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Authors: KOKO BROWN

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BOOK: The Merry Widow
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In and out, in and out his tongue thrust, filling her, driving her to some unforeseeable pinnacle.

Her world darkened and then burst into a kaleidoscope of ever-shifting multicolored patterns. Her body felt light as a feather as she catapulted over an invisible chasm that separated her mind from her body.

***

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there unconscious, but ample time must have passed because her limbs felt heavy and lethargic when she moved to sit up. Yet she found that difficult because a pair of muscular arms trapped her against a hard chest.

Her eyes snapped open.

When her vision focused, a set of pearl buttons lining the front of a man’s evening shirt came into view. She pulled back slightly, allowing her gaze to shift higher until her eyes met his. And as before, she was taken aback at how handsome her companion was, his features so classically perfect they appeared to be carved by a skilled artisan.

Too bad we met under these circumstances. Catching her momentary lapse of common sense she bristled at the notion. What am I thinking? Even if they had met under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t work. She would be the laughingstock of her set if she let it be known she was infatuated with a much younger man, especially once he grew tired of her, which was a certainty.

Not only was he too handsome for his own good, he was much too young for her. To strengthen her resolve and nullify her silly dreams, she asked, “How old are you?”

He smiled at her. “I reached my twenty-eighth year this past May.”

He was ten years her junior! It was worse than she first believed. Shuddering with self-reproach, she pulled away from him. “I think you should be going now. Your payment is there, next to the tea service. Oscar will see you out.”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his brown eyes searching her face.

She returned his gaze. And despite her better judgment, she knew she wanted to see him again as well. “I will contact Madame Valant—”

“There is no need for that! I will handle the necessary arrangements, because the Madame is my benefactor. Since that is settled, may I see you three days hence?”

“Why so soon? I’m sure you have other clients to tend to.”

“None.”

At her raised eyebrow, he paused. A slow smile curled the corners of his full lips. “Well, at least none who could compare with your company. And as far as I’m concerned, a week is too long to have to wait to enjoy the pleasure of your companionship again.”

Phillipa chuckled at his play of words. This was only business for him, but deep down she knew she would be counting the days until she would see him again, foolish romantic that she was.

Hell’s bells, what am I thinking? What happened to the pragmatic businesswoman who could put a swarthy sea captain in his place? Who was this creature that buckled under the slightest inducement from a young, handsome swain? The former Phillipa would have put him in his place for making such overtures. Of course, the former Phillipa had been miserable of late and had gone so far as to procure a hired man.

Her choice made, she conceded to his request. “Very well. I will receive you in three days, here in my bedchamber, and at the same appointed hour.”

“Until Friday,” he whispered against her lips, but instead of sealing the promise with a kiss, he suddenly rose and left the room. When he shut the door behind him, only then did she realize he’d left his payment behind.

The Merry Widow: Chapter 4

As he entered the boudoir, the lady at the mirror set down the silver-plated hairbrush onto the gilded dressing table and cried, “Reggie! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Selene swiveled to face him, her pale blue dressing gown slipping down over one of her milky shoulders.

Reggie smiled to himself. Her every movement had always been done for effect, and as usual, his body reacted to her.

Taking her offered hand, he brought it to his lips. “Selene,” he breathed, kissing the delicate skin of her wrist. Instead of releasing her hand, he cradled it in his as he took his seat beside her on the dressing bench. He leaned forward and placed his nose in her pale locks and breathed deeply. “Hmmm, why did I ever let you go?”

“Ha!” She snorted. “It was I let you go when your eyes wandered to a certain American actress who crossed the pond pours ses tour d’Europe. And rogue that you are, you took it upon yourself to escort her personally.” Her mood now changed, she pulled her hand from his and turned to take up her brush.

When she moved to resume her toilette, he reached out and covered her hand with his. “Allow me. You know I always took great pleasure in helping you to dress your hair.”

Selene hesitated before handing him the brush. “So why are you here?” she asked, watching his reflection in the mirror. “We both know it is not to rekindle our liaison.”

“You wound deep, chéri.”

Closing her eyes, she chuckled softly. “Just being practical, plus I know you better than anyone else.”

