Be My Lover (4 page)

The old sadness gathered around Emily’s heart. “I’m barren,
Jocelyn,” she reminded her friend. “If there’s one thing I know about Anthony
Dyson, it’s that he wants children. And that’s the one thing I can’t give him.
I’ve promised to help him find a good wife, hopefully some pretty young girl
from a large family. That would suggest she could be fertile enough to give him
several children. And in exchange for helping him find a wife, he’ll act as my
protector to keep away the fortune hunters. It makes perfect sense.”

“Hmmm…” Jocelyn glanced around the newssheet. “Well, all I
can say is you better find your own house as soon as possible. That is, unless
you plan on staying here.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Listen to this.” Jocelyn unnecessarily cleared her throat.
“The ever-popular Lady Felicia Barclay held one of her famous dinner parties
last night, an invitation to which is coveted nearly as much as one to Carlton
House. To everyone’s surprise and delight, the Duke of Bradford was in
attendance, marking his return from Florence. With him was the beautiful Mrs.
Emily Martin, a widow also recently arrived in London and who is rumored to
have inherited an annuity running to five figures.”

“Who wrote that?” Emily put aside her cup and reached for
the paper.

“Someone who collects Society news,” Jocelyn said, putting
the paper aside. “A day in London and you have a lover and the notice of the
ton
.
Yes, you need a house of your own as soon as possible.”

“My lady, the Duke of Bradford,” Orlando announced from the
door.

“Good morning, ladies.” Anthony entered with his easy
stride. Jocelyn offered him her hand and after taking it and bowing, he did the
same to Emily. His gaze roamed over her in an umber-hued study as he raised her
hand to his lips.

“Nice dress,” he murmured.

“Sit,” she commanded.

He took his place beside her and accepted the cup Jocelyn
offered. “Do you have a riding habit Emily could borrow for a few days,
Jocelyn?” he asked. “Just until she gets her own made?”

“Why would I need a riding habit?” Emily asked.

“Because that’s what women wear when they go riding,”
Anthony quipped. “Excellent coffee, Jocelyn.”

“You’ve bought her a horse?” Jocelyn accused, the
conspiratorial grin returning to her face. “I’m sure that set the tongues at
Tattersall’s wagging.”

Emily smiled as she sipped her coffee. Life was truly
becoming most interesting.

“Well, since I was buying one for myself, I thought I might
as well buy two,” Anthony drawled. “Besides, the price was good.” He drained
his cup and set it on a nearby table. “Come, Emily. I want to show her to you.”
He stood and pulled Emily to her feet.

Jocelyn gave them a benevolent smile. “I suppose you’ll be
traveling to Lady Featherstock’s rout in your own carriage this evening,
Anthony?” she asked.

“Of course,” Anthony said. “Starts at eight o’clock?”

“Yes and it wouldn’t do to be terribly late,” Jocelyn said,
primly. “You know what a stickler she is for guests arriving on time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But the devilish sparkle in his eyes
set off warning bells in Emily’s head. Anthony Dyson was the Duke of Bradford.
He could arrive late for his own funeral and no one would say a word of
complaint.

“Then I’ll be sure to send over more suitable clothing for
Emily for the rest of the day and for tonight,” Jocelyn promised. “Just in case
she doesn’t get back here in time.”

Outside in Anthony’s carriage, Emily stared at him. “Did you
really buy me a horse or did you just want me all to yourself?”

“Yes to both.” The glitter in his eyes was almost blinding.
“Jocelyn knows we’re lovers, doesn’t she?”

“She guessed it,” Emily said. “She said I was glowing and
that I had better find a house of my own soon, especially since a gossip sheet
mentioned us being at Barclay’s last evening.”

“Well if the
ton
suspects we’re lovers, they won’t be
disappointed. Tell me, Emily. Have you ever made love before noon?”

An aching desire throbbed between her legs. “No. But I’ve a
feeling that’s about to change.”

The wink he gave her was beyond naughty. “Indeed, my dear.
Indeed.”

Feeling naughty herself, she winked in return. “Well, then.
Let the lessons begin.”

“A bath?” Emily stared at the enormous, high-sided porcelain
tub. Steam rose from its depths, filling the room with the pleasing and
soothing aromas of mint and lemon balm.

“Well, I didn’t bathe this morning,” Anthony said, slipping
an arm around her waist. “If you had, Davis would have told me. So after
leaving Tattersall’s, I came here and ordered him to prepare one for us. And
I’ve left strict orders we are not to be disturbed unless the hotel catches
fire.”

“What about our going riding?”

His grin would have done Satan proud. “I had a different
kind of riding in mind.”

“Anthony!” She pinched his arm.

Laughing, he picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and
set her on the bed where he quickly rid her of her clothing. “Stand up,” he
ordered. “And turn around slowly.”

