My Naughty Minette (3 page)

He stroked her hair, finding it soft and curly, sprung loose from her staid servant’s cap. He couldn’t see her face in the darkness but he remembered a pert nose and saucy mouth. He breathed in her sweet, flowery scent and caressed her soft skin. Esme had soft, fragrant skin like this. He might even pretend this girl was Esme if he wished it. One willing body was very like another, especially at this dark hour, on this witching night when he’d been born so many years ago.

“Have you come to be my special treat?” he whispered, drawing her pliable body closer. “Oh, but you smell pretty. You’re kind to visit me.”

She made some soft, sleepy sound in response. He knew he must be gentle with this young trollop. She’d be experienced—she wouldn’t have come to his bed otherwise—but he had to remember she was a Berkshire maid, not a London whore. He traced the curve of her waist and hips through the thin cotton of her night shift. She gave a light, breathless sigh, arching against him. She was petite but beautifully feminine, with great, round breasts and a bottom that filled his hands.

“How sweet you are,” he said, chuckling at her cuddlesome manner. “Will you give me a kiss? It’s my birthday, you know.”

She didn’t answer. These servant girls could be so shy around proper gentlemen. He cupped her chin and tried to kiss her, but he ended up grazing her nose in the darkness before he found his way to her lips. Her kisses were shy too, but her fingers crept up his shoulders and curled in his hair in a decidedly welcoming way.

“You want to be here with me, don’t you?” he asked, just to be sure. “You didn’t get lost on your way back to the servants’ quarters?”

She went still, and he thought for one moment that she’d rise and leave him there, aroused and unsatisfied. But then she said, in a soft, whispery voice, “Yes, I want to be here.”

The way she said it had him rock hard. “I’ll make it good for you, my little pretty,” he promised. He kissed her again, entranced by her freshness, her reticence even as she pressed her body closer to his. “We’re going to have a fine time together this Hallowe’en night. You’re not afraid of ghosts and goblins, are you?”

She whispered in that same soft voice, “No, milord. I’m not afraid.”

His fingers played over her knee and then trailed up the bare skin of her thigh. She wasn’t bold and brassy like Dirty Esmeralda, but she was equally luscious in her way. He caught the hem of her shift and bunched it in his palm, drawing it upward. “I’m going to take this off. I want to be able to touch you everywhere and make you feel good.”

“That sounds...nice.”

He went by touch rather than sight, inching the garment over her head, though she tried to grasp it back at the end. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll lay it right here so you can find it later. I’ll let you back to your bed by dawn, so you don’t risk the housekeeper’s wrath.”

“Oh. Thank you. That’s very important.”

The formal, polite way she said this made him smile. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you? Silly girl.” He drew her closer, not to maul her or anything. He wanted to enjoy her for a while, trace her curvy waist and squeeze and suckle her bounteous breasts. She made the most erotic sighs as he caressed her. She twitched and tensed, and grasped his shoulders, giving herself up to sensation as they lay together in the dark. His mind wandered to thin, icy Lady Priscilla. No, he didn’t want to think about her now, not with this willing, warm angel in his bed. He stroked his palms up and down the maid’s back.

“What’s your name, missy?” he asked.

Silence again. The little imp. Did she think he wouldn’t recognize her in the light of day? Did she think he didn’t very well know who’d been making eyes at him all week?

“Mary,” she finally said. It was probably a false name, but that was all right. He’d call her whatever she wished as long as she spread her thighs for him and helped dispel some of his frustration this dreary night. Her feminine scent compelled him, and the feel of her curves made him want to thrust his cock inside her.
No, not yet.
The night was young and she was fun to play with, with her squirms and her little sighs. He petted her, stroked her, made soothing sounds as he dropped kisses upon her lips and down the column of her neck.

“Mary,” he murmured. “How I love your breasts.” He helped himself to a handful of one tit, and locked his lips around the other, nibbling gently at her nipple. He wasn’t the type of lover to spout poetry. He preferred to let his fingers and lips make the poetry, and she didn’t seem to mind. His hand tightened on her waist as he teased and licked the pointed peak. She panted beneath him as if she’d never experienced such sensation before. He suckled the other breast to hear the sound again, a moan of shock and discovery. Poor lass. Her previous partners must have been quick and neglected her pleasure. All the more reason to take his time.

