Page 9 of What a Courtesan Wants
As he fell silent and waited for her to reply, Aubrey found himself hoping she wouldn’t impose too many limits on him. He’d be honor-bound to abide by them, but her lush body inspired his imagination. He could envision red marks from ropes striping her creamy skin, clamps constricting her nipples, a plug stretching the tight hole of her arse to ready her for his cock.
His grip on the edge of the desk tightened and the wood creaked, a testament to his growing desire. The potency of it stunned him. He couldn’t remember ever having such a swift, visceral reaction to a woman in his entire life. Whether due to how long it had been since he’d truly wanted anyone, or to some mysterious allure on her part, Aubrey didn’t know or care. He only knew that conjuring an interest in his newest keeper wouldn’t be a problem at all. It would be a downright pleasure.
Spine snapping straight, she met his gaze and folded her hands neatly in her lap, her expression smoothing into one of cool placidity. “I am no young maiden in need of coddling. I have very few limits, and the ones I do have shouldn’t inconvenience you too sorely.”
“And what limits are those?”
“I am not averse to pain and punishments, and I appreciate the excitement they can add to an encounter. You’ll find no resistance from me on that front. For the most part, you will find me amenable to almost anything. I only insist that you refrain from kissing me on the mouth or stifling my breath in any way. Other than that, you may act as you see fit, Mr. Drake.”
His curiosity was stoked by her restriction against kissing. He’d had women ask him to skirt all manner of activities—from spanking with straps and canes, to penetration anywhere other than the cunt. He was seldom taken by surprise. The thought of not being able to nibble those decadent lips left a well of disappointment opening deep in his gut. It bothered him more than it ought to.
“I understand your aversion to breath play. Many of my past keepers have avoided it as well, though I am well-learned in that area and can practice it safely. But, may I ask why you do not wish to be kissed?”
Lucinda tore her gaze from his, her expression growing cold and shuttered as she stared at some unseen point just beyond him. “It is not necessary for the sake of our arrangement. I am a woman who has grown accustomed to certain pleasures and find I have missed them since becoming a widow. I understand the courtesans of this agency offer a variety of services, but I have but one need—for you to satisfy me in the bedchamber. I’ve seen what you are capable of, and I trust you can give me what I want.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked in agitation, her business-like tone grating against his nerves. He didn’t like the evidence of her indifference toward him. Odd, since he’d never cared before with any of his other keepers. Aubrey found it confusing that he would have such a reaction to her insouciance. He might be any other man standing before her and she’d think no more or no less of him so long as he provided a hard prick and a firm hand. For some reason, that didn’t dampen his arousal in the slightest. In fact, it stoked it further as he imagined ripping her composure to shreds, making her beg and crawl for him. He could make her plead for his kiss until her voice grew hoarse, fuck her until she screamed for mercy, spank her until her buttocks were raw and red. It annoyed him that she seemed so unaffected by him, while he stood here hanging on to the last shred of his poise and patience at just the sight of her—and she was still fully clothed. It was just his luck that the first woman he felt such an attraction to in ages looked at him much the way the women before her had.
It took every ounce of his will not to haul her to her feet, bend her over Benedict’s desk, lift her skirts, and blister her arse before plunging his cock into her hard and deep. Instead, he rose to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I see. Never fear, my lady. I am more than up to the task of giving you what you need. How many days a week will you require me?”
She remained as taciturn as ever, with not a crack showing in her steely outward façade.
“Three days will do. Tuesday evenings, as well as Thursday and Saturday.”
Anticipation livened his blood, alarming him for a bit with its intensity. “Very well. Since tomorrow evening is Tuesday, I suppose we ought to take the time to become better acquainted then. Shall I come to you?”
He was relieved when she gave him the address for a home in St. James Square instead of suggesting they use his lodgings. In the rare event that a keeper didn’t want him coming to her residence, he used the rooms over his shop to avoid taking anyone to the home he shared with his niece. Keeping these two parts of his life separate made it easier to avoid Elizabeth learning about the Gentleman Courtesans.
