“I hoped I might find you alone,” she said, drawing her gray mount to a halt. “If you have a few moments to spare, I have something to ask you… a favor, if you will.”
“I am at your service as always,” Damien replied noncommittally.
A slight flush rising to her cheeks, Vanessa glanced around her with uncertainty. Surprisingly then, she dismounted and released the reins to let her mare graze. Just as oddly, she turned her back to him, staring at the distant landscape with its patchwork of fields and hedges and gentle woodlands. She seemed reluctant to meet his gaze.
Curiosity aroused, he waited.
“I have been thinking…” she began hesitantly. “About my situation. Regrettably, my association with you has brought me… an unwanted notoriety. However, it could yet prove to my benefit.”
“What do you mean?” he asked when she faltered.
She took a deep breath and cast him a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “I would like you to teach me how to satisfy a man’s desires.”
Damien frowned. “I’m not certain I understand.”
Slowly, at last, she turned to face him. Her chin lifted a degree in determination, but her gaze remained clear-eyed. “I would like to learn the skills a Cyprian should know… Whatever secrets that would make me alluring to even the most jaded lover, so that after my term as your mistress is up, I can win a wealthy protector who won’t be particular about my scarlet past.”
Damien felt his breath suddenly falter. She couldn’t be serious. Yet Vanessa was continuing in a low voice, all the more credible for its very calmness.
“I must be pragmatic, I’ve come to realize. A woman without any means of independence is at the mercy of fate. It is the way of the world, and I can’t change that. But I can try to make the best of it. Joining the demimonde seems to be the most feasible way for me to support my sisters.”
Almost absently she reached out to stroke the mare’s shoulder. “There are nearly two months left of our bargain, time in which I can prepare myself for a new sort of life. I calculate that if I make myself desirable to men, then I can improve my chances of finding one who might not be so very disagreeable as a bed partner, perhaps even someone who will be to my liking. I would be grateful if you could assist me. Your expertise in the art of seduction is unparalleled, and I doubt I could hope for any better tutor.”
Damien’s mind had gone numb. She wanted him to teach her a whore’s tricks, how best to use her body so that she could seduce some unsuspecting moneybags.
“In short,” she added quietly, “I should like you to teach me to be wicked.”
Her smile was strangely stoic and cut at his heart. Damien felt a mask descend over his face to hide his turmoil.
Was her request some sly ploy to play on his guilt? It was disappointing to think Vanessa Wyndham might be as mercenary as countless other members of her sex. Yet she’d implied that greed wasn’t driving her so much as devotion to her sisters. Was her concern for their welfare really any different from his desire to protect his own sister?
Other genteel ladies in her position might have demanded marriage in reparation for his brazen treatment of her. Instead, she asked only that he teach her how to pleasure other men, to groom her for a role he had foisted upon her against her will. Could he do it?
By any rational standards, he should be relieved by her proposal. If he could find her a rich protector, he would no longer have to feel guilty about ruining her. He could treat her coolly, could view their relationship as nothing more than a business arrangement.
Logically, her suggestion provided a good solution to their dilemma. He could indulge in his passion for Vanessa without concern for her future. More critically, he could let his obsession fade naturally, as it inevitably would, given time.
So why then did he fear such a new arrangement would leave him too vulnerable? Why, for one frozen moment, had he experienced a jarring sensation curiously like panic? And why now did he feel this odd numbness in the vicinity of his heart?
Damien shook his head, quelling the fleeting sensations of shock and confusion warring within him.
“Very well, sweeting,” he found himself saying, almost as if he were outside of himself, divorced from his feelings. “I believe I can manage to accommodate your wishes in the matter.”
Her instruction began that same afternoon, for why wait, Damien asked in a curiously dispassionate voice.
Rain was falling outside in a steady drizzle when he entered her bedchamber by way of the secret passage. Vanessa sat stiffly awaiting him on the chaise lounge, still attired in her riding habit. It was the first time Damien had visited her in daylight, and the gloom made the atmosphere seem colder, less intimate.
She stared at him uncertainly as he approached her, more nervous now than at any time since she had made the momentous decision to give herself to him fully. He still wore riding breeches and boots and was in his shirtsleeves, having removed his coat and waistcoat and cravat. His raven hair seemed very dark against the white cambric of his shirt.
Then he smiled, a slow smile that banished the gloom and her nerves with it.
“This will never do, sweeting,” he murmured in the warm masculine voice that never failed to bring her senses alive. “I can see that I have much to teach you. We should begin with how to receive your lover. You look as if you are facing an execution.”
His gray eyes warm, he took her hand and pressed a delicate kiss on the pulse at her wrist, making her heart stumble. “First lesson: When your lover expresses a wish to visit you, you must give the impression that you are eagerly awaiting his arrival. To that end, you should be appropriately attired-something suitable for the boudoir that emphasizes your natural feminine allure. Shall I help you slip into something more comfortable?”
“I believe I can manage,” Vanessa replied, finding her voice. She was determined to remain as dispassionate as Damien seemed to be. His talk of other lovers shouldn’t distress her. She had asked him to further her sexual education, and he was merely complying.
