Her hand shifted on his thigh as she leaned farther into him, her breasts pressing to his chest. There was no stopping the low growl of hunger that rumbled in his throat as he brought his other arm around her back to hold her against him as he finally slipped his tongue between her lips to deepen the kiss.
Her response was languid and perfect. An answering twirl of her tongue against his, then a nip on his lower lip when he withdrew.
They opened their eyes at the same time and Erik slowly eased his hold from around her body. But before she could fully retreat from him, he asked roughly, “When shall I see you again?”
Something flashed in her gaze, something that caused a clench of concern.
Pulling free of his arms, she turned toward the carriage door. “I’ll be rather busy for a while.”
The groom assisted her from the vehicle but Erik couldn’t leave it at that. Before she could walk away from him yet again, he leaned forward to remind her, “There are six days remaining in our agreement.”
Wrapping her cloak securely around herself, she looked at him over her shoulder and offered a sly, knowing smile. “That is true, but I am a busy woman, Mr. Maxwell. Something of which you are well aware. I will not change my life to suit your purposes.”
He frowned. “And I would never ask you to.” Her devotion to her business was one of the things he admired most about her. And the truth was, if he could not convince her to give him a chance within the boundaries she had set, then he did not deserve her time.
She arched her brows. “Wouldn’t you?”
The distrust in her voice struck him harder and deeper than ever before. He’d thought she was starting to understand him as he was coming to better understand her. He’d hoped she might be starting to feel some real affection for him.
But as she turned away and walked to the front door of her private residence, he realized he might be further from his goal than he’d thought.
Chapter 8
Callista rarely made mistakes when it came to Pendragon’s. She took risks on occasion and experimented every once in a while, but she never considered any of her decisions—even those that did not turn out as well as expected—mistakes.
But the moment she dropped the invitation in the post, she suspected she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.
Yet she refused to take the small missive back.
Callista was nothing if not honest with herself.
She was fully aware that she had spent the last couple decades obsessively focused on creating a business and a life that could not be compromised by any man.
She knew she’d sacrificed a great many personal relationships to achieve her goal, though she’d managed to somehow tenuously hold on to the only one that really mattered. Even that, she acknowledged, was likely due more to Mason’s efforts than her own.
She was driven, ambitious, focused, and maybe a little preoccupied with attaining personal power. But she also knew those things were motivated by a past when she’d had nothing, and the sense of powerlessness she’d experienced had nearly ruined her.
She also had to admit to herself that she had enjoyed Christmas this year more than any year prior and it had been all because of the company.
So, if she could recognize and accept her faults and occasionally flawed motivations, she had to also admit when something she’d assumed to be fact turned out to be incorrect.
Erik Maxwell and his gentleman’s club, or whatever it was, did not pose any threat to Pendragon’s Pleasure House. They might cater to a similar social demographic, but any gentleman interested in the pleasures offered by her establishment would not be the same type of man who sought entrance to Maxwell’s. Her time with the man had convinced her that if nothing else, he believed whole-heartedly in what he was doing. And because of that, there was no need to drive him out of town.
No need to deny her intense attraction to the man and resist his seduction any longer.
If she weren’t so accustomed to redirecting men’s desires and resisting their attempts at influencing her, she would have tossed herself into Maxwell’s bed the night they’d shared the brandy in front of his fire.
But the truth was, in the spirit of being completely honest with herself, Callista also had to admit that her feelings for the man were far more complicated than simple lust.
Somehow, he’d managed to slip beneath her barriers. With his smooth words and intense gaze, he’d accessed parts of her she’d long ago learned to keep hidden. She could deny it all she wanted to his face, but he’d been absolutely correct about the fact that there was a part of her she hadn’t allowed past Pendragon’s façade in a long time. He’d seen it and he’d delicately trailed his fingertips along her sensitive and vulnerable underbelly.
With his patient questions and quiet consideration and the way he seemed to genuinely want to know the contents of her mind as much as he wanted to release the contents of her corset, he’d ignited a few secret wishes she’d tucked so far into the shadows of her being, she’d forgotten they existed.
And now that they’d been relit, she couldn’t ignore them.
In fact, she suspected she might want to explore them. Even if it were for only one night. She simply couldn’t allow any more than that. But a lot could happen in one night.
After weeks of preparation, Pendragon’s annual end-of-the-year celebration event had finally arrived.
Callista always took exceptional and deliberate care with her appearance, but on this night it felt different. Because she wasn’t dressing to stun and awe the dozens of high-spenders who’d be coming to Pendragon’s expecting a night of exceptional pleasures and over-the-top depravities. She was dressing for one man only.
Keeping in line with her signature red and black, the dress she wore tonight was one she’d designed herself. The base of the gown was a blood-red silk, but instead of the empire waist currently in fashion, the bodice was designed into a full corset that shaped her figure from breasts to hips. Delicate swaths of silk draped over her shoulders, leaving her arms bare and her dragon on full display. There would be no gloves tonight.
