Carnal Pleasures Page 9
Griff felt the spasms gripping his finger. She had responded so quickly, so much so that he almost didn’t believe it. He never expected her to come quite so swiftly.
Dulcie’s knees wobbled while her legs trembled. She struggled to keep from collapsing in a heap. Her eyes were clamped shut, and Griff watched as she was caught in a whirlpool of carnal pleasure following her first climax.
“There’s a good girl,” he said in a calming, conversational tone. “I told you, you would like it. But I can do more if you will let me.”
He pulled a wet finger out of her pussy, holding her up with one arm lest her knees buckle. “Bloody hell, Dulcie, you’re so damn hot, so responsive. Do you want to learn more of what I can teach you, hmm?” If he teased her with enough pleasuring, she could never give him up.
Griff knew he had taken outrageous liberties with Agina’s stepdaughter during this initial sexual encounter. He was simply acting on her wishes, ordered to do so by the countess. Then why was his heart hammering so hard and fast in his chest? A fortnight of carnal trysts stretched ahead of him—Lady Dulcie clawing at his breeches like a bitch in heat, nightly forays to her bedchamber or his, developing into hours of lovemaking. The countess told him to seduce Dulcina during the daytime, too, if he found a spot in the mansion conducive to fucking in privacy.
Right now, he could easily urge Dulcie into his bedchamber, throw her down on the bed, pull her beneath him, and thrust as far inside her as his cock would reach.
But instead, he held back. “You’ve had enough tutoring for one night, Lady Dulcie. Let me help you into your chamber.”
Only moments ago, he had made up his mind to marry the stepdaughter. He could, and would, use her inheritance to foster his own personal needs and schemes. There was plenty of time to debauch Dulcie again, he was certain. He didn’t want to be too rough on the girl’s sensibilities. Something might go wrong. Besides, at the same time, he hoped to teach the haughty countess a lesson or two.
Chapter Ten
Aiding Dulcie into her room, she seemed recovered from the episode outside her door. Griff gently kissed her forehead, “I’ll see you, Dulcie, tomorrow, I hope. Sweet dreams, my lady.”
He turned away as the door closed behind him. Voices echoed downstairs, and he knew the countess had returned from the card party. He went to his bedchamber and waited a brief interval before knocking on the door to her room. Agina opened it herself, her lady’s maid having gone to bed. “Ahh, Spencer, come in. Yes, yes, do tell me what happened.”
“Your stepdaughter has been compromised, although no one but you and I know it. She is very naive, just as you said.”
“Then you breached her maidenhead?”
“No. There wasn’t time. I will do so when the time is ripe.”
The countess was en dishabille again tonight. She had been pacing, but now she spun around to face him. Her prominent nipples showed through the flimsy silk of her nightclothes when she moved. She sidled closer, sliding caressing fingers over his shoulders, her hands slithering around his nape like a pair of sinuous reptiles.
“Well, then, I still have time to test your…um…reflexes again.” Like a purring feline, she rubbed her voluptuous body against him. “You must need what I can give you if you didn’t fuck her.”
Dammit, his cock was acting up again, having only subsided from the onslaught of Dulcie’s nubile body enticing him to take her and be damned of it.
“Countess, it is late. I have an appointment early tomorrow, so I will say goodnight.”
“Oh? Stop right there! Where are you going?”
“A private matter.”
“What does that mean? I wish to know where you go and what you do. You are bought and paid for, remember that?”
Perhaps, this was as good a time as any to squeeze additional funds from the tightfisted countess. “Not quite paid for, Auntie. And you are not my superior officer in Wellington’s army. Hmm…you see, there is a loose end I forgot to mention, but one that needs discussion. We decided upon a modus operandi, Countess, but…”
“What do you mean?” She snapped back at him, drawing her arms from around his neck and moving away from him.
Her back became rigid, and he sensed her arrogance and haughty annoyance radiate across the space between them. “You needn’t worry. I won’t forget your stepdaughter’s denouement. In the meantime, I have business of my own to address. My family’s estate is going on the auction block. I believe I can salvage it if I have sufficient funds in my account to make an offer.”