When she rose and went to the armoire to fetch a wrapper, Damien settled in her place on the chaise lounge, where he could watch her.
“Keep in mind that you are offering the promise of pleasure,” he added casually. “It helps to set the scene, much as for a stage play. At night, a low fire, perhaps candles, a snifter of your lover’s favorite cognac… small touches that express your welcome.”
“And during the day?” she asked as she located a wrapper of pale cream satin.
His smile was soft and beguiling as sin, reminding her once again of how vulnerable she was to his effortless charm. “Daylight requires a bit more imagination, but the same rules apply. Your goal should be to make your lover feel as if he is the only man in the world you want. The only one who can stir your senses and make your pulse race.”
Just as you make me feel, Vanessa thought silently. She stepped behind the screen to change out of her riding habit.
“Take now, for instance,” Damien said. “Instead of hiding yourself away, you could make a display of undressing for me. Remove each item of clothing slowly, so that my gaze lingers on your charms. Turn the simple act of disrobing into a sensual game with the express purpose of arousing me.”
She turned to look at him over the edge of the screen. “You consider this a game?”
Damien gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders. “All lovemaking is a game. One you want to learn how to win if you mean to command a wealthy clientele.”
Vanessa winced at the reminder, wondering if she could ever treat such intimate relations as coldly as Damien did. She finished undressing and donned the satin wrapper. Then lifting her chin, she came out from behind the screen and went to him.
He surveyed her thoughtfully. “If you mean to make a name for yourself as a courtesan, you will have to shed some of your reserve, angel.”
Rising, he took her hand and led her to stand before the floor-length cheval glass, where she could see her reflect
ion in the mirror. Behind her, Damien reached up to pull the pins from her hair, stroking the thick, burnished mass till it fell in shining waves over her shoulders. His arms came around her then to unfasten the frogs of her wrapper, and he parted the fabric, exposing the full length of her naked body to both their views.
His practiced rake’s glance moved over her reflection, warm and assessing. “You have an exquisite body, lush and slender and made for pleasure. You should not think to hide it.”
His eyes seemed to brand her where they touched. Vanessa shivered when he ran a finger down her arm in a slow, unhurried caress, a deliberate attack on her senses.
“No, sweeting, don’t shut your eyes. Look at yourself.”
Brushing aside the silken strands of her hair, he bared the tempting nape and planted a soft kiss on her flesh. Then, easing the wrapper from her shoulders, he let it fall to the floor. “See how beautiful you are.” His voice stroked her. just as his hands were doing.
He trailed his fingers over the warm satin of her back. Then he moved his hands slowly around to the front of her body, briefly grazing her belly, the sleek curves of her hips and thighs, then rising again to cup her full, lush breasts.
The nipples hardened and tightened in instant response, while Vanessa caught her breath in a sensual gasp.
“You have the body of a temptress,” Damien murmured. Finding her ear, he touched it with his tongue. “For this luscious form a man might forget his very name.”
A soft sigh escaped her lips as he pressed close against her back, his rich, luxurious warmth curling around her.
“No, watch yourself. Watch.”
She obeyed, her eyes dark with passion as his warm, naked fingers caressed her breasts, lifting and defining their shape, stroking the tight buds of her jutting nipples with his thumbs. Arousal seared through her hot and thick as she watched her own seduction.
When his lips lowered again to kiss her nape, Vanessa arched her neck, the slow overpowering of her senses making her weak. The heat of his caresses flared through her as his teeth nibbled at her sensitive skin.
“I want to touch you all over,” he whispered huskily. “To kiss every delectable inch of you and make it mine.”
His searing lips sent tremors of delight through her. She leaned back fully against him, melting against his warmth as he teased her thrusting nipples, pulling and rubbing the taut peaks till they ached with pleasure. It was acutely arousing, incredibly erotic.
Through a haze of desire Vanessa watched his exquisite ministrations. Before meeting Damien, she hadn’t considered herself wicked, but she no longer recognized the flushed, trembling woman in the mirror. She no longer knew herself.
She repressed a moan as one of his hands moved lower, wandering with deliberate slowness over her stomach to the soft dark curls that covered her mons. His gaze locked with hers in the mirror as his fingers delved into the warm, damp softness between her thighs, stroking her moist flesh.
When she whimpered, he smiled in approval. “Consider this your next lesson, sweeting. A wanton response inflames a man. Let me see how much you enjoy my touch.”
Slowly he parted her swollen sex lips and thrust two fingers inside her. Vanessa gave a soft cry of delight at the sensual shafts of fire that arrowed through her melting loins.
“Yes, that’s it… Let yourself go…”
Almost shaking with need, she surrendered to pleasure, her straining breasts rising and falling with her ragged breaths…
The explosive orgasm caught her by surprise. She convulsed in a climax all the more powerful because of Damien’s determination to draw the last drop of rapture from her with his stroking fingers. The relentless intensity of it left her shuddering, while her flesh continued to pulse sweetly with aftershocks.
When she sagged weakly back against him, Damien took advantage of her lassitude. Catching her shoulders, he guided her the short distance to the wall, and with her back still to him, made her bend forward, her hands pressed against the hard surface. Behind her he unbuttoned the straining placket of his breeches.
