way to the edge. With a strong grip, he spread her legs and settled them on his shoulders.
His hands moved to her hips, holding her in place so she couldn’t buck as he teased her with his clever mouth, nipping at the sensitive skin, so close, but so far. Ursula moaned and shrieked, half in protest, half in wanton appreciation.
“There we go,” he murmured. His breath was so near, and she was so close to the peak, the heat of his words almost pushed her over. “Now if you could enunciate a little better. The name is Jay, as in ‘you’re magnificent, Jay. Jay, you’re a god and I’ll do anything you ask’?”
“How about, ‘Jay, if you stop, I may murder you in your sleep’?” The words were a strangled rasp between the mounting shudders.
He laughed again, but heeded her near-begging. He spread her lips and pressed two fingers inside her at once. She arched her back at the blissful pressure.
“You do like this.” He leaned forward and his tongue made contact.
She demanded something, but her words were unintelligible. Still, he must have heard because he stroked her, faster and harder with both his mouth and hand. When he sucked on the most sensitive area, her cry of his name was loud enough that the windows rattled.
All too soon she spirited over the edge, her body dissolving into trembles and shudders, his name still on her lips.
Panting, she returned to earth to find Jay beside her, brushing hair from her face and tracing lazy circles down her skin, closer and closer to her breasts. He winked, pride evident in his features.
Ursula blinked back tears. She was a fool, a fool for him.
“So, not quite godlike, but I did receive a decent ovation. At least no one is in the house.” The amusement in his voice was enough to reignite the need once more, almost as if he hadn’t just—
She caught her breath and pushed onto her elbows, panting. “But we need to make you blissfully happy as well.”
Jay threw his head back and laughed again as he lowered her back onto the bed, moving on top of her once more.
He raised an eyebrow. “Blissfully happy? That’s almost as good as godlike. I should probably quit while I’m ahead.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her giggles turned into a groan as he walked his fingers back down her body. “Jay, please.”
“Please what?” he murmured and leaned over, sweeping the area with first his lips, followed by—why was he so talented with his tongue?
Soon, she was writhing and ready again, but he stopped short, pulling up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He stood. “Condom. We need one of those, unless you don’t want to do this.”
“No.” She shook her head. “But how are you already ready? Don’t you need me to do anything?”
He smirked and gave her a playful shove back onto the coverlet. “If you do any more, we won’t need this.”
Ursula studied him. Was she to just lie back and be a bystander? She may not have the benefit of experience, but it had to be better together, or more together, or with more participation. She bit her lip. “Can I put that on you?”
He paused.
Ursula drew up on her knees again and scooted back to the edge. Her breath hitched as lust streaked through her body. She leaned forward and kissed the dragon on its snout.
“Please?” she whispered.
“You really are going to be the end of me.” He stroked her hair. “Of course.”
Jay placed the device in her hand, guiding her lower. She stretched it over his ready body.
Her heart pounded faster. She wrapped her arms around his waist when she finished and pulled him to her. Her flesh would cease to be if it wasn’t against his, at least in the moment.
“Now what?”
Jay’s smile broadened. “Now you lie back down because we’ll need leverage.”
“Every time?” She wrinkled her brow, recalling the whispers which had led to the fancies she’d had the past few nights.
“This time. Next time though, isn’t going to be instantaneous. I’m not that young and despite my prior boasting, I am, indeed, human.”
Ursula giggled as he twirled her hair in his fingers before running his knuckles down her cheek. “You’re more beautiful than you realize, Urs.”
“My father made all the servants tell me I was the prettiest girl in Delaware and...” She could no longer speak as his mouth was on hers once more, while his free hand travelled down her body, testing.
Jay kissed down her torso again, slow circles transforming to broad licks to nips at the edge of her thighs. He travelled inward once more, teasing her ready body.
“Jay.” Oh, she needed him.
“Yes, darling?”
He was so proud of himself, so moronically smug, but somehow still charming and in a way, that just made her burn higher and hotter. How did he do that?
“I’ll go slowly and gently,” he whispered.
Jay popped his head up and moved his hand back to her breast again even as his other remained lower. He stroked her sensitive bud with his thumb even as he guided himself to her slick entrance. A dash of pressure made her wince as she stretched to accommodate him.
“Sorry,” he whispered. He teased her more as he pushed further in, enough so a tingling sensation spread through her core, coupled with a delicious fullness that made her moan.