She whirled back toward him. “Are you hinting that you wish me to lend you money?” She laughed coarsely, her eyebrows leaping upward in astonishment. “That’s preposterous!”
“No, not hinting, asking. I’m asking you to give me what I need. If you recall, you altered our agreement, and now I am adding a new wrinkle.”
She glowered at him. “How much to you need?”
“Five hundred.”
“Five hundred pounds!” She looked dumbfounded. “What kind of May game are you trying to pull on me, Spencer!” she ranted, stamping a brocaded slipper angrily.
“I’ll reimburse you when you release Dulcina’s dowry to me, Countess. So you see, it really is a loan, not a gift.”
All business now, Agina squinted her at him through her lashes, to see if he was cutting a sham.
Griff kept his expression noncommittal, not showing what he truly planned or intended to do.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it now, Auntie,” Griff replied curtly. He turned toward the door to the adjacent dressing rooms. “My appointment is set for tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. Your written draft will do fine.” He yanked on the doorknob and pulled the door wide. “Until tomorrow then, Countess. Sleep well.”
Griff shut the door behind him without another word and went to bed.
* * * *
Dulcie jolted awake, somewhat disoriented. It took her a minute or two to realize she had had a nightmare and was drenched with perspiration. As she lay awake staring up at the canopy over her bed, heat crept across her private parts. Her body still quivered from the throes of her dream. Her nipples burned and tickled. She ran a tentative palm over the fabric covering a breast, then pulled her hand away and clenched her fingers into a fist. No one said she shouldn’t touch herself there, but it didn’t seem proper. All she wanted was some relief from the strange, new sensations. She threw back her bedclothes and raised the hem of her damp night rail, fanning her nakedness with the fabric.
The place between her thighs pulsed. Vaguely, she recalled someone—
Omigod, it was Griff Spencer who touched me there, stroking my most private place. And I thought it was a nightmare! She gulped. And I liked it! It felt good!
And then…she delved deeper in thought, recalling that her body experienced weird, pleasurable things. She had wanted them to go on…and on. Dear God, she wanted to experience the same pleasure again.
What would happen if she touched herself between her legs?
Her hand inched under her night rail, smoothed her groin above her pulsing pussy. She wiggled through the crisp curls protecting her mound and reached farther, gasping a tortured breath as if doing something immoral and totally inexcusable.
She jerked her hand away. But soon her fingers again crept closer to the plump, nether lips nestled in the deep crevice between her thighs. She bent her knees and allowed her legs to fall open. Her index finger delved deep. Hot liquid drenched the area as she spread her own juices over the spot. The pad of her finger flicked the wet flesh easily, gently, erotically—commencing the same sensations she experienced before.
Oh God! I remember how wonderful it felt!
She teased harder, until she found the opening, her finger pushing deeper, stroking faster, and swooping back and forth between the slick lips.
This must be where he stuck his finger.
She went back to rubbing the sensitive spot until it grew even wetter
. She sucked in a breath, her mind waiting for more to happen. The sensations were intensifying, growing almost unbearable. If they ceased—oh, Lord, she had to keep doing it to be satisfied. The need was so powerful now that she couldn’t stop herself. The excruciating, wonderful flutterings kept building, higher and higher, tightening, begging for release from her inner core.
She wanted it to happen…now! She was so close…
Strong and wet with her body’s fluid, her finger accelerated the rhythm. She stuck a second finger into the unseen opening. Her concentration on the sliding movements centered on need, anticipation, and hunger for satiation.
Tension grew when she manipulated the sensitive nub lying deep between the lips. Eyes tightly closed, Dulcie lay back on the fluffy pillows, hoping for the explosion of rippling, mindless, pulsating pleasure she experienced earlier with Griff. Seconds later sensitive nerve endings in her lower body heightened the rapid, pulsing spasms. She forced out an unexpected exclamation, one so different that Simon jumped up, growling at the sound, ready to defend his mistress from harm.
