My Lady Notorious

by Jo Beverley

  Cyn was contemplating a pie thoughtfully and Chastity guessed what was to come. Seduction with food seemed to be his preferred technique. An effective one, too. Because of their previous encounters, she was already sensitized. All the confused longing created by a Shrewsbury biscuit and an apple tart returned to swell the tangled longing she felt now.

  He bit into the pie, and crimson juice spurted onto his hand. “Cherry,” he said with a grin. “How appropriate.”

  He moved the pie to his other hand and held the juicy one out to her. Obeying the silent command, Chastity licked the juice. It was sweet and tart, with the salt of his skin to add savor. The sleek flesh of his hand ran against her tongue. She placed her mouth over his flesh and sucked.

  He gently disengaged his hand and held out the pie. “Eat.”

  Chastity took a bite. Juice ran again. He angled the pastry and the juice ran onto her breasts. She squeaked and raised her hands to protect the gown, but he captured them and tumbled her backward.

  He used his tongue to clean off every trace.

  She lay there entrapped by strange desires.

  Clever fingers unhooked the gown, untied the laces of the stomacher, and cast it aside. Chastity lay beneath him in her filmy silk chemise and petticoat, her gown open. She wondered if he found her lacking.

  A look at his face told her he did not. He was flushed and dark-eyed, entranced, as his fingers traced the swell of her breasts. Rapturous power swelled in her. “Do I please you, milord?” she murmured.

  “You are beautiful, as you know.” His voice was scarcely as loud as a whisper.

  His hand went to her mask-strings, but she caught it. “No! I remain masked.”

  “Is your reputation so precious, then?”

  “It is to me.”

  He ran a thumb over her cheek along the edge of the black velvet. “Am I to be trusted with a name?”

  “No,” she whispered, “but you may call me Chloe.”

  “Chloe, is it? Will you laugh at my pain?” Softly he quoted, “‘Kiss me, Dear, before my dying; Kiss me once, and ease my pain.’ ”

  His lips came down hot on hers. Sweet heaven, she’d give anything to ease a pain of his. Tears swelled in her eyes and she thanked the mask that hid them.

  Suddenly he left her. She sat up, afraid that in some way she had displeased him, but he had picked up the pot of whipped cream. With a smile and a twitch of his eyebrows, he took a dollop and dropped it in her cleavage.

  Chastity looked down and gaped. He pushed her back and spread the cream over the upper swell of her breasts. Then she felt him ease away the chemise and knew she was bare, felt more cream land and be spread.

  She waited, breathless, for his mouth. Instead a finger swept across her breasts and was presented before her eyes. “Eat. You are hungry.”

  Chastity didn’t have to part her lips for her mouth was still open in shock. She flicked out her tongue and took a little of the cream. It was flavored with orange liqueur. “It’s very good,” she whispered. “We really shouldn’t waste it.”

  He smiled. “We’re not going to waste it.” He slowly sucked the rest of the cream off his finger, then gathered more and presented it to her again. “Take it all this time, sweet Chloe. All.”

  Trapped by his eyes, Chastity took his finger into her mouth, tasting the cream, slick, cool, and rich. She swallowed. When she would have let his finger go, he said, “No. Keep it. Suck on it. Nice and slow…”

  His head lowered and he licked some cream from her breasts in a long sweep. Dreamlike, Chastity kept sucking on his finger.

  She felt his tongue swirl around first one nipple, then the other, and caught her breath at the sweetness of that sensation. His tongue tickled the tip of each one. “Ah, my beauties,” he murmured, “you envy my finger, don’t you?”

  Chastity abruptly stilled her mouth.

  He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth and abraded it with his tongue. A thrill shot through Chastity and she did the same to his finger.

  “That’s right, sweeting,” he said softly. “Show me what you want.”

  Chastity waited for what he would do next. He did nothing. Then she understood him. Tentatively, she sucked his finger. He sucked her nipple. She sucked harder. He matched it. It became strangely as if she pleasured herself. She sucked deep and slow, feeling a fever grow and burn in her.

