“Siblings?” she blurted out.
He froze, one hand on her shoulder. The sleeve of her gown had fallen again, revealing the tempting top of one breast. Forcing himself to meet her gaze, he blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Siblings,” she repeated tugging her sleeve back into place. “Do you have any? I have two elder sisters.”
Right. They were supposed to be talking. Giving her his arm once more, he continued guiding her down the path. His family wasn’t exactly a subject he enjoyed talking about, given the way they’d cast him from amongst their ranks, but she didn’t need to know about the uncomfortable parts of his life. That wasn’t why he was here.
“Three brothers and two sisters,” he replied. “I am the youngest brother, with both my sisters behind me.”
“I’m the youngest, too,” she said. “With a flock of nieces and nephews. Do your siblings have any children?”
His chest ached as he was reminded of how long it had been since he’d seen any of his brothers’ or sister’s children. His sister-in-law, Elinor, was due to give birth any day now, and his younger sister, Priscilla, was expecting—a fact he only knew due to secondhand gossip. No one had even bothered to inform him of the news.
“Six of them,” he said, desperately seeking a distraction.
Anything to keep from having to tell her that his family did everything they could to distance themselves from him.
They’d come to the end of the row of arches, a pathway to their left leading back toward the Dark Walk. He was done talking, and didn’t want anything to spoil the mood, so he moved a bit faster, propelling her away from the crowd and toward more secluded territory.
“Mr. Radcliffe!” she exclaimed, trotting to keep up with his quickened strides. “Where are we going?”
He slowed a bit but remained determined to outrun unpleasant thoughts and seek more pleasurable diversion. He couldn’t end the night without at least kissing her, and he knew she wouldn’t allow it out in the open where anyone could see.
“I’m looking for the perfect spot,” he murmured, turning down the darkened pathway where the lamps gave way, allowing moonlight to take over.
Here and there he noticed the shadows of others moving about, seeking privacy for illicit encounters.
“The perfect spot for what?” she asked, sounding a bit breathless.
He pulled her into a little nook surrounded by crumbling pillars overrun with climbing vines. A circle of pale moonlight gave meager illumination through the trees, bathing the mock ruin. Finding a stone bench nearby, he guided her toward it with purpose. He threw one leg over the bench and sank down, then gave her a little tug. She fell across his thighs with a startled gasp, forced to cling to him for balance.
Once he had her settled, he reached up to remove his hat and set it aside, then, he met her gaze.
“The perfect spot for this,” he said while loosening the mask and allowing it to drop, revealing his face. “I think we are safe enough here.”
Evelyn glanced about, finally seeming to notice how far from civilized company he’d taken her. Her hands rested in her lap, and she clasped them together just as he noticed how they’d begun to shake.
“Relax,” he urged, reaching up to unmask her. “It’s just the two of us now, and I want to see your face.”
She remained placid while he untied her mask and pulled it away, revealing the slopes of her cheekbones, the set of her wide, doe eyes, and the arch of sable brows. The full effect of her visage left him speechless for a moment, so he simply studied her in silence. The face he looked upon did not entirely match the timidity of the woman herself. There was an innocence about her, mostly in the set of her mouth and the width of her eyes. But the dark fan of her lashes, the tilt of her cheekbones and jaw—she was virtue and seduction all in one ravishing creature. Perfect for a canvas in fact. He could imagine working to get her eyes just right, the combination of pigments he’d need to capture that porcelain complexion.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb along the edge of her bottom lip.
She released her breath, relaxing a bit in his lap. “And you...you’re very handsome. But then, I suppose you must know that.”
He smirked at that, bracing a hand at the small of her back. “This may come as a surprise, but being showered with compliments doesn’t always come with the territory of being a courtesan. I am supposed to compliment you...effusively and often.”
She wrinkled her nose, in a move that made her even more endearing. “I don’t think I would like that overmuch. I am not fond of excessive attention.”
