by Joanna Shupe
“Have you been intimate with Chauncey?”
Her body jolted and the cue caught the edge of the ball, sending it off at a wild angle. She’d missed her shot. “Dash it. You did that on purpose.”
The side of his mouth hitched, so handsome and sinful that her lower half tingled. He raised his palms. “I plead the fifth.”
Huffing, she edged away to give him access to the table—but not too far. She had a plan . . .
He rubbed a tiny cube of chalk over the tip of his cue, never taking his gaze off the table. “I think you have underestimated your abilities at pool,” he murmured. “It seems I must prepare for a fight this evening.”
Oh, but so was she.
When he found his shot, he moved to the proper position. Mamie followed and rested her hip against the wooden edge about six inches from Frank’s cue. Just as his arm started forward, she said, “Chauncey and I have kissed, of course.”
His arm stuttered and the cue wobbled. The tip missed the ball entirely and dug into the baize. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he snapped, then straightened to glare at her. She was close enough to see the shadow of his beard coming in, dark stubble over his jaw and around his mouth. It made him appear slightly piratical, the most handsome devil in New York. Something deep in her abdomen clenched.
His eyes narrowed. “When?”
“Ages ago. In our youth.” It had been a disappointment, actually. Chauncey had been all tongue, no finesse. She sincerely hoped—for the singer’s sake—his technique had improved over the years.
She smothered a satisfied smile and stepped away, ready to resume her domination over the game. The next three shots were clear in her mind when she took aim. This time, she waited, certain Frank would retaliate.
He remained silent, just sidled up next to her. Then he leaned over and put his hands on the rail beside her, his fingers resting casually on the bumper. He took up space but didn’t exactly crowd her. His long arms were straight, his torso slightly hunched, and her peripheral vision could no longer see anything else. With no coat to cover the view she could make out the outline of his back and ribs, the tapered waist and hips. The hard backside highlighted so perfectly in those trousers . . .
She swallowed. Good Lord, her heart was racing in her chest. She could barely breathe, her lungs straining beneath a corset laced tightly to accommodate the smaller dress. The smell of whiskey and sandalwood surrounded her, a scent she could happily now drown in.
What was he doing to her?
It was almost as if . . . he wished to distract her with his physical presence.
It worked. Her skin crackled with awareness, the ability to hold a cue steady now impossible.
This was not in her plan. He was supposed to be overcome with lust for her—not the other way around. How could she seduce him if he remained unaffected by her?
This would not do.
“Would you help me line up my next shot?” she asked in her deepest, throatiest voice. “I can’t quite reach.”
Frank was holding on to his wits by a thread. A thread so thin it was nearly air, but a thread nonetheless. He remained in control. Barely.
His cock had been half-hard since the moment Mamie took off her cloak. The dress was indecent. Scandalous. Her breasts spilled out over the top, perfect creamy skin every which way he looked. He wanted to lick and suck all that delectable skin, leave marks on her with his mouth.
Christ, a flash of bosom and she’d turned him into a slavering beast.
He hadn’t expected her to proceed so boldly with this seduction plan. Of course, everything Mamie did was bold and unexpected . . . so he really should have known better.
Now she hoped to tempt him by asking for help with a shot. Interesting. Did she believe he’d be stupid enough to stand behind her, cover her back with his front, and lean over her? Press his hips into her backside? The only way he would do that was if they were fucking—and he was definitely not fucking Mamie Greene tonight or any other night.
He would win this battle of resolve. One did not escape Five Points and become a top attorney in New York City without having an iron will. Let her try and break him. She would never succeed, not even in that dress.
“Of course.” He reached under the table and found the bridge, a stick with a brass head designed for hard-to-reach shots. “Here you are.”
She covered her surprise well. He could see her adjusting, rethinking. “Will you show me how to use it?”
Clever. He had to respect the change in direction. Various responses leapt to mind. He should refuse. Touching her, even in the most innocent manner, would be the height of insanity. Her fingertips had brushed his palm earlier and he’d shivered, lust so thick in his blood he could barely remain standing.
While he deliberated, she lifted one brow in challenge. The woman never backed down . . . and why did he find that so dashed appealing?
“Fine,” he said before he could think better of it. “Which ball?”
“The seven, there by the other corner.”
He placed the bridge flat on the table in front of the cue ball. “Now, place the shaft of your cue in one of the grooves. Line up the shot and go.”
“Like this?” She followed his directions, her movements awkward, and he could tell the cue was at the wrong angle. She’d never sink the ball.
“No.” He pointed. “Move it over two places. Now, hold the bottom of the cue using your thumb and first two fingers. Like you were throwing a dart.”
She tried but she wasn’t sighting the shot properly. Without thinking, he wrapped his fingers around her forearm and moved her aim slightly higher. “There you are. Nice and even.” Together, they pushed the cue stick forward. The cue ball drove the seven into the pocket cleanly. “Well done.”
Her eyes sparkled up at him. “Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured, mesmerized by her red lip paint. The upper bow of her lip and the full bottom were a deep red, the color of a fine burgundy. He longed to kiss that color right off her lips. Smear it between them until he stripped her down to the natural flesh . . .
