Her Perfect Match: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 3

by Jess Michaels

  But it was more difficult than it should have been not to look back in regret just one more time.

  Chapter Five

  Most nights, Vivien assumed she would be alone. Not for lack of offers from gentlemen, of course. Even tonight there had been a man who had leaned over and asked her to allow him to pleasure her. But more often than not she refused those who wished to add her as a mark to their manhood and accepted that a good book and a sherry were to be her companions for the night.

  But tonight she knew she would be alone and it cut her to the bone.

  Benedict had left her home three hours before. Without a word to her, not even goodbye. But his actions spoke volumes, didn’t they? There was no refuting their meaning.

  He didn’t want her anymore. Or if he did, he wasn’t willing to lower himself to her level to pursue that desire again. After all, hadn’t he told her that he intended to seek a bride during this Season? Certainly running around with women such as her could do him no good on that score.

  She sucked in her breath. Once Benedict wed, he would be faithful. That was the kind of man he was. Whatever they had shared would be truly over the moment he asked a lady to be his bride. He would forget her and devote himself to babies and country living with a woman of the proper station.

  Her heart hurt at the thought, despite the fact that she had no right to her pain. She knew what she was. And in the past she had rejected Benedict’s attempts to make what they shared more than a mere affair.

  She paced her chamber for a moment, looking around the room restlessly. This wasn’t the room where she took lovers and played the role of notorious mistress and courtesan. This was her real chamber. Where she could be Vivien. Only Vivien. Where she mulled her triumphs and her hurts.

  Tonight was a hurt.

  With a shake of her head, she moved to her dressing table and withdrew a slip of paper from the drawer. It was the list she and her servant had made a few days past. Her list of loose ends to tie up before she left the city and this life forever.

  She sighed as she poured over each item. She had begun on the first item there. Celebrate Friends. Tonight had been a success, though it felt rather hollow at present. She still had a few things in mind, but she was well on her way to crossing this item off.

  She scanned lower until she reached number ten. Benedict. She had rather hoped he would come to her, they would make love and that would settle her tormented thoughts about him. That she would end the night by crossing him off too.

  Instead, she felt more ill at ease about the man than ever. But if he refused to come to her, did that not resolve their loose end in some way? After all, his refusal to come to her did make it clear that he believed there was nothing left between them to discuss.

  She reached for the pen on her dressing table and the corked bottle of ink beside it. Her hand hovered above the list as she prepared to cross his name off, even if the matter felt unfinished. But before she could do so, there was a knock on the door behind her.

  She got to her feet. Rachel might have forgotten something when she readied Vivien for bed. Smoothing her robe, she called out, “Come in.”

  She was surprised when her butler, Nettle, was the one behind the chamber door. He gave her an apologetic bow before he began to speak.

  “I realize it is terribly late, Miss Vivien,” he began.

  She waved her hand. “Do not trouble yourself, Nettle, I wasn’t abed yet. Is there something wrong? Something to discuss about the party tonight?”

  She could scarcely believe it would be an issue regarding the party. Nettle had certainly seen far more scandalous ones without blinking an eye or commenting.

  It was why she kept him in her employ. Trust and discretion.

  “No, miss,” he said with a darting glance in her direction that gave her pause. It was a look of concern and directed at her, though that wasn’t Nettle’s nature. “It isn’t a problem with the household that brings me to your chamber. You have…a visitor.”

  All the breath left Vivien’s lungs in that moment as she stared at the servant with wide eyes and shaking hands.

  “A visitor?” she repeated on the barest of whispers. There could be only one person who would come to her now. “Benedict?”

  The servant nodded slightly. “Yes, miss. Mr. Greystone has been shown to your…other chamber and awaits you there because I assumed that was still your desire. If I am wrong and you would like me to tell him that you are already abed and do not wish visitors, I will do so.”

  Vivien wrinkled her brow at the almost hopeful tone of the butler. Certainly Nettle had seen a great deal in his time with her, but he had never seemed offended by her late-night visitors. And he’d always seemed to especially like Benedict. When they were together, he had been far warmer with him than her other protectors.

  “No,” she insisted quickly, as if the man would dash from the room and send Benedict from her if she didn’t hurry her response. “I will see him. Tell him I’ll join him in a moment. And you and the rest of the staff can take to your own beds. It has been a very long day for you, I’m certain.”

  Nettle hesitated, but then whatever personal thoughts he had been sharing with his meaningful glances and tone of voice vanished, leaving only her trusted servant in their wake.

  “Yes, miss. I shall impart the message. Do ring if you have any need for anyone else tonight.”

  She nodded but didn’t really notice as he stepped from her chamber and left her alone. She stared at her mirror again, but this time saw how bright her eyes and pink her cheeks were. She looked girlishly excited and she frowned.

  This expression shared too much. She had to be what she always was: calm, collected, an experienced mistress. Benedict would expect no less of her. And she could be no more.

