A Most Demanding Mistress (Fashionably Impure Book 2)

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Lust for her beauty rivaled his love for the glimpses of the woman he’d seen beneath her dazzling exterior. The woman whose deep sense of empathy had comforted his youngest son’s nightmares of grief as no one else, not even Adrian himself, had yet been able to do.

  Disgust at his own weakness finally broke through the mad rush of his hunger. He raised his head.

  Her moan rang in his ears. A sweet protest.

  Yet, he could hear the edge under the softness.

  Her sensual hunger.

  He could feel it thrumming along her flesh. Feel it in the pebble hardness of her nipple against his mouth. He took that bud into his mouth. She went rigid and gasped. He rolled his tongue around it. Her body trembled and he couldn’t stop himself from sucking. The sharpness of her nails dug into his scalp.

  A sense of power surged through him. He sucked harder and her nails dug deeper. He was damned glad she wore no gloves…

  The lust pounding through his blood made him lightheaded.

  He sucked and licked and squeezed and fondled her.

  Her hips rocked up and down, with a swiftness and force he’d not seen in any woman before her. He recalled how supple and firm her well-developed body had felt beneath his. How tightly her legs had clutched his waist.

  She was nothing if not a fighter.

  She lived solely for the fight.

  She thrived on the fight.

  She was such a singular girl.

  And she was his—all his.

  Primal hunger consumed him. Made thought impossible.

  “Christ,” he swore, reaching down and grasping her hem. He jerked her skirts up to her waist, revealing her silk stockings. Garters, the same emerald green as her evening gown, adorned her upper thighs, glittering with the same jets that her bodice bore. The vivid green made the triangle of rich red hair between her legs all the more enticing. “Christ.”

  The word was more a groan of pained lust. He touched between her legs, cupping her mons. She arched, pressing her warm center hard against the heel of his hand. Her wetness flowed onto his palm. Her nub throbbed firmly.

  She was ready, more than ready.

  He pressed two fingers into her slickness, going deeper slowly.

  She clenched him.

  He moved his digits within her, keeping a steady pace despite her sensual writhing and breathy little cries. He withdrew his fingers and let his palm rest on her cunny once more.

  Her eyes came open. ”Adrian?”

  Her voice was hoarse with need.

  He couldn’t ignore that need. But he had something he needed to prove to her.

  To himself.

  He could be stronger than his lust. He could put his pure affection and desire to protect her first and foremost.

  He caressed her cheek. “I’ll make you come and then I’ll call for a later supper and you can slee—”

  “Adrian!” She clamped her legs together, imprisoning his hand. “I spent every night we were apart, lying awake, longing for your touch.”

  Passion resounded in her tone, her eyes shone with sincerity. Elation warmed him. This beautiful, sparkling girl, who he had longed for with such hunger, had also longed for him.

  He could feel her need, throbbing in that little nub that rose firmly against his palm.

  Lust surged in his blood, in his cock, making his erection harder than ever. “I longed for you too, my love.”

  “Then why must you tease me now?”

  “I know the past days, leading up to your appointment with Froster have been a strain on you. You must be utterly exhausted.”

  “I have been under a strain, but being here with you again, has revived my spirits.”

  “You will feel even more fit for love in the morning, after you have slept.”

  “Will I?” She gave a laugh, the sound throaty, womanly resounding with desire. “Will I even be able to sleep, I wonder?”

  He could feel that seductive laugh vibrate through his body. Her hand upon his stomach heightened his rising arousal, causing him to suck his breath in sharply.

  She laughed again, that same practiced, seductive courtesan’s laugh.

  He’d asked her not to use such artificial wiles when with him. Yet, he could tell her desire was sincere. Her allure held him spellbound…

  A courtesan’s calculated allure.

  Calculated to please and enthrall a man.

  A slight curl of cold unease threaded itself through his belly.

  “I couldn’t sleep away from you. Not much. I wanted this…” She grasped his cock, boldly, squeezing him. “I wanted this too badly.”

  He released his breath.

  She worked him, skilled, practiced strokes.

  No woman had ever touched him with unerring skill and timing.

  She had told him that after the matter of her virginity had been eliminated, that her aunt, Cassandra Jones and another older courtesan had spent literally hours, teaching her how to do this, using a Venetian glass phallus to demonstrate. And then later she had been required to practice on a real man, her aunt’s servant. When this man had learned of Miranda’s extreme distaste for the act of oral pleasuring, he had lied to Cassandra Jones about Miranda’s progress in learning the finer points of sexual skills. The soft-hearted servant had protected Miranda.

  Despite the man’s obvious kindness, the recollection was most unwelcome to Adrian, at this moment, and it sent another thread of cold unease wounding through him.

  But it couldn’t extinguish the fire of his arousal.

  Not when she was touching him like that.

  Not when she was smiling at him like that.

  “I wanted to feel you, inside me, filling me, driving me to that bliss only you had shown me.”

  Her voice was silken, seductive.

  Practiced.

  Yet, her eyes still shone with sincere need.

  She was a sparkling, beautiful, seductive creature. Not an earthly woman. No, her origins must surely be something more celestial. A goddess trained in sexuality.