He chuckled, caressing her back in slow circles, accustoming her to his touch in a way she hardly seemed to notice. “You will have to grow used to my attention. It’s how this is supposed to work, you know. But it doesn’t have to be all verbal flattery. You tell me what kind of attention you would like, and I’ll oblige.”
She lowered her gaze, obviously sensing the innuendo in his words. Innocent she might be, but ignorant she was not.
“I think...I think I would like...for you to kiss me.”
He shouldn’t have found her bashfulness so charming, but he did. Unlike the other women he’d acted as a courtesan to, this one didn’t possess a coquettish bone in her body, and he found it oddly refreshing.
Cupping her face, he tilted her head so she looked into his eyes again, circling his thumb on her cheek. “Have you ever been kissed, Evelyn?”
She shook her head. “No...yes...sort of.”
He frowned. “Don’t you know for certain?”
Her smile was tight and uncertain. “Well...there were only two kisses, and they did not last very long.”
Hugh clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Shame on those men for not initiating you properly.”
She shrugged, causing that pesky sleeve to slip off her shoulder again. Evelyn seemed not to notice or had stopped caring, because she did nothing to set it right.
“It wasn’t them,” she protested. “It was me...I...I always become so nervous and flustered, and...it always ends before it can begin.”
She seemed embarrassed to admit this, but Hugh only gave her an encouraging smile and stroked her cheek once more. “Then you and I shall take things slowly.”
“Very well,” she agreed, though she still seemed wary.
Releasing her face, he reached down to begin unbuttoning his coat. He told himself it was simply so the press of the gold fixtures against her wouldn’t be a discomfort, when all the while it was truly because he didn’t want so many layers between them. He wanted her breasts pressed against him, and he didn’t want his blasted buttons getting in the way.
He practically ripped one loose in his haste to get the task done, the constricting garment falling open to expose his shirtfront. She gazed down at the gap, trailing a path back up to his throat, then landing on his lips. He adjusted her so that her upper body faced him, using one arm to draw her closer. She went rigid against him, but he went on stroking her back, soothing her, his movements slow to keep from frightening her.
Dipping his head, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling that floral scent. It was even better close up, the smell calling to mind how much he’d like to lay her down and taste her bared flesh. But first…
He trailed his lips along the side of her neck, nuzzling just behind her ear. She gasped, her back arching and her head tilting as if to allow him better access. He followed her lead, skimming his lips over the shell of her ear, then placing a kiss on her cheek.
“How am I doing so far?”
She shivered when he kissed her again, making his way back to her neck. He wrapped both arms around her, keeping her tight against him. One of her hands came up to his chest, and the other rested on his shoulder. She whimpered when he pressed his open mouth to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, and he stayed there, nibbling and even flicking his tongue.
“Oh...well, that’s...very good.”
; He smiled against her skin, then went on kissing up to her jaw. He angled toward her lips, his movements achingly slow, his mouth watering for the first taste. It was unbelievable how badly he wanted this. It had been his aim to make her want the kiss, to drive her so mad with desire that it wouldn’t occur to her to be anxious about it. But, in truth, he was driving himself mad, the slow pace making him tremble and yearn in a way he hadn’t since he’d been a green boy.
Her breath raced against his cheek as he aimed for her mouth, pressing a swift, soft kiss there before drawing back. Her hand fisted the collar of his coat, her head tilting down to fit her mouth against his. He fought the urge to grin with triumph at the evidence of her eagerness. Straining toward him, she released a sigh when their lips brushed, then separated, again and again in a hypnotic dance. She’d closed her eyes and given herself over to the moment, the last of her reticence falling away like the rogue sleeve of her gown.