He rocked and thrust while still attending to her, his fingers brushing her nipples before moving back down to the most sensitive part.
They were each where they belonged. Her back arched and h
is movements sped. He melded against her as she drank in his shudders.
Ursula tugged so he lay fully onto her, crushing her body with his, the calm weight solidifying their union—making it real. She could never get near enough. Cloves and mint and cherries and nothing else enveloped her. She drank in his scent as he nuzzled her neck.
“Urs.” He whispered her name. “Urs.”
“I’m here.” Her heart twisted, and tears stuck to her lashes. Oh, if only.
Not the same man he was seven years ago.
Why couldn’t anyone understand she liked this one better?
Trouble was, he didn’t feel the same way.
A lump blocked her throat.
No, Ursula, just no, learn to live with no.
Jay rolled onto his side and ran his fingers over her stomach again. “So beautiful. I love just lying here with you.”
She lay her ear against his chest. “Me too,” she whispered. “Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Another week of parties came and went in a flurry of music, sweets, and new uses for butler’s pantries, gazebos, coatrooms, a piano bench, and one tiny Juliet balcony overlooking an alley.
Society was much more amusing with a partner, though a pinch of guilt tickled the back of her mind every time she locked eyes with Hugo across the room. Worse, he’d mouth phrases like “help me,” while boxed between his father and Katherine. After all the years together, she owed him something.
She’d ask Jay. When things were quiet.
Finally, the two had an evening back at her uncle’s, but instead of her plan of “accidentally” getting locked together inside the upper parlor, Jay had other ideas.
Ursula scowled as he led her by the elbow and prodded her down the stairs with his other hand. She was going to trip. Did he not realize how wide her hoops sat and how much balance they required so she didn’t topple? He had no idea how fortunate he was in his trousers. The color might be dull, but there was no metal.
“Why?” she asked.
They could really be doing so many better things at the moment.
“Because you asked me to teach you how to make people tolerate you. You should be able to manage your own family, and not just Isaac. He’s where you’re most comfortable—child, awkward, and male. You need to be able to speak with other women, preferably ones your own age and of your own status.”
“Why?” She whined the word, but the whine was appropriate and necessary. Rachel was intimidating, and Lydia was, well totty, and vindictive, and if she could think of a polite word, she would, she really would.
Besides, she and Jay had become so successful at the parties themselves. She’d never been smiled at by so many people in such a short period of time, and with the help of a few elbows from Jay had managed not to insult anyone all week. Even Hugo’s parents had given her nods. Only the Reeds and Pierponts had scowled at her. After that success, shouldn’t she have more rewards?
At least her uncle was out again. His absence was almost insulting, but still preferable than the perturbed mutterings he emitted whenever she was around. Better than the glares he’d given her mother, but only just.
“Because you need to challenge yourself and because you’ll enjoy having some female friends that aren’t Rose. They smell a lot better than my sex.”
Debatable, especially when he was near. She couldn’t resist leaning against him just a bit, the way the wool of his jacket scraped the back of her shoulders.
“I suppose.”
Jay guided her into the drawing room where Rachel and Lydia were once again, side-by-side on the settee, reading pages of some sort of periodical, in unison, a plate of tea and sweets in front of them.
One, just one. She reached forward, but Jay grabbed her hand, tucking it in his lap. Bloody Hell, he was really going to make her do this. Sober too.
He gave her a prompting nod. She fought the eye roll and cleared her throat.
Right. Think, Ursula, think.
What do they want? What would flatter them? Oh, she was going to fail.
“So, um, how are you both today? What have you been up to? Are those...things...interesting?” Ursula’s eyes darted to her lap more than her audience, but she managed the words.
“That’s a lot of questions at once. Do you really care about them all or just have a tick?”
She glanced at Jay. Lydia had to be joking. Her delivery was poor, but why did Lydia feel the need to put her down to—oh.
Oh.
That was what Lydia wanted, really needed.
“I’m interested in the particulars of what you’re reading. I know you have impeccable taste in that regard.” She craned her neck. “The Dial, what an interesting name. Who writes that? I’d love to hear about it.”
Not her best effort, a bit stilted, but she’d ended with the most important part. Jay squeezed her fingers and—the best reward possible.
Lydia must have been pleased as well because she launched into a ten-minute diatribe about “nature,” and the “transcendence of the spirit” beyond the physical, and some other such nonsense. Ursula had to grind her heel into her own toe so not to snicker during the “transparent eyeball,” lecture.