“Then I will see you tomorrow at nine in the evening. From that moment on, whenever we are alone in your bedchamber, you will refer to me as ‘Sir’ or be punished.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and left. He felt her stare, hot and intent but he didn’t look back, certain he might do something reckless if he did. Disappointment settled over him, along with annoyance that became harder and harder to keep in check. This was the sort of thing a chap had to countenance when he wasn’t in a position to choose the woman he was taking to bed. It was the reason he could hardly wait to be done with this courtesan business so he could devote his time to the things in his life that mattered.
Adding insult to injury was the fact that Lucinda was just the sort of woman he’d have chosen for himself. He would have taken the time to learn her, to tease and torment her until she begged him to fuck her. Then, he would have done that in every fathomable way, learning the feel of her mouth, her cunny, her arse. But, she didn’t want that, didn’t wanthim. A bitter taste crept into his mouth as he realized he’d gotten his hopes up for nothing.
Lady Lucinda Bowery had turned out to be just like all the others.
Chapter 3
“One might assume that the end of the Season would prove to be a dry and uninteresting time for this writer, but one would be wrong. Without so many bodies clogging London, it is far easier to spot those of you who act without discretion.”
-The London Gossip,18 August 1819
“You will refer to me as ‘Sir’ or be punished.”
Aubrey’s words echoed through Lucinda’s mind for the rest of the evening as well as the following day. Despite her determination to remain aloof, they affected her far more than she wanted to admit. At their first utterance her nipples had gone to tight points inside her bodice, her belly erupting with liquid heat. Each time she thought of them, spoken in his deep, stern voice, a shiver ran through her.
Lucinda had forgotten how arousing the right, thinly-veiled sensual threat could be when wrapped up in the voice of a man who was sure about himself and what he had to offer.
Her new courtesan had been even more potent up close—his dark skin gleaming beautifully in the lamplight, eyes as fathomless as still waters in the black of night, his presence filling the room and overshadowing everything else. His scent had overwhelmed her when he’d come near, woodsy and clean with a hint of musk. It had made her mouth water and her fingers itch to touch him.
The power of her reaction to him had been as heady as it had been sobering, though she’d done her best to keep Aubrey from knowing it. She hadn’t responded so readily to a man since Magnus, and that realization had buried her under a heavy weight of guilt. As she’d sat there staring at the man she would let into her bed, she experienced the acute sense of betrayal—her betrayal of the man she had loved. It didn’t matter that Magnus had all but forced her to promise him she would move on, or that he’d taught her never to be ashamed of her body or her urges. As she’d sat there staring at Aubrey while imagining all the wicked things he could do to her with his stunningly graceful hands, Lucinda had felt like the worst creature in all of Christendom.
And so, when Aubrey had asked her what limits he ought to observe, it had come naturally to establish a rule against kissing on the mouth. Magnus had been the first and only man to ever kiss her, and she wanted it to remain that way. If she were going to give Aubrey her body, then she would reserve that one intimacy—the one thing Magnus had possessed that no other man could have. Aubrey had seemed displeased with the restriction, and Lucinda could see he was a perceptive man. He’d noticed her withdrawal, had seen the moment she’d begun closing herself off from him, and the attraction that had caught her off guard. She realized she ought to reassure him somehow, find some way to tell him he was not to blame for her inability to let another man get close to her after such a stunning loss.
But then, she waspayingthis man to act as her lover. She did not know much about him, but had heard from Millicent that he was a linen-draper with his own shop in Town—which meant he had a life filled with responsibilities and worries of his own. What would he care that her entire world had been destroyed and she was still fumbling about trying to figure out how to put it back together? He was being paid to bed her, and that would be his only care.
So, she’d held back from making any such explanations. He was probably used to such reserve from his previous keepers. They’d parted ways with Lucinda remaining on edge, hardly able to sleep that night for anticipating what the next evening would hold. She’d been distracted throughout the entire day, staring off into space when she was supposed to be composing a letter to her mother, missing her cup entirely while pouring tea and staining her day gown, and nearly stepping out in front of a carriage and team during her walk.
