For Desire Alone

by Jess Michaels

  “Trust courtesans to make this easy,” he muttered.

  She smiled. “Any woman wearing such a form-fitting dress would be naked beneath, trust me.”

  He dropped down before her and positioned himself before her sex. “At this point, I don’t care about any other woman, Mariah.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, he gently spread her sex open and buried his mouth amongst the folds. Mariah jolted with the sensation, her back arching as he pressed the flat of his tongue along her opening again and again and again.

  He was talented with his mouth, and she supposed after so many satisfied lovers, he would be. He found every sensitive fold, nipping and sucking at her flesh like she was a stream and he a thirsty man.

  She relaxed back against the settee and shut her eyes, reveling in the pleasure she hadn’t felt for weeks. Pleasure he doubled, tripled, when he sucked her clitoris between his lips and glided two thick fingers into her sheath.

  “Oh God,” she gurgled, lifting her hips to meet the strokes of his tongue and the rhythm of his fingers deep within her.

  He curled the digits with each thrust, stimulating so much of her body that every heartbeat, every nerve ending, seemed to be focused on her sex. She writhed out of control as pleasure built and built and finally crested in a magnificent explosion that blurred her vision and made her scream out in the quiet room.

  Shudders continued to rock her, even as he slipped his fingers from her slick sheath and gave one last lick to her spasming clit. She couldn’t help the moan of displeasure as he parted from her body.

  But he didn’t leave her bereft for long. He draped her legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at her sex. She lifted toward the cock that pressed to her entrance.

  “This is what you want?” he panted, pressing into her just half an inch.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. God help her, but the answer was yes. Just a few weeks after the death of her lover, she wanted nothing more than to be taken, hard and fast, by his best friend. Despite the fact that it made her nothing better than a lightskirt trolling the streets. Despite the fact that John had offered her no future, nor had he offered a future to any woman in as long as she’d known him.

  But those troubling facts mattered little. She wanted him inside of her. She wanted him to make her come over and over again. She wanted to feel their bodies merge just as she had always imagined they would.

  “Fuck me,” she said, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Now.”

  His eyes went wide on her lewd choice of words, but he obliged. He slid home in her with an impressive length of hard, heavy flesh and she felt full and dizzy with pleasure.

  He cupped the back of her knees and started to thrust. His hips moved hard and fast, driving her toward pleasure, punishing her as it rose in her with a speed that was overwhelming. She had always liked sex, of course, but orgasm often took a great deal of concentration on her part. With John, there was no need for that. Her body reacted without any assistance from her mind, and pleasure mobbed her within a handful of strokes of his cock.

  “John!” she cried out, grabbing for the nearest pillow. She dug her nails in and lifted her body nearly entirely off the settee as she thrashed and quivered beneath him.

  He chuckled. “Very nice, but I think we can do better.”

  Mariah’s eyes flew open and she stared at him. He withdrew from her wet body and cupped her hips. She turned over so that her back was to him and looked over her shoulder as he glided back home deep within her.

  Once more he began to take her, but this time it was in long, languid strokes that seemed to go on forever. He cupped her cloth-covered breasts from behind and arched into her, their bodies moving as one as he filled her and filled her.

  Mariah couldn’t believe the sensations his touch inspired. She had already found powerful release twice and now he was building her toward it, pushing her toward it, again.

  “John,” she moaned as the beginnings of her orgasm rocked her. “It’s too much. God, it’s too much.”

  He laughed against her neck. “It’s never too much, Mariah.”

  He reached out and pressed his thumb to her clitoris and she fell over the edge of release once more. But this time, she was determined to take him with her. She pressed back on his cock, writhing in tiny, seductive circles, letting him be milked by her release.

  He strained against her with every thrust, grunting as his breath came short and his hold on her grew tighter. He lost control in that moment and suddenly he withdrew. With a roar, his hot seed splashed across her backside before he collapsed against her, his breath hot and sweet against her neck.

  For a long time, they lay like that, then he silently moved onto his side, dragging her against him so that they fit together, her back to his front, on the narrow couch.

  Mariah’s dress was probably ruined, but she didn’t care. She simply folded her arms around his and lay there in satisfied silence for a long time.

  She couldn’t believe how good it had felt to be with John. Actually, she could believe it. No lady had ever said anything but that he was a passionate, giving lover. The pleasure came as no surprise.

  More surprising was how right it felt to lose herself in John’s arms and body. Because of Owen, because of the circumstances, she should have felt shame or regret or a dozen other unpleasant emotions.

  Instead, she felt…peaceful. Free.

  She peeked over her shoulder to find John looking at her with an appraising stare. One she couldn’t truly read. But it inspired a question she had no choice but to ask.

  “Does this mean you are my protector now?” she asked, keeping her tone light and teasing, even though she was highly curious about his answer.

  To her surprise, his answer was not in the vein of his normal witty replies. He pulled away from her, nearly putting her off the couch in his hurry to get to his feet. He stepped back and stared down at her.

  “Mariah…” He shook his head and grabbed for his trousers. “We—we can’t.”