“Ahhh…no, no, Simon, it’s all right. I-I’m fine…I think.” She sighed deeply when all her muscles relaxed as the tremors coursing through her finally slowed, then ceased. She lay quiet, panting from the extraordinary experience. She pulled her hand away and yanked down her night rail.
Her thoughts were jumbled, suspended. She eased into a curving posture, lying comfortably on one side now that the urgent need was satisfied.
Has he put me under a spell? Is Griff the devil’s work? Good Lord! Why did I succumb to such wretched, unholy temptation? What would my sainted mother say if she found me doing these things… and enjoying them…especially, with Griff Spencer?
Dulcie burrowed her face in the bed pillows to hide her shame, eyes squinted shut. She lay alone in the room with only her dog for company. Nevertheless, she was embarrassed about what happened. She vowed not to touch herself that way again. It must be terribly wrong, indecent, and quite dreadfully sinful, to enjoy a man’s touch as well as doing it to one’s self.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn sprang over the treetops of Mayfair. Shards of bright sunshine peeked through openings between the drapes on Dulcie’s windows. Simon nudged her arm with his wet nose, pulling her out of the fog clouding her brain. She came out of a lingering, drugged sleep with vague visions of being roundly kissed and intimately touched—absolutely certain she had merely dreamt all those things.
Slowly, she shook herself awake, forcing her mind to function. She had no idea why her head throbbed, pain thumping hard against her temples. It must have been the wine, she surmised, reminded of how much she had drunk at last night’s supper. She vowed not to drink so much again.
Rolling off the mattress, Dulcie stood up, a little woozy, but steady enough on her feet to pour water from the ewer into a china bowl and splash her face with cool water. That helped. She removed her nightwear and donned the same underpinnings and gown she wore last evening. She must have been very tired, because she had tossed her clothes carelessly onto a chair without hanging them up. After she walked Simon, she would do a better job on her toilette, too.
The town house was quiet. Dulcie saw a footman standing at the front door even though it was still early. “Good morning, Joshua,” she said. “Simon and I are taking our constitutional.”
“I’ll be glad to accompany you, milady.”
“It is daylight, and we won’t be gone long. Don’t concern yourself.”
“Yes, milady.” He pulled open the heavy front door and let them pass through. Simon was anxious to relieve himself, and the pair hurried down the front steps.
Dulcie glanced toward the iron gates guarding the entrance of the gravel drive and decided to do a little exploring. With Simon at her side, she strolled onto a cobbled walkway that circled the perimeter of Portman Square. A small park, fitted with several benches, lay in its center. Backed by ornamental bushes and a larger span of tall trees, new growth of green grass sprouted. Just the place to give Simon some exercise, Dulcie thought, as she hurried to duck under the trees. She unhooked the dog’s leash, letting him snuffle and sniff while she waited for him to finish. She was sorry she hadn’t thought to bring his ball along. He loved to play fetch.
The Square was empty of pedestrians or carriages. The surrounding town houses were silent, although she heard a vendor shouting his wares outside of Eberley House shortly after she woke up. Dulcie sat on a convenient bench, eyes peeled on Simon’s wandering, calling to him once or twice to make certain he didn’t stray too far.
* * * *
Griff was awake early, too. He hadn’t slept well. He turned and tossed on his bed, his mind following one track or other for an hour or more before he fell asleep.
He was aroused to the point of pain after kissing and caressing Lady Dulcie.
His late evening talk with the countess gave him pause. He had played his cards as well as he could, pressuring her for sufficient funds to make an offer on his parent’s mortgaged estate. When he left the countess, he thought he got his way, but he wouldn’t know for sure until she handed him a draft written in his name.
Rather than lie in bed, Griff lunged up and yanked on shirt, breeches, and boots. He pulled the window coverings open and looked down at the square, seeing Lady Dulcie and her dog perambulating around the little park.
