She trembled and released a startled gasp, and he smiled.
“Do you like that?”
He did it again, lifting her higher, then easing her all the way back down. A shudder wracked her, and she moaned, her hands coming over his on her waist.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “It’s … it feels so …”
“So good,” he finished for her, easing his tight hold as she began to take over the rhythm, panting and arching as she gave herself over to it. “You’re in control goddess. Ride my cock. Fuck me however you please.”
Her only response was a soft moan, then another, and another, the sounds rising in pitch as she braced her hands against his chest. Nick lay back and watched her, awash in his own ecstasy as she took control, hips testing various motions, waist undulating in the most hypnotic fashion. She was wetter than he’d ever felt her, soaking him in her desire, her sheath clenching and squeezing around him with every surge of her hips.
“Nick,” she whispered, head thrown back and nails digging into his chest as she moved faster, her pelvis colliding with his with each downward surge. “Nick … Nick …”
He gave in to the depraved urge to slap one firm bottom cheek, grinning as she responded as she had that day in the closet—groaning and fucking him faster. He did it again, striking the other cheek this time, then squeezed the heated flesh.
“Such a naughty girl, sneaking into my bed and sucking my cock. You like this too, don’t you?”
He slapped her again, then again, marveling at the way it only seemed to drive her wilder. His innocent goddess was turning out to be as lusty as him, and he loved every bit of it.
“Answer me,” he growled, smacking her one last time, rubbing and caressing away the sting.
She gasped and shook, eyes flying open when he pressed her down, grinding her against him.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, Nick.”
He pressed his thumb between her lower lips, finding her clit and circling over it in a slow rhythm.
“You’re so close, Anni. Come for me, love … come all over my cock.”
She arched her back, one breast falling into the cradle of his hand, shuddering as he toyed with her nipple while steadily working her clit. She splintered, collapsing over him and writhing as she moaned against his shoulder, her cunt gripping him so tight he lost his ability to speak. He could only hold her, the pain in his side a distant aggravation that ceased to exist. His hips jerked up off the bed over and over, his cock drilling deep as he sought his own release, so desperate for it he could hardly breathe.
He released a hoarse shout when a sharp sensation pricked his chest—her teeth sinking in to help stifle her helpless cries of pleasure. His back bowed, his cock surging deep as he gave himself over to a powerful climax.
His body slowly unwound, his back sinking into the mattress when his cock finally eased down from its state of arousal.
Nick lay as if dead, unable to move a muscle and slowly beginning to recall his wound. His side throbbed like the devil, sending twinges of pain through his middle, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Calliope rolled to lay beside him, hands gentle as she inspected his bandages. She seemed content with what she found, because then she dropped her head to his shoulder with a little laugh.
“I do believe you bring some hidden part of me to the surface, Mr. Burke.”
He cracked one eye open to find her grinning at him, looking thoroughly disheveled and so delicious he nearly pulled her back on top of him. His cock agreed with this notion, but his injured side did not.
“Good,” he murmured, palming one breast and giving it a squeeze. “I require my wife to be as insatiable and uninhibited as I am. You’re off to a good start, goddess. I’m well on my way to corrupting you completely.”
“Your wife,” she said with a sigh. “How soon do you suppose we might make that happen?”
“The moment I have the strength to leave this bed, we are eloping. I refuse to wait any longer than necessary to have you, and it is the smart thing to do after I’ve ruined you before the entire ton not once, but twice.”
She giggled, toying with a lock of his hair. “That must be some sort of precedent.”
“I’m a man who takes pride in his work. Where are you going?”
She’d begun to don her nightgown again. Giving him an apologetic look, she began fastening her buttons.
“I really must go. Two scandals are enough for a lifetime, I think. I will return when I can do so respectably.”
He let out an irritated huff and scowled at her. “You will pay for this once we are wed, and I won’t care who witnesses it. How’s that for scandalous?”
Leaning over him for a kiss, she graced him with the most radiant smile. “Clearly, you are shamming it. You’d never want anyone to witness the things you do to me.”
“Hmm, you make a good point. Very well, I’ll do my best to be respectable when others are watching. But behind closed doors, prepare for me to debauch you as often and thoroughly as possible. What do you say to that?”
Right before their lips met, she murmured, “I say, do your worst, Mr. Burke.”
Epilogue
Benedict stared unseeingly across his secret office in the rear of Madame Hershaw’s dress shop, toying with the letter opener on his desk. Fatigue held him in its clutches after the events of a trying couple of weeks. No, it had been a trying couple of years, and in that time so much had changed.
Hugh, Aubrey, Nick … all of them married and going on to live new lives. Everyone else in Benedict’s live had left him behind. Why should he expect his friends to stay?