She was shocked when she felt the hard, smooth flesh of his erection brush against her buttocks, but she was more shocked by the wild excitement that flared through her when she realized his intent. She wanted this, wanted him to take her this way, from behind.
She tensed, but Damien’s voice came soft and hoarse in her ear. “Easy, sweet.”
In mute helplessness Vanessa braced herself against the wall.
With unhurried grace he parted her thighs and gripped his iron-hard shaft, then eased its silken head into the sleek, hot passage of her womanhood.
“Open to me,” he ordered.
She moaned with pleasure as he thrust deep into her quivering flesh, twisting restlessly as he began to move inside her.
In response he captured her writhing hips, holding her still to prevent escape. Yet she had no desire to escape. With hypnotic motion his loins caressed hers, slow and sure, sheathing, drawing away, until it became sweet, ecstatic torture.
Throbbing with heat, burning with the need to feel him driving deep into her, Vanessa thrust wildly back against him, impaling herself on his magnificent hardness. With each rocking jolt, her ragged breaths came faster. Her breasts heaved as he sweetly ravished her, forcing her upward with each powerful surge, plunging his full, great length inside her.
She was a mass of frenzied sensation… flame-hot with desire… Then, suddenly, in the hammering wildness, the spasms broke over her, intense waves of pleasure that engulfed her entire body and caught Damien in their wake. She heard his low groans, felt him shake with the strength of his own fulfillment as her cries echoed through the room.
The explosive passion left her dazed and exhausted. Moments later he withdrew from her, leaving Vanessa leaning weakly against the wall, missing his warmth.
“A credible effort, sweeting,” he said calmly, his voice holding only an edge of hoarseness as he rebuttoned his breeches. “With a little more practice, you should be quite proficient.”
The cool observation brought cruel memory rushing back.
Vanessa shivered, her heart aching with a sensation akin to despair. Damien had done precisely as she had asked, showing her how to use her body to fulfill his insatiable carnal need. And in so doing, he had shattered any illusion of intimacy between them. His passion had been nothing more than an exercise for him, the discharging of a duty.
Vanessa felt the chill wrap around her nakedness.
She had never felt so sated, so replete, in all her life.
Or so cold.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a painful lesson, but one Vanessa was determined to learn: emotions had no place in her relationship with the wicked Lord Sin. He had agreed to teach her how to win a wealthy protector, and she had to be content with that if she had any hope of quelling the desperate yearnings he aroused in her so effortlessly.
He proved a superb tutor. During her time at Rosewood she had experienced nights of exquisite passion, filled with sensual delight, but now there were afternoons and mornings as well. When his sister was occupied with massages or baths, Damien gave Vanessa lessons in desire.
He educated her on the finer points of how to be a proper mistress. How to warm a brandy and offer it to her lover. How best to use perfumed scents on secret places on her body. How to lounge in disheveled majesty at her dressing table as she made her toilet.
More notably, he schooled her in the sexual arts-of dalliance, of seduction, of inflaming a man’s senses and satisfying his carnal lusts.
“Lovemaking is an art, and you are the artist,” Damien observed seriously, initiating his instruction.
“I thought you said it was a game.”
He flashed a smile. “Don’t be impertinent. Now pay close attention…”
He taught her how to arouse desire in a man, how to break him into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Your body conveys a sexual language all its own. The way you move, the way you
respond to a caress, can make a man feel like a king or the lowest of beggars. When you touch a man, give the impression that you enjoy it. Let your eyes soften, give a shiver, a whisper of pleasure. And when he touches you, you must seem eager, even hungry…”
His expertise always startled her; his practiced, prolonged methods of arousal left her gasping. He was a master magician who ignited the flames of her darkest desires.
Vanessa spent the days that followed wavering between fantasy and awareness. When Damien looked at her with his heated silver eyes, when she experienced the scorching intensity of his passion, she could almost believe his desire for her was real. Yet she knew better than to indulge in foolish dreams.
One of his chief aims was to make her comfortable with the male body. To that end, he frequently required her to undress him slowly, focusing on the sensuality of the exercise. Then he would lie back on the chaise lounge, inviting her to touch and explore him.
The first time his sheer brazenness shocked Vanessa a little, but enthralled her as well. Entirely nude, he reclined on the chaise like some pagan god. Vanessa drew a sharp breath at the magnificent splendor of his form, all rippling male desire, his enormous arousal erect and throbbing.
His smile was burning and lazy as he regarded her from under long, dark lashes. Still holding her gaze, he reached down to take his swollen cock in his hand. The gesture was bold and sexual and altogether tantalizing.
“Do I meet with your approval, sweeting?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her mouth dry with excitement.
“Come here and show me.”
Delight tingled through her every nerve as she moved to sit beside him.
Damien waited giving her no help.
With fascination, she smoothed her hands up his torso, caressing the hard-muscled chest, exploring the sculpted perfection of his body, so lithe and sleek and graceful. Then she let her hands move lower to the sinewed thighs. Then, finally, to his full erection, long and hard and ready.
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