  Did it matter when her skills only heightened his anticipation, his pleasure?

  Well, the hot desire surging in his blood made it hard to think and that alone disturbed him the most.

  He grasped her wrist. “God, Miranda.”

  “Will you really deny me what I have wanted so desperately?” Her eyes glittered like pale green jewels, shinning with not only desire, but with a force of will he’d seen in no other woman’s gaze.

  It struck him then that he had not misjudged her previously.

  Not entirely.

  She was fiercely determined to have those things she wanted in her life.

  She was a fighter.

  She would fight, kick and claw and use her wiles, her skills, all her sharp intellect to gain those things she wanted from life.

  And one of the things she wanted was…

  Him.

  “Christ.” The word escaped him as the whole realization overcame him. He had not wanted to take a new wife, even a wealthy one who could have instantly cured the problem of his genteel poverty, because he had not wanted to complicate his life with the demands of a wife again.

  Yet, he had fallen so quickly, so hard for Miranda, he had allowed his affection to soften the hard edges of his previous impression of her.

  He had not stopped to consider…

  She caught her breath, a sharp, sudden sound that resounded within the pit of his belly and sent a knife-like shaft of desire through his loins. His erection throbbed within her grasp. A smile curved her generous, blood-red mouth as she swept her eyes down. “Will you really—” she gazed up at him through the veil of her lashes, her gaze burning with lust. “—deny me this?”

  She squeezed him, all the while burning him with her gaze.

  He groaned. His cock leaked profusely.

  He tightened his grasp on her wrist, to keep her from working him again. A desperate attempt to maintain what was left of his will.

  “I am your
mistress now, am I not?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am to give you all my loyalty?”

  “Loyalty, yes.” He forced the words out past his tensed jaw.

  “Hmmm,” she replied.

  “Obedience to my will,” he hastened to add.

  Since they were suddenly negotiating terms…

  “Obedience to your will?” She laughed, softly this time. “My, those are some strong words, my lord.”

  “You object?”

  “I am not sure. What do you offer in return?”

  “I will protect and provide for your every need and want, as best my fortunes allow.” Hearing himself speak these words caused his heart to squeeze, even as her soft, warm little hand squeezed his erection. A rush of emotion rose to the fore. “Always, my love, I shall always protect and provide for you, with my dying breath.”

  “My every need and want?”

  “It is a mistress’ right.”

  “Then I claim this as my right.” She gave him a firmer squeeze. “I demand my satisfaction, on this, our first, night as protector and mistress, as my right.”

  Chapter Three

  Adrian started at Miranda, shocked, for she was bold even for a courtesan. Her lush, blood-red mouth twitched and her eyes glimmered with mirth.

  God.

  She was toying with him.

  Goading him.

  It ought to have offended him. In the not-so-distant past, it certainly would have angered him.

  But now—Oh, God, now…

  Such an exhilarating rush of sensation and emotions seized him that he couldn’t resist their pull.

  He took her by the wrists and pulled her hand off his flesh. He moved on top of her, pushing her down to the settee as he did so.

  She gazed up into his face with laughing eyes, beautiful eyes.

  He pulled her hands over her head.

  “Oh!” Laughter rang in her voice.

  “Make demands of me, will you?”

  She arched her hips against his straining loins. “Will you fulfill me? Dare you try?”

  She was teasing in earnest now. What a woman she was!

  “God…” He captured her wrists with one hand and then he reached to touch between her legs

  He thrust into her, propelling himself almost savagely, until he was seated within her, cods deep.

  “Yes!” she shrieked softly, clutching his shoulders. “Oh God, yes,” she said between panting breaths.

  “Miranda.” Her name was torn from him as the sensation of being inside her slick heat, feeling her inner walls clench around him tightly, overwhelmed him. He’d never felt so hard.

  She writhed beneath him, her lush form like a luxury against him. He had to shake himself, mentally, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

  He had dreamed of her so many nights, like this.

  Had longed for her.

  But, no, he wasn’t dreaming. She was really here. And she was warm and wet and willing…

  He pulled back, all the way out of her.

  She whimpered, lifting her hips, clutching at his shoulders.

  He thrust back into her with power and force, experiencing the feel of her hot slickness sucking him in all over again.

  She cried out softly, her intimate flesh squeezing his.

  He rocked his hips, pressing the head of his cock against the mouth of her womb.

  She cried out again and dug her fingers into his shoulders. The sharp bite of her nails sent wild, coursing arousal through him. His erection, already seeming impossibly hard, huge, swelled and lengthened.

  There was a sense of it being a first.

  The first time he’d ever made love to a woman he was actually in love with.

  “Oh, God…” she said, softly, as she arched her hips against his.

  He rocked against her.

  “Ah!”

  He could feel her getting wetter. “Is that what you need, my darling?”

  “No, no…” She thrashed her head. “I need more. More of you.”

  “God…” He groaned the word and thrust into her. “Like that, my love?”

  “Yes, yes!” she cried, grasping his shoulder and arching into his thrusts, making him aware, all over again, how strong and fit her deliciously and deceptively soft, supple feminine body really was. His hunger, his need grew. He thrust into her, faster, harder and yet, he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

  He slammed his body into hers over and over.

