Secrets of a Gentleman Escort

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘You lived away from here?’ Nicholas asked as they moved down the row to the final pictures.

  ‘For a few years.’ Annorah blew out a breath. ‘My aunt tried. She saw to it that I had a nice coming out, that I met eligible men, but I was a disappointment to her and after a while I just came back home.’

  There was more to it than that. Nick would wager his diamond stick pin. No one just came home to live alone when one’s family was able to provide for them.

  ‘I see,’ Nicholas said thoughtfully, pouring more champagne. There was more to know, but she was done with those stories for tonight. ‘Well, I, for one, am very glad you did. Otherwise, I would not have been able to learn about fairy chants. I liked that one you did today.’

  He took the glass from her and set it aside. Annorah protested. ‘What’s the point of filling the glass if you won’t let me drink it?’

  ‘Tut-tut, Annorah,’ he scolded with a grin. ‘I didn’t think your imagination was that limited. Champagne is good for other things besides drinking.’ It was time to test her willingness to venture further into the sensuality that lay between them. He’d been eyeing the upholstered velvet viewing-benches in the middle of the gallery since they’d come up. Those benches offered infinite possibilities and positions.

  ‘Come, Annorah,’ Nicholas beckoned from the benches, his hands resting on the waistband of his trousers, a tried-and-true technique for drawing her eye to that place where no decent woman looked at a man. He watched her eyes widen first with surprise and then delight as she realised exactly what else champagne could be used for.

  He held out his hand and drew her into his arms, whispering the fairy spell in her ear. ‘In the darkness, in the night, we two will find our delight.’

  He favoured her with the long slow kisses she loved, her excitement and arousal growing apace beneath his lips. He danced her back to the edge of the wide bench, but Annorah had other ideas, ideas sparked by the champagne bottle. ‘I’ve learned my pleasure well,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Now it’s time to learn yours.’

  His pleasure. He was already hard, the very words a potent aphrodisiac. Nicholas could not recall a time when his pleasure had been important to a partner. This was new territory indeed and most unexpected. He’d driven her to impossible lengths of pleasure over the last two days. What could she do to him? Was it possible she might bring him to that same brink? This afternoon, he’d brought his own pleasure. It was the only excuse he had for what had happened. What would he have left if she could do that to him?

  Annorah tugged at his cravat, drawing it free in a fluid movement. His shirt came next, pulled from his waistband by eager hands. She unbuttoned it, running her hands up the contoured atlas of his chest, her fingers tracing each sculpted ridge and plane as they explored upwards, thumbs rubbing over the nub of his nipples. He felt them pebble in response to her soft strokes. He took a ragged breath. ‘That feels good.’ And it did. He was not playacting.

  Her touch on his bare skin created the most delightful of fevers in his blood. His body ran hot for her, his phallus rigid and straining. How far did she mean to take this? Nicholas tested the waters with a kiss. If she was ready for him to take over, he’d know. She returned his kiss only briefly with a scold. ‘I’m not done with you yet. Why don’t you sit?’

  Nicholas did as he was told, his blood surging in anticipation. She knelt before him, working the fastenings of his trousers, her intentions becoming clear. She meant to pleasure him as he had her at the river. Nicholas leaned back on his arms, affording her better access. She gave him a wicked smile, her hand finding his length. Nicholas gave a groan at her first stroke. His honey-haired Annorah had become a temptress, but there was awe in her eyes, too. She was exploring him, literally learning him as much as she was seducing him and the combination was intoxicating.

  Her thumb rubbed over the tender head, almost reverently, spreading the bead of moisture down his length until he was slick with her ministrations, the pressure of the pleasure she brought building slowly, unmistakably inside him. Then she upped the ante.