Still, with a few nudges and strokes from Jay’s hand she managed to make the appropriate, fawning responses and half-intelligent questions. By the end, she was even bold enough to give a few opinions of her own, especially after Jay mentioned how a woman edited the works.
“I dare say, Lydia, I heard you could sing. Would it be too much trouble for you to demonstrate? I appreciate music, but my voice is so lacking,” Ursula said.
Lydia flushed and tittered. “I’d love to, but I can’t accompany myself. You don’t happen to play?”
Ursula opened her mouth about to answer in the affirmative, but—no, much better. She’d permit someone else to shine. “My playing is only rudimentary. However, Mr. Truitt is quite talented.”
Jay gasped. “I, um, I—I mean I can play, but just as a piece of amusement at parties.”
He was even more charming when attempting modesty. She jostled him with her hip. “You’re quite a bit better than that.” She turned to Lydia and Rachel. “Mr. Truitt can accompany anything. He has an ear, a fantastic, astonishing ear.”
“Oh, goodness, that is wonderful. Please, Mr. Truitt, come and assist me?” Lydia’s smile was real.
Ursula turned to Jay who gave a helpless shrug but stood and conferred with Lydia. She slid next to her cousin, who nodded. Their counterparts performed as they watched, in rapt silence.
Lydia’s voice floated and rose as Jay lifted her, matching her tempo, her tone, her key, complementing her with his playing instead of showing his own skill.
“Not everyone who is quick with his words is talented at finding every single one. Actions can sing just as loudly.” Rachel’s soft voice, only a decibel above a whisper, interrupted her thoughts.
Ursula reached forward for a cookie and stuffed it in her mouth. Cinnamon. She spit it into a linen napkin. Why didn’t her relatives use more chocolate?
“Showing can be more effective than telling.” Rachel lifted her brow again, a teasing smirk evident.
Was that a saucy joke? Perhaps there really was more Nunes than Levy there. Maybe Jay was right and she’d enjoy having her as a friend. And tolerate Lydia, provided she kept the Emerson nonsense to a minimum.
“Isn’t there a saying about being short on speech and long on wisdom? Though not my strength, it’s often most prudent to remain in the background.” Like you, perhaps? Ursula tilted towards her cousin. Maybe they had more in common than blood.
Rachel paused, her black eyes, like her father’s, steady and unyielding, digging inside Ursula’s. When she spoke again, her voice was louder, despite the music.
“For some of us. For some, it’s against their very nature,
their very being. I was reading a story the other day, Daedalus and Icarus. You know it?”
Ursula nodded, as her mind spun.
“What if the sun came to Icarus, not the other way around? If that happened, all lessons and warnings from his father would’ve been for naught.” Rachel opened her mouth and frowned. “Your father didn’t... Ursula, what did your father teach you?”
Ursula’s brows pinched. Her father? Was this some sort of metaphor? Why couldn’t people just say what they meant?
“He taught me how to do the books, the different facets of the business,” Ursula stammered.
“But who taught you who you were?” Worry flashed in Rachel’s onyx eyes.
Ursula ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth. In what sense? As a Jew? “My mother taught me how to pray and to light candles. The little bit of Hebrew, I picked up on my own. And I read the bible and a few histories.”
Rachel brought her fist to her mouth, a pained expression on her face. She sucked in a breath and grasped Ursula’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” The hairs on the back of Ursula’s neck stood at attention, despite the gentle, comforting gesture from her cousin. Something was amiss, something important.
“You need to speak with your father, Ursula. It isn’t right to permit you to fly without warning of the dangers. I don’t pretend to know the full story, but you need to speak with him before it’s too late.” Her cousin’s lips trembled.
Ursula glanced back at Jay, long fingers still skipping over the keys, and her eyes grew wide. Right. Isaac enlisted Rachel’s help regarding the rumors. She must have guessed the other secret.
Well, her cousin was wrong. She could never speak to her father about Jay. He’d never understand. An image of her mother lying in bed flashed before Ursula’s eyes. Worse, he might understand—too well.
The velvet cushioned back of the settee stroked her bare skin as Jay’s rhythms and Lydia’s voice carried through the room, low and lush, and melancholy. The key was minor. How Jay could just fill the space between Lydia’s tune and listen, that was a gift. The way he really listened and understood, and transformed that knowledge into music was a blessing. Almost a miracle. The droplets threatened again.
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