Page 6 of Taming of the Rake
David Graham had died and gone to heaven. Surely that was what had happened, because he’d climbed into a large, plush bed and was now surrounded by his favorite creatures in the world. Heavenly beings, women. He had sampled enough of them to realize there was something to love in each and every one. His insatiable appetite for them was a straightforward fact of his existence, stitched into the fabric of his character. He reveled in their sweet scents and tinkling giggles, loved the sight of a trim ankle and a dainty hand as much as he did a well-formed bosom or a pair of spread thighs. He wasn’t a selective man, and was often accused of beingtooindiscriminate. But David believed one could find the beauty in anything if they looked close enough.
Some men prided themselves on their titles and social standing, or the immaculate tailoring of their clothes. Others were connoisseurs of fine horseflesh, quality spirits, or excellent cigars.Hisexpertise involved the fair sex.
David derived much satisfaction from his ability to appreciate women in the manner they most deserved: with the full force of his charm and amiability … and a talent that had earned him a reputation as ‘the most skilled tongue in England.’ Of course, there had never been any official contest to be won, but he’d pleasured enough ladies to earn himself that unique title, and it was one he guarded with fierce pride.
It was his notoriety which had led him here, to heaven. Two hands caressed his bare chest, soft and searching, while another made its way up his thigh. His cock pulsed with a need that was promptly met by a fourth hand wrapping around him and taking up a slow, measured stroke. He groaned against the wet, silken flesh pressed to his lips, working his tongue in the rhythm this lady seemed to like best. It had taken years of meticulous calculation to develop this particular skill, and just now it rewarded him as it always did … with musical moans of ecstasy and a pair of thighs clenching his head in a shuddering, forceful grip.
He peered up at the woman riding his face as if she sat astride a bucking stallion, clawing the headboard as she screamed her release. David refused to let up, even when she insisted she couldn’t take anymore. They all said that, and he was always happy to show them otherwise. It was another one of those things about women he found so utterly fascinating—their ability to reach climax over and over again, when someone actually took the time to learn what made them tick. As it happened, puzzling them out was his favorite past-time, which made his present efforts more fun than work.
Lady Rebecca Grant fell from atop him with one last moan, which melted into a satisfied sigh as she went limp at his side. Raising up on his elbows, David peered at the two others awaiting their turn with him. Lady Frances Beeton was the one working his cock, a knowing smile curving her lips as she observed the state her friend was in.
“Didn’t I tell you, Becky?” she purred before bending her head to run her tongue along his shaft. “He’s exquisite.”
David hissed at the velvet wetness stroking the length of his cock, biting back a grumble of regret when it was gone. Frances had always been a little tease; it was what he liked most about her. That, and her adventurous nature.
The lady had hired him as her courtesan while between marriages. Her first husband died a mere six months after the wedding, leaving Frances a grand fortune. In the year that followed, she kept David as her personal plaything, parting with an exorbitant sum to have him at her beck and call. Frances cut him loose upon getting engaged to her second husband, who had been thirty years her senior. Predictably, he had also died, freeing her to once more live her life as she pleased.
Thanks to her, David could now indulge in one last round of debauchery before he was obliged to face the reality of his situation. Being forced to leave London was a dire prospect, but Frances and her friends were giving him one hell of a sendoff. He had been paid to entertain Frances and her friends for three days and nights, but David would never tell them he might have done it for free had they only asked. Benedict would insist that simply wasn’t good business.
“He’s the best present I could have asked for,” Rebecca managed between labored breaths.
David cupped the nape of her neck, drawing her to him for a kiss. “Happy birthday, sweet.”
She whimpered against his mouth, arching and writhing as he plunged his tongue in deep. The taste of champagne mingled with the flavor of her juices on his palate.
His attention was quickly stolen by the third woman, who moved up his body to have her turn. He flopped to his back and licked his lips, offering Lady Elinor Howe a welcoming grin.
“My lady … your saddle awaits.”
She giggled, then moaned when his tongue darted into the seam of her mons. Just as he found her clit and began teasing it in a playful prelude, Frances fit her mouth around his cock, and David fell headlong into hedonistic paradise.
Time seemed suspended as the cares of the outside world became a distant afterthought. David had never been one to take anything too seriously. However, present circumstances left him with no choice but to confront the responsibilities he’d been outrunning his entire adult life. There were some things he simply had not been ready to face, so if he could immerse himself in the delights of the moment a bit longer, he certainly wasn’t going to turn down the chance.
Frances had just sheathed him with a condom and tied its ribbons when a sudden knock on the door echoed through the room. David gripped Elinor’s thighs to keep her from rolling off him, then raised his hips to encourage Frances to go on. She had made it clear they weren’t to be disturbed, so David saw no reason to stop. The tight clench of France’s cunt enveloped him, and Elinor’s moans came muffled from behind the hand she held over her mouth. Rebecca lay in repose beside them, content to watch as she absently reached out to fondle one of Elinor’s breasts. The distraction of the knock faded away as David thrust up into the welcoming grip of Frances, who had begun to ride him with slow, agonizing surges of her hips.
The three of them had been toying with him for the past hour, and he was so near to spending it was almost embarrassing. Nevertheless, he had a reputation to uphold, so he fought off climax with a great deal of effort, concentrating his energies on Elinor.
The knock came again, more insistent this time, followed by the voice of a servant. Frances pulled away, leaving him hovering on the edge of near release.
“Oh, for the love of Christ,” she grumbled, the mattress shifting as she shot up from the bed. “When I say I do not wish to be disturbed …”
Then, Elinor was gone, she and Rebecca reaching for dressing gowns while muffling their giggles. David draped himself with the bed sheet, though he needn’t have bothered. Once properly covered, Frances merely pried the door open a crack. Curiosity mingled with his annoyance as David listened in, catching only snatches of her conversation with a servant.
“Apologies, my lady … insisted it was urgent …”
“I don’t care how urgent, my orders were quite clear …”
“… must speak with Mr. Graham right away …”
He frowned, realizing there was only one person who would have known to come here looking for him. Dread poured through him like ice water, snuffing out his arousal. Benedict was the consummate professional, and would never interrupt a courtesan on the job unless he felt it necessary. Something must be very wrong.
By the time Frances returned, David was on his feet and searching for his clothes. Elinor and Rebecca looked on in silent disappointment, while Frances gave him a look filled with equal parts irritation and curiosity.
“Mr. Sterling has come here looking for you,” she said while he stepped into his breeches. “He insists the matter is of the utmost importance, and will not leave until he’s spoken with you.”
With a sheepish smile, he yanked his waistcoat on, not bothering with a cravat or coat. “Sorry, sweet. I’m sure we will only be a moment. I’ll see what he wants, and then …”
Frances preened beneath his promising gaze. “We’ll be waiting.”
