Joseph chuckled. “It’s a country that spans three thousand miles and is full of all sorts of people from all sorts of places. I wonder if I will be able to adequately respond myself.”
Arthur flashed a grin. “Then you’ll have to make something up. Something that makes America seem exciting enough to be a high-yield investment but not so thrilling that they’ll fear they’ll lose all their money.”
“Ha!” Joseph downed his brandy then rose to pour himself another. “I’ve been out West. I’ve got some exciting stories. I’ll try to temper them.”
Joseph went to the liquor cabinet, decanted some brandy carefully as if it were a precious liquid, swirled it in his glass, then upended the snifter and swallowed every drop. He moved gracefully but with a roughness that reflected his background, giving him a distinctive appeal Arthur hoped investors would find enticing and encouraging. It was certainly enticing and encouraging to him.
Joseph poured himself another and joined Arthur at the hearth.
“When do we go to London?” Joseph placed his glass on the mantel then yawned and ran his fingers through his hair.
That Joseph acted with such familiarity was gratifying. Their relationship had become as intimate as Arthur’s with Henny. Almost. “Next week. It’s the beginning of the Season.”
“I’ve heard of your Seasons. Lots of parties.” He raised a suggestive brow. “Rather decadent.”
“Yes, like Rome I’m sure.” Arthur chuckled.
“Not really my milieu. I’ll be out of my element. I’m nervous about all this.”
Another endearing quality was his bald honesty.
Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Joseph’s arm. “You don’t have to attend every event, just the more strategic ones. I’ll introduce you around at my club as you might be spending a lot of time there. Also I want you to see my tailor once we get to town.”
Joseph crinkled his forehead. “Oh?”
“You’ll need the latest fashion in evening dress, plus a morning suit. And there’s my wedding in June.”
“Ah yes.” He sighed with a touch of melancholy.
“Trust me…my tailor will make you look so smart my distant cousins will just assume you’re another distant cousin.”
Joseph stared into the fire. “You’re doing an awful lot for me, Arthur.”
“If you don’t want to accept my generosity as a token of my esteem and friendship, consider my support as part of my investment.” He patted his shoulder. “Don’t feel beholden to me, Joseph. I’ll take my cut when the time comes.”
“Okay.” He squeezed Arthur’s hand. “What about after the wedding?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, am I to continue staying with you? I could go to a hotel.”
“Joseph, the house is huge. Don’t worry—you won’t hear me and Henny.”
Joseph grinned, and when Joseph grinned ingenuously, he was quite handsome. Too handsome.
“What about a honeymoon?” he asked, possibly with a hint of envy.
Was he so important in Joseph’s life? The thought was flattering.
“We won’t go anywhere until the business is settled and you’re back home across the pond.”
“Hmm…” Joseph snorted, holding Arthur’s gaze. “You have your life all planned out, don’t you?” His tone conveyed only comment, not judgment.
Arthur smirked. “I like living that way.”
Joseph glanced at his brandy. “What if it doesn’t turn out as planned?”
“Well,” Arthur started, suddenly self-conscious, “I think we can figure something out between the two of us. We make a great team, don’t you think?”
Joseph smiled. “Yes I do.”
A moment of stillness hovered in the air. Perhaps it was just the liquor mingling with the heat from the fire but a giddiness riled Arthur to the notion that he could do anything. The world was full of possibilities.
He cupped the back of Joseph’s head then leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth.
Joseph recoiled for a split second before giving in, letting Arthur explore him, their lips grazing, their tongues tangling, rough skin against rough skin. It was absolutely marvelous.
It was positively wrong.
Arthur pulled back, panting. “Christ, Joseph, you must forgive me. I cannot think what I was doing.” Good God he was mortified.
Joseph stared at him stunned but not horrified. “And have you ever done such a thing?”
“No never.” Arthur closed his eyes briefly. “I mean not that I haven’t ever thought… I just haven’t.”
“Oh.” Joseph seemed befuddled.
“And you?” he dared ask.
“Yes. But never of my own volition. I was always—” He sighed heavily. “It’s different for me. I’m always the prey. When one is the mere courier boy of the wealthy, one must endure a great deal—”
“Oh Christ, Joseph, I’m so sorry—”
“I’ve never been with a man because I wanted to, I mean, sometimes I wanted to but it simply was not my choice and I was doing it anyway.”
Arthur searched his face. “Then make it your choice. Don’t let men like me bully you around.”
Joseph’s gaze was deep, grateful. “Yeah…okay.”
Arthur turned away. “It’s late. I’m going to my room.”
In an instant, Joseph had Arthur in his arms, his mouth pressed against Arthur’s, assaulting him with passion. Arthur submitted willingly, reveling in the powerful embrace, his cock springing to life as it rubbed against Joseph’s crotch.
Joseph let him go. “I’ll have you know I like women very much.”
Arthur chuckled in relief. “Obviously I like them quite a bit too.”
“I’ve had enough of you, Lord Petersham.”
The use of his title cut but was probably Joseph’s way of establishing a modicum of control.
