I stretched my hands above my head and let him, sighing my way into yet another orgasm as he drove hard into me. I would be sore tomorrow with an ache so deep I could not soak it away. I relished the notion and drove my heels into his rigid buttocks, taking him deeper still.
My voice rose in panting, wordless begging as I came and this time he came with me, driving into me with a final groan so guttural it was almost a roar. I enfolded him in my arms as he fell upon me, gasping at the power of his release.
I slept a little, I think, despite the hardness of the floor. His weight upon me was warm and comforting, his pounding heart beating alongside mine. When he rolled from me I roused. My skin chilled rapidly, for the fire had long burned low. I shivered and protested sleepily. Sir lifted me in his arms and put me into bed. I snuggled beneath the coverlet, barely aware that he was quickly stripping off his clothing. I simply opened my arms and thighs when he slid between the covers. He pulled me close and tugged one thigh up onto his hip. I let my head rest upon his broad chest and slipped away to someplace safe and warm, a place I had not found with Robert, despite his earnest sweetness. Sir offered me a shelter and freedom from judgment that no other man could understand.
* * *
In the early morning hours, we lay in each other’s arms and talked.
“Sir, I have been thinking…”
“Hmm. I’m frightened now.”
I tugged vengefully at his chest hair. “Listen to me. Robert left me very well set, at least for a time. I’ve been considering that I need not find another protector for a while. I could use a bit of time to myself, and…” I trailed off. How to ask what I wanted to ask? Could he even afford to devote himself solely to me for a time? Would I be willing to share him with his female companions?
Exclusivity. Love given freely. These were dangerous thoughts for a courtesan. I might never regain my popularity if I rendered myself invisible now.
I might never want to.
“And?”
“I wondered … I thought … perhaps I might take a lover without recompense.”
His body stiffened. “Stay away from B____,” he ordered sharply.
I blinked. “What?”
Reaching across us both, he threw the covers off and swung his feet to the floor. I sat up chilled and naked to watch him stride across the room to the pile of his clothing. “W—wait—” I scrambled to find my chemise in the covers. “I was talking about—”
“You were talking about going against my counsel and dallying with that wastrel,” he snapped out, his voice a rasp. He was half dressed already. He turned on me with his lips tight with fury beneath his mask. “For once in your life, Ophelia, would you just do as you’re bloody told?”
My belly turned to ice at the anger I saw in him, but my spine snapped straight in response to his manner. “No man orders me.” Was that my voice, low and even and spiked with fury?
He finished pulling his shirt over his head and threw his hands wide. “No man or woman! You do not even care to restrain yourself! You can be as foolish and thoughtless as you like, for you care for no one but Ophelia!”
My heart was spinning and crying out against how matters were going so very wrong. My head, I fear, was as stubborn as always. Better to be entirely misunderstood than to give in, even once! I folded my arms and coldly watched him dress. “Don’t forget your cravat,” I reminded him. “I’ve no need of it, for I’ve one of my own.”
He slung the length of linen over his neck and stared at me for a long moment. “Is this it, then?”
I pretended not to understand.
His shoulders fell slightly. “Is this how we end, you and I? Over a scum-eater like B____?”
End? My heart gibbered in panic, running in tiny circles in my chest. My mind would not falter, not even to keep Sir by my side. If I gave in to his demands, what would be next? Would he begin to decide my friends, my wardrobe, the length of my hair? I had given up every expectation of a normal life in order to ride the winds of freedom. To clip my wings now would mean that I had been wrong all along.
So I gave nothing, said nothing, let him leave my house with naught but stony silence from me. I remained behind, still free.
However, those cherished winds now blew colder than they had before.
* * *
The next morning, I listlessly poked at my breakfast, breaking the dry toast into ever smaller squares while my tea grew cold. From the corner of my eye, I could see the always substantial pile of invitations. On the top lay a distinctive blue-tinted envelope. Another missive from Lord B____.
Why did I hesitate? Had I not ruined a treasured friendship in order to have this man?