He glanced at David, who sat in the chair facing his desk, watching Benedict with concern wrinkling his brow. They’d met to discuss a new contract, as a short-lived affair had just been ended by David’s keeper. However, once the other man had arrived, neither of them launched into the reason for their meeting. Silence had descended over the room and, uncharacteristically, David didn’t seem to be in a hurry to fill it.
Nick had left London only a few days after disrupting Calliope’s nuptials, carrying her off to Scotland for a hasty elopement before they were set to journey to his new estate, after which they would honeymoon in Paris. Aubrey and Lucinda had left for their own wedding trip, and Benedict didn’t expect to see them again for months. Nick and Calliope would likely stay away much longer, giving the gossip about them time to die down. Hugh was busier than ever these days, taking on clients and working on portraits in the hours he wasn’t spending with his wife—who had just revealed that she was with child.
“Well,” Ben said at last. “Looks like it’s just you and I from here on out.”
David frowned. “You don’t really think that, do you? Aubrey will return before you know it, and Nick won’t stay away from London forever. Hugh becoming a father won’t—”
“It changes everything, all of it. Can’t you see that? I am happy for them—really, I am. But, you cannot expect them to piss around with us like they used to now that they’re husbands and fathers.”
“It won’t be like old times,” David replied with a shrug. “But they won’t abandon us. I think you’re taking this all far too personally.”
“Am I? Need I remind you that we are a liability to them now? They have families to protect, and their proximity to us puts the people they love in danger. Would you associate with us if there were any chance your wife or child might be affected by the inevitable scandal once we are found out?”
“We won’t be found out. You said it yourself … the London Gossip knows nothing of any substance.”
Benedict closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he decided to finally lay his burden at someone else’s feet. He’d prefer it to be Aubrey, but his best friend wasn’t here. This was Benedict’s problem to solve, and since David was the only one of the original courtesans left other than himself, it had become his problem too.
“I may have been a bit hasty in my estimation.”
&nbs
p; He opened his eyes to find David leaning forward in his chair, dread clear in his expression. “What do you mean?”
Benedict stood, striding toward the hearth and resting his arm against the mantel. “I’ve … met her.”
“You’ve known who she was all this time and didn’t tell us?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I’ve encountered her, but don’t know who she is. She wore a veiled hat and was escorted by a couple of massive thugs who managed to incapacitate me. Only because they caught me off guard, you should know.”
David was on his feet now, nervous fingers scraping through his hair as he began pacing. “When did this happen?”
“Weeks ago. I wanted to tell you all, but there was the rather diverting problem of all the weddings and news of babies. I thought I had it all under control. But this woman … she’s far more dangerous than I gave her credit for. Whoever she is, I don’t think her quarrel is with any of you.”
“How can you say that? We founded the agency together, and whatever concerns you, concerns the rest of us.”
“That is true, in a sense. But, I know for certain who her true target is, and it isn’t any of you.”
David halted, gaping at him in disbelief. “You?”
Benedict nodded, clenching his jaw tight as he remembered the subtle threat he’d been issued when coming face to face with the woman intent on exposing them.
“I can’t know for certain, but I’m still confident she doesn’t know who the courtesans actually are. Except for me.”
David muttered an oath under his breath, glancing about desperately as if trying to find the answer to their problem somewhere within the room.
“What are we going to do? I’ve been sending funds to my father, for him to use to restore the house and … I cannot lose my income, Ben, I can’t. But if she knows—”
“I think it best if you leave London for a while. You can’t be seen associating with me right now, none of you can. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but we cannot risk the scrutiny. Nick’s little stunt drew too much attention, and I can’t say how, but I have a feeling it will come back to haunt us. It is better if none of you are publicly connected with me, until …”
Benedict pushed away from the mantel, and David watched him go back to the desk with his eyebrows raised, hands held out helplessly.
“Until when?”
“Until I can flush her out and silence her.”
David ran a hand over his smooth jaw, releasing a labored sigh. “Where am I to go?”
“Home. Visit your parents. I’ll send word when I can.”
“And what do you suppose I do about money in the meantime?”
Benedict waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll find you a new keeper, someone you can service away from London—away from me and this entire mess. London isn’t the only place filled with women desperate for company. It will be fine, David. I need you to trust me to fix this, and you can tell no one what I’ve confided in you.”
“All right,” David murmured, rolling his shoulders as he seemed to calm. “All right … I trust you. I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Good. Don’t return here again. I intend to spread word to the others as well. If the Gossip knows about me, then it’s only a matter of time before she uncovers my office. I won’t endanger Madame Hershaw or her girls.”
“Goddamn it. How are you going to do business?”
“Let me worry about that. I’ve got everything under control.”
As he took David’s shoulder and guided him from the room, he tried to look more confident than he actually felt. The truth was, it seemed as if everything was fast falling out of his reach, his friends, his business, his livelihood slipping through his fingers like water.