  Annorah’s other hand sought the tight sac of his balls and squeezed. He gave a primal moan. ‘Oh, God.’ He wouldn’t last long at this rate. ‘Use your nails,’ Nicholas ground out. She did, a light, tantalising stroke of fingernails across the tender skin of his balls. He clenched his buttocks against an uncontrolled climax, wanting to make this last. He wasn’t ready to let go of this now, or ever if it were possible. But Annorah wasn’t done yet. She held his eyes, her own green gaze dark with desire and the thrill of having discovered a woman’s power. Her hand reached for the champagne bottle. Just the thought of what she meant to do nearly drove him to orgasm, clenched buttocks or not.

  She dribbled the bubbly on the tip of his phallus and gave him the naughtiest, most enticing of looks. ‘And you thought I had a limited imagination.’

  ‘I thought wrong.’ Nicholas managed to get the words out as her warm mouth closed over the most male part of him. He thought very little, right or wrong, after that. When climax took him it was all-encompassing, robbing him of any complicity, any control in the act. He’d bucked hard against her, giving her the merest of warnings before his release surged. She’d been ready for him, rocking back on her heels and taking him in her hand as he pulsed and spent, for her, because of her.

  Had he ever been so thoroughly worshipped? It was his first thought in the utter clarity that followed climax, that perfect moment when the world made sense. His pleasure had been entirely at her behest. His release, when it had come, had not been under his own volition, but hers, a most extraordinary feat for a man who prided himself on being in charge of every aspect of the sexual act from beginning to end. There were no surprises that way.

  He pulled Annorah to him. Her face was flushed, her hair falling down from the elegant pile she’d worn to dinner. She smelled faintly of the scents of sex. He thought her beautiful in the moments of his afterglow. That was not new. He’d thought her beautiful from the start in an understated way, but tonight her beauty radiated from somewhere deep inside her. This was a beauty that could not be duplicated with gowns and coiffures and expensive jewels. These intimate moments had completed her as much as they’d completed him. He told himself he’d seen women look that way before when he’d pleasured them. It needn’t be a concern.

  He would make love to her, give her reciprocity the best way he knew how later. For now, he simply wanted to lay on the wide velvet viewing-benches, half-clothed, and hold her until his strength returned. He was boneless. He couldn’t summon the energy to even do up his trousers but he was in no hurry. When strength and consciousness returned, they would claim the serenity currently enfolding him.

  Eventually, however, they did return. Annorah stirred against him, where she’d fallen into a drowsy nap, a hand on his chest where his heart beat. Nicholas gathered her to him and carried her to bed, his mind and body busy contemplating all the ways to wake her. When the first clap of thunder shook the skies, he didn’t hear it.

  * * *

  Nick stood at the open bay of windows in Annorah’s room, taking in the morning.

  Outside the sun shone. Summer had returned to Sussex, but its brief hiatus was evident outside on the wet bricking of the veranda and he’d slept through it. He never slept well during storms. Champagne and sex had saved him last night. Fairy magic, too. He couldn’t forget that. His list of explanations was getting ludicrous. He was going to have to face facts, but not just yet.

  In the bed, Annorah stirred and raised up a bit. He turned to look at her. She was glorious in dishabille, her hair falling over one shoulder, her eyes dancing as she took in his naked self. ‘I see it did rain, after all.’ Nicholas nodded towards the outdoors.

  ‘It did, and a little thunder, too, around one this morning.’ Annorah flashed him a teasing smile. ‘Not that you noticed. You were absolutely de
ad to the world.’ Of course he was, he’d been pleasured within an inch of his life.

  ‘You should have woken me if you couldn’t sleep.’ Nick walked back to the bed and slid beneath the sheets beside her. It was still almost impossible to digest. He’d slept through a storm? He could tell from Annorah’s tone the weather barely qualified as a storm in her opinion. Still, there’d been thunder. Sleeping through a storm, even a light one, was something he hadn’t been able to do for years.

  Those were the evenings when the nightmares came. The only way to avoid them was to stay awake, but that was often just as tortuous, his mind plagued by real and waking ‘what ifs’. What if he’d guessed sooner? What if he’d run faster? What if he hadn’t stopped to put his boots on? Would those precious seconds have been enough? What if he hadn’t been doing what he was doing in the first place? Maybe none of it would have happened.