Reggie’s hand stilled mid-stroke. “You always have, I’m afraid.”

“So?” she prompted. “I am eager to learn why you would come here at this early hour to discuss business.”

“I’ve come here to ask that you separate ties with one of your clients.”

“I should have known. Which one?” she drawled.

“Mrs. Phillipa Jones.”

Selene’s eyes snapped open. When they met his, a storm brewed in their cerulean depths. If she wanted to fight him for this, he was prepared to do battle. Nothing would stand in the way of him keeping the Widow Jones to himself.

“Pour quelle raison?” she asked pulling free from him.

“She contracted your services last night, I understand.”

Selene nodded slowly. “Yes, Gervaise went to her home. But he told me he was turned away by an officious housekeeper, who said he was too late.”

“That will continue to be the case,” he said. “After last night, she is no longer in need of your services.”

A frown creased the delicate bow of her mouth. “After last night? You mean, you—” She was quiet a moment, then said, “No longer in need, is she? I see. Well, how long will that lack of need last? A month, perhaps two?”

“Indefinitely.”

“Indéfiniment?” Selene’s tinkling laughter floated to the bedchamber’s vaulted ceilings. “Do you think I am a fool, chéri? That I would believe one of London’s most notorious rakes was looking to settle down with only one woman? Tu n’est pas sérieux!”

Expecting this response, he held his ground. “I am serious enough to come here at the break of dawn to request this favor of you, Selene. It’s true that in the past I wouldn’t have cared to learn I had lost one of my paramours to another man. But it does matter with Mrs. Jones. She’s different.”

“Why this one?”

Reggie stiffened, taking offense at the question. “Why not her?”

Selene shrugged. “You could always have your pick of any one of those glittering birds that flock around you. Phillipa Jones is not one of those birds. She is made from a different cloth.”

“Precisely.”

Selene tilted her head. “So that is what makes her so appealing to you, non?”

“Perhaps. So you will do me this favor?”

Selene took up her brush again.“Bien sûr, ma chéri.”

With a triumphant smile curling his lips, he leaned down and kissed her shoulder in gratitude. “I thank you, Selene. You don’t know how much this means to me.” His body abuzz with excitement, he turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“Oh, but I do,” Selene called. “You should have seen your expression whilst you awaited my reply. You reminded me of an eager schoolboy awaiting permission to be let out to play. It would have broken my heart to crush such unabashed enthusiasm.”

His steps slowed. He turned to face her. “Am I that transparent?”

“Clearer than a Gallé vase! That is why I conceded to your request. Mrs. Jones has arrested your attention after a brief encounter. I’m hoping before all is said and done she may do the same to your heart.”

Reggie frowned. “’Tis a brave assumption, Selene, but as you and I both know, I do not have one.”

“I’m not so sure any longer,
ma chéri
. I’m not so sure.”

***

By Friday morning, Phillipa had to take deep breaths to calm her anticipation. Bea, of course, noticed her agitation as she brought in breakfast. “Do ye require anything else, ma’am?”

Phillipa glanced up at her housekeeper and gifted her with a smile. “No, thank you, Bea. Everything appears to be in order.” Ignoring her housekeeper’s concerned expression, she glanced down at the Chinoiserie breakfast tray. After yet another sleepless night, she needed something more than the tray containing her customary morning paper, Masala chai, toast, and a bowl of fruit.

Bea shook her head. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll be up in an hour to help you dress.”

Phillipa waited until the door closed with a soft click before reaching under the pillows and pulling out the teak gift box. The box and the object it contained were a gift from Harry before a three-month voyage to Asia. Setting it on her lap, she traced the engraved depiction of Eros awakening Psyche from a deep sleep.

This time it wasn’t a three-month voyage that separated her from the passions of a man. Only three nights. And this last night was spent thinking about what was to come. It was near dawn when she remembered Harry’s gift and its pleasures. This box hadn’t been opened since Harry’s death. Yet despite the bittersweet ache in her breast and the pangs of guilt she’d wrestled with, she could no longer resist the siren’s call. The ache between her legs, brought on by her desire for a rent boy ten years her junior, far outweighed her feelings of self-reproach.

