Pleasuring the Lady (The Pleasure Wars) (19 page)

He stared at her, as if her words were foreign. As if he had never considered that possibility.
 

“Think of Lord Yeardley,” she said softly. “He ruined Isabel Krispen three years ago. She is in exile still, with a bastard child no less. He and his new wife, the one with the money and the good family, are still invited to
every
soiree of importance.”

He nodded. “Yes, you are correct. It is beastly. But I am not half the ass that Yeardley is, I hope you will grant me that.”

She stared at him, with his crooked smile and true regret in his eyes. It was almost as if he…understood her. Or at the very least, he truly listened to her. When was the last time that had happened outside of Ava?

“Yeardley isn’t fit to shine your shoes,” she said with a brief smile.

Their eyes met, and suddenly the mood in the room changed. She felt the desire in Miles grow and her own body answered those unspoken cues as they stared at each other.
 

Then he shook his head and rolled from the bed to stand up again.

“So what duties of a lady were you lamenting, exactly, when I came in?”

She shrugged. It seemed mundane to discuss these silly household matters with him, but since he had asked…

“Armstrong has a bevy of lady’s maid candidates for me to interview this week, but I admit I do not relish the task. I feel foolish doing it.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said with a shake of his head.
 

“Shouldn’t, but do,” she replied with a laugh she hoped sounded light. “I’m terribly out of practice with my ‘lady of the house’ routine. To be honest, I was never much good at it to begin with.”

He smiled. “Then what would make it easier?”

She drew back. “I’m sorry?”

“What would take the burden away?” he said. “Certainly there must be an alternative.”

“Well…I-I like Bridget, the maid who has been helping me. She is efficient, kind and very good at the role. I connected with her almost upon the first moment we met,” she admitted.

She waited for him to refuse her, to say she was foolish or to claim that Bridget was needed elsewhere in the house.

Instead, he shrugged. “Then tell Armstrong. Trust me, the man may look imposing, but he is a lamb on the inside. If you tell him you would like to commandeer Bridget for the task, he will grant that to you without hesitation, I’m certain.”

She swallowed. “Could
you
tell him?”

He stared at her for a long moment before he answered, “No. You will have to be able to manage the servants, my dear. You know that. But I will tell you what—I’ll go with you when you inform him.”

She bit her lip. That would do, for he was right that if she was to be mistress of this house, she couldn’t avoid managing it.

“Now?” she asked.

But he wasn’t watching her anymore. He was looking at her mouth. Staring at it and his eyes were lit with even more desire.

“Not now,” he said, moving on her. “Right now I plan to strip you out of those clothes and have my wicked way with you.”

Her eyes went wide as he reached out and caught her waist. He tugged her against him and pressed his mouth to hers. The chemise still in her hands fluttered to the ground between them and she wound her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to him and swirling her tongue against his in surrender.

He groaned, the sound reverberating through her body until the echoes of it settled between her legs. She arched, almost against her will, rubbing her pelvis against his and feeling the hard evidence that he desired her still.

But she couldn’t stop to wonder at that fact. He pushed her against the bed roughly and began to unfasten her buttons along the front of her gown. She lifted her hands to his shirt, and together they raced to undress the other.
 

When his shirt parted to reveal that beautiful, male torso, she couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward to press a kiss against his taut stomach.

He jerked at the contact of her lips to his flesh.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, blushing. “Is that wrong?”

“Far from it,” he panted. “But you shall steal my control if you continue that.”

She arched a brow at the thought. “I’ve never stolen a man’s control before,” she murmured.

He shook his head. “That is because men are idiots. I include myself, because had I known what a pleasure you would be, I would have ruined you, married you and bedded you years ago. Though perhaps I would have altered the order a fraction, for the sake of our reputations.”

She swallowed. No man had ever looked at her like this. No man had ever spoken to her like this. And she drank it up like a plant deprived of water in the desert.

“Then it seems, my lord, that you should make up for lost time.”

He didn’t respond with words but by drawing her gaping dress open and dragging a hand between her breasts through her chemise.

“I agree,” he grunted and pulled the dress away entirely. The chemise swiftly followed and he was on her again, kissing her, rubbing against her, lifting her breasts before he lowered his mouth from hers and began to suckle her nipples, one after another.

Pleasure ripped through her with almost violent power, forcing her to moan with incoherent madness as she opened her legs, lifted her back, offered herself like a lightskirt.

He pressed a hand between her legs as he continued to swirl his tongue around the sensitive nipple and pressed the tips of two fingers inside of her clenching sheath.

“My God, the things you do to me,” he panted as he drew back. “Roll over.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, which must have been reflected on her face, for he smiled. Her heart caught at that wicked, knowing expression.

“You told me you would surrender completely. So trust that I will take care of you. You will like this.”

She bit back any nervous words and slowly rolled onto her stomach. He placed his hands beneath her hips and lifted them, putting her on display. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she buried her head in the pillow, but she still felt his heated stare burning into the bare flesh of her backside.

She was utterly exposed in this position, completely vulnerable to whatever he decided to do.

His choice was as shocking as his demand, for suddenly his hands were on her thighs, spreading her wider before his hot breath stirred against the entrance to her sex. As she gasped with surprise, he stroked his tongue along her slit and she bucked with pleasure.

