Pleasuring the Lady (The Pleasure Wars) (16 page)

She nodded, a jerky motion.

“They do it because some people like to
be
watched while they share their bodies. Others go there because they like
to
watch.” He cupped one breasts absently, strumming her hard nipple with his thumb. “Did you like to watch them?”

She hesitated, and he gave her a stern gaze.

“No lies now, Portia. I won’t judge you.”

“I-I did feel arousal while watching them copulate.” She arched as he touched her, her breath coming short as her body reacted to him and to what they were discussing. Most interesting, indeed. “And now that you and I have…now that I understand more fully, remembering that night makes me—”

She cut herself off and he chuckled. “Wet?”

Her face jerked to him. “Is that normal?”

He smiled. The more she talked, the more innocent she seemed, and it was confusing and amazing and arousing all at once.

“It is exactly what you want. The slickness your body creates makes my entering you more comfortable and pleasurable for us both,” he assured her. He lowered his hand between her legs to press his fingertips inside of her. “And making you wet is certainly a great pleasure.”

She whimpered, twisting to get closer, and he withdrew his fingers.
 

“We won’t get anything done this way.” He laughed.

She struggled to regain her composure and then sucked in a harsh breath. “And what of you, Miles. Do
you
like to watch?”

He nodded without hesitation. “I like to watch and sometimes to be watched by others. And the idea of being caught can be quite arousing, as well, when it comes to pleasuring in public arenas. You recall our encounter in my office earlier today.”

“Anyone could have come in,” she said.
 

“That’s the fun of it,” he replied. Now his body was stirring after the satisfied slumber of release. His cock began to ache.

“So you will have me be a part of those desires?” she asked.

He nodded. “I would very much like to see you become aroused by watching others. I want you to watch others even while you, yourself, are touched and pleasured.”

She considered that a moment. “Will it be known that it is me?”

He shrugged. “Your face would be covered, but I’m sure some will guess. Now that you are married, it will be less talk, for anyone there is also participating in something they would not want the world at large to know about, either.”

“Funny that my innocence condemned me more than my true wickedness will,” she mused.

“That is the way of the world, I fear,” he said.
 

She stared up at him. “Will I be…will I be safe?”

He drew back. “Yes. Always. I would never leave your side or expose you to anyone who might wish to harm you.”

An uncertain expression remained on her face, and he frowned.

“You can depend on me, Portia. You will come to realize that.”

She was silent for a moment, but then her hand lifted and she wound her fingers into his hair and drew his lips to hers. He claimed them eagerly, sucking her tongue gently as he rolled to cover her a second time. His cock was hard, having swollen and readied during their talk, and he gently breeched her, taking care because she was probably still sore from their first joining.

She was like heaven around him, hot and tight, squeezing him with internal muscles like a natural wanton would do. He rocked into her, reveling in how she lifted her hips to meet him while moans and mewls of pleasure left her lips with every thrust.

He kept up those steady, gentle strokes for a long time, until he lost track of the count of them, until her breath caught and her nails dug into his shoulders. Beneath him, she began to shake, biting her lip and gasping as her crisis built. Finally, she let out a cry and her body convulsed beneath him, shaking as she came.

Her reaction, so real and so genuine, drove him over the edge, and for the second time he let loose his seed inside of her, crying out her name as he pounded the last of his pleasure into her arching body.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly as he fell against her body, his breath short and his heart pounding. Gently, she smoothed her fingers down his spine.
 

He relaxed against the unexpectedly tender touch. Women in his life always knew their place. They were lovers—they didn’t expect to last longer than a night. Even his mistresses had always accepted the boundaries he placed upon them. He liked sex and that was all he required from any female who shared his bed.

So it had been a very long time since someone offered more. Offered…this.

He extracted himself from her arms gently and rolled to lie beside her on the bed. She shot him a side-glance but did not follow or demand anything more.
 

“Sleep now,” he said, trying to soften the distance he had just placed between them. “You have earned the rest.”

Her lips parted, almost as if she wanted to say something else to him, but stopped herself. Then she slowly rolled to her side facing away from him and closed her eyes.

He watched her for a long time. He watched her breathing slow and become more even, he watched her relax into slumber and even knew when she began to dream as her hands clenched and she murmured incoherent words in her sleep.

But it wasn’t the words she whispered that he wondered about. It was what she was going to say before she rolled away that haunted him. And it was the thought that maybe, just maybe, she had thought of another man all day. Or that she wished she was in someone else’s bed.

“It doesn’t bloody matter,” he said with a shake of his head as he flopped a forearm over his eyes and tried to force sleep upon himself. “If she doesn’t care for you any deeper than a friendship, any deeper than desire, it is all the better for her. For you.”

But as he slipped into his own dreamless slumber, a piercing thought intruded. There was a screaming voice he couldn’t silence that told him he was wrong. That maybe, for once in his life, he
should
want more. That maybe, for the first time ever, he could have more.

Portia’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked around the chamber in a moment of confusion. This wasn’t her tiny room with its rickety furniture and lumpy bed that made her back ache. This was…

Then her mind cleared. This was Miles’ house. This was her husband’s bed, where she had spent her wedding night exploring pleasure and discussing a shocking future she could scarce imagine.

She rolled onto her back, lifting the sheet to cover her bare breasts. She was alone, though the rumpled sheets spoke of Miles being there with her through the night. That and a neatly folded note resting there with her name scrawled across the face.