  ‘I wasn’t awake for long.’ Annorah snuggled against him, fitting her bottom against his groin. ‘What shall we do today? Shall we search for treasure?’

  Nicholas laughed, glad she couldn’t see his face as he pushed aside his thoughts. ‘Everything, anything.’ Very soon he’d have to bring his end of the fantasy into line. Today was day four. The time had flown. He’d be leaving soon, perhaps that was for the best. She’d had her pleasure. He’d done his job and more.

  Things had got out of control. He’d let himself wander too far from the usual path he trod. Last night he’d given himself over entirely to the fantasy as a gift to himself, but now he had to get back to business. It was time to start the gentle severing by putting some distance between them bit by bit today, so that tomorrow she’d be able to let him go. But first, a morning love game wouldn’t go amiss. There would be time to say goodbye later. He dropped a kiss on to her hair and pushed up from the bed. ‘Wait here, I’ll be right back.’

  * * *

  There was something to be said for watching Nicholas walk away naked. In the light of day without a stitch on him, she could appreciate just how marvellously made he was and what fabulous shape he kept himself in: the well-muscled back, the lean waist, the smooth, taut perfection of his buttocks, bracketed as they were by the sexy indentations of his love handles. The only thing better was watching her man return.

  Her man. He was truly that for a short while longer at least. Yesterday’s lovemaking at the faerie ring had been more satisfying than the previous night. Something had changed for the better. It had not just fulfilled her physically, it had moved her. She had dared much with this last adventure and it had been worth it. It would be enough to sustain her, whatever choice she made and there was some comfort in that knowledge. ‘What’s in your hand?’ Annorah nodded towards the satin bag he carried.

  Nicholas gave a wicked grin and sat on the bed. ‘Everything we need for a treasure hunt without leaving the room.’ He opened it and pulled a roll of white silk that looked like lengths of bandages. ‘You get to be the guide. For that, I need you to raise your arms above your head.’

  She did as she was told, a bit surprised, however, when he began to tie her wrists to the bedposts. ‘What are you doing?’

  Nicholas smiled and kept working the lengths. ‘The guide knows where the treasure is, but can’t get the treasure herself. But she can tell the hunter where to look. We have to make sure you play by the rules. After all, you are something of a rebel.’ He winked and she relaxed. It was only a game and the bonds were loose, tied more for effect than purpose.

  He drew out two more lengths. ‘Will you let me tie your legs?’

  Annorah’s mouth went dry, a wicked warmth pooling at her core at the suggestion and how that would be accomplished. In order for the lengths to reach the bedposts, her legs would not be tied together, but apart. She would be spreadeagled and exposed most intimately. The old Annorah, the one who had closeted herself away at Hartshaven, would have refused. Hands were adventure enough. But the new Annorah, or perhaps better termed the once and future Annorah, who took risks, said breathlessly, ‘Yes. You may tie my legs.’ She even bent them just so as her lover slid the bonds about her ankles. When he offered her the blindfold, she didn’t hesitate.

  ‘It’s better for your senses if your eyes are shut,’ Nicholas murmured in his seductive tones as he fastened it. ‘There’s no distractions, no visual interruptions to your pleasure.’ She breathed deeply. The blind smelled faintly of him, as if it had been tucked in a drawer next to his clothing.

  ‘If I’m the guide, who are you?’ she whispered, surprised by the huskiness of her voice.

  ‘I am the seeker, the hunter. But I can only go where you tell me to go.’ Nicholas shifted his weight and she felt the bed move. He took up a straddle position at her hips, his buttocks resting on her thighs, the brush of his sac against her leg. Nicholas was right. She could feel everything much better and without being self-conscious. With her eyes shut, she was in a world of her own construction. There was the soft slide of fabric and she could hear him rummage in the bag again.

  ‘Every treasure hunt needs a map,’ Nicholas said softly. There was a quiet pop of a cork or bottle stopper being removed. The scent of lavender mixed with something else pleasant filled the room. She heard him blow out a breath. ‘I have the lotion made especially for me in London. I’m warming the lotion in my hands before I put it on your body.’ His words sent a shot of heat through her. There was another breath. ‘It’s ready for you now.’