Well, not precisely, but that had been the end result. If I did not pursue a liaison with him now, would I not be admitting to myself that I was wrong?
Heaven forfend. Wrong I dared not be. If I were wrong about this, I would be wrong about everything.
Besides, he was handsome and exciting. Indebted to his eyeballs as well, but what did that have to do with me? I was rich enough to entertain us both for months. Even then, if I ran short of funds, there were a dozen men who would sign away their inheritances for a single night with me. I might take one up on his offer, as some of the other courtesans were wont to do.
The Swan’s voice rang in my mind. “We are not prostitutes. We are artists of love.”
The Swan might not know everything. An affair could last for months or years.
So why not hours, if that was how I wished it?
Rebellion is a heady mix and I was drunk on it. I angrily pushed my breakfast tray from me and scrambled over my vast bed to the other side. My writing desk was in my bedchamber sitting room. Sitting down in the chair, nearly naked in my chemise, I removed paper and ink. Sharpening my quill took too long, for the strokes of my knife were too fierce by half. Finally, I dipped my quill and began.
My Dear Lord B____,
I have considered your offer of a carriage ride and find I am without distraction this evening. Perhaps an outing of this nature would suit. Call for me at sunset.
I had the note posted at once. It was rude and unromantic in the extreme. I knew he would not care, for tonight he would have me as he wished, naked and writhing above him in the carriage. Dark arousal made me slippery even as I wondered if I would regret my hastiness. It was too late now—the note was on its way and our liaison was already in progress.
As I rose, I felt a twinge of soreness from last night’s episode against the door. My thoughts turned to Sir but I did not allow them to linger there with him. I would not let Lord B____ fuck me quite yet, I decided. It would do him good to earn what he could not afford to buy.
It was odd that, for all I was giving myself freely, I had never felt more for sale.
Twenty
Boston
The promise of discovery had always kept Mick going. It was his reward. When an object would finally peek from its ancient tomb of sediment and rubble, all of time and space would fall away, only to be replaced with wonder.
Life at a dig site was often exhausting, filthy, and monotonous. His back and legs would ache. Progress could come painfully slow if at all. If the site was in the desert, his skin might start looking like beef jerky. In high-altitude temperatures he could get frostbite. The tropics might leave him waterlogged and covered in insect bites. Wherever the location, the days of frustration sometimes piled up into a mountain of doubt.
All of it was forgotten at the moment of discovery, however. The tiniest bone fragment. A coin. A primitive weapon once held in another human being’s hand. Whatever the find, it became Mick’s job to unravel its deepest mysteries. He lived for these moments, and the challenge they delivered to his door.
But this? Nothing had ever come close.
Piper was shockingly beautiful. Unexpected. She looked like a hot piece of cotton candy. A wet dream in little poofy fuck-me slippers. And the decadent display of flesh and sex had Mick sprouting a near-fatal hard-on
before he’d had time to enter the room.
His throat went bone-dry. “Piper,” he managed to croak. “What are you doing?”
Ah, yes—it was the stupidest comment ever made by a man in the course of human history. But that was the best Mick could do under the circumstances, since all of his available blood supply had just relocated to his cock.
She gave him a sly little smile and wiggled her delicious hips against what looked like satin sheets. He stared at her in awe, waiting for all the visual data to click in his brain.
“I’m seducing you, Dr. Malloy,” she said, her voice huskier than it had been all evening. “Haven’t you ever had a woman display herself like this for you?”
Crickets. Mick’s brain echoed with the sound of crickets. Then he couldn’t remember what she’d asked him but was pretty sure the answer was no. All he could focus on was the delicate vee of thong peeking out from between her juicy thighs.
“Mick?”
“I’m here,” he rasped.
Piper laughed. He liked what happened with her breasts when she did that—all the fascinatingly soft swells of female flesh began to rise and fall, popping their way out of the top of her …
Mick suddenly couldn’t recall the name for the thing she was wearing. A teddy? No. A camisole? No. Oh, Janey Mack, who gave a feckin’ rat’s arse what it was?
