Griff trailed behind her, all the while wishing he could stop the aggravating woman and shake some sense into her fool head. Certainly she could handle herself, but something deep inside him revolted at the notion that she might put herself in harm’s way. Which, when you considered both her occupation and her cover, was a rather ridiculous notion. And yet it persisted.
Jo climbed the stairs ahead of him, the slow sway of her hips an entrancing view as he took one step at a time. Bits and pieces of the contract that he had signed that afternoon flitted in and out of his head. Per their agreement, he had the right to bed her. While at the surface that seemed a most desirable outcome, deep inside he was certain disaster lay down that path since he was already far too enamored of the woman. So, even as he signed the agreement, he had sworn that he would not avail himself of the many benefits outlined in the document. But then Jo had walked in to the card room with her long luscious legs on display below that tantalizing bit of fabric shielding her pussy from prying eyes, and his resolve had weakened. Even now, as they retreated to some room within the house, the sensual atmosphere, cunningly crafted to tantalize and tease, wore at his defenses. As did the eternal sway of her lush bum and the fall of long, dark hair that danced just above it.
His cock grew harder with each step, each wayward thought.
They reached the upper landing and then continued up the next level of stairs, climbing to the third floor and what could only be her private rooms. He fixated on the notion that he would likely see her inner sanctum, and a dangerous burble of pleasure danced in his chest. He couldn’t help but wonder how many men had been permitted into her private rooms, and based on how secretive she’d been up to then, he had to assume a very few privileged men had been allowed to enter such a sacred space.
The sitting room they entered was small, cozy. But, for all that, it was lushly appointed. The room was draped in silks and velvets, a riot of color mixing blues and reds, with touches of greens and yellows. There were pieces from the Ming dynasty squished in with bits of modern cog-work art, and furniture from the Elizabethan period alongside more modern Chippendale pieces. A veritable hodgepodge of things that one would think could never work together, yet somehow it felt right for her. It seemed to reflect the contradiction that was Jo. She glanced back over her shoulder and pointed to a table bearing a decanter. “Feel free to pour us a couple of drinks while I fetch the dossier.”
She disappeared through a door and pushed it until it sat slightly ajar.
In desperate need of a little fortification, he poured two drinks and brought them over to the settee and the coffee table that dominated the space. He sat and waited for her return, choosing to continue to peruse the interestingly decorated space. An all too familiar little gadget caught his eye, and he stood for a closer inspection. On a low buffet sat a whimsical bit of cog and wheel sculpture that had been one of his earliest tinkerings. It had served little purpose but to amuse the viewer with its perpetual motion of cog and wheel to ultimately make a bird arc over the contraption as though in flight. He was rather shocked to see it had landed in the hands of a woman who worked for the government whose primary agenda seemed to be squashing the steam revolution.
A sound came from the room beyond and he glanced up to find himself perfectly aligned to see every luscious curve of Jo’s derriere as she bent over to pull on trousers. Both turned on by the flash of skin, and disappointed her legs would be covered for their discussion, he snapped back around to the moving sculpture as she moved toward the door.
“Ah, I see you have noticed a bit of my rebellion.” She grinned and walked in the room, crossing to where he’d left her drink on the table. “Supposedly, the trinket was made by the Lord of Cogs, himself.”
“Indeed, it is quite entertaining.” He offered a bland smile and willed his cock to cease being so noticeable.
She took a sip and sighed. “I do love a good scotch.” Setting her glass back down, she patted the couch beside her. “Come, we have work to do.”
Together they poured over the documents she had that outlined all manner of information about him. From his daily schedule to his preferences for meals and even his penchant for working late into the night. “Well, I see you have quite a bit of information about me. I feel somewhat at a disadvantage in this partnership as I know almost nothing about you.”
“That is an unfortunate byproduct of being a mark. It’s funny, but as sparse as this package is, compared to my normal dossiers, I bet I could sell this to the highest bidder amongst the debutants this coming season and make a pretty penny. Why everything a girl should need to know to capture your heart, or at the very least compromise you, is right here.” She shot him a saucy grin.
“You wouldn’t dare!” True panic seized him as he considered the onslaught that would come with such a violation.
“If I didn’t appreciate the unmarried state as much as any bachelor, I might consider it. But I wouldn’t do such a thing to my worst enemy. I might slit their throat, but no, I wouldn’t throw them to the wolves cum debutants.” She laughed at the utter fear he knew was etched on his features. For a moment his heart had skipped a beat, and not in the good way.
“You are a cruel woman.” He shook his head and returned to perusing the pages he held. “Does the handwriting look different than normal to you? Perhaps whoever compiled the dossier might be able to offer us a clue.”
Jo looked at the lettering on the page. “I’m afraid the handwriting is different every time. Typically it is all legible, neatly written, but by a different hand. I suspect they use a different secretary each time or someone adept at altering their lettering style.”
Jo continued to look over the various pages in silence, as did he. Finally something caught his eye on one of the longer sheets. Toward the end of the page, there seemed to be a partial sentence that didn’t make sense in the context of the rest of the notations. The words read …proves true, then he must be eliminated. “Do you see this, I wonder where the rest of the sentence is?”