He surged toward her, finally capturing her lips with his own. They locked together, falling into a heated tangle of flesh and breaths. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, finding that the flavor of champagne was a sweet enhancement to her taste. He tightened his arms around her, bringing her flush against him the way he wanted. Hugh groaned into her mouth, the feel of her breasts pressing into his chest too divine to ignore. He slid a hand up her back to grasp the nape of her neck, and he held her while lapping at the seam of her lips to request entrance. She opened to him without hesitation, whimpering at the first caress of his tongue against hers. He coaxed her to follow his lead, massaging her neck while plunging deeper, needing more and no longer succumbing to the need to take things slowly. He had her...she was his now, and he couldn’t seem to stop.
Hugh dropped his other hand to her hip, squeezing her through the indecently thin fabric of her gown and urging her against the erection rapidly swelling his breeches. The pressure was good, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her skirts up, her legs straddling his, her cunt sheathed around him.
She mewled against his lips like a kitten, squirming and writhing in a way that only made the situation between his legs all the worse. Evelyn couldn’t know what she was doing to him—or, she was too out of her mind to notice.
He released her mouth and sought more of her, more of that pale, delectable skin. Her head fell back when he attacked her throat, growing bolder now that she’d gone pliant in his arms. He traced hot circles against her pulse with his tongue, his teeth nipping here and there as he fed off her responses, learning what she liked while indulging in every primitive impulse driving him.
When he reached her bared shoulder, he thanked whoever hadn’t had time to properly alter her dress. That made it far easier for him to slip her bodice down, baring the smooth globe of one breast right up to the edge of her nipple. He paused, tearing his gaze away from the tempting sight to find her eyes once more.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
It didn’t matter that she’d given in to the kiss; he needed her to tell him what she wanted so he didn’t frighten.
Her cheeks flushed pink and eyes glazed with desire, she shook her head, still clinging tight to his shoulders. “No...no, don’t stop.”
He returned his attention to her gown, tugging her bodice and chemise down to her waist. His breath caught at the sight of her breasts—full and high with perfect, rosy tips.
“I know you said you don’t like compliments,” he rasped, cupping one and strumming the nipple with his thumb. “But bloody hell, these are magnificent.”
She gasped when he repeated the motion, teasing her nipple into a taut peak. He showered her with kisses, tasting her throat, her chest, her shoulders. Then, finally, he made his way toward one nipple, his tongue stroking a path straight toward the tight bud.
Evelyn cried out when he licked her, trembling as he did it again and again. He latched on, sucking the peak deep into his mouth while cupping the other breast to ply it with his thumb and forefinger. She was lost right along with him, arching and squirming, the curve of her hip tormenting the rigid swell of his cock. He ached to get inside her, to finish what they’d started and seemed to hurtle toward with exhilarating speed.
Her fingers threaded in his hair and she held on tight as he released the nipple, leaving it wet and glistening in the moonlight as he went to the other. Her unrestrained moan of pleasure urged him on, making him want to produce more of those arousing sounds from deep in her throat. He nudged her legs apart, just far enough that he could cup her mound through the fabric of her dress. She gasped, her thighs clenching tight around his hand.
Releasing her breast from his mouth he pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. “Shh...I just want to touch you. Just like this. Doesn’t that feel good?”
She gasped when he moved his fingers, pressing into her seam. Her eyes rolled up into her head and then slid shut as she nodded.
“Yes...oh, yes.”
She relaxed her thighs, easing them open just enough for him to continue. He went on drugging her with languid kisses, on her lips, her throat, her nipples—all while he stroked her through the layers of her gown and chemise. The heat of her radiated against his palm, making him want more. He wanted her wetness coating his fingers, the tight grasp of her around him. But he held back, knowing once he touched her that way, he would lose his mind in earnest. He stood on the very edge of his control, but wanted her to understand how good this could be if only she would relax and let it happen. He wanted her to go to bed tonight dreaming of what might occur the next time they saw one another.