“You may let go.”
He still had hold of her forearm. The warm, soft skin and fine bones sank into his fingers. “No.”
“I . . . Did you say no?”
The word had come out before he could stop it. They stood inches apart and his feet were rooted to the floor. The tips of his shoes brushed the hem of her skirts. Every angle, every ridge was visible at this distance and he needed to study her awhile longer. To memorize her. “I cannot seem to move.”
She shifted slightly to face him, her breasts a whisper away from his chest. “That may prevent us from finishing the game.”
“Do you care?”
They both knew tonight had not been about the game, not for either of them.
Those sinful lips twisted. “No, I don’t.”
This was madness. Intimacy with Mamie was dangerous to all he held dear. Yet despite the reasons he should resist, everything inside of him ached for her. He was helpless against this pull, this dark force that kept drawing him to her. Perhaps if he indulged his desire, just this once, he could move past it. Satisfy this obsession to regain his focus and resolve. Mamie would then marry a man from her social circle and things would go back as they were.
Yes, absolutely. Why hadn’t he considered this before?
He let his cue stick fall to the floor, forgotten, and cupped her cheek in his free palm. “You came here tonight to seduce me.”
She nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “Yes, I did.”
“It looks as if you have succeeded.”
Her lips parted, her tongue darting out to moisten them. “Have I?”
Instead of answering, he removed the stick from her hand and tossed it onto the baize. Then he put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the edge of the table. Her fingers clutched his shoulders to steady herself, but she said nothing, merely watched him with steady dark eyes.
&nbs
p; He’d never wanted anything as badly as this, as her. Maybe escaping his childhood home, but nothing since then. Nothing had consumed him like this dizzying craving for Mamie.
“I want you to be sure,” he said. “If you change your mind at any time—”
“I won’t. And I’m sure.” Her hands slipped around his neck and she drew him closer. “I am quite sure, in fact.”
He bent slowly, giving her every chance to stop him. “Good, because I am going to kiss you now.”
“Please,” she breathed, her lips rising to meet his.
At first, it was a gentle sweep. No gnashing of teeth or smashing of lips; rather, a test. A deliberate brush of two separate mouths to taste the other. Then again. His nose slid against hers, their breath mingling. It was a moment where nothing else mattered but the exploration.
Her fingers tightened in his hair and he moved closer. He pressed harder this time, more insistent, and her mouth moved eagerly, picking up his demand with her own. Her kisses were unhesitant, bold, exactly her personality, and he was suddenly drowning in the sweet drag and pull between them. She tasted of expensive whiskey and fire, and he could not get enough. Their tongues tangled, slick and hot, and he couldn’t remember whose tongue had started this but he never, ever wanted to stop kissing her. She was driving him wild with flicks and swirls. The fingers twisting in his hair. The breasts skimming his chest. His clothes felt too hot on his body, his skin too tight. He’d give anything to take her upstairs, strip them both down and worship her until sunrise.
But that would not happen. Not tonight, not ever. Mamie, for all her boldness and begging, was innocent. At least, he assumed she was innocent. Chauncey had kissed her . . . Had he dared more? The thought didn’t sit well with Frank and he had to remind himself that she belonged to Chauncey, not him. She is not yours. She will never be yours.
So he stood to the side, kissing her at an angle, to prevent his hips from coming into contact with her. His cock throbbed in his trousers, but he didn’t wish to frighten her. No, he would hold his own need in check and focus on Mamie. She had achieved her goal of seducing him and he’d ensure she didn’t regret this . . . no matter if it killed him.
She arched closer, her breasts pressing into him, and he couldn’t wait to touch her any longer. “Shall I stop?” he asked against her mouth.
“Absolutely not.” She kissed him again, her mouth opening to give him her tongue.
Damn, this woman. She surprised him at every turn.
He broke off to place deep kisses along her jaw, across the smooth column of her throat, tasting her with his lips and teeth and tongue. She tilted her head to give him access, her pulse racing beneath the fine skin. A needy gasp escaped her lips when he gently bit the flesh where her neck met shoulder.
Bending, he brought his mouth to the swells of her breasts. A woman’s bosom usually didn’t fascinate him this much, but something about Mamie’s shape—the round hips and ample chest—along with her audacious personality drove him wild. He pressed tiny kisses along the mounds, bringing his hand to her ribs just below the weight of her breast. Her back bowed in a silent plea for more and so he sucked, drawing the sensitive skin into his mouth as best he could, sinking in his teeth ever so slightly.
“Oh, God.” Her voice was the thinnest whisper. “What are you doing to me?”
“Shall I stop?” he rasped, soothing the mark with his tongue.
“Don’t you dare.” She grabbed his face and dove for his mouth, their lips colliding, tongues dueling. The kiss transformed and exploded into a fiery blast of lust and heat. Air bellowed out of his lungs, his chest heaving, as he struggled to keep his wits. His neglected cock screamed for friction, desperate and hard in his trousers. He would give almost everything he owned to sink into Mamie’s warm, snug channel.
Stop thinking about that. You are merely worsening the situation.