  She pushed up on one elbow and watched him shove his fine body back into clothing with a speed and frustration more befitting a very different kind of man, one with far less confidence in everything he ever said or did. This strong reaction was definitely not what she had expected. And yet, she did not recoil.

  “Well, we just did,” she pointed out, as calmly as she could. “So there is that fact to refute your statement.”

  He stopped fiddling with his shirt and stared at her. He was so silent and so focused for so long that she had a strong urge to shift away from his gaze. To hide her sudden embarrassment.

  But she didn’t. She refused to be awkward or to apologize for an act that had been desired and committed by them both. She had spent far too many nights the past few weeks questioning herself, being crushed by her decisions and her beliefs about a man she had taken to her bed.

  She refused to do that ever again.

  “I—” he began and then shook his head. “I have loyalty to Heathcote.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Ah yes, your loyalty. That would be why you took me so thoroughly in Vivien’s parlor. Your deep loyalty to your dead friend.”

  He flinched. “Mariah—”

  She got to her feet and straightened her hopelessly wrinkled gown back over her naked body. She turned to the mirror above the fireplace and began to fiddle with her mussed hair as a way to show how unaffected she was by this event. A lie, of course, but a necessary one.

  “Please,” she said. “Don’t trouble yourself with a passel of deceit meant to comfort me. I won’t beg you to do something you clearly do not wish to do. I won’t beg any man. However, I do need to find a long-term lover, a protector, thanks to the friend you hold so much loyalty toward. If it is not to be you, then I will simply find someone else to fill that role.”

  She shrugged, though the dismissive action reflected none of the confusion and disappointment in her heart.

  “A pity, really,”
she added with a small sigh. “For tonight I think we proved we could be a quite explosive combination. At least with you, there would have been pleasure. But beggars, I’m afraid, cannot be choosers.”

  He shook his head and his hesitation seemed almost physically painful to him. She was surprised to recognize that it stemmed from something far deeper than a mere desire to keep himself from long-term attachments with any woman. There was something more to John that she had never been privy to until now. Something far darker and more interesting.

  But finally, he simply stepped toward the door, making it clear that he had no intention to share the details of that secret with her.

  “I am sorry, Mariah,” he said quietly. “Good evening.”

  She didn’t respond, but merely watched him go. She shook her head as he disappeared down the hallway and out of her sight.

  “Damn,” she muttered as she turned away from the door and looked at herself in the mirror again. She looked both well-loved and utterly confused.

  She did not know how long she stood there, staring at her reflection and contemplating what she had just done, but when Vivien walked through the door behind her, she pivoted like a schoolgirl caught doing something naughty.

  “There you are!” Vivien said with a smile that faded when she looked around the room.

  Mariah blushed at the evidence of sex all around her—crushed velvet pillows, her mussed hair and dress, the smell of sin in the air…all were evidence of her transgression.

  “What happened in here?” Vivien asked with a gaze filled with concern but also wild interest.

  Mariah shrugged. “Nothing of consequence, I assure you,” she said. “Just a harmless little encounter that will lead to nothing.”

  Vivien opened her mouth to speak, but Mariah shook her head. That was all John would allow this brief encounter to be. There was no use talking it into the ground with him or her friend. She had to let it be, let it go, and go back to the matter at hand. Find a protector and move on with her life.

  Even if the idea that the encounter with John was no matter of consequence was the biggest lie she’d ever told in all her years.

  Chapter Four

  John was still on her mind and Mariah could not seem to change that fact, no matter how hard she tried. Even though several days had passed, she couldn’t control the erotic dreams that woke her wet and aching. She couldn’t cease the intervening thoughts that forced their way into her mind while she performed the most mundane tasks. Thoughts of John’s tongue, his cock and that flash of utter dismay in his stare when she said she would find a lover one way or another haunted her day and night.

  She shook her head. There was no point in considering those things overly much. She and John had shared a brief exchange of passion, that was all. Their unexpected stolen moment in time was over. Now she had to put her mind to the matter at hand.

  Which was why her carriage turned down the drive toward Vivien’s house for the second time in a handful of days. Her friend had promised her that tonight’s party would be far more intimate a gathering, which would allow Mariah to make a closer connection with a few specific men, rather than be distracted by so many.

  And by John.

  “No,” she said through clenched teeth as the carriage stopped. “No thoughts of him. Focus. Focus.”

  Her footman opened the carriage door and assisted her out. As she smoothed her gown, she looked up at the fine house. Vivien had been given the place outright by one of her first lovers. The next had settled her with ten thousand pounds upon their separation. The next had helped her invest that money, as well as another ten thousand he had given her himself.

  With those three men, her friend had established a fine life where she did not have to worry about income. In fact, she had only taken on one protector after those and then no more. Vivien could choose to take men to her bed who she liked now, rather than men she needed for their support.

  Vivien stepped into the doorway and watched Mariah move up the steps with a smile. The two women embraced and as Mariah pulled back and linked arms with her friend, she shook her head.

  “I was just pondering how much I envy you for the success you have found as a mistress,” she said.