Then it suddenly dawned on him. This is for me. Whatever she’s wearing and everything she’s packing into it is for me. She’s doing this for me!
“Why don’t you come over here and get comfortable?” She patted the bed next to her.
Mick moved fast. If he dawdled, she might change her mind.
Piper brought her arm down from over her head and reached out for him. He dove right into her embrace. Immediately, he was struck by the heat of her skin, the heady scent of her girl flesh and hair.
“You relax,” she whispered. “I’ll get the champagne. Then I have a little surprise for you.”
Mick nearly choked. “You mean this isn’t the surprise?”
She giggled, slipped out of the bed, and walked on her fuck-me slippers right out the door. Okay. Her ass was completely bare. Nothing but gorgeous globes of pink perfection framed in thigh-highs and garter belt. Like it needed framing! Like he wouldn’t have noticed her ass unless it had been brought to his attention.
“Damn,” Mick sighed, falling back against the satin pillows and gazing up into the swags of silky gauze. So Piper wanted to seduce him into her trap? She wanted to fuck with his head? Grind his nose into the fact that she was the finest piece of female he’d ever be lucky enough to know, past, present, or future?
That worked for him.
“Are you ready?”
Mick shot up to a sitting position. She’d returned with a fresh and frosty bottle of bubbly and their glasses. He watched her place everything on top of the dresser, then turn her back to him, spreading her legs apart, locking her knees, and whipping her head around to smile at him over her shoulder.
Then, with Marvin Gaye being kind enough to provide the soundtrack for his second chance, Piper began to strip for him.
Mick swallowed hard. He grabbed the first little foo-foo satin pillow he could get his hands on—this one, ironically, was shaped like a giant breakfast sausage—and pressed it to his loins.
Piper’s hair went swinging across her bare back. She slowly twirled around, her pretty slim fingers working to loosen the laces on the thing she was wearing, all while her hips languidly swayed and circled. Unless Mick was hallucinating, the garment had opened enough that he could spy the barest hint of rosy pink nipple, hardening as it popped out into the air.
Suddenly, Piper stopped. “Would you prefer that I leave the stockings on?” she asked him.
Oh, she was a wayward minx, this one. Mick laughed. If he said, “No, take the feckin’ things off so I can run my tongue up and down your shins,” she’d think he was an animal. But if he said, “Hell, yes, leave ’em on!”—she might think he was a little twisted.
“You decide for now,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “If I want something off, it’ll come off. Trust me.”
She thought that was funny, did she now? Piper tipped her head back and laughed, her nipples getting full access to the air-conditioning with the movement. Then she straightened, walked to the end of the bed, and leaned forward on her hands. It offered him a fascinating view down the front of her … whatever it was … and a closer look at her tight and flat lower belly, the tiny triangle of the thong, the pinch of the garter belt into her blushing thighs.
He hugged the giant breakfast sausage to his lap.
“I have a proposition for you,” she said, those deep green eyes looking up at him through thick black lashes.
“I can see that,” he said.
One corner of her lips twitched. “Here’s the deal—I’d like to be in charge. There are some things I want to experiment with, and I think I’d be less inhibited if I set the pace.”
“Less inhibited? What’s that gonna look like?”
Her smile spread. “Stay tuned, Dr. Malloy.” She straightened again, bringing her fingers back to the laces on her …
“Piper,” he said, sighing. “What the hell is that thing you’re wearing?”
Her face fell. “You don’t like it?”
“Oh, Jaysus and Mary, yes, I like it! I feckin’ love it! I just can’t remember the name for it—my mind has gone completely blank because of how sexy you are.”
She giggled. “It’s a corset.”
“Ah! Of course!” Mick settled back down into the pillows, the sausage still strategically placed. He didn’t want to frighten the girl, after all. “So, uh, are you feeling uninhibited enough to take off the corset?”