  Nicholas’s fingers touched her chin, letting the lotion’s scent fill her nostrils with its nearness, setting the tone for their play. He drew his finger down the column of her neck. ‘The treasure can be anywhere. Here at the river waterfall, or in the valley.’ His hand rested between her breasts. ‘Maybe it’s in the mountains.’ Both his hands traced simultaneous paths of circles up to the peaks of her breasts. ‘Perhaps the treasure is at the summit.’

  She felt her nipples tighten as his thumbs ran over their tips. Even the lightest of touches teased them mercilessly. His warm hands moved down her midriff, massaging with the lotion. Annorah wished her legs were free. She wanted more than anything to rub her legs together, to offer herself some measure of relief against the need rising in her. She felt deliciously aroused and yet raw with desire, every nerve on edge. She arched, straining against the bonds in a futile effort.

  ‘Tut-tut,’ Nicholas scolded playfully. ‘None of that yet.’ His hands drifted to her thighs, his thumbs teasing the slick folds that lay between. ‘You may only cry out once we’ve found the treasure.’

  She understood the game completely now—how long could she last?—and of course the underlying assumption that the longer she did last, the greater the arousal she’d achieve and subsequently the greater the release.

  His hands caressed down her legs even to her feet. ‘The map is complete.’ He placed a tantalising kiss behind each knee as he journeyed back up. The mapping had aroused him, too. She could feel the firm length of his erection against her leg. ‘Tell me where to look, Annorah.’

  He was over her, his breath soft on her lips. ‘Is it here in this cave of wonders?’ He kissed her. She opened her mouth to him, letting his tongue tease the tip of hers, letting him taste her.

  ‘Try the mountains,’ she offered after a while and he journeyed south. His tongue could do marvellous things, she reasoned. Perhaps it could even cool the fire in her skin. Her ‘mountains’ were more like volcanoes, her flesh heated and sensitive to his touch. The heat was not unpleasant, but the constant burn of pleasure was fast driving her towards the madness of wanting to claim the ecstasy she knew awaited.

  Nicholas sucked and laved each peak until she thought she would snap. Only the wanting of his mouth at one final destination delayed her cry. ‘The forbidden springs,’ she gasped the command in a near fever pitch.

  He was there at last, his mouth at her core, his tongue flicking over her pearl, the treasure within the f
olds. Annorah cried out at last. Nicholas moved between her legs, his mouth replaced by the hot length of his phallus, not at her nub but at her entrance. He thrust home. Climax was swift and powerful as it came. She felt as if the great pressure that had built within her had been released in one enormous burst, the force of it explosive and welcome. Nicholas collapsed against her, spent, his heart pounding, and he held her to him. What an extraordinary way to start a morning. She felt as if she could live on this moment for ever. She might have to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over their now very tardy breakfast, Nicholas tried out the farewell in his mind. Tomorrow, they’d make love one last time when they woke, and they’d have a lingering meal. He didn’t want to create the impression he was in a hurry to leave. He would depart, probably in the late morning for the sake of not dragging his goodbye out. He needed to be gone by eleven if he was to make the opera with Lady Burnham, who was expecting him. She’d booked him for the evening weeks in advance.

  Annorah sat across from him, looking fresh and radiant after their treasure hunt in a pink muslin dress sprigged with white flowers, her hair put up simply. She looked happy and content, relaxed even. Would she look that way tomorrow? He was met with a twinge of sadness at the thought. After tomorrow, he would not see Annorah Price-Ellis again. This was not a sentiment he was used to when an assignment ended. But this short week had been utterly different.

  He’d had perfection for a short time. He was not foolish. He understood the importance of the word ‘short’ in that sentence. Perfection was an expensive fire to fuel and could not be sustained for long. Eventually, this, too, would pale. Better to leave while the bubble was still in the wine. But the thought nagged at him over his eggs: to never see her again?