  Vivien laughed. “Thank you, I suppose.”

  Mariah did not join her laughter. “I’m quite serious. You have established a fine life for yourself. On your own terms, no less. I know not two women in our acquaintance who have managed to do so.”

  Vivien’s laughter faded and this time she was sincere when she said, “Thank you, Mariah. But what I have done is not the impossible. It only takes a good amount of forward thinking and constant focus on a future.”

  Mariah nodded. That had been her problem, of course. She had thought of the future when she was with Owen, but it had been an emotional future, not a financial one. She could see now how foolish she had been. After all, at some point he would have married and had a family to fulfill his obligation to his title.

  And she had a sneaking suspicion, based on what she now knew, that she might have been released from his side at that point. It was something she never would have thought about until the reading of Owen’s will, but now it stung at her, cutting her to her core. How well had she ever known the man and his heart?

  She shook her head at the troublesome thought. “I was also pondering how much I admire your ability to separate your emotions from the acts of your body. I endeavor to be more like you this time. It undoubtedly makes you a happier person.”

  For a moment, Vivien’s smile faltered a fraction and a brief sadness filled her eyes. But then it was gone, leaving Mariah uncertain if she had truly seen it at all.

  “You would think it would make a person happier, wouldn’t you?” her friend said.

  She motioned to her parlor as they entered. A handful of ladies and gentlemen were in attendance, but no more than ten of each. As Mariah and Vivien entered, all eyes briefly turned to them.

  “Our final party member has arrived, Miss Mariah Desmond,” Vivien announced to the group at large. “I welcome you all.”

  There was a murmur of thanks and then the small group returned to their conversations. Mariah gazed around the room. There were several unattached men, at least when it came to mistresses, in the room. In fact, she had exchanged words with a few of them at the last party she had attended here.

  Right before she was hauled away by John. She frowned. What they must think of her!

  “Do you believe any of them will judge me because of what happened at your last party?” Mariah whispered.

  “You mean when John dragged you away so publicly? Not to mention that you were forced to leave thanks to your dress being ruined?” Vivien asked.

  When Mariah nodded, Vivien smiled.

  “Oh yes. But I would think their judgments will be positive, indeed. The men in our circles all envy John. The women he beds are seen as trophies, for it is well known he only takes the best.”

  Mariah swallowed hard. That sentence only made her imagine John now bedding some other nameless, faceless person and not even thinking of her at all.

  “Well, at least something positive can come of that, then,” she said with a bitter smile.

  Vivien stared at her. “Aside from what you have described to me as an encounter of highly intense passion.”

  Mariah shrugged. “Yes, it was that. But then he tossed me aside.”

  Vivien’s brow wrinkled. “You could not expect more. We all know his temperament. Once again, I caution you not to ask for more than a man can give in any relationship you develop. That will only lead to heartache, of which you have already suffered enough, I think.”

  Mariah nodded. Her friend was correct. It was time to become ruthless in her search and stop involving emotion of any kind.

  “All right, then,” she said with renewed resolve. “Tell me which of these men would make the most advantageous match for me as a lover?”

  Vivien’s brow arched. “As a lover or a prot
ector?”

  Mariah hesitated and then nodded. She took Vivien meaning perfectly.

  “Protector,” she corrected.

  Her friend’s quick nod and grin rewarded her. “In that case, I must reintroduce you to Viscount Rossington.”

  She took Mariah’s hand and began to lead her toward a middle-aged man standing at the fireplace. Her heard sank. He was not unattractive by any means, but certainly he was not the kind of man Mariah would choose for a lover if she had every option in the world.

  Except she didn’t. Owen had ensured that. So she smiled as Vivien stopped before the viscount.

  “My lord, I’m not certain if you have ever met Miss Desmond.”

  Mariah forced a dazzling smile, told herself to be mercenary, and desperately tried to forget the feel of John’s hands on her as she fell into conversation.

  John sprawled across his bed…alone. He didn’t think he’d spent a night alone in two years, and now it had been three. Three since he had plunged his cock deep within Mariah’s trembling pussy and made her scream his name. Somehow the idea of any other woman now seemed stale and troublesome.

  He stared at the canopy above his bed. Normally, he took a woman and never thought of her again. It wasn’t that he didn’t repeat pleasure. Certainly there had been lovers he revisited from time to time. But never twice in a row.

  And yet all he wanted was Mariah. He wanted to spread her naked on his bed. He wanted to take her in a bath scented by roses. He wanted to fill her while they watched others make love at one of Vivien’s most special and secret parties.

  He groaned as his cock sprang to attention at his erotic thoughts. Fuck, but the woman was like a drug. One he had avoided for years. But now that he’d had that little taste…he wanted more.

  He grabbed his cock and stroked as he pictured Mariah, her red hair down around her shoulders, leaning over him with a knowing smile. Owen had occasionally talked about her. How she had certain very sensitive places on her body. Her breasts, for example, which John had not uncovered during their encounter. He had cupped them, though, and could picture them in his mind. How he would suck them, bite them, tease them as she writhed beneath him, moaning and begging for more.