Phillipa dropped her head in her hands. Oh, Harry, why did you have to love me so well? My lusts have turned me into a wanton woman. Instead of my need diminishing with Reggie’s absence, it has only intensified.

Worrying her bottom lip, she raised the box’s lid. Nestled in a bed of purple velvet lay an ivory dildo, intricately carved with several bodies entwined in the throes of sex. She licked her lips in anticipation as she hitched her dressing gown around her hips. She untied her drawers, slid them down her legs and kicked them aside. She lay back against the pillows, her legs spread wide and the ivory toy plucked from its protective cradle. She shivered in delight when the cool morning air touched her exposed sex.

“Yesss,” she hissed, finding her opening. She slid the toy in a half an inch, but finding herself not yet ready for the dildo’s girth, she pulled it out. She rubbed the warm ivory against her sex, exciting the sensitive bud at the top of her mound. Her eyes fluttered closed as she stroked herself.

Once her fingers were coated, she found her opening again. She angled the dildo and then slipped it inside. Inch by slow inch, she pushed it deeper until the hilt’s slight bump kissed her lips. She twisted it in a semi-circle for good measure before withdrawing it to the tip. Reacquainted with her old friend, Phillipa established a rhythm to match any young stud in his prime. With each thrust and parry, her fervor grew. Her nipples hardened into hard little pebbles, her hips rose from the couch of their own volition, and a slight sheen of sweat dotted her brow.

“Ahh… ahhh…,” she panted, the dildo’s glide so euphoric she thought she would expire. But she didn’t. Instead she plunged it back inside. And as she did, she closed her eyes and imagined a young man, a certain young man, between her legs.

Tap, tap, tap.

Phillipa stilled. Please let me be mistaken. Surely no one could be tapping at her door at this most importune of moments.

Tap, tap, tap.

She groaned. This better be good or heads would roll. Literally. “Yes, what is it, Bea?”

“You have a visitor, ma’am. It’s your gentleman friend from the other evening. He claims to have an appointment with you today. Are you available, or should I send him away?”

Phillipa sat there in a passion-induced haze as she digested the implication of Bea’s words. It must be Reggie, she realized. Today was their agreed upon day, but definitely not the appointed hour, for she didn’t expect him until this later this evening. If his coming at this early hour had been noticed, it would surely set the neighbors’ tongues to wagging!

“What would you have me do, ma’am?”

I should send him on his way, she thought. “Give me a few moments, then send him up.”

Phillipa worried her bottom lip as Bea’s footsteps retreated down the hall. Only when the import of her actions sank home did she finally snap out of her haze. Springing from the sofa, she re-wrapped her gold dressing gown. The cool satin rubbed against her nipples, reminding her of her morning activities. That and the wet dildo still clutched in her fist.

It was bad enough to pleasure oneself in one’s time alone, but to be found out would be earth-shattering. “Hell’s bells, you silly chit! They’ll commit you to Bedlam for sure!” She moaned as she cleaned the traces of her morning’s labor with the hem of her skirt, her hand stilling when she heard the distinct clip-clop of his boot heels.

With little time left, she snatched up the gift box, threw open the lid and set the toy in its protective casing.

Rap, rap.

She opened her mouth to deny permission for entry, but not in time. The latch turned. With no other recourse, she shoved the box behind the nearest sofa cushions. Upset at his impropriety, she decided to upbraid him. Then his broad frame filled the open doorway and her ability to form a proper sentence escaped her.

Despite the informality of his charcoal grey lounge suit, he cut a fine figure. And if it were humanly possible, he was even more handsome in the light of day. The crisp whiteness of his dress shirt offset the deep tones of his bronze skin and the angular planes of his exquisite features.

When he stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him, she took an unconscious step backwards. Even though he was of average weight and height, Reggie’s mere presence seemed to fill the room. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, she sat down on the sofa.

“Madam, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“As are you, sir.” Phillipa’s eyes widened at her admission. But her embarrassment over her faux pas faded when a slow, satisfied smile curled his lips. She hid her hands in the folds of her gown to hide their trembling.

BOOK: The Merry Widow
5.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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