  A throbbing started between her legs and she stirred restlessly. She heard whimpering sounds and realized they were coming from herself. And faith, neither of them was truly undressed yet!

  He moved on top of her and rubbed against her. It helped a little, but not a great deal. Desperate, she drew his finger deep into her mouth, but he laughed and dragged it free.

  “Sweet heaven, Chloe. One of us will draw blood at that rate. Here, undress me.”

  To Chastity’s amazement he stood and seemed to expect her to do exactly that. She lay for a moment, fevered with lust, thinking he’d have to change his mind. Wasn’t he as desperate with need as she? Apparently not. Dizzy, and throbbing, she struggled to her feet. She looked down at herself. Her open gown hung from her shoulders and from the waist up she was all stained milk, cream, and bare skin. She hitched the chemise up again over her breasts.

  She worked at the buttons on his long waistcoat, her fingers unsteady and clumsy, her nerves burningly aware of his body. She gave up halfway and splayed her hands over his chest, looking for help to his shadowed, intent face.

  Thinking to urge him, she reached up to kiss him.

  His lips played against hers, but then he drew back. “The sooner you’re done, sweeting, the sooner we can progress.”

  The fever lessened a little, though Chastity could have wept to see it go. What crazy game was this? She began to be afraid that he was intent on torturing her, and that they never would make love.

  She finished the buttons with great speed. As she unfastened the lowest one, she felt the rigid hardness of him. That reassured her a little. He needed a woman— needed her. She remembered how it had been when she’d been unknotting those laces. Hesitantly she pressed and stroked.

  He caught his breath. “Depends whether you want this fast or slow, Chloe.”

  Chastity had no way of knowing. She took her hand away.

  “Ah,” he said on a long out breath. “Une connaisseüse. I expected nothing less.”

  His tone jarred, but this was all turning out to be other than Chastity had expected, so why should his attitude surprise her? She pulled his shirt out from his waistband and eased it up over his chest. She found she loved running her hands up the silky muscles. She paused to circle them there, almost in a trance.

  He pulled out of the sleeves himself and worked it over his head.

  Chastity ran a finger down the livid scar that slashed across him. “How did you get this?” A woman would be bound to ask.

  “A saber. At Quebec.”

  “It must have bled a lot.”

  “Like a slashed wineskin. Ruined my best uniform.”

  Chastity was swamped by memories, bittersweet. She knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this between them, but this was the best they could hope for.

  She looked down at her breasts, her bare breasts, still streaked with cream. She gathered the last of the cream and spread it gently down his scar. Then she licked it away. She could see and feel the depth of his breathing, though he stood quite still.

  The bulge in his breeches pushed against her belly.

  “Come on, Chloe,” he said sharply. “Slow is one thing, but if you drag this out much longer you’ll waste my attributes.”

  Chastity jerked under his tone and quickly unfastened the buttons in both his breeches and his drawers. Grasping her courage, she pushed them both down. His penis sprang free against her.

  She grabbed it with both hands.

  A moment later she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was an attempt to control the thing, but now she had it throbbing in her hands, and no idea what to do with it.
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  With unsteady lightness, he said, “Kiss it and it’ll be very nice to you.”

  She looked at the moist tip then up at him, wide-eyed. He shook his head and peeled her fingers away. She was glad to let go. He quickly stripped out of his netherwear and stockings until he stood magnificently naked.

  Chastity stared her fill. There was only the slightest glossing of softness to Cyn Malloren. He was all taut, beautiful muscle. Reality faded. Her disguise, her masquerading as a whore, her past and future, all became shadows. There was only herself, and Cyn, and this moment.

  She gasped when he caught her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “I need facts, sweet Chloe. You’re not as experienced in all this as you try to pretend, are you?”

  Chastity wanted to lie, for fear that he’d throw her out, and go seek one such as Sable, but he demanded truth. “No,” she said.

  He nodded and took a steadying breath. “Now this is important, and if you lie to me, I swear I’ll beat you. Are you a virgin?”