She did as he said, relishing the warmth of his gaze
traveling over her body. When she faced him again, his expression sent her
heartbeat roaring into her ears. Awe covered his face and he ran a finger from
where her pulse throbbed under her throat down to her navel.

“Sweet heaven,” he whispered. “And I thought you were
beautiful by candlelight.”

“May I undress you?” she returned his whisper.

He tucked a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I’d
like that. But if I may offer a suggestion, start with my boots.”

He sat on the bed and she tugged off the suggested items,
followed by his stockings, cravat, his jacket and linen shirt. Her hand hovered
over his breeches and, kneeling, she gently put her hand on his member. “Is
this what seeing me naked does to it?”

“Yes,” he sighed, standing. “Now will you please, please
remove my breeches?”

She had them and his drawers off in a flash and he groaned
as his cock sprang free from its confinement. “Ahhh…” he sighed again. “That’s
better.”

“It looks angry,” she said, pointing at the quivering organ.

“It’s because he’s going to have to wait,” Anthony growled.
“Davis will have a fit if we let the water get cold and he has to have more
brought up. Come.”

Leading her by the hand, he returned them to the bathroom.
The steam was almost gone, but a soothing scent remained. Anthony helped Emily
into the tub, then climbed in and sat facing her, stretching out his legs.

“It’s a very big bathtub, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I had it custom made.” He took the soap and washcloth from
the rack hanging over the side. “So is the soap.”

He dunked the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and then
ran the soap over it. The scent increased and Emily inhaled deeply. “It smells
wonderful,” she said.

“Almond oil,” he told her. “Very good for the skin. Here,
I’ll show you. “

He leaned forward and ran the cloth over Emily’s collarbone,
working his way over her breasts in a steady, gentle motion, holding one breast
while he washed the other. She closed her eyes and her contented breathing
filled the room.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she purred. “Yes.”

“Good.” He moved his hand to wash her belly, and then went
lower. Without being told, she moved her legs so her knees were up and she was
open to him. Carefully, he scrubbed her legs before moving the cloth to massage
the curls covering her vulva, maneuvering along her cleft. She gasped and
clutched the sides of the tub as he touched the sweet spot before slipping his
finger inside her.

“Ahhh…” She exhaled her pleasure, opened her eyes and
smiled. “I think it’s time I washed you, Your Grace.”

He squinted and pursed his lips as he removed his finger.
“Before I wash your back? Inconceivable.”

Her smile widened. “I think,” she said, drawling her words,
“you’re just looking for another chance to touch my tits.”

“Tits? Tits, is it? Good heavens! Such language from a
lady.” He daubed the soap-drenched cloth against her nose.

“A lady who’s getting very impatient to see about this
riding lesson we’re going to have in your bed,” she taunted, cuffing his chin.
“Very well. Wash my back, if you must.”

“As my lady wishes.”

She scooted around so her back was to him and he made quick
work of scrubbing it and only it. “Tease,” she accused, turning around again,
snatching the washcloth from him.

He sat with his knees up, draping his arms over the sides of
the tub. “Wash me,” he commanded.

“Is that your most duke-like voice?”

“One of them.”

She applied soap to the cloth once more and ran it over his chest
with one hand while tracing the fine dark hair with the other. She slid the
cloth lower to scrub his belly before reaching his cock. “Do I wash that, too?”
she asked.

“You’ll hurt his feelings if you don’t,” he said
plaintively. “Don’t forget my balls while you’re at it.”

Her free hand gently cupped him. “You mean these?”

“Those are the ones,” he agreed, releasing his own sigh of
contentment. “They feel good in your hand, Emily. But I think we’re almost
clean enough.”

“Not quite, Your Grace. Not quite.”

She moved her hand to hold his shaft while she gently ran
the cloth up and down its length. Anthony groaned in blissful agony.
“Damnation,” he gasped. “I really think we better get out of this tub right now
or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“What about your back?” she teased.

“I’ll let you wash it later.” Anthony grabbed two towels
from the stack on the chair next to the tub. Stepping out, he wrapped one
around his waist before draping the other one over his shoulders. He helped
Emily out, grabbed another towel and began to dry her. The soap had perfumed
her skin and, after dropping the towel, he ran his hands over her shoulders.
“Like satin,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her neck.

“Come,” she said softly, taking his hands. “Let’s not waste
another minute.”

“Of course,” he agreed, following her back into the bedroom.
“Let me show you how much fun making love in the late morning can be.”

Her brow wrinkled as they stretched out on the bed. “Fun?”

“Of course. Why bother otherwise?” He inched back so he was
lying against the pillows. “Straddle me.”

She swung one leg over him and braced her knees on the
mattress, supporting herself on her palms. “Like this?”

He put his hands on her hips. “Yes, but move up.”

Walking on her knees, she made her way up the bed until they
were face to face. “Stop,” he said. When she halted, he moved his hands across
the cheeks of her bottom. “You have the loveliest arse,” he praised.