He wondered what she thought about the episode between them last eve. She had allowed his advances, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He assumed, being a virgin, she would have protested vehemently, but she didn’t. And, for a countrified mouse, she displayed an irresistible passion in her kisses. He wanted to keep kissing her for a long time before scooping her up in his arms and taking her to bed. He didn’t want to rush things; it was the only reason he hesitated, or he and his randy cock would have ravished her then and there.
To say goodnight, he had let her go with a chaste kiss on the forehead. He still wondered why she appealed to him at all. Most of his earliest amours were lushly endowed lightskirts with generous tits and rounded buttocks; they were in love with his lustiness when he was whoring about Town as an experienced libertine.
His recently besmirched honor had become a matter of pride. Being drummed out of the King’s army had stripped him of his self-esteem. He had never been a pervert or a catamite using young boys for sexual pleasure. The fact that he was wrongly accused galled him deeply. He meant to prove his self-worth, at least to his mother’s family. One way was to re-purchase his family’s ancestral home from the moneylenders who had acquired it and planned to auction it off to the highest bidder.
Lady Dulcina was his primary target, accessible because of her stepmother’s greedy schemes. The girl had the wealth he needed, plus the opportunity to clear his name and reputation with marriage into a noble family.
Against their wills, both she and he were under the control of the countess. Dulcie said she wasn’t interested in marriage. He believed marriage between them was inevitable unless they outfoxed the countess. Not that Lady Dulcina was his choice of a lifelong amour. Nevertheless, something about her grabbed his interest, poked him in the gut, and made her unforgettable.
* * * *
Footfalls clumping across the cobblestones alerted Dulcie. The tall figure striding toward her from the Eberley town house was Griff Spencer. She stood up when he reached her, wishing she wore an unwrinkled gown and had tamed her unbrushed tresses.
He must think I sleep in my clothes.
Seeing Griff, Simon bounded out of the trees and across the new grass to greet him, his tail wagging wildly.
“Whoa! Down boy!” He laughed, holding out his palms to the dog’s exuberant welcome. “And good morning to you, Dulcie. You’re out early,” he said, stopping in front of her as the dog pranced around his feet.
“Yes. Simon wanted his morning outing. I am usually out and about quite early. At least, I am when I am in the country. Which is mostly always,” she added as an afterthought.
Simon’s brown eyes focused on Griff’s face, slobbering, while enjoying the man’s attention. Dulcie had a sudden, inexplicable thought that invaded her brain.
Just like me.
When he straightened, Griff was grinning. He had come outside without a jacket, only his trousers and waistcoat buttoned over his shirt. He had even left off his cravat. She noticed a small tuft of gold hair peeking above his shirt’s open placket. It curls, she thought, her eyes locked onto the width of his chest. Warmth settled low in her torso.
“It was my understanding, Dulcie, you weren’t to stray out of the town house’s grounds. Will the countess scold you for your misbehavior this morning?”
“Well,” she retorted, glancing up to meet his eyes. “If she does, Mr. Spencer, it won’t be the first time. I’ve felt the sharp edge of my stepmother’s tongue before now. But,” she said, “Simon and I haven’t been out here very long, so I don’t think my stepmother will discover us being naughty. From what I hear, she doesn’t open her eyes until noon.”
“Umm? You were rather naughty last evening though, weren’t you?” The glint in his silvery eyes pinned her gaze to his. “And my name is Griff. Please use it. Calling me Mr. Spencer sounds as if I am into my dotage. After all, we aren’t that far apart in age.”
She acknowledged use of his Christian name for the second time. “All right. I shall try to remember.”
She replied next to his other topic. “I believe my…unusual behavior was predicated on the amount of wine I drank,” she said. “Too much, I think. I won’t be so foolish again. My poor head feels as if it’s stuffed with horse feathers.”
Unconsciously, she rested an open palm against her forehead. “But if I did anything terribly improper, Mr. Spenc…er, Griff, believe me, it won’t happen again even if I don’t recall doing anything so awful.”