When she let out a guttural groan as he pressed his middle finger harder, Hugh knew he’d found the right spot. He applied more pressure, circling his fingers and finding a rhythm she seemed to like. He pressed his other hand against her hip, urging her to move with him, to chase her own pleasure to its inevitable end. She hesitated only a moment before giving in, undulating against his hand in an instinctive rhythm. She laid her head on his shoulder, muffling her cries against his coat as she reached her crisis, her hips bucking against his hand, violent shudders wracking her body.
He held her tight as the climax swelled and then abated, her body going still in his arms. She shook as if assaulted by a frigid gale, soft sighs of contentment emitting from her. He removed his hand and adjusted her skirts, then pulled her bodice up to cover her breasts. He then held her against his chest, resting his chin atop her head and waiting for her to recover. Due to her response he realized that might have been her very first climax. She seemed almost stunned by it, as if she hadn’t realized what might await her on the other side of such pleasure.
A feral sense of pride fell over him in a way he’d never experienced. Making women happy, pleasuring them physically, was something he’d been doing efficiently for quite some time. With the clients he’d been assigned to, initiating an untouched virgin was hardly new territory. But, this felt different somehow, though at the moment Hugh couldn’t quite put his finger on what made it so.
Instead of trying to puzzle it out, he busied himself with Evelyn. He needed to make certain she did not feel any sort of shame or worry over what had just happened. They were perfectly secluded off the Dark Walk, with enough debauchery going on around them that no one would notice or care about what they’d done.
He tipped her chin so she looked at him, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How was that for a first kiss?”
Her voice came out breathless and filled with awe when she replied, “It was quite a bit more...electrifying than I’d expected, Mr. Radcliffe.”
With a chuckle, he leaned in to kiss her one last time. “My dear, I do think now would be a good time for you to start calling me Hugh.”
Chapter 4
“During last night’s fancy dress ball at Vauxhall Gardens, I witnessed enough debauchery to fill the pages of this periodical for a year. Among my favorite costumes were included a very clever lady dressed as morning dew, as well as a gallant gentleman in the
full regalia of a Hungarian Hussar. I am certain many a young chit must have fallen in love on first sight of the mysterious soldier.”
-The London Gossip, 12 March 1819
Evelyn lay awake in bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling as the sounds of the city coming alive for the day persisted outside her windows. She’d been awake for hours but hadn’t bothered making any effort to begin her day. Upon returning from Vauxhall Gardens last evening, she’d lain awake for quite some time, too overwrought to sleep. Hugh had left her on the front steps with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and a question of when she’d like to see him again. They ought to talk more about their arrangement, he’d told her.
How many days a week did she require him? Would she prefer they meet at his house or hers? Were there any upcoming engagements she wished him to escort her to?
She’d been too stunned by what had occurred in the folly ruin off the Dark Walk to respond. Her lips still tingled from his kiss, the side of her neck and her shoulder feeling uncommonly warm as if still clinging to the heat of his attentions. Despite the little paroxysm of completion she’d experienced with his hand between her legs, an insistent ache had begun there with no signs of abating. She felt as if anyone who looked upon her might be able to see the evidence of what she’d done with Hugh.
Before slipping inside, she had invited him to join her for dinner the following evening so that they could discuss the particulars. He had agreed, then took hold of her arm to draw her in for the chaste kiss. His mouth had touched her cheek for only a fraction of a second, but it seemed to bring her every nerve ending alive, reminding her of all the things that decadent mouth of his could do.
As she remembered every blissful second, she couldn’t avoid a niggling of trepidation. The evening had gone better than she had expected, for certain. But, while it had awakened her curiosity over what might happen next, it also brought her uncertainty back to life.
What was supposed to have been a simple kiss had progressed quickly into something else; something carnal and wicked and exciting. Hugh had overwhelmed her beyond her embarrassment and anxiety, turning her into a panting, writhing wanton. With the event still so fresh in her mind, and with tonight’s visit looming in the all too near future, one thought dominated her mind.
Portrait of a Lady: The Gentleman Courtesans Book 1 Page 8