The skirts of the gown had been slit in several places from the hem, all the way up to the embroidered base of her corset, revealing an underskirt of black lace. As she walked and moved, the transparent lace would be revealed, showing suggestive glimpses of her bare legs beneath.
But only glimpses.
Her slippers were black beaded satin and a black onyx choker encircled her throat. In her elaborately styled hair were several red roses so dark they appeared almost black in certain light.
She looked magnificent.
Strong. Seductive. Utterly in command and utterly untouchable by the common man.
It was the persona she’d spent years creating, and tonight, she was at the height of her power.
Pendragon’s Pleasure House was located near St. James Square and Mayfair, where so many of the high-society gentlemen she catered to lived in domestic dissatisfaction. Decorated entirely in a Grecian theme, the larger rooms held mural-sized paintings depicting blatant sexual scenes, and marble pillars framed every doorway. The main floor contained an entry hall where her doormen carefully managed the flow of people entering and exiting the building. Even on regular nights, one must either be on the list of established members, be sponsored by an approved member in high esteem, or they must have a direct invitation from Pendragon herself. Once allowed in, guests could wander through various public rooms, each one leading deeper into the heart of the house where hedonistic sin and wickedness reigned.
Music played by five musicians flowed from the grand salon, which also contained a stage for her dancers surrounded by chairs, sofas, couches, and divans for comfortable viewing of the entertainment and other activities. A second salon had been designed more for conversation, where gentlemen could debate over port and tobacco while naked lovelies served them from golden platters. Beyond that was a room lit with soft candlelight, most often occupied by those who wish
ed to engage in exhibitionism or voyeurism. And then, a room left in perpetual shadowed darkness to allow guests to release their inhibitions to the full extent. Alcoholic refreshment was provided in each room while light and savory fare was offered in the main drawing room to keep guests from leaving to pursue dinner elsewhere.
Several rooms on the upper floors were dedicated to Pendragon’s personal use. Additional rooms were reserved for her ladies. She currently had nine in residence, though she hired additional entertainment for special events like tonight. For that purpose, several additional private rooms could be used as needed. Every available bed, couch, divan, and chaise in the place would likely be occupied well into the morning hours.
She’d thrown enough of these grand parties by now to have it all organized to perfection. The cellar and larders were well-stocked. Extra servants filled the kitchens and below stairs to keep everything moving smoothly and she had double her usual flash men to keep her guests in line should the excessive alcohol lead to any behavior that broke the strict house rules. One misdeed could see a member barred for life, which meant there were rarely infractions and events such as these tended to go off without a hitch.
Waiting until the evening was in full swing before leaving her rooms to join the party so as to make the kind of dramatic entrance she was known for, Callista sauntered down the main staircase in full view of the entry hall and the main salon.
She loved this moment.
When all eyes turned to her. Admiration, lust, and a little bit of fear reflected up at her. This was her world and she was empress. The lady dragon ready to bestow her treasures on foolish mortals or send them to fiery fates.
As she scanned the crowd below with a narrowed gaze, she exalted in her success. She had made this. With her wits and determination. She was far more than a vessel for men’s pleasure. She was a force. Though she did not immediately see silver-streaked black hair or striking gray eyes amongst the gathering guests, she was not concerned.
He would come.
With a smile full of knowledge and secrets, she wove a seductive dance through the crowd. Bestowing grace upon her guests with a glance, a few words, or—if the gentleman were particularly lucky that evening—a light, suggestive caress of her hand as she passed. Each man held his breath, hoping they might be one to receive some exceptional favor from the queen of the evening. Callista very carefully and intentionally cultivated that hopeful anticipation. Part of her allure was in her unpredictability, the way her mood could shift from hot to cold and back again within a single interaction. It kept the gentlemen on their toes, never certain of her regard, ever aware of how much power she possessed within the walls of Pendragon’s and beyond.
Their pleasures relied upon her grace and discretion and she made sure they never forgot that.
After taking a couple hours to make her way through each room, assessing the turnout and verifying that her protections were all in place should a guest get unruly, she went below stairs to check on things in the kitchen and go over additional details for the evening with her manager. Neither of which were necessary, as everything had been planned and prepped to perfection.
As she returned to the main level, she advised her head doorman that she would be in her personal suite if anything was needed. She liked to show herself only sparingly to her guests though she’d remain available for any concerns throughout the event. It was important she keep herself at a distance. Too much familiarity bred confidence and comfort, which led some men to think they could take more than they were offered, that they were somehow owed more.
Those men quickly learned otherwise.
Retreating to her library, her favorite room in the house, Callista poured herself a glass of red wine before reclining on her black velvet chaise.
Tonight would be a success. All of her grand parties were though each one became more elaborate than the last as she was forced over and over to outdo herself.