  She covered her cheeks with cool hands to sooth them and drew a deep, calming breath.

  “This is nothing,” she reminded herself in a firm tone. “Just a tryst with an old lover, something you’ve done before without any consequence. This is just a way to cross Benedict from your list and move on with your life.”

  The words fell from her lips, her face calmed, but deep inside she did not believe or feel that coldness she expressed. With Benedict there had always been more than erotic connection. That was why she had broken with him, after all.

  She turned from the mirror, turned from her thoughts and moved to the adjoining door. It connected to another plain chamber and through that was the room she shared with her lovers. She sucked in a breath, opened the door and skidded to a halt.

  Benedict was standing across the room at the window, half turned toward what would have been a pretty view of her garden had it not been the middle of the night. He had already removed his jacket and draped it across the back of a chair near him. His cravat was also draped there. His dark hair was tousled, proof that he had been running his fingers through it during his wait for her arrival, and as he turned to face her, she saw that the first few buttons of his shirt had been undone.

  Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.

  A home she could not have. A home she had claimed she didn’t want. And yet it slapped her in the face and stole all attempts she could make to be cool and collected in the face of his arrival.

  It also stole her control. She had intended to speak to Benedict before anything else, but now she found herself crossing the room to him, her arms lifting around his neck like she did not control them, and then they were kissing.

  His mouth was hot on hers, his lips tasted faintly of whiskey and his tongue felt like flame as it breached her and he claimed her with that touch. Her mind emptied, thoughts replaced by rushing blood and the sensation of her body readying for him. Already her nipples tingled beneath her thin night rail and her thighs were damp with desire.

  “Vivien,” he breathed between kisses, even as he backed her toward the bi
g bed.

  When her backside hit the edge, she sucked in a breath. Suddenly this was reality and she reveled in it after fantasizing over this very moment for so long.

  But as she looked up at Benedict, she could not read his thoughts. His gaze, which had once been so open, was clouded, revealing only desire but nothing deeper. And even though it was better that way, she felt a twinge of regret that she could no longer see his love for her.

  She swept the regret away and lifted her trembling fingers to his shirt. With a few movements, she had opened it and let her nails rake across the tone muscles of his belly. Both of them sucked in a breath at the sensation and Benedict dipped his head against his shoulders for a brief moment as she touched him.

  She remembered every way he liked to be touched. It was burned on her like a brand and she leaned forward to press her lips to his chest. He groaned as she sucked one flat nipple between her lips and swirled her tongue around the disc. She felt his cock swell against her thigh and her breath grew short with excitement.

  As she sucked and teased him, he went to work on the few items of clothing separating their bodies. Her robe was pushed away first. When he needed to push the fabric over her shoulders, it forced her from her attention to his body and she drew back, letting him glide the silky fabric away from her flesh.

  He stared down at her, clad only in a nearly see-through night rail.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  Pride swelled in her, unexpected and almost unrecognized it had been so long since she felt it when it came to her body. With most men, their compliments meant little to her, just empty words meant to seduce her.

  This was something different.

  She slipped her fingers beneath the thin straps of the gown and inched it down over her body to stand naked before him for the first time in over three years. Then she reached up, cupped his chin gently and brought him down for another kiss.

  For a brief moment, he seemed almost too stunned to react, but when he did, it was explosive. He ground against her, lifting her onto the bed as he claimed her, punished her, explored her with the kiss. She hung on to him with both hands, fearing she’d be washed away by the strength of his growing passion.

  He did not seem to fear such an outcome. He laid her down against the bed and joined her there as he parted her legs. He stared at her slick sex, open to him, ready for him, and for the first time he grinned.

  She shivered, for she hadn’t seen that look from him in years. It was wicked, possessive and filled with promise. Always when he looked at her in that manner, she ended up well pleasured and weak with release.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against her sex. She jolted with sensation and lifted herself toward him. His chuckle made her open her eyes and stare down at him.

  She watched as he placed a hand on each hip and rolled her away so she was on her stomach. Now she only had a view of her headboard as he lifted her backside and faced her from behind.

  She gripped her pillow with both hands and waited, waited for whatever he would do. He didn’t keep her in suspense long. He buried his mouth against her sex from this new angle and began to drive his tongue inside her from behind.

  She arched back, thrusting against him as her cries filled the quiet air. Pleasure built within her, powerful and intoxicating because she didn’t have to work to achieve it. It came to her without effort, without frustration.

  And when he reached around her body and pressed his thumb to her clitoris, the pleasure exploded into a starburst of release that pushed her body out of control. She cried out, she pressed back against him, her pussy jerked with spasm after never-ending spasm of pleasure.

  He groaned against her entrance and the heat and vibration of the sound only increased her crisis. Then he pulled away, moved up behind her and glided his hard cock deep within her.

