The Corrupt Comte (37 page)

“You do,” he said, flat and emotionless for he feared revealing too much.

She nodded. “It seems there is unfinished business between us. On both sides. And since everything is about to change, I wonder if we should resolve that business, if only so it won’t haunt us.”

“What are you saying?” he asked softly.

She swallowed and her voice trembled as she whispered, “Be with me again.”

He stared at her for he didn’t know how long. This was like a dream. Or a nightmare he had lived out before.

Vivien shifted with discomfort. “Benedict?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m certain I didn’t understand you correctly. Will you repeat the question?”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, making them pink. He had so rarely seen her bashful that he stared at the sight.

“We have something still between us, Benedict. Before everything changes, I would like to resolve it. I want to be with you.”

“Vivien,” he whispered. “Why now?”

She was silent for so long that he thought she might not answer. Then she looked him in the eyes. “Why not?”

But as he stared into the blue depths of her gaze, he saw something deep within that he thought she did not mean to share. A secret, a hesitation, something she was not saying.

And
fear
was there too. Fear which wasn’t like her.

She reached out and squeezed his arm. He felt her touch crash though him like lightning and he almost recoiled from its power.

“Don’t decide this very moment,” she insisted. “I will wait for you tonight after the party. If you come to my room…you
come
.” She emphasized the word so there was no doubt to its meaning. “If you don’t…I understand and I will wish you nothing but the best.”

She released him and stepped away. Without another word, she scurried into the crowd and left him standing, wrecked in her wake and totally uncertain of what he should do.

She offered him a return to the happiest time of his life. A sweet taste of passion and pleasure and all the love he still felt for her. But he knew that taste came at a cost. She had already made it very clear that they would never be together beyond an affair, beyond sex.

His brother had been telling him for years to walk away from Vivien. But he had never been able to do that.

And now might not be any different.

She vows to protect her heart…until love burns away her resistance.

The Courtesan’s Bed

© 2010 Sandrine O’Shea

Régine Laflamme rules as the Queen of Fire, the Paris demimonde’s most notorious and accomplished courtesan. Wealthy men shower her with riches and vie to become her next conquest. Respectable women shun her. Other courtesans envy her.

No one knows she was once an innocent young governess, ruined and turned out by a cruel lord. And now, years later, she spies her seducer’s son—a man who never answered her frantic pleas for help.

Darius, Earl of Clarridge, has never stopped searching for the woman who haunts him. He doesn’t expect her to believe that her letters never reached him. No, he will regain her trust in a way she understands—by promising to give her more pleasure than she’s ever known.

In spite of her misgivings, Régine is intrigued and takes Darius up on his boast. To her surprise, he conquers not only her body, but captures her very heart.

Yet beyond the haven of her boudoir, two men scheme to possess her for their own. When one of them kidnaps and enslaves her, she clings desperately to a new hope—that this time Darius will find her before it’s too late.

Warning: This novel contains scenes of graphic sex, bondage, S/M, anal pleasuring of the hero, and a two-women-one-man threesome in a brothel.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Courtesan’s Bed:

“What would be your terms?”

He threw out a monthly stipend that made her swallow hard, added a generous clothing allowance that surpassed that of a certain profligate duchess of his acquaintance, and assured her he was known to most of the jewelers in London.

She smiled seductively. “And what are your requirements in the boudoir, monsieur?”

He returned her smile. “As often as you like, and I promise you will want me often. But if there are days you wish a respite, that will be fine too.”

A faint flush warmed her cheeks. “You’re very confident.”

“It’s one of my finer attributes.”

She smiled, obviously amused.

“So,” he said, staring deeply into those expressive eyes, “do we have an agreement?”

“There is much to consider.”

He let his gaze rove over her face like a slow, soft caress, settling on her delectable mouth. “Perhaps a kiss would convince you of the seriousness of my intentions.”

She stared boldly at his lips and patted the place next to her on the settee. “By all means, monsieur.”

He sat down, angling his body so he faced her, and draped one arm across the back of the settee just behind her shoulders. She leaned toward him, willingly turning her head. He raised his hand and gently traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips. Her skin was as dewy and silken as a rose petal in the morning. When he reached her chin, he tilted her head and leaned over to reach her voluptuous, inviting mouth with his own.

He kissed her lightly at first, a mere pressing of the lips to both soothe and arouse her.

She responded with a sigh and the parting of her soft, sweet lips for an open-mouthed kiss that tasted faintly of brandy. Then he deepened his kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She moaned softly and stroked his tongue with her own, sending a tremor of desire rocking through his body, straight to his prick.

She raised her hand to his cheek, and he thought he’d melt at her tender touch. He slipped his hand around her waist and drew her even closer, needing to feel her warmth, pleased that he’d caused such a response.

When they parted, breathless and panting, Regina purred, “You kiss very well, Clarridge.”

Then she undid the top three buttons of her gown in blatant invitation.

He stayed her hand. “That’s not necessary.” At least, not yet.

Her expression turned perplexed. “But I thought you wished to please me.”