After seeing David off, he returned to what had been his office since the Gentleman Courtesans had first opened for business. With grim determination, he began gathering his things—concentrating on what was most important. The records of their clients, copies of contracts, proof of payments that had been made.
He’d sent for his carriage an hour ago, so when Madame Hershaw came to inform him that it had arrived, he was ready to depart.
The woman stared about the space that now looked like nothing more than a feminine study, her wrinkled face marred with a frown. She accepted the roll of bank notes he pressed into her palm—the final monthly payment for letting of the space, as well as her assistance in helping them avoid detection. He’d added a bit more to ensure she would continue keeping their secret, and she had vowed to feign ignorance should anyone come here asking about the Gentleman Courtesans.
“Are you certain you wish to do this?” she asked. “I hate to see you cave in to intimidation.”
Benedict gave her a rueful smile. “So do I, but it’s for the best. I’m not going out of business—simply changing tactics. Besides, I’m sure you and your girls will be glad not to have us underfoot anymore.”
She chuckled and stuffed the money into a pocket of her apron. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There’s never been a dull moment, that’s for certain. You will call on me if you have a need, won’t you? I’ve grown rather fond of you over the years, Mr. Sterling.”
“Of course.”
But as he departed the modiste’s shop, Benedict knew he could never return.
Because, as he walked down the alley toward his waiting carriage, he experienced the unmistakable shiver down his spine caused by eyes watching him in the dark.
The ride to his townhouse passed as if in a blink, his mind so preoccupied he hardly noticed the time it had taken to arrive. He carried his own belongings into the house, not trusting a footman with the documents that could see everyone he cared about publicly disgraced.
“Good evening, Mr. Sterling,” the butler murmured with a bow as Benedict entered. “You received a message while you were out. I’ve had it placed on the desk in your study.”
“Very good. Inform the staff that I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.”
Benedict trudged to his study, already annoyed with whoever had sent the blasted message. He was exhausted and wanted to ignore it in favor of finding his bed. With the unburdening of his secret to David, he now felt as if a small weight had been lifted off the innumerable problems bearing down on him. He had the hint of a plan, and it was beginning to grow the more he thought on the matter. He could sleep knowing he and his friends were secure, at least for a little while longer.
A fire had been lit, and a lamp rested on the desk, revealing the waiting missive. He took his time storing the most important of his documents in his safe, removing his coat, and rolling up his sleeves. Then, he finally went to the desk, settling in his chair and retrieving what turned out to be multiple pages closed with wax but bearing no seal.
Dread chilled his blood as he opened it to find a short note written in a haphazard scrawl.
Hyde Park, the Serpentine. Monday afternoon, 5 o’clock. Come alone. Don’t look for me, I will come to you.
Benedict sniffed, finding an unmistakable fragrance wafting from the page. One he knew well.
Lily of the valley. It had emanated from the London Gossip when she’d accosted him in that alley. He’d registered it then and it had niggled a memory in the back of his mind, one he still couldn’t seem to unearth no matter how hard he tried. Apparently, she wasn’t finished toying with him.
“Devious little bitch,” he growled, pushing her note aside to unveil the second page.
What he found made his entire body go numb. The page fluttered as his hands shook, and he worked to steady them so he could read the latest copy of The London Gossip, dated for tomorrow and apparently scheduled to be delivered to subscribers first thing in the morning.
His teeth ground together, his temples throbbing and jaw aching as the entire world seemed to drop out from beneath his feet.
At last, dear readers, I can now fulfill my promise to expose the nefarious workings of the secret agency known as the Gentleman Co
urtesans. This writer happened to receive a firsthand account from a lady who claims to have had a nine-month affair with one of these so-called gentlemen—a tall, dark-haired man whose father happens to be an earl. Under the promise of anonymity, she has told me all. I must warn you that what I have to share is shocking in the extreme, but it would be irresponsible of me to withhold the details knowing that these lecherous men are among us, corrupting the ladies of our society with their licentious ways.
Benedict jumped to his feet, the paper fluttering to the floor and his chair toppling over. He panted like a bull, his movements stiff and jerky as he paced the room, trying and failing to keep his mounting rage under control. He’d done his best to rein it all in, keeping it just under the surface of his skin, always simmering, always there, but tightly leashed. He allowed it to the surface long enough to dispatch his opponents during his boxing matches, but always reeled it back in, leaving it to fester until the next time.
But, just now, there was no outlet for the black wrath welling in him and threatening to boil over. He snatched up a paperweight and hurled it across the room with a guttural roar. It shattered the nearest window before hurtling out into the night.
“Fuck!” he bellowed, swiping the contents of his desk onto the floor, pounding his fist on the surface, and slamming the toe of his boot against the side for good measure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
There were no other words to encompass the path of his thoughts. For, the London Gossip was officially waging war with him, and she already had the upper hand.
He was well and truly fucked.
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Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 32