“Thank you, Joseph. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Eight
A tumult of emotions racked Joseph to the core. The scheme had been progressing smoothly then Arthur had to go muck things up by kissing him. Joseph would have taken Arthur to bed except Henny might have come looking for her fiancé in the middle of the night. Discovering him in Joseph’s bed, in Joseph’s arms, would have been an utter and complete disaster.
He and Arthur cleared things up in the morning, Arthur apologizing profusely, endearingly heartfelt, Joseph finding himself with the upper hand, as the one to offer solace. They both agreed that while their brief intimacy had been diverting, it should never happen again, chiefly out of consideration for Henny, even though, Arthur insisted, she might find the idea intriguing.
“She could join us,” Joseph had joked.
“You’ll touch her over my dead body, Mr. Phillips,” Arthur had retorted with a laugh.
And then the incident had blown over. Except Joseph remained agitated in such a way solitary gratification was unsatisfying. He needed something more.
He needed Sophia.
As always, he had difficulty pinning her down. She was either with Henny and their mothers, discussing wedding plans, or dodging—so it seemed as his presence was far too ubiquitous—the Duke of Royston’s attentions. She did not come to the studio much and when she did, Henny often accompanied her.
Without her, frustration mounted and tore at his concentration.
He paced and wandered around the studio, poking the fire, twiddling his pencils, thinking of her, his cock aching with unrequited desire, his mind unable to focus on whatever it was he was supposed to be preparing for Arthur…
And then she walked in.
It was as if the gods had decided to smile upon him.
“Joseph?” she said, her gaze sweeping over him, assessing his state of discomposure.
“Sophie, my love.” He held back. They were on display behind the wall of glass.
She flicked her gaze to the curtains then walked to the door and locked it.
Joseph casually strolled to
draw the drapes and pulled the cords slowly.
With privacy secured they fell into each other’s arms.
Their reunion had been too long delayed. Her mouth was an exquisite refuge into which he fell completely, her body a sanctuary for his lustful fantasies. He stroked and squeezed, deliriously murmuring endearments, licking and nipping, removing bits of his clothing, unfastening bits of hers, leading them both toward the bed, picking her up and placing her on the mattress, stretching himself alongside her.
“Darling, I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her neck.
She wrapped her arms around him. “Oh Joseph! It’s been horrid! Mama made me go for a drive with him and then he tried to kiss me.” She shuddered. “I’m always on my guard because he might suddenly appear and he usually does. He’s gone into Little Bytham this afternoon. I headed here as soon as I could.”
“I’m glad you came. I need you, Sophia.” He kissed away the tears that dampened her lashes.
“I need you too.” She propped herself up on an elbow. “It’s just not the same when I touch myself alone.” She plucked at the buttons of his shirt. “I think of you but it’s nothing compared to what you did to me last week.”
“Or what you did to me.” The memory lingered vividly.
She hid a smile as she continued to play with his buttons. “You said you would teach me.” She raised her gaze to meet his.
His cock stirred at the entreaty, seductive yet so innocent. “Of course.” He kissed her tenderly. “Lie down.”
She rolled onto her back, pulled up her skirts and gave him a wistful, encouraging smile. He slid his fingers through the split of her drawers, between the plump folds of her feminine flesh already wet for him. He spread the sticky moisture and when he reached her clit she yelped, staring at him wide-eyed.
“That, my love, is your clitoris. Your locus of pleasure.”
She blushed. It was damned charming.
“When you are aroused as you are now, you create a natural wetness. Use that to stroke yourself.” He flicked his finger back and forth, petting her, keeping in check his own desire in order to bring her to ecstasy.
She sucked in a mouthful of air and held it too long.
“Darling, breathe.”
He stilled his finger against her and she exhaled.
“Good. Relax.” He resumed his ministrations using a circular motion. “You can do whatever feels good—pressing, rubbing, pinching—”
“Pinching!”
He chuckled. “Give me your hand. I’ll show you.” He guided her finger to her sex. “It’s that little nubbin. Do you feel it?”
“Oh!” She jerked her hand away.
He calmly reclaimed it and returned it between her legs.
“Touch yourself in the way that feels most pleasing to you. I’ll be right here.”
Arousal vexed his cock as her expression transitioned from surprise to curiosity to delight to bliss, her finger working steadily, rhythmically.
“Now increase the pace and you’ll find the pleasure grows.”
She worked furiously, lost to him, lolling her head, arching against the mattress, moaning distractedly. The magnificent display of sensuality taunted him to satisfy his own needs but he resisted and watched her, mesmerized, until she bucked up with a cry then landed on the mattress, panting and staring up at the canopy.
“Oh,” she said. “I’ve always wondered how to capture that feeling. Sometimes I wake up from the most luscious dream. Now I can make it happen without dreaming.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
Joseph chuckled in amazement. This was a woman who could orgasm from a lover’s spoken fantasy or, apparently, from a dream.
“How did you know how to do that?” The rasp of afterglow tinged her voice.
“I’ve had some experience.”
“With women, you mean.”
“Yes,” he stammered. “A few.”
One by one she opened the buttons of his trousers. “How many?”
