Page 13 of Making of a Scandal
His friend raised one blond eyebrow, but did as he was told and waved a hand toward the cracked door. “Whatever you say. I wish you luck.”
“This is one area where I don’t need luck,” Nick drawled before pushing open the door.
He strode inside, confidence in his gait and determination steeling him. It didn’t matter if this client were twice his age or had the face of a badger; he was going to charm her right out of her clothes. But she could keep her stockings on … Nick liked it when they kept their stockings on.
The form of a petite woman rose from a chair that faced Benedict’s desk, and at first all Nick could make out was a chignon of glossy black hair and a slender figure. But then, she turned to face him and he nearly choked on his own tongue.
Miss Whatever-her-name-was certainly wasn’t twice his age, nor did she have the face of a badger. Benedict had been right that she didn’t fit into the imagined mold of his ‘perfect’ woman. Yet, somehow, Nick had never beheld a more magnificent creature in all his life.
He’d never seen such round, dark eyes—like velvety brown pools a man could fall into and happily drown. A heart-shaped face with a delicate little chin was carved with high, regal cheekbones and slashed with an aquiline nose. And her mouth … he’d never seen a more perfect mouth in his life. His cock went hard in an instant as he imagined licking at that plump bottom lip, then biting it until she moaned. He wanted to trace the cupid’s bow of the upper lip with his fingertip, then plunge into her mouth, testing the feel of her tongue. Those lips trailing across his naked chest, parted as she moaned in ecstasy, wrapped around his prick …
He nearly groaned at the images his wild imagination had conjured, but managed to remain composed.
She stared at him, silent and assessing, hands clasped neatly before her. Nick’s mind went completely blank and he found himself at a loss for words.
Words werenevera problem for him. In fact, they were something of a specialty, whether he was charming society matrons, making his friends laugh with well-timed jokes, or whispering filth into the ears of the women paying to be debauched. He swallowed and spat out the first words that popped into his head.
“Fucking Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
She blinked as if startled, then furrowed her brow. “Thank you.”
Her words held a questioning note, almost as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
Brilliant.
Clearing his throat, he tried to shake off the stupor that had fallen over him at the sight of her. Even before he’d become a courtesan, wooing women into his bed had never been a trial. He would recover from his little blunder and make this woman his next client—and not just because he needed the money.
“Dominick Burke. At your service.”
Seeming to recover from her shock, she gave a stiff nod and extended a hand to him. “Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Burke. I am Calliope Barrington.”
“Call me Dominick,” he urged, taking hold of her hand and giving her a tug. “Or Nick, if you prefer. Really, you can call me whatever you like while I’m buried inside you.”
She gasped, pressing her hands against his chest and arching against him. That only served to press her pelvis tighter against his. They both stiffened, his cock thickening against her belly, and her entire body going rigid.
“Actually … that is what I wanted to talk to you about,Mr. Burke. My request is a rather singular one, I’m afraid, and I want you to be aware of what I require.”
A shy woman. No matter … he’d broken down the defenses of his fair share of reluctant women.
“Oh, I think I know exactly what you need,” he murmured, his lips caressing a path down her cheek.
She shivered in his hold, squirming as his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. She smelled of vanilla and roses, a combination he never realized could be so erotic. His cock certainly seemed to like it, throbbing and pulsing as he dragged the heady scent in through his nostrils.
“You need a man who will pleasure you in a way no man ever has,” he whispered, running his hands down until his palms were filled with her buttocks. “Someone who will lick this delectable body from neck to toes until you beg him to take you. Someone who can handle the little wildcat you turn into once he’s lured you into bed. Someone who can fuck you so thoroughly you forget your own name.”
“Mr. Burke!” she squealed when he squeezed the firm cheeks of her arse, pulling her tighter against him.
He chuckled, seeking out her delectable mouth for a kiss. “I’ve never been called Mr. Burke in bed before, but I think I rather like it.”
His mouth brushed hers, but before he could turn it into a proper kiss, pain exploded along the side of his face. He staggered back, reeling from the force of what he was certain must have been a well-timed slap.
His right ear was ringing, and his jaw tingled from the residual heat of the blow. Pressing a hand to his cheek, he stared at her in wide-eyed shock.
The chit was shaking from head to toe, lips pressed tight, jaw clenched. It wasn’t desire he saw making her eyes simmer like hot coals—it was anger.
“Mr. Burke, you are clearly mistaken about the nature of my need. Did Mr. Sterling not explain it to you?”
Nick winced, remembering that Benedict had been trying to tell himsomethingabout their new client. He’d hardly thought he would need to be primed before coming into this room. Any woman coming to the Gentleman Courtesans looking for Nick must be aware of what he was known for: a filthy tongue and the thin veneer of a gentleman laid over the truth of his licentiousness and lack of scruples. Benedict had a penchant for matching clients with the perfect courtesan after interviewing them to assess their needs. He’d never paired Nick with a woman who didn’t know exactly what she was getting herself into with him.