She giggled. “I had a kitchen maid once who called it her
bum. ‘I fell down and ’urt me bum, ma’am’.”

“Ye’ve the loveliest bum, me lady,” he intoned, playfully
slapping it. “Or would you rather me call it your arse?”

She laughed, and then her expression turned quizzical. “Do
men like it when their lovers use words like bum and arse and tits?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, trying to ignore his throbbing
cock. “Some women are aroused when their lovers use coarse words.”

Her fingers slid through his chest hair again. “Are men
aroused when women use them?”

“Sometimes.”

Her eyes pinned him to the stack of pillows. “What do
you
like?”

“What do you want, Emily?”

She blushed but her gaze was steady. “I want to feel
wanton,” she whispered. “To lose myself in the pleasure you’ll give me.”

“You’re off to a good start,” Anthony praised, moving his
hands to cup her breasts. “Right now I want to touch these. Your beautiful,
incredible tits.”

Fingers working in tandem, he gently traced the edges of her
areolas before stroking her nipples. They darkened from rosy pink to dark mauve
and he moved down, bringing the pillows with him until he was almost beneath
her. “Lean forward,” he said. “Lean forward so I can taste you.”

She hovered over him and he held her right breast steady,
fastening his mouth on it, relishing the taste of her softness as he gently
massaged her left breast. Her sighs filled his ears and he nibbled and sucked
the hardened nipples while his hand gave her other breast the same attention.

“Do my tits taste good?” she asked shyly.

“Incredible,” he said, reluctant to move his mouth long
enough to answer. “Delicious. Wonderful.”

She leaned down to kiss him. “You don’t think my tits are
too small?”

“For what? Making a man happy?” Anthony kissed each one with
a loud smack. “They’re perfectly shaped and just big enough to fit into my
hands and my mouth. They don’t need to be any bigger.”

She swayed from side to side, her breasts swinging with the
movement. “Why did you want me to straddle you?”

“I’ll show you.” Anthony slid one hand down her breasts,
past her flat belly to between her legs. His fingers touched her moisture, warm
and slick. He slipped a finger inside her and her juices coated it. Slowly he
pulled it out, being sure to stop and stroke her clitoris. She gasped and he
smiled. “Do you like that?”

Her back arched slightly. “Yes.”

He ran his finger across her lips. “Taste them,” he
commanded.

She did and then he put his finger to his own mouth to savor
her essence. “I love the way you taste, Emily. “Dark and sweet and pungent.”

He replaced his hand between her legs, his finger tickling
her nubbin, and she gasped again. “Do men really want to use their mouths on
women like that?”

“Do you mean do they want to ‘eat’ them? If they don’t,
they’re fools. Mouths are just as much a part of making love as cocks slipping
in and out of love pots.”

A groan issued from her throat. “Is that what men call the
place between a woman’s legs? Her love pot?”

“There are other words,” Anthony said, watching the play of
passion spread across her face. “But that’s for later. Now is for this.”

He slowly eased the head of his cock inside her. Her walls
closed around him like the softest of gloves and he expelled a harsh breath.
“Damnation,” he said. “Just being inside you makes me harder.”

She moved her hips forward and then back ever so slightly,
sliding up and down his penis. “Mmm…” she whispered. “I like how this feels.”

“Do it again,” he rasped.

Nodding, she moved back until he was almost out of her then
slid forward. Anthony clutched his shaft and made sure this time his entire
length was lodged inside her. “Faster,” he said. “And harder.”

“I don’t want to break you,” she said, her hips starting to
take on speed.

“Believe me, Emily, you won’t.”

Her eyes glittered. “Then help me,” she said. “Drive
yourself into me as hard as you want. I want all of you. Every last sweet inch
of your lovely cock banging away.”

“Your wish is my command,” he groaned. Grabbing her hips, he
steadied her as she moved back and forth, burying his prick deep inside her.
Faster and faster she moved until Anthony’s hands fell to the sheets, twisting
them between his fingers while his heart threatened to explode.

“Sweet Jesu!” he cried, his back arching as he hit the
pinnacle and his seed spilled inside her. Her finishing cry echoed his and she
collapsed on top of him, arms outstretched, knees on either side of his hips,
her face buried against his chest.

“I can hear your heart beating,” she said after a moment.
The only other sound in the room was that of their rapid breathing slowing
down.

“I thought I was going to die from joy,” he sighed.

She propped her chin on his chest. “I’ve never done it like
that before.”

He stroked her cheek. “There are a lot of things you’ve
never done before, aren’t there?”

“When one is a vicar’s wife, there are limitations to what
one can do.” Her mouth took on a prim set, but her eyes sparkled like one who
had tasted a forbidden fruit for the first time.

“Not anymore,” he said, kissing her long and deep. “Not
anymore.”