Shit. He should not have said that. “Sophie!”
She untucked his shirt. “How many?”
Would the number seem high to her? Or surprisingly low?
She started to unbutton his drawers, a devious glint in her eye. “You know I could just look at you and not touch you.”
Jesus, he’d probably come anyway. “Twelve.”
She stared at him in astonishment.
“That’s not what you were expecting.”
“No.”
He raised a brow in invitation for her to extend the thought.
“Three. I thought it would be three.” She plopped down. “Did you love all of them?”
Shit. “Look, Sophie, darling, I wasn’t in love with any of them.” He inhaled deeply. “Do you really want to know?” He turned to face her.
She stared at the canopy with a dreamy expression. “I guess you really have had an exciting life. Arthur said so.”
“Do you think me despicable? If you want to end our liaison—”
“No!” She propped herself up on her elbow again. “I want to continue exploring. I want you to show me the ways of pleasure.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt.
“And I want to continue all of that too. But I need to know if you are comfortable with my past.”
“Your past? Were you the Don Juan of New York?”
He laughed. “Nothing so romantic.” He stroked her cheek. “You know how your virginity is a highly valued treasure and you are taught to keep it, and not to do anything like what we are doing or you’ll be ruined?”
“Yes. My governess made sure I understood all of that. And Mama has admonished me about dancing too much with one man or taking walks with Geoffrey. And about how my husband wants me to be pure and unsullied and even the hint of impurity would be ruinous.”
“Well it’s different for girls of my class. There are not the same strictures. For some of them the act of sex is just another pastime and for others, it is their profession.”
“Oh. I suppose I did know about that. But that’s awful, isn’t it? And we should pity such women who have been led astray?”
Joseph composed his thoughts. “For some yes, it is a horrible necessity and life for them is brutish. For others, though, they choose that way of life and are very well compensated for it. Some are quite rich.”
“Like mistresses and kept women? I’ve heard some men have those.”
“Sort of like that. There are also women who employ other women. They give them a warm place to live, food to eat, pretty dresses, and in exchange the girls provide services to men.”
Sophia stared at him, realization dawning on her face. “Is that who you were with?”
He dragged his fingers through his hair. He did not want to have this conversation with her. Not now, probably not ever. “Well yes, some of them were. Do you despise me?”
“No! It’s just so different than the men I know. Well…I think it is.”
“More likely they’re too polite to discuss such things with you.” He pulled her against him. “My father had a business arrangement with a courtesan. He would treat her shipments with extra care and she would compensate him for the service. They eventually became good friends. When I turned eighteen he sent me to her to learn about women and their desires.” He ran his hand slowly down her body to rest on her hip. “So I would know how to please them and especially—if I were to get married—so I would know how to please my wife. I had been with girls before but didn’t really know what I was doing. She taught me.”
“What you did for me the last time we were together.”
“Yes…and what you did for me.”
“You’re tutoring me for my husband,” she huffed with disappointment.
“That’s certainly not my intention, love. I’m doing this for us. But your husband will be pleasantly surprised.”
“Joseph,” she began haltingly, “I don’t want my virginity to be such a treasure.”
His gut clenched. “Oh no, I’m no
t taking it, Sophia. I won’t. You know I won’t.”
“I thought as much. I just wish it were the same for me as it is for those other girls.”
“Their days are difficult, darling. They work themselves ragged. Their lives are short and their joys few.”
“Our time together is short,” she said with a melancholy smile. “What pleasure shall we share today?”
She was right. They might never find themselves alone ever again. He wanted to possess her yet there was only one way a man like him could possess a girl of her class. He rolled on top of her and kissed her deeply.
“Do you feel my weight against you?” He trailed kisses down her neck, undulating his hips, his cock threatening to free itself from his only partially buttoned drawers. “My body’s rhythm. That is the movement of carnal love.”
Her respiration increased as she followed his lead, moving her body in time with his, her hands gripping his back.
He lifted his head to gaze upon her. Her cheeks flushed a sinfully alluring shade of pink. “I can’t give you that pleasure, Sophia. But I can give you another. A similar pleasure, where I enter you, our bodies join, I bring you to orgasm, I fill you with my seed. Do you want this?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes.”
Her reply rendered him rock-hard. Inwardly he cursed and thanked the clothing acting as a barrier between them. His wasn’t just bald lust—she did something to him, made him want their coupling more than ever and made him want to give pleasure more than ever.
And they were about to do something rather unconventional. Whoever her husband would be, most likely he would never require it of her. This would be her first and last time. And Joseph wanted it to be the most wondrous sensual experience of her life.
“Darling, I want you to undress while I fetch something from the cupboard.”
“Yes, Joseph.” Her eyes flickered with unspoken inquisitiveness.
“And take off every stitch this time.”
Sophia pulled her dress off her shoulder and started on her underclothes, trying to ignore the sounds of Joseph rummaging about on the other side of the studio.
He returned with a butter dish and placed it on the bedside table. A bizarre accessory indeed, but the sight of him frantically removing what remained of his clothing diverted her attention from the curiosity.
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