“I do.”

“Well, it would please me if you’d touch my breasts.”

Ah, so she was testing him to see how far he’d go. He hadn’t expected her to move so fast, or talk so frankly, but she was experienced and accustomed to being intimate with strangers without preamble or coyness.

He grinned. “Touching your beautiful breasts would certainly please me.”

He caressed the long column of her ivory neck, causing her to tremble beneath his fingers. But rather than undoing the rest of the buttons, parting the fine silk fabric and burrowing for the Promised Land of her bare breasts, he practiced the art of gradual arousal, which he knew from long experience that most women appreciated. He placed his hand on her left breast, feeling its soft fullness beneath the layer of cloth.

Regina closed her eyes with a gentle sigh, and her head fell back against his arm.

Darius squeezed gently, and her nipple hardened provocatively. Regina’s lips parted. He teased the rigid nubbin with his thumb, and then moved to the other breast for the same tender ministrations.

“Do you like the way I touch you?” He certainly relished his own reaction to touching her, the warm fullness that swelled his cock and made his heart race with dizzying speed.

She caught her breath and murmured a ragged, “Oh, yes,” when he raked her tender earlobe with his teeth.

He worked her nipple harder with his thumb, and when she made a satisfied whimper at the abrading fabric, he swiftly undid the buttons so he could slip his hand beneath the silk and touch her warm, bare flesh, which overflowed his hand as he cupped it possessively.

Her sharp intake of breath at his intimate touch heightened his own arousal.

She was like absinthe, one color until another ingredient transformed it. And he just wanted to drink and drink and drink until he went mad.

He caught the straining bud between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed gently. She cried out. He smiled, pleased that he could coax such a reaction out of her.

He increased the intensity of his caresses while trying to maintain his own fragile self-control, moving from one tempting breast to the other. He felt a heady sense of triumph and power when her groans grew louder.

For one second he wondered if her response was genuine or the pretense of a calculating courtesan seeking to give her protector his money’s worth.

Her eyes flew open. They were drowsy with passion and delight that couldn’t be faked. She pouted prettily. “You are cruel to torment me so.”

“How ungentlemanly of me. I shall have to remedy that failure.”

He opened the bodice to bare her breasts. They were perfect, round and heavy, full enough for him to bury his face in their ivory softness and lose himself in their sweet scent. He thought both his cock and his head would explode.

“Your beauty leaves me breathless.” His exhaling breath warmed her large, rosy nipples. He teased them with the tip of his tongue, wetting first one, and then the other. He lifted his gaze to Regina’s face, pleased to see her closed eyes, an expression of transported bliss giving her ivory complexion a luminous glow. He had demolished her reservations and her misgivings with his persistence.

He waited until her breathing grew more uneven and impatient before he grasped the breast to steady it, took the inviting puckered tip into his mouth and sucked, gently at first, then harder, with the eagerness of a starving man too long denied.

Régine’s high-pitched cry filled the drawing room, and she arched her back, offering herself to him in an ageless gesture of female surrender.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him in place, demanding his touch.

Now he pleasured her right breast with his eager mouth and the other moist nipple with his fingers, driving her wild with abandon. If she reacted so strongly to just having her breasts caressed, he was willing to bet the earth would shudder and shake when he brought her to orgasm.

He reluctantly raised his head, gently stroking her to ease the abruptness of his withdrawal.

Regina’s eyes flew open. “Why did you stop?”

He drew the bodice together to cover her. “Because if I keep going, I’ll make love to you right here, right now.”

She looked confused. “But I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Not for our first time.”

She raised her brows. “You surprise me. You are so different from the other men I’ve known.”

He smiled and drew her hand to his lips, lightly brushing her knuckles. “You’ll find me to be a very surprising fellow.”

She buttoned her bodice with crisp efficiency. “I’m looking forward to discovering all your secrets.”

The Corrupt Comte

Edie Harris

A word from her lips can bring him to his knees.

The Bourbon Boys Quartet, Book 1

Gaspard Toussaint is known throughout 1820 French society as the “molly
comte
”, a foppish throw pillow of an aristocrat. But his entire life is a twisted mass of secrets and lies as a spy for the Crown. His final covert act will have him fleeing his broken country forever…but before he can escape, he needs the power and safety that only money can provide. And no one has more money than English heiress Claudia Pascale.

The only child of a wealthy tradesman, Claudia has continually failed to catch a husband—due in large part to her uncontrollable stutter. Spurned by a dashing French lieutenant and desperate to escape her parents’ household, she joins forces with the seemingly harmless Gaspard to learn how to properly ensnare a spouse: through seduction.

All too soon, Gaspard’s lessons in delicious domination and sinful submission make Claudia suspicious that he is not what everyone believes him to be. And Gaspard realizes his quest to possess her is becoming less about her dowry…and more about the woman herself.

Warning: Contains an aggressive Frenchman with extremely loose morals, a determined heiress who can’t refuse a dare, and bedroom games where boundaries were made to be crossed.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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