Page 9 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
Madame Elise smiled with the sort of sauciness he suspected accompanied her often during her youth. “Oh, I like your spirit,mademoiselle.”
Clearing his throat he leaned down and lowered his voice. “I don’t think you quite understand what she is implying.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Gina pointed discreetly. “The girl with the black hair and the red corset. I rather like the looks of her. I do get to choose, don’t I?”
He was on the verge of blurting, “No!” when the madam said, “Of course,machère.” She snapped her fingers at the brunette, who immediately shot off the sofa where she’d been lounging.
“I’m not certain this is a good idea,” Andrew said, taking pride in the fact he managed to sound calm. He’d expected Gina to retreat, not rush forward into the fray. Rex was going to kill him if he ever learned about this outing.
“Oh, I think it’s a splendid idea. You won’t believe how often I’ve considered doing this, but I didn’t know where to go or how to manage the particulars. I’m frightfully excited about all the possibilities.”
His head nearly exploded as a variety of sexual positions burst through his mind. “You are aware that we are talking about sex occurring here.”
“Of course. I’m not a dimwit. I understand the purpose of brothels. Although I haven’t any coins. Would you be so kind as to pay for tonight’s adventure? I can reimburse you on the morrow.”
Before he could say no, the madam once again interfered. “Your first time,machére, is on the house.”
The dark-haired beauty sidled up to Gina, dipped a little, and slid up her body, very much like a cat. His mouth went dry, his cock twitched. Damn it to hell.
Smiling brightly, Gina looked over at him. “See you in a bit.”
The girl took Gina’s hand and began leading her toward the stairs.
“Now we need to find someone for you,moncher,” Madame Elise said.
“Yes, I am in need of a woman,” he announced loudly. “A buxom one at that.”
Gina didn’t even look back.
“With wide hips!”
She started up the stairs. He watched until she reached the landing, disappeared down a hallway. He waited on bated breath, expecting her to pop back out and laugh, flinging her arms wide and proclaiming, “I was only teasing.”
Only she didn’t reappear, no matter how hard he wished it.
“She’s a saucy one. Wherever did you find ’er?” Elise asked, her cockney suddenly strong. Apparently she’d forgotten she was supposed to be French, although any self-respecting Frenchman would be offended by her accent.
He glared at her, wanting to blame her for this fiasco but knowing the fault rested with him for being foolish enough not to stand firm against Gina’s imploring green eyes. “Have you ever had a woman customer?”
“We ‘ave all sorts, love.”
“How long does it take?”
She glanced up the stairs, rolled a shoulder carelessly. “I’d give ’em an hour. Now who would ye like to entertain ye while yer waiting?”
He let scotch entertain him. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it dulled the senses as he stood with his back against the wall, his gaze fastened on the top of the stairs. He tried not to envision what was happening in that room—
Bloody hell. He couldn’t seem to stop the images from flashing through his mind, because he knew exactly what was taking place. When he was nineteen, younger and curious, he’d paid to watch two girls pleasuring each other. In all fairness, he’d hoped to learn a few techniques he could incorporate into his own lovemaking arsenal. He’d wanted to bring his lover at the time as much pleasure as a man could bring a woman. He’d been open to trying anything. So he’d watched and learned and embarrassed himself because his young randy self had never seen anything so sensual. There had been no rush to fruition. There had been nothing left untouched, unkissed, unlicked.
So he knew precisely what was happening. Gina’s clothes were slowly being removed. Bared skin would be kissed. Breasts would be suckled. Hands would caress—
He dug out his watch. Only a quarter of an hour had passed. Three more. Three more quarters of an hour to endure. He would go mad with—
He hesitated to use the word jealousy. He was not the jealous sort. Yet what he was experiencing now made him feel as though his skin were too tight, that his entire being was on the verge of combusting.
Visions of Gina being touched in ways that he wanted to touch her, stroke her, caress her bombarded him. It didn’t matter that she was with a woman. He’d have felt the same if she was with a man. It was the act itself, the things being done to her, the way she would squirm, thrash about, cry out in ecstasy.
What if she hadn’t understood precisely what was going to happen in that room? What if she didn’t know how to extricate herself from an uncomfortable situation? What if she thought she had to go through with something even if she didn’t want it? She could be in need of rescuing and he’d never know. What the deuce had he been thinking to let her go off with the girl? He’d been irresponsible, could not risk that she might be in trouble with no way of calling out to him.