A glance at the clock indicated it was already early morning, yet the revelry and debauchery would continue for several more hours.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. Anyone who might happen to observe her in that moment would assume she was resting. They’d be wrong.
Her body was taut with anticipation, which had been increasing throughout the day and evening. And her mind whirled through thoughts that were unprecedented.
Thoughts of a man who’d claimed her focus and her desire. A man she no longer believed to be a threat to her business, though he most certainly posed a significant risk to her personally.
In business she had always been fearless.
But in this…she had to acknowledge she’d become slightly unsteady.
It had been a long time since her last lover. But that was not what had her belly trembling at the thought of welcoming Erik Maxwell to her bed. What bothered her and threw her off-balance tonight was the realization and acceptance that what she wanted from him was different from anything she’d wanted before.
“Madam.”
She opened her eyes without lifting her head to see one of her well-trained men filling the doorway. “Yes?”
“Your special guest has arrived.”
Tingling, sparking anticipation rushed through her from head to toe. “Thank you, Simon.”
With a nod, the bouncer stepped back into the hall and disappeared.
Sipping on her wine, Callista allowed a smile.
Of course he’d come.
No doubt, he was grateful for the opportunity to explore Pendragon’s while also expecting to take advantage of her invitation to further his seduction. She hadn’t seen him since Christmas dinner, yet per their agreement, he still had two days to demonstrate his skills. He couldn’t know that, after tonight, they would no longer be needed.
Though a part of her wanted to rush downstairs to him, she forced herself to remain where she was. She wanted to allow him time to wander about and soak up the fantasy she’d woven for her guests.
What would he find most compelling?
Her stomach tightened. Would he choose to partake in the many wicked delights Pendragon’s offered in abundance?
The urge to claim him for her own rose fiercely inside her. Now that she’d embraced the decision to accept him as her lover, she had to fight against a sense of possession. He did not belong to her any more than she would belong to him. No matter how intensely she was compelled to claim that right.
She paused in the midst of lifting her glass for another sip as a distinguished male form clothed in elegant black evening wear that accented the silver of his hair and the magnetic light in his eyes moved into the open doorway.
He stood there for a moment as his steady focused gaze moved slowly over the curves and dips of her body showcased to perfection by blood-red silk.
Though she felt the heat of his desire like flames licking over her skin, she responded to his appearance with a lift of her brow. Rolling to one side, she propped herself up on an elbow and noted smoothly, “The party is downstairs.”
“I’m not here for the party.” Understated confidence flowed through his words. And hunger. Heavy, rich hunger.
For the first time, she allowed some of her own hunger to reflect in her eyes. “I hope you allowed yourself a moment to take in the various delights I offer my guests.”
He took a slow step into the room, then another. His gaze never leaving hers as he crossed the thick carpet. “What I want isn’t being offered below.”
“Is that so?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.
His smile was slow. Assured. Seductive. Did he already suspect why he’d been invited tonight?
“You know it is,” he replied.
“What else do I know?”
Reaching the chaise, he extended one of his gloveless hands.
There was no hesitation as she slid her bare fingers along his palm until his hand enclosed hers and he brought her slowly to her feet. Without a word, he took her wineglass and set it on the table beside them
. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth, where he pressed his warm lips to the center of her palm.
His silvery eyes held a quiet, unshakeable intention. But it was unhurried and calm. So unlike the riot erupting in her core. A part of her wanted him to sweep her off her feet, maybe toss her over his shoulder or take her to the floor right there in the middle of her library as he covered her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. But another part of her held her breath and urged her to patience.
His voice was gruff and weighted when he finally replied. “You had to know I would find you.”
She hadn’t, actually. But she realized now that she’d hoped he would.
“Just as you know I am about to kiss you.”
Callista lifted her chin as her lashes swept over a narrowed gaze and her lips parted. She felt no need to respond as his attention fell from her eyes to her mouth. She watched with thrills livening her blood as his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared.
Take it. The private thought came out in a husky murmur she hadn’t intended to voice out loud. But then she was glad she did because a gravelly moan rolled from his throat as he took her face in his hands and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was deep, hot, and mind-melting.
As she slid one hand up and around his neck, she flattened her other palm to his chest, seeking the subtle rhythm of his heart as she gave herself over to the delicious skill he employed with his lips, tongue, and teeth. He immediately shifted to wrap his arms fully around her, one bracing behind her shoulders, the other encircling the narrow span of her tightly corseted waist to hold her close. Body to body. Breath to breath.
As hot as the kiss was to start, it grew even hotter. The flames of long-denied desire leaping to new heights within seconds.
Just when she thought she might drown in the maelstrom of need flowing through her, he slid his mouth to the side of her throat, then lower, where he paused to scrape his teeth delicately along the muscle connecting neck to shoulder before he placed a warm kiss just above the draping, wispy sleeve of her gown. The delicate caress caused shivers to cascade down her spine.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2) Page 125