She plucked it from its place and sat up. Before she read it, she shook her head. How had she not heard him get up? Normally, she was on pins and needles all night long. The slightest blowing of the breeze would wake her. But here…she had apparently slept like the dead.

With a sigh, she opened the note and read, “When you wake, ring and someone will help you ready yourself. If I am not in the dining room, please find me in my office. M.”

The words weren’t exactly romantic, but they weren’t cold either. They were simply there, a deeper meaning unreadable, just as everything was with Miles. He showed her a surface self, but nothing more.

“Do I want more?” she muttered as she got out of bed.
 

Her clothing was gone. Another piece of evidence that she had slept very well, indeed, but a robe had been left draped across the chair for her. She pulled it on and rang for a servant.

Almost immediately, a girl arrived with a smile.

“Good morning, Lady Weatherfield,” she said, cheery as she entered the room.
 

“Oh my,” Portia said with a shake of her head. “That is me, isn’t it?”

The young woman laughed. “Indeed. You’ll get used to it soon enough. My name is Bridget and I’m a maid for the house, but I’ll serve as your lady’s maid until you choose another. Why don’t we go into your chamber?”

Portia blinked but followed the girl slowly. Now that it was daylight, she could finally see the bedroom that would be called hers. As she passed through the door, she caught her breath.

It was beautiful. It was three times as big as her chamber in the house her brother provided, with a massive cherry wood wardrobe and a matching dressing table. A full-length mirror sat in one corner. The walls had been painted a soft, rabbit-fur gray with white and slight rose accents throughout the fine paintings and other décor.

Portia swayed on her feet and only just caught the back of the chair beside the dressing table to steady herself. Immediately Bridget was at her side, her eyes wide.
 

“Oh, my lady, are you well?”

Portia blushed. “Yes, I am fine, I’m sorry. It’s only—” Tears stung her eyes and she covered her mouth to keep a sob in. “I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve had such a fine room. Since I’ve had anything that was just…
mine
.”

The maid’s expression softened. “Well, you have that and more here, my lady,” she said quietly as she produced a handkerchief seemingly from nowhere. “And his lordship has already declared that you should change anything you like in this room to personalize it.”

Portia shook her head. “I wouldn’t change a thing,” she whispered.

Bridget chose not to answer and instead turned toward the wardrobe. “Let me select one of your pretty new gowns and we can have you ready in a moment.”

Portia smiled as the girl opened the wardrobe and began to flick through the small collection of gowns. She was very good. The very best servants knew when to be kind, but also when to give an employer his or her space to compose themselves.

Which Portia did before the young woman turned back, holding up a new dress. It was a lovely pale green with fine hand-stitched accents.

“This one will be very pretty with your hair,” Bridget suggested.

Portia nodded. “Very well.”

In a moment, the maid had stripped her from the silken robe and began to help her into the dress.
 

“His lordship said to let you have your breakfast, but if you’d like a bath after, we can begin to prepare one.” Bridget cast her eyes down. “It may…help.”

Portia blushed, but what was there to be said? The previous night being her wedding night—the entire household knew what she had been doing.
 

“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Portia said, then hastened to change the embarrassing subject. “How long have you worked here?”

Bridget smiled as she fastened buttons and smoothed silk carefully. “Oh goodness, near five years now. My mama was once a maid here. When she died, I was offered a place by Lord Weatherfield himself.”

Portia shook her head. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty-one. To lose her mother so young hurt Portia to her soul.

“That was kind,” she replied when it was clear Bridget expected a response.
 

“Oh yes, very kind. But he is the very best of masters, as any of the servants will tell you. Never sharp and always willing to help. He is generous in his wagers and the days we have to ourselves.”

Portia sucked in the new information like a greedy sponge. She knew full well that a man could easily be measured by his treatment of his servants. Her father and her brother were both terrible to theirs. That Miles was respected and even liked by those in his employ spoke highly of him.

“And what of the house?” Portia pressed. “Is there anything I should know as I embark upon my new life here?”

Bridget finished with the gown and motioned for Portia to sit at the dressing table where she began to brush her tangled blond hair.

“Let me think. There is a glorious library downstairs that Lord Weatherfield encourages everyone in the house to enjoy freely. And a music room where Lady Tennille…” The girl blushed. “I’m sorry, Lady Brinforth, once practiced her pianoforte daily. She is a talented musician.”

Portia bit her lip. Although it was expected for ladies of her station to be proficient in some kind of art, she had never been encouraged to play or sing or sew or anything else. Either money or mocking had kept her from pursuing those things.

“I cannot wait to have the pleasure of hearing her play,” Portia finally said with an only slightly forced smile.
 

“Oh and the garden is most beautiful,” Bridget added as she pressed a final pin into Portia’s locks and smiled at the reflection. “There, you look lovely, my lady. I’m sure your husband and your mother will be enchanted.”

Portia jolted a little at the statement and stared up at the maid. “My—my mother?”

The girl seemed to sense her surprise and shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. They are having a meal together in the breakfast room that faces the east.”

Portia swallowed, trying not to think of how that was going. “How long have they been together?”

Bridget shook her head. “Half an hour, perhaps?”

Portia pushed to her feet. “Show me to the breakfast room, Bridget. Hurry!”