He needed to take care of her. His pleasure could wait until after she left, as soon as he discovered what she sounded like, what she looked like—what she tasted like—when she climaxed. He had to know. It was the beginning of a long list of things he wanted to discover about her, such as what she enjoyed for breakfast and which side of the bed she preferred. Those things would never be his to learn, unfortunately; her husband possessed that right. So Frank would take what he could, just for tonight.
However, he didn’t wish to force this on her. She had to be willing. Would this fearless and daring woman admit to craving relief?
He took her jaw in his palms and stared into her hooded gaze. “Do you ever pleasure yourself with your fingers?”
Confusion quickly morphed into embarrassment. Her eyes slid away. “I hardly think that’s any of your business.”
“Because you think I’ll judge you? I use my hand for my own pleasure every day. Does knowing that make it easier to answer?”
“You do?”
He nodded. “At least once, occasionally twice.”
She bit her lip. “Fine, yes. Sometimes I do. Why?”
Swallowing, he put the mental image of her fingers between her thighs out of his mind. For now. “I wish to touch you like that. Will you let me?”
Chapter Eleven
Their kisses must’ve melted her brain because it took her a moment to process his request. You planned to seduce him. What did you think that meant? Clearly she hadn’t considered all the particulars. “You mean . . . ?”
His knuckles grazed the tops of her breasts, causing her to shiver. “May I pleasure you? Make you come?”
She blinked a few times. “Here?” Heavens, they were in his billiards room, where anyone could walk in.
“My staff are abed. Even still, they know not to disturb me. We’re safe here.”
“Are you always this direct when discussing intimacies?”
The side of his mouth kicked up, a rogue in every sense of the word. “Yes, I try to be. One should understand the expectations in every encounter. Things are clearer that way, less messy.”
Hmm. When the whole business started, she’d assumed they would be consumed by passion. Swept away and caught up in the moment. Like their kissing a few moments ago. Couldn’t they just return to that and see what transpired?
“So may I?” He slid a finger under the bodice of her dress and expertly found her nipple, rubbing back and forth. She gasped.
God, yes. More, please.
“My purpose tonight was to seduce you,” she said as he played with her. “I hardly think I’d deny you now.”
He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear as his thumb wriggled under her neckline. Then he rolled her nipple between the pads of his fingers and she moaned. “Wrong,” he whispered. “You came here tonight for me to seduce you. You wore this dress to drive me wild and now you’ve gotten your wish. But never think you cannot stop me at any time. If you change your mind, I will understand.”
She was panting now, every sensation centered where he manipulated the tip of her breast. Sweet Lord, that felt fantastic. “I won’t change my mind.”
“Hmm. Even if I loosen your dress, just enough to suck your pretty nipples into my mouth?”
Heat flooded her, the strong thrum of arousal beating in her blood. “I still won’t change my mind.”
“What if I lift your skirts and use my fingers on you, slipping them inside you . . . pumping them inside your slick channel?”
She clutched his shoulders, dizzy with the idea of it. Wetness pooled between her thighs, her body eager for the attention. “Won’t change my mind. No.”
“Is that so?” He pinched her nipple and she cried out from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. It was like an electric current ran directly from the tip of her breast to her sex. He nipped her earlobe. “What if I put my face between your legs and use my mouth on you, sucking and licking, until you come on my tongue?”
“Oh, my God.” The image of it—his dark head between her thighs, his mouth moving on her most intimate flesh—was illicit and naughty and ut
terly arousing. Her belly fluttered with longing and lust. She had no idea if this was a common act in the bedroom but she hardly cared. She trusted Frank. He wouldn’t hurt her—and he’d promised to stop whenever she asked. She wanted his secret kisses with every fiber of her being. “Yes. I mean, no. I won’t change my mind.”
He chuckled, a deep sound of satisfaction. “My brave Mamie. You are a gift from heaven.”
His fingers slid out of her dress and she nearly wept at the loss. If she asked nicely, would he put them back and return to feeling her breast? Before she could open her mouth, however, air washed over her legs. She opened her eyes and found him concentrating intently on her skirts. Rigid jaw, flushed skin . . . Hmm. Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected as she’d thought.
“Lovely, lovely girl.” Her skirts were past her knees now, the lacy edges of her drawers and silk stockings visible. Their gazes caught and she could see the desire swirling in his hooded blue eyes. “Open your legs for me.”
She parted her thighs slightly and watched as his hand disappeared under layers of fabric. Fingers skimmed the inside of her knee, along her inner thigh, then continued to the part in her drawers. She jumped when he touched bare skin.
“If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll stop.”
Instead of speaking, she tilted her face and kissed his jaw, the whiskers rough under her lips. He paused, his breath coming hard and fast, and she relished the reaction. As he had before, she used her teeth to scrape across his skin. He growled in his throat—and took her mouth in a savage kiss. Gone was the earlier finesse. This was raw and bruising, his tongue thrusting deep to twine with hers.
And she loved it.
His fingers continued their exploration and found her center. There was no time for embarrassment, however, because he stroked through her folds with deliberate and sure movements, sending sparks along her legs. When he circled the hard bundle of nerves at the top, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the strong sensation. So very different than when she performed this herself.