  She gasped with renewed pleasure and surprise. She hadn’t even realized he had freed his member from his trousers, but when she looked back over her shoulder, she saw that the black fabric drooped around his hips and he was buried to the hilt inside her.

  She forgot reason and regret and everything else as he moved within her, forcing her through the end of her first orgasm and almost immediately toward another. They moved in tandem, slow and seductive at one point, fast and hard at another. They had no goal but mutual pleasure and enough experience with each other to reach that goal without exertion or struggle.

  The second orgasm was less piercing than her first, but when it washed over her, it felt deeper, more persistent. She jerked her hips against the waves of it, gasping out Benedict’s name as he continued his steady, forceful thrusts.

  But as her sheath milked him with its orgasmic tremors, she could sense he was on the edge of control. Sweat glistened on his brow, his grunts and gasps were louder, and finally he growled out a sound of possession and she felt his hot seed splash inside her as he came.

  They collapsed against the bed together, his body draped across her back with heavy, satisfying weight and she shut her eyes as she tried to pretend that this moment could last forever.

  Benedict wasn’t certain how long they lay together, their bodies tangled, their sweat and breath merging as they both came down from the ultimate high of mutual orgasm. All he knew was that he had been rocked to his very core by this act he had once feared he would never again share with Vivien. The act that had bound them for months before she severed their relationship in one quick sweep.

  That thought lessened his pleasure and he rolled away from her to lie on his back in the gathering dark of the room. She followed his motion, resting her head against his chest. He wanted to distance himself, but how could he? It was as if his body had been sleeping since they parted and now he was wide awake and aware again.

  He put his arms around her, tracing the willowy lines of her limbs absently.

  She smiled up at him and his heart stuttered against his will.

  “When you left here tonight, I admit I did not think you would come back,” she whisperered.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Although they had just shared a deep passion, he didn’t want to reveal too much of his feelings. He knew the cost.

  “I wasn’t going to,” he admitted.

  She lifted her head and looked at him in surprise. “No? Why did you, then?”

  He cupped her face. Her skin was like silk against his fingers and the way her eyelids fluttered at his touch stole all his ability to protect himself.

  “You know why,” he whispered.

  Surprise was the first emotion that washed over her face, followed swiftly by the same fear that had always accompanied any declaration he’d ever made that could be construed as emotional. But there was also something else there, lingering in her eyes—sadness. As if what he said made her ponder some great loss.

  “Benedict—” she began and her tone was as familiar as her touch.

  He pushed away and got to his feet. “We both know what I want from you isn’t possible. I have accepted that fact.”

  He dared to look at her, but was surprised that there was no relief on her face when he said those words. In fact, her emotions, which had been so clear a moment ago, were now hidden. And yet she was still glorious. She had sat up when he left her and the sheets barely covered her. In the dying firelight she looked like a queen.

  Renewed need pinched at him, melted him even when he didn’t want it to be there.

  “Do you still want me?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

  She nodded without hesitation. “I…do. I think I made that perfectly clear tonight.”

  “Then perhaps I will come to you again,” he said, making the words a statement rather than a question. He didn’t want to give her the power in this decision, even though in truth, she had it all.

  She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Yes.”

  He blinked. Yes? Had she actually agreed to see him again when it seemed like yesterday that she had sent him away, never to touch her aga
in? Wild joy sprang up in him, but he pushed it aside.

  He approached her with as much nonchalance as he could and bent to kiss her one last time. She tasted like strawberries, like honey, like passion, and he drank in all her flavors as the kiss spiraled into lust in a heartbeat. Finally he managed to pull away. He was too emotional to continue this tonight.

  He stepped away. “Then I will see you again, Vivien. Good night.”

  He turned to the door without waiting for her to respond, though he heard her faint goodbye as he shut the chamber door behind him. He moved down the hallway and out into the night, but every step was made from instinct and memory, not because he was paying attention.

  At that moment, all he could think about was Vivien. Tonight he had been utterly satisfied in a way he had not felt since the last time he left her bed three years before. But he was also completely confused. And wholly uncertain if the path he had just set himself on was one that would bring him joy or crushing heartbreak.

  Chapter Six

  Vivien turned to the next aisle in Paddington’s Bookshop and breathed in the scent of leather book covers and thick paper pages with a sigh of pleasure. This trip out was just what she needed to forget the past few days’ events.

  Since the night they’d made love, Vivien had received no word from Benedict. She hated to admit it, but she found his silence odd. During their affair three years before, she had become accustomed to his habit of sending her a note each day, even if they were not scheduled to meet. In truth, she had kept all the correspondence from him, from the banal to the passionate, in her real chambers, though she hadn’t dared look at them since they had parted.

  But this time, he seemed less interested in maintaining a relationship with her. His silence revealed that fact.

  It was for the best, of course. She only wished to tie off the loose ends that remained between them, not become his lover again. Certainly, she did not wish to intertwine their lives in any way. Still, it stung when she allowed herself to examine the bare facts of his rejection.