Page 22 of Taming of the Rake
“David.”
She gave him a brittle half smile. “David … our contract specifies that you are to be exactly that.”
“But, I’m a courtesan. Pleasure is my business, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I’m very good at what I do. Wouldn’t you prefer to actually enjoy the conception of your child? It needn’t be so … impersonal.”
Her plush lips set into a firm line, and she fixed her gaze somewhere south of his chin. “This is the way I need to go about it. Do you understand?”
No, he didn’t understand this woman at all. But for what she was paying, David did not need to understand her. He simply had to fulfill the contract, which meant giving her what she wanted, exactly how she wanted it.
“Very well. I will insist on removing my coat, at least. The tailoring is too exact for me to have full range of motion.”
She gave a silent, stiff nod in response, then turned away. David peeled off his coat as she went to the bed, slowly and carefully turning down the coverlet. Then, with her back still turned to him, she shrugged out of her dressing gown. The heavy damask fell away to reveal a prim, white nightgown. As he laid his coat over a chair near the hearth, she climbed up onto the mattress, offering him a glimpse of a dainty foot, a slender ankle, and a taut calf. The small peek of skin was enough to get him moving. He approached the bed as she went onto her back, legs straight and pressed together, arms at her sides.
As he neared the bed, dousing the lamp before climbing on over her, it struck David that she looked more like a corpse laid in a coffin than a woman waiting to be fucked. It was the worst sort of luck. As he crouched over her, knees spread on either side of her thighs and hands bracketing her shoulders, he became very aware of her scent—crisp, clean, and slightly floral. Womanly. The dim light of the fire cast shadows over her eyes, but he could clearly make out the plump lips, the darling little chin, the column of her throat, the swells of high, firm breasts.
He would have gladly spent the night kissing and toying with her until she begged him for the pleasure she claimed not to want. And there was the rub. His cock was already eager, ready to be taken into her body. More than that, his fingers itched to loosen the row of buttons running down her sternum, to caress her bare skin and find out if it felt as satiny as it looked. His mouth watered to kiss the patch of skin just below her jaw, take her nipples into his mouth, kiss his way down her belly until he was making love to the valley between her thighs with his tongue.
He swallowed, having worked himself into a state with nothing but his wandering imagination. David felt her eyes on him, registered the anxiety thrumming through her tensed limbs as she waited for him to begin.
Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he began lifting the hem of her gown. He paused at her knees, hooking his fingers behind each soft cleft to urge them to bend. David held his breath as what little she would allow him to see was revealed. Shapely calves, soft thighs, rounded hips, and—sweet God above—the downy curls between her legs. The slash of moonlight illuminated alabaster thighs, and right between them, a contrasting thatch of hair like a sunburst. Copper and ivory; an appealing combination that had him wanting to sink to his belly then and there so he could press his lips to the hidden, pink flesh of her cunny.
There would be none of that, so he pushed the thought aside before it could root itself too deeply in his mind. He slid a hand down one thigh, gently pressing it open, then then other. She lay beneath him unmoving and, it seemed, hardly breathing. Regina wasn’t even looking at him. He could not make her eyes out clearly, but could tell they were fixed on the ceiling. Her hands gripped the bunched fabric of her nightgown as she remained silent and waiting.
One hand still braced on her inner thigh, he slid a thumb through the nest of curls, whispering over sleek folds and the taut circle of her opening. She sucked in a sharp breath when he moved upward, seeking the bud of her pleasure, then flinched when he offered the gentlest press of his thumb.
“I … you shouldn’t …”
“Shh,” he crooned, lightly working his thumb over her clit once more. “It’ll be easier if you’re wet. You aren’t ready yet.”
He had a feeling she might never be, but David would do what he must to keep from making her uncomfortable. It was a ridiculous notion when she was lying like a plank of wood beneath him, obviously wanting his attentions to come to a swift end. She was nothing if not uncomfortable.
It was so odd, being near this woman—so warm and seemingly vibrant, yet somehow cold and shuttered. Had her husband never offered her pleasure? He couldn’t have, if Regina could lie there with him stroking her clitoris without wanting him to linger there.
David withdrew long enough to lick the pad of his thumb, then was caressing her again, slow and steady. She tensed, then went loose-limbed, her thighs widening as he stroked her, coaxing forth her natural wetness. He delved his first finger into her sheath, finding her dewy and soft, gripping his finger with unwitting spasms. Her fingers flexed convulsively around her nightgown, and when he peered at her face again, he found her jaw clenched tight, nostrils flared as she took slow, deep breaths.
“Now, David,” she whispered, still not looking at him. “Please.”
That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, not when a few more seconds could have had her saying ‘please’ for an entirely different reason. But she was clearly intent on hurrying him through the encounter and David didn’t want her to call out for the footman. He liked his head just where it was.
He had his fall open in a matter of seconds, his cock hard and already wet at the tip. The sight of her bared from the waist down, the feel of her on his fingers, her scent … it was enough. He hooked her thighs over his and guided his prick toward her, carefully nudging his way in. She let out a choked sound as he lodged half his length in her with one stroke, her breaths becoming rapid and harsh as he withdrew and plunged, giving her the rest. His arms nearly buckled from the strain of holding himself up, when the tight clench around his cock made him want to collapse into her.
He gritted his teeth and rolled his hips, surging deeper, grinding against her as the stroke of her velvety sheath caressed him. Her body had gone pliant, accepting him. Yet, her arms remained at her sides and the same preternatural stillness held her in its clutches. His instincts cried out for more stimulation, for the taste of her lips, the rasp of her tongue against his, the hard bud of her nipple in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he imagined being allowed to do this properly, conjured up the sounds she would make when he licked her throat, pinched her nipple, worked a hand between them to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts.
His hips jerked and he increased his rhythm, clinging to his fantasy and letting it run wild in his mind. She would come alive for him, panting and writhing and clawing his back, chanting his name. Her legs would wind around his waist, drawing him closer and deeper, urging him on.
David’s eyes flew open as climax slammed into him, and instead of pulling away, he drove in and released with a shudder, his teeth clenched around a hoarse groan. Alarm momentarily gripped him at the hot rush of his seed into her, until he remembered that it was the entire point. This was what Regina wanted from him—allshe wanted from him.
She was trembling again, finally looking at David as he slowly withdrew from her body and sat back on his heels. He could see the whites of her eyes, flared wide in the dark, as if she were just as surprised by what they’d done as David. His hands were clumsy as he worked to close his fall, and Regina looked away from him as she eased the hem of her nightgown down her thighs. He fumbled for words … any words. What was he to say to her now that it was over? He was out of his depth here, when cuddling a satisfied woman against his chest typically followed his beddings. Perhaps a few kisses and caresses, another tumble if she were up for it.
However, Regina Hurst had retreated into herself, seeming to want nothing to do with him now that he’d done his job.
“Are you … all right?” he ventured, hating the uncertainty threading his words.
“Fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Her voice had trembled on the solitary word.
“Regina … can I do anything for you? Get you something? I could—”