  Chastity hesitated. She guessed that if she said yes this would all end here and her ferocious hunger would be unassuaged. On the other hand, she wasn’t physically a virgin, so he’d never know.

  After the fiasco with Vernham, Chastity had summoned her doctor to examine her and certify her purity. Her father had found out and brought in some woman—she claimed to be a midwife, but Chastity suspected she was keeper of a brothel. Her father’s loathsome henchman, Lindle, had held her down while the woman broke her hymen and took away her feeble proof of virtue.

  When Dr. Marsden had called, she’d tried to send him away, but her father had forced her to accept the examination by the saddened physician. Chastity had been warned that if she ever tried to tell her story, Dr. Marsden would give evidence of her wickedness.

  “Well?” Cyn asked sharply. “It’s not so hard a question.”

  “No,” said Chastity. “Of course I’m not a virgin.”

  He searched her eyes. “Is that the truth? I meant what I said. I’ll beat you if you’ve lied about this, and I’ll know.”

  Chastity swallowed, but met his eyes. “You won’t make me bleed, I assure you, milord. I’ve had a man in my bed before.” Both statements were completely true.

  He released her chin. “So be it.” He pushed her open gown off her shoulders and it fell to the floor, then turned her to undo her petticoat laces.

  His fingers against her spine sent little shivers through her, and when the petticoat fell he ran his knuckles up and down the cleft of her spine; bone, silk, and flesh. She swayed back against him, and he nibbled gently at her nape.

  Then sneezed.

  “Damn. Why the hell did you have to wear powder?” But his tone was amused as he turned her.

  “I’m sorry. As you have guessed, I am not very experienced at these matters.”

  His hands cradled her breasts. “I don’t think experience affects that. I’ve known some women wise in wickedness who don’t seem to realize how creams and hair-dressings can interfere with delight.”

  His thumbs lightly brushed her nipples through the silk. The feverish longing built in Chastity again, more strongly for having been denied before. She moved to pull off the chemise. He stopped her.

  “No, sweeting, leave it. I’m not sure I’m ready for the full glory of you yet.”

  He picked her up and laid her again on the mattress.

  “I’m ready for you,” said Chastity.

  “Are you? Let’s see.”

  He knelt between her legs. He put his hands on her ankles and slid them slowly up her legs, his calloused fingers rubbing deliciously against her smooth skin. Chastity twisted restlessly, opening her legs willingly to his invasion, but his hands stopped at her thighs. He flexed his thumbs there against the satiny inner skin.

  Chastity pressed her head back. “Oh, sweet heaven, what are you doing to me?”

  She felt his head there, between her legs, his lips where his thumbs had been. She jerked up onto her elbows. “What…?”

  He nipped her. “Don’t ask so many questions. Does it feel good?”

  She felt fingers in the hair between her thighs, sliding in the fluid there. “You are, aren’t you? It’s as if I rubbed more of that cream here.”

  His fingers slid into her. Chastity collapsed back with a guttural moan that shocked her with its primitive sound. She pushed against his hand and he met her hard, rubbing against her. He slid up to take her nipple in his mouth and sucked in rhythm with his hand.

  Chastity was lost. A part of her brain was still sane, and knew she was probably shouting her desperate need of release. She would rather be quiet and ladylike but found it impossible. She tried to apologize, but instead she stretched herself wide and thrust up at him.

  Then he moved. His mouth and hand left her and she felt him hard against her.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He slid into her slowly, almost tentatively. Chastity whimpered and thrust up to engulf him. He was big, she was tight, but the stretching fullness was delicious.

  She thought she heard a strange sigh as he settled in her. Then he eased out.

  She wriggled after him, terrified he would leave her. He slid in again and she shuddered with relief.

  “Never fear, Chloe,” he said gently, running a tender hand across her cheek, “I won’t leave you aching. Come, let us find our end.”

  Thrust met thrust, slowly at first as they learned each other, gentle and caring. But then need took over and they raced to an explosion that tore Chastity’s mind asunder.