She picked up the page, looked at the alignment of the lettering, angled the page this way and that, before looking at him with a shrug. “It certainly confirms they want you dead. But what proves true?” She stopped and eyed him cautiously. “Is there something you have not told me that might be of importance in this inquiry?”
Fear slipped into his veins and had his heart racing like a stallion on the open moors. “No. Nothing I believe you need to be aware of.” Good God, she couldn’t know he was the Lord of Cogs. It would make him more vulnerable than he already was, a conduit to breaking the will of the Free Steam Party. Not to mention the damage to the morale of the party if they learned he was not of the working class, not one of them. No, it was far too risky to expose himself in such a manner.
She eyed him suspiciously, “Very well, then. If I find you are lying to me, it will not go well for you.”
He nodded stiffly. “I don’t see us discovering anything else, I should go.”
“You cannot leave this early. It would destroy my reputation.” She rose to stop him as he tried to leave.
“Why in the world would it destroy your reputation?” he asked, surprised.
“Madame La Roux is notorious for keeping her lovers entertained until the wee hours of the morning. Especially when things are so new.”
Griff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So are you suggesting I must stay here for,” he glanced at his pocket watch, “another four hours before I can depart?”
“Precisely.” She nodded.
“And how do you propose to entertain me?” He lifted a sardonic brow even as dread swelled within. He knew what she was going to suggest, wanted everything she would offer and more, yet he feared what would happen if he indulged. Feared he would not be capable of keeping his attraction to her at bay.
“You know the terms of the contract. You seem a very thorough sort. We can simply sit and talk, or both of us being adults, we could consider other more lascivi
ous pursuits.” She seemed strung as taut as he felt as he considered her proposal. Damn how he wanted to taste her, but his mind warred with his body and heart. What if she decided she still needed to kill him after their investigation? What if he discovered this was all a ruse and she was somehow complicit in discrediting him? Bloody hell, what if she discovered the truth about him and rejected him for it? And then he glanced over at her and realized she was fidgeting. Could she be as nervous as he at the notion of becoming intimate? That was a curious thing, considering all the facts.
“Very well, I suppose I wouldn’t want to cause undue harm to your reputation.” He took his empty glass and moved to the decanter and poured another drink. He held the container up in question and she nodded. So, he poured her another drink and returned the decanter to its rightful place. Then he sat next to her again as she set all the pages aside. “So, how did you come to acquire The Market?”
She sat back and crossed her legs so that her toes brushed his trouser leg, sending little jolts of excitement along his limb. “I bought it from the previous Madame, who I worked for as part of my cover. She was aware I had other priorities, but she took a liking to me and when she was ready to retire, she offered me the opportunity as had her Madame before her and so on. The Market has been in business for nearly a hundred years and passed from Madame to prostitute along the way.”
“And I suppose since the assassin business was good, you could afford to pay her.”
She offered a nonchalant lift of the shoulder that neither confirmed his assumption nor denied it. “And how did you become the Earl of Melton?”
“I did it in the way one normally does. The previous Earl, my father, died and I inherited the title and all it entailed.” He shrugged. “I am trying my best to honor his legacy, but keeping in mind that times have changed and so has society.”
“And what of your own heir? Your dossier makes no mention of a wife or even fiancée.” She lazed casually against the back of the settee, but something crackled between them as she waited for his answer.
“My brother will be the next Earl. I have no need of a wife.” He took a sip of his scotch and tried to remember his own warnings to himself.
But then, her tongue peeped out from between her reddish lips to slick along her lower one. He couldn’t help but track the movement and wish it was his own tongue tasting her flesh.
“That sounds rather lonely.” She leaned forward and into him as she took his drink and set it on the table next to her glass. “And, by all accounts, unhealthy. They do say men need to exercise their sexual desires regularly to keep sharp of mind and focus.” She pressed up onto her knees on the couch and hovered over him until their faces were so close, their breath mingled. “I can’t have you unfocused for what lies ahead.”
And then her lips captured his in a searing kiss that shattered any hesitation his feeble mind offered in protest. In a swift move of dominance and need, he pushed her backward until she lay on the couch beneath him as he took control of the kiss and possessed her mouth.
6
Jo would have gasped if the man above her hadn’t completely robbed her of breath. Somewhere in the course of their evening, she had decided that waiting for him to make the first move was going to turn her into a lust-driven madwoman. And the last thing she needed was to be distracted by the desire pulsing thickly through her veins. So, she’d made the leap and the man had responded like a hound who’d snapped his leash. She loved it. Reveled in it.
He finally pulled back, giving her a chance to breathe as well as speak. “Let’s go inside, the bed will be far more comfortable than this small couch.”
Griff eased back and helped her up, all solicitous gentleman. It tickled her that he would be so polite with her, as though she were a lady of his social set.