“You like that, do you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered in the darkness. “It feels wonderful.”

He paid court to her gorgeous breasts until her nails dug into his back, until her nipples were so hard and tight he could trace their contours with the tip of his tongue. He bit down on one rather hard, just to see what she would do. The nails dug deeper and her hips bucked; a ragged mewl escaped. How delightful these servant girls could be. He generally stuck to a small circle of working women in London. They were marvelous at their art, but tended to stay detached at the end of it. This lovely blonde lass had an open, uncontrived manner that charmed him, that made him think of softness and playfulness, and comfortable things.

He squeezed her rounded bottom, traced down her thighs, then eased her legs apart to explore her feminine folds. He delved down into her soft fluff of curls and palmed the heat of her pussy. She tensed, going still in his arms.

“No, don’t fret,” he said. “Open for me, Mary. Let me see if you’re feeling naughty or nice.”

She trembled a little, so he kissed her until she calmed and then he pressed his fingers deeper, into her sleek, secret place. “Oh, what’s this?” he teased. “You’re feeling naughty indeed. I’m glad.” He smiled against her lips. She was so hot and wet, and so responsive. He decided he couldn’t go through the rest of his life without knowing the taste of this novel creature, so he ducked beneath the covers, from darkness into more darkness.

His little angel gasped, and reached down as if to stop him. Goodness, didn’t these country boys know how to properly satisfy their partners? “Let me do it,” he said, pressing a kiss against her belly. “Open your legs and let me kiss your pretty pussy.”

Some of the tension left her as she ceased to resist. With a satisfied growl, he parted her quim with his thumbs and licked across slick folds until he found the little nub of flesh that made her jerk in reaction. His entire world was her scent and her trembling, and her soft, throaty sighs, which he had already memorized by heart. How exciting, to explore and experiment without sight. He was obliged to learn her needs through his other senses, which proved to be a rousing endeavor. She tasted piquant and sweet, and innocent and wicked. Noises filtered down to him beneath the covers, more groans and muffled moans. She needn’t be so quiet, he thought, for the heavy bed curtains provided them an impermeable fortress from the world.

With time and patience, and the gift of his big mouth, he eased the shaking in her limbs, and had her arching to him instead. Lick and stroke, nip there, suck here. Eventually, she forgot about being quiet and became rather vocal. His cock swelled, aching to be inside her, but this was so diverting. She was going to come for him, he could feel it. He eased a finger up inside her, mimicking the sex act, pushing it in and out in rhythm to her jerks and pleading breaths. It would be good to have her well primed before he mounted her.

“Yes, that’s it,” he whispered between grazing nips of his teeth. “Yes, naughty girl. Is it good for you?”

Her legs tensed again, pressing against his ears. He concentrated on her pearl, teasing licks and then more pressure, and was rewarded with an abandoned cry. She even sounded like an angel when she came. He chuckled against her skin and gave her one last lick for good measure, and found his way back up in the dark by way of lingering kisses. Hips, belly, breasts, shoulders, neck. Ah, there were her lips, moist and slightly parted. He licked and kissed them, wishing he could see the expression on her face, but not wishing to disturb this dark, mysterious intimacy.

“That was a lovely way to begin,” he whispered. “Don’t you agree?”

*** *** ***

Begin?
Minette thought.
What else are you planning to do?

She lay in his arms, replete, appalled, and rather hellishly conflicted. She knew she must stop this, but at the same time, she wanted to see what other wonders August might be able to perform. After all, who ever imagined a man could pleasure a woman in such an outrageous fashion? Who ever imagined the rush of warmth and completion he might give her as his mouth and hands played over her body?

She’d dreamed so many nights of lying beside Lord August and basking in the warmth of his embrace. She’d dreamed of him touching her and kissing her with lustful abandon. In fact, she had wished for it so badly that when she awakened to find it happening, she thought herself still in the throes of a dream. Long moments had gone by when she was half asleep and half awake, long moments before she became aware that she was actually, in true reality, in Lord August’s bed.