  She floated up from that darkness and sucked air into her empty lungs, knowing she would never be the same again. She was scoured clean, both full and empty, dazed and yet alive as never before.

  He sprawled on top of her, breathing deeply, hot and sweaty. When he stirred, they were stuck together by sweat, juice, and cream, and had to peel themselves apart. Cooler air brushed over her damp skin and she laughed with delight.

  He leaned over her, eyes dark and mysterious, but smiling at her pleasure. “One thing’s for sure, my Chloe, you’ve had oafs in your bed before. Why waste all this glory on them?”

  She wanted to tell him the truth, but it would shatter a golden moment. And she wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t beat her for the lie she’d told, even though it had been the truth. “I was an ignorant fool,” she said.

  He shielded his eyes and ran a hand down her arm. “And now?”

  “And now I know better.”

  “And what will you do with that knowledge?”

  She knew then what she must do. He didn’t think he was the first, but he knew—heaven knew how—that he’d been the first to show her that ecstasy. Now he felt responsible, as if he had taken her maidenhead. Knight errantry again. Did he try to help every wounded stray in his path? He already had Verity, William, and Charles on his hands; he didn’t need a lascivious Chloe to fret over.

  She must cut him free.

  She eased to a sitting position. “I’ll know my worth from now on,” she said frankly. “I’ll not give my favors lightly in the future.”

  His hand rested on her thigh. “Is that a promise?”

  She nodded. She wished, quite desperately, that she could speak the thoughts of her heart—that she loved him and could never imagine these intimacies with any other man, no matter how skillful. She longed for a moment of honesty between them, just once.

  But this night was all they would ever have and honesty would ruin it.

  And this night wasn’t over yet.

  She looked thoughtfully at his penis, limp against his thigh. He chuckled and said, “Soon, I have no doubt.”

  He sat up and pulled off her soiled and creased chemise, wrapping them both in the quilt. To snuggle with him like this was an unexpected bliss, perhaps more than she could handle. Certainly more than she could willingly forgo…

  He poured them more wine. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Chastity hadn’t bargained on conversation. “Would
you pluck out the heart of my mysteries, then?”

  “Yes, indeed. I’d strip you to your very soul.”

  She shivered. “Why don’t you tell me your secrets first, milord.”

  “My secrets…” He stared into the glowing fire. “Is it a secret that I’m often afraid before battle? It’s not one to my fellow soldiers because we all share the weakness. Only a fool lacks fear. I don’t fear death. I fear maiming.”

  Chastity clenched her hands on her glass. Death was the last thing she wanted to talk of. “Do you not have any less military secrets?”

  He slid her a glance. “Do you want a list of my lovers?”

  She certainly did not. “Is that the total of your interests? Love and war?”

  “Perhaps. How long does it take, I wonder, to know someone? To fall in love.”

  Chastity gazed into the secret world of the fire. “A moment, or forever.”

  “True enough. Now, you owe me a secret.”

  She shook her head. “I am made entirely of secrets and mysteries, and if I give away one, I will fall apart.”

  Like an explosion, he pulled her to her feet, dragged her over to a small speckled mirror on the wall, and held her there. She saw them both, naked, made strange by rippled glass and flickering light. He was Cyn, his hair rippling to his naked shoulders; she was a mystery, even to herself. This woman with her dusty dark hair, mask, and swollen lips was no one she knew.

  “Watch,” he said, “and I will show you mysteries.”

  He began to touch her with skillful thoroughness, all the time watching her watch this strange wanton woman in the mirror melt into desire. Her head fell back against his shoulder. Her lips parted. Her bosom rose and fell with deep, hungry breaths. She looked at him in the glass. He was not swamped by desire, but watchful.

  “I don’t like this,” she said.

  “Liar.”

  “I don’t like leaving you behind. Come with me.”

  He nipped her shoulder. “I can discover all the secrets of your body and use them to shatter you into pieces, but you will not fall apart. You will be stronger for it.”

  She tried to resist his skillful touch. “That’s not the same.”