He gripped her hips, drawing her against his mouth, delving his tongue deep inside her channel, flicking it against her clitoris as he rocked her back against his lips.

She gripped the coverlet with both hands, scraping her nails against the fabric as pleasure spiraled out of control from the point where he touched her and spread throughout every nerve of her body. She bit her lip to keep her cries inside, but he pressed on, tormenting her with his tongue while he released her hip with one hand and slipped two fingers deep within her pussy.

He pulled back. “Moan for me,” he ordered.

She bit out a broken sound of pleasure.
 

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Now touch yourself while I make you come.”

Her eyes flew open and she stared at the wall in surprise as he returned his mouth to her tingling sex. Touch herself. While he did this. It was so wicked, so wild, so intimate and yet she had promised him she would acquiesce to his every demand.

Slowly, she let her fingers thread through the soft curls between her legs. They settled against the bundle of nerves hidden within, and she jolted at the pressure, the pleasure.

“That’s right,” he murmured against her flesh. “Feel how wet you are from my lips, from your own excitement, how hot and ready you are for my cock. Help me bring you pleasure before I take you.”

She shuddered at his sinful words. A lady was not supposed to like such things, and yet her clitoris throbbed madly at his low tone. She began to stroke herself gently, thrusting back against his lips as pleasure washed over her in wild, confusing waves.

Everything about her became focused on her sex, on the pressure of his fingers, of her own fingers, of his tongue, of his breath. And then orgasm overtook her. She screamed as her hips flailed wildly against his mouth, but before her release was complete, his touch was gone.

She peeked over her shoulder and found he had sat up, lips shining from her pussy and his cock in hand. He positioned himself at her entrance and speared her in a long, hard thrust.

The feel of him gliding effortlessly to the hilt made her already powerful orgasm even more out of control. He stroked into her hard and fast, and she bucked with every thrust.
 

How could he do this? How could he make her so wild, so wanton? How could he clear her mind of everything except the feel of his hard member deep inside her? She couldn’t think well enough to answer that question. All she could do was rock back into him as the fluttering in her pussy slowed and she went weak against the bed almost in the same moment that he grunted out a sound similar to her name and spent his seed inside of her in a hot spurt.

He collapsed over her, his arms tangling with hers as he drew her to her side and cocooned his body around her. She settled back against him, craving his warmth, reveling in the protectiveness she felt in his embrace. For the moment, that was all that mattered. For the moment, it was real…it was true…and it was hers.

Chapter Fifteen

Time seemed to slow in Miles’ arms, so Portia wasn’t certain exactly how much of it had passed when he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and rolled away from her to his back, separating their bodies with a grumble she echoed.

She took her time in facing him, always uncertain of what his expression would be. To her surprise, he seemed thoughtful as he stared at her through hooded lids.

“Did I please you?” she whispered.

He arched a brow. “Did my grunts of ecstasy and my utter lack of control in spending my seed not tell you the answer to that question?”

She blushed at his directness, despite the fact she had very recently been spread out before him for his taking.

“I don’t know what to think of you, that is all,” she explained. “I suppose, over time, I will become more accustomed to your expressions and be able to read their indications of your feelings.”

He frowned at that statement, as if her growing closer to him was not an inevitability at all.

“You needn’t get to know me a bit to know this, Portia.” He stroked a finger against her cheek. “You satisfy me entirely. It was as if your body was made for my pleasure and being a part of your erotic awakening is almost magic to me.”

Her blush returned, but this time for a different reason. His words, shocking as they were, were also very kind. It was something her life had lacked for a good while and she couldn’t help but lean into it, into his hand to soak it up.

“I think this arrangement will suit us both very well,” he continued, dropping his hand from her face and settling back against the pillows. “It turns out we are very compatible in the bedroom and since you have promised me surrender, I think that compatibility will only grow. But I must tell you something now, before we move further.”

She looked up into his face. His gaze had darkened, it was unreadable, though his jaw was set like he was angry or upset.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He swallowed. “Our marriage will never include love, Portia. I feel I must clarify that for you so that we never have a situation where one of us is more attached to the other. It can only breed pain, and I would not wish that upon you.”

She stared at him. Loveless marriages were common in their sphere, it was true. And given the circumstances of their arrangement, she had never expected him to fall in love with her.
Her
of all people.

And yet, hearing him say out loud, such a short time into a surprisingly passionate union, that he would never,
ever
love her…it stung.

She turned her face so he wouldn’t see that tiny twinge of regret that shocked her and made her utterly foolish.

Her silence, though, seemed to say enough. He shifted to look at her even though she refused to meet his gaze.

“That should not be a difficult thing for you, should it?” he asked. “After all, you love another, don’t you?”

She jerked her face toward him. “A-another?”

His brow wrinkled. “Ava’s brother, Liam. When we met at the masquerade, you were looking for him. You admitted to caring for him.”

She blinked. Liam. Good God, she hadn’t been thinking of him at all as of late. Not for Ava’s sake, certainly not for her own. And yet for years she had mooned over him, quietly lamenting the fact that he never noticed her.

Had
she loved him? That didn’t seem to fit, even though she might have owned it when pressed just a few weeks or months ago.

“Portia?” Miles repeated.

She glanced at him a second time. He was so devastatingly handsome in the dying firelight. His touch was so warm. He was so bent on her pleasure before his.