Her blasted sleepwalking. She ought to have confessed to her brother that it had started again. Warren would have locked her in, or asked Townsend to station a footman at her door.

Then you wouldn’t have had this.

But she
shouldn’t
have this. My goodness, he was making free with her person in a very licentious way, and he wasn’t finished yet. In his defense, he thought her a kitchen maid, and she let him believe it, because otherwise she would have to go away, and it was August, whom she had loved and idolized for so many years...

Oh, he was so warm and so large and so
real
next to her, and had apparently gone to bed tonight without any clothes. In her folly, she’d allowed him to undress her too, and give her all manner of caresses, things she hadn’t even read about in romantic novels. At least she didn’t think she had. The language was often flowery and nonspecific.

While she lay there trying to think back to some of the more instructive passages, August stroked her skin, and fondled her breasts and put his mouth upon them, teasing her nipples with his teeth until she shuddered in a helpless kind of trance. Minette knew she ought to stop him. She
really
ought to stop him and leave. But it felt so good, and she would never, ever have another chance to feel this way, especially once he was betrothed to Lady Priscilla.

And so she dithered and sighed, and clutched his thick, dark hair that was so much softer than she had ever believed. She wished she could see him, see his warm, muscled body lying beside her. Of course, she’d memorized every aspect of his hands, and his face, the only parts of him that showed outside his clothes. If only she could see the rest of him. If only this encounter between them was real, and not some dream-launched caper that would only lead to misfortune.

“Mary,” he sighed.

Yes, Mary. She was Mary for this hour. She’d stay an hour and then she’d tell him she had to go back to the kitchens. Servants rose at early hours. She was Mary, a naughty, wanton servant girl who’d crept into the Earl of Augustine’s bed to warm him on his birthday night.

Minette Bernard, this has gone on long enough. You’re playing a dangerous game.

Just a half hour, perhaps, and then she’d find the strength and opportunity to go. It was only so pleasant to be hugged and touched and caressed by the long-time lover of her dreams.

“You’re very quiet,” he said. His fingers found her face in the dark, and traced down her cheeks to her parted lips. “What now, my angel? Would you like a chance to use this pretty mouth?”

“To kiss you?” she asked. She tried to use a different tone and inflection, the way the servants talked. If he discovered her identity now...oh, what a terrible scene.

“Yes, to kiss me.” He knelt up in the bed. She could hear his movement in the darkness, and feel the mattress dip. She could just make out the outline of his body. So large and strong. He reached and groped for her hand, and pressed it downward along his torso.

Oh, my. He placed it on a hard, hot shaft of flesh, and moved it up and down. She didn’t know if she was touching him or...well. What else could she be touching? But this part of his body was so big and stiff, so much larger than it looked tucked in his breeches. Not that she spent a great deal of time studying men’s breeches. Only August’s breeches, when he wasn’t looking at her, of course, and she knew she’d never seen anything this large outlined beneath the fabric’s surface. Thank goodness it was dark so he couldn’t see her flushing in shock.

“Go ahead and kiss it,” he said. “Don’t be shy.”

He brushed fingers into her hair and drew her face right down to him, to
it
. She felt panic. Kiss it? The way he had kissed her down there? “I— I’m sorry, milord, I don’t know how,” she said in a shamefaced whisper.

He laughed. “Country girls. If you don’t want a chance at it, I suppose it’s all right. I’m not going to last much longer anyway.”

Oh, thank goodness. Minette believed things had gone rather far enough. If this interlude was nearly over, well, she would miss the pleasant closeness of it, but it was probably for the best.

He drew her down beside him and pressed his great, distended shaft against her hip. She still felt troubled by this unfamiliar aspect of his body, but then he caressed her again with deft, knowing touches that made her melt inside. He kissed her, his warm, sweet breath tasting faintly of brandy. She felt transported by his strange roughness that also felt like gentleness.
Thank you, Mary, naughty servant girl, for giving me these moments.
She hummed in approval as he parted her legs and began to stroke her in that singular way. Her body grew even damper than it had been before.