“I believe I am,” she said, and she launched into the agonizingly sensual striptease that Mick knew would serve as the Continental Divide of his life—separating everything that had come before it from all that would come after.
* * *
She’d made him suffer terribly, and she felt a little guilty about it. For hours now she’d laved him with her tongue and stroked him with her hands and held him close and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe.
Piper looked at the poor man now, on the edge of coming again, and she sensed the basic unfairness of the whole proposition—she’d had four orgasms, and he’d had zero. Almost certain she’d met all the requirements of the First Sin, Piper decided it was time to move on.
She pulled her wet lips from his cock, so hot and swollen for so long now, and sat up on her haunches on the bed. The sudden movement caused one of her garters to snap loose. She noticed there was a run in the left leg of her stocking. Her breasts were decorated with hickeys.
Piper reached around her for a condom. The sound of the foil being unwrapped caused Mick to open one eye.
“Please, woman, this better not be another way to tease me. I’m not sure how much strength I have left.”
“No more teasing,” she said, handing Mick the condom and watching as he hoisted himself up from the bed on his muscled arms, his dark curls in disarray, his blue eyes glazed over.
He was such a beautiful man. She’d been studying his beauty for hours now, but the sight of him still took her breath away. His face had softened in arousal, contrasting with the hard contours of his flesh, bones, and tendons, the masculine tapering of his torso, and the dusting of springy black hair around his magnificent man parts.
“Actually,” Piper whispered, “I think it’s time for fucking.”
His eyes popped wide.
“Do you want to fuck me, Mick?”
Apparently, he did, because Piper was tossed toward the end of the bed and in seconds Mick was all over her, his fingers laced in hers, his hips pressing her thighs wide apart, his lips smothering hers, all while he kept mumbling, “Yes, yes, yes.”
The moment was upon her. The tip of his cock pushed into her. Since her body had been warmed up with Mick’s fingers and tongue for what had
felt like days of foreplay, she was soaking wet for him. He slid into her with a moan of relief.
But was it his moan or hers?
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to Piper. Nothing but the sensation of his hard cock and his lips and the tingling she felt beginning yet again, this time from deeper within her body, flooding her, erasing all thought, all sense of order, normalcy, limits, lifting her higher …
She jolted, sharp pleasure striking into the core of her.
“That’s it, Piper,” Mick encouraged her, dragging his lips down her throat, over her collarbones, as she arched into him.
“Squeeze me. Come all over me. Bloody scream if you want to.”
So she did. And she felt Mick switch into overdrive, grabbing her ass in his hands and focusing all his body’s energy on getting deeper into her, faster, harder. She felt Mick’s big body shudder, clench tight as he called out her name, then slowly unwind.
Many long moments later, Mick chuckled into her ear. “There’s only one she-devil around here, and it’s you,” he said.
Even in her postsex stupor, Piper found the energy to smile.
* * *
Mick dragged his sorry arse into the museum Monday morning, arriving a good half hour late, floating in a Zen-like zone of sexual contentment, his bones liquified, his flesh slightly sore, and his mind stuck on one thing:
What the hell did Piper have planned for tonight?
He wasn’t complaining. On the contrary—he’d never had such a wild three-day sensual bonanza in his life, and he was already signed up for four additional installments. He just thanked God he was young, healthy, and in the best physical shape of his life, because anything less and he’d already be a dead man.
It started with Friday’s over-the-top seduction, which culminated in an all-night marathon of fiery sex. By the crack of dawn, Mick realized that Piper was a woman with a heretofore unexplored subterranean sexual landscape chock-full of surprises. It was going to be an interesting week.
Saturday brought an edible sexual orgy—cream and honey and chocolate-covered strawberries—dear God, there was sweet juice of every description running everywhere! Piper told him she simply wanted to give him an opportunity to take a big bite out of life, which was right about the time he sank his teeth into her arse and they fell off the bed laughing. He didn’t go hungry that day, that was certain. Thankfully, Piper had plenty of towels about the place.
A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man Page 19