  She was grasping and clawing at his shoulder, his back, her body meeting his thrust for thrust. Her moans became shrieks of joy, her flesh rippling over his in a powerful orgasm.

  He’d meant to give her more than one orgasm but her cunny milked him too enticingly and with a groan, he pulled out of her and an explosion of pleasure tore through him and his cock released jets of come all over her stomach—powerful jets of ecstasy and satisfaction that left him breathless.

  Miranda lay on her side, aware of Adrian’s cock, throbbing inside her, of his hand resting heavily upon the side of her hip, of his regular, deep breathing— it all wove in and out of her dreams.

  He murmured then flexed his pelvis, moving within her ever so slightly.

  He put his lips to her nape. “Miranda…”

  His tone told that he was still half-asleep.

  At least part of him was.

  His cock grew harder, his girth increasing, stretching, throbbing against her inner walls. She sighed and arched herself backwards, pressing her buttocks to his lower abdomen.

  He gave a sleepy groan and tightened his hold on her hip. “I thought that I was dreaming.”

  “Me, too,” she admitted. “I was afraid to move. I was afraid I would wake and find myself alone.”

  “Don’t move then. Don’t wake up. I shall happily be your dream lover.” He rolled his hips. The slow, easy motion teased her and her flesh clenched.

  He groaned, deeper this time, and he thrust more firmly. Soft, fuzzy edges of sleepiness still surrounded her, like a warm blanket. A gentle, slow building of pleasure. Pleasure so tender, that when her climax came, it was almost unbearably sweet. She kissed his cheek, his brisk stubble prickling her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she chanted, even as sleep reclaimed her.

  Once or twice, Miranda awoke to the awareness of Adrian’s arm, a tight grip around her waist. His deep, even breathing lulled her. Listening to the steady rattle of carriage wheels on the paving stones on the street outside, listening to the world wake up, she snuggled back down under the coverlet, feeling secure and happy like she never had before in her life and she drifted to back to sleep.

  A firm hold on her hip, the touch of lips to her nape awoke her. “God, you’re here, really here.”

  Adrian’s tone was urgent yet harsh in a way that told her so much more.

  “Yes, I am still here,” she whispered, as though she must speak gently, lest it might prove to be a dream.

  She moved to turn and face him. He tightened his hold on her hip, put his leg over hers, locking her into place.

  “I dreamed that you had gone,” he said then he put his face into the curve of her neck. “I dreamed that I said something thoughtless and you left.”

  His words settled between uneasily, for the memory of his former disdain for her was yet too fresh.

  “The whole time after you left Applewaite, until last evening, I was in an agony of longing for you.” His breath caressed her neck.

  His unshaven face prickled her as he put his cheek against hers. “Words cannot express my joy to have you here. It is, I believe, the greatest joy of my life.”

  “And to think, due to my own senseless prejudice, I might have missed this joy. And even more than that, I might have missed the chance to protect you against Froster, Against Winterton, against it all.”

  “Forgive me for my senselessness, for my disdain. Forgive me and open your heart to me and I promise I shall work my whole life at making your happiness an assurance.�
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  They sent the day and into the late afternoon, sleeping and making love. His servants brought a huge meal up to his bedchamber. Miranda’s hunger shocked her and she ate greedily of the roasted beef, fresh bread, soft cheese and fruit. She drank a good deal more wine than she normally did, out of happiness. For she wasn’t used to this kind of head-spinning, giddy happiness.

  But Adrian said that he liked the taste of it on her mouth. He had taken the glass from her hand then taken her by the wrists, pressed her down to the bed with the weight of his body above hers and holding her wrists to the downy feather bed. His kisses made her even dizzier than the wine…

  He lifted his head, finally when breathlessness caused her to press against his chest. She laughed, not the affected, womanly laugh she had been taught to use to seduce men. This laugh was girlish. One that sounded unfamiliar to her ears.

  He took her hand. “We should be seen around town together. As soon as possible.”

  How different a man was with a courtesan than with a woman of his own class. When a nobleman started an affaire with a noblewoman, he often went to great pains to lessen the amount of his public contact with her.

  Yet, when a man gained the favors of a courtesan, he was so eager to show his prize about on his arm.

  At least Carrville had been.

  But she wouldn’t have suspected Adrian would be the same way. Surely he didn’t think of her as a possession the same way that Carrville had?

  No. She didn’t want to believe it.

  But a little coldness crept into her stomach.

  “I shall take you to the theatre tonight,” he said.

  There was a tone in his voice, underneath the light playfulness that sent a curl of deeper, colder dread winding through her. They shouldn’t go out. Not tonight. Not yet. They needed time to strengthen their newfound bond.

  His erection throbbed against her belly. His body seemed to agree with her.

  “I don’t think we need to go out tonight, do we?” She nestled her face into the curve of his shoulder, letting her breath caress the sensitive hollow beneath his ear.

  “We should,” he said firmly. “People should see us together.”

  “What’s–” she leaned close and nipped his earlobe “—the rush?”

  She had expected a reaction to her challenge.