He cleared his throat and straightened his clothes as they stepped into her bedroom. “Mada—Jo. I—”
She stopped and faced him. “First off, you had best stick to Jo. We are about to become much more closely acquainted than the formality of titles dictates. I shall call you Griff, because it suits you and I prefer to forget you are a peer of the realm. Not my usual taste in lovers.” She opened her trousers, letting them slip to the floor, leaving her legs fully exposed. “Second, you will not make any objections that might damage my delicate sensibilities. We are both adults. We find each other extremely attractive if the chemistry between us is to be believed, and I refuse to ignore the connection. It is a rare and precious thing in both my lines of work. Any other concerns I need to address?” Her heart pounded in her chest, because she couldn’t take the humiliation of him rejecting her now. It would be too much to bear.
“As you wish, Jo. I won’t deny I want you. But are you sure this is wise under the circumstances?” He posed the question as he let his evening jacket slide off his shoulders.
She stepped into him and worked the buttons of his vest and then his shirt free. “I dare say I don’t really give a damn for once in my life. Now, hush up and kiss me.”
Much to her relief, he did as she demanded and plunged his tongue into her mouth. They dueled briefly before she gave up and let him lead, explore, ravage her. His strong arms banded her waist as he hauled her closer and she let her fingertips explore the warm flesh of his chest as she worked his clothes off his shoulders. But with his arms wrapped around her, she could only get so far.
Then his clever fingers were working free the back of her bodice and soon the laces of her corset. As he freed her breasts, he leaned down and trailed kisses over the tops of the mounds until need had her gripping his hair in her fists to pull his head from her breasts. “I need more.”
He growled and lifted her up only to take a few steps and drop her on the bed. A wild giggle escaped her as she bounced on the well-sprung bed. He was surprisingly fun, and she found that she enjoyed it. She looked up to him and found the gleam of desire burning bright in his eyes, and so without further ado, she reached up and pulled her bodice and corset off, leaving just her thin half-chemise.
After shedding his own upper layers, he pounced on her and spread her across the bed in a wanton display. Pushing up one breast, he licked and sucked the hard peak until it swelled and throbbed with need. Dragging his tongue over her sensitive flesh, he switched to the other breast and repeated his efforts. Her body arched up into his mouth, desperate for more and yet taut as a bow string about to snap.
“So much better than I pictured after feeling all these curves pressed against me in my study.” He groaned and slid lower, leaving her damp breasts to pucker in the cool air. “And then you strolled in tonight wearing that bit of fabric to hide your pussy and all I could think about was flipping it up and tasting you.”
Jo’s body heated more at his sensual words. If he didn’t put action to them soon, she might flip him over and sit on his face to get what she needed. Men were such self-serving creatures when it came to sex, she often had to manage them in the bedroom to ensure any personal satisfaction. With a flex of her muscles, she prepared to do just that when he slipped between her thighs and spread them wide. Slowly he drew his fingertip through her dampness, gathered it up, and sucked it between his lips. Her hips bucked involuntarily as she ached to be filled up.
He moaned and ripped his finger from his mouth before he pushed his face between her thighs. With a harsh cry of pleasure, she dug her fingers into his hair as he lapped at her pussy, driving her insane with broad, flat strokes followed by little nibbles here and there. When he drove his tongue deep within her, she couldn’t help her body’s need to thrust, to greedily demand more. He withdrew only to slip his fingers inside as he returned to licking and sucking her clit. She had not felt desire like this before, such intense pleasure, and at one point it scared her a little. But, her body was flying so close to the edge that all she could do was surrender to it as he pulled his fingers free and suckled her core, plunging deep with his tongue until she came apart for him.
“Griff!” flew from her l
ips as she held on to his head and rode both his tongue and wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her. “Yes! Don’t stop, please…” her words dissolving into muttered curses and incoherent phrases.
As she came down from her climax, he gently placed kisses over her swollen and heated flesh until her breathing regulated. Then he climbed up her body to lay next to her while she recovered. All the while, he stroked her skin, her breasts, her hair, letting her know he was there. As her haze faded, she arched into his strokes, enjoying the fresh stirrings of pleasure. Then she curled up to sitting and angled to face him. “You, sir, have hidden talents.”
“You may be right.” He winked at her, a wicked smile on his still wet lips.
“Cheeky, blighter. I’ll show you who has talent around here.” And with renewed determination, she opened the flap of his trousers and freed his cock.
With single-minded purpose, she flicked her tongue out and lapped at the dewy tip as a shudder rippled through him. Enjoying her power over such a strong-willed man, she swallowed the head of his shaft and began to work her way down his length. He groaned as she took inch after inch of his length deep in her throat.
“Bloody hell! That feels amazing.” He gasped as she continued working him into her mouth, retreating a bit, and then sinking further down until his entire length was encased in her mouth and throat.
Then she swallowed and he jackknifed partway up, her head clenched in his hands. Pulling her off his throbbing erection, he set her face away from his groin. “I have other plans for where I intend to come, and it’s not in your sweet mouth. Not tonight.”
Jo couldn’t help but grin as he pulled her up toward him and pushed her to her back again.
“I want those delectable thighs wrapped around me as I sink into your hot cunny.”
“No arguments here. If you need one, there are some French letters on the nightstand.” She waved over toward the steam-lamp on her bedside table and lay back.
London Calling Page 5
