Emily's Seduction (2 page)

Alex left his bedchamber and found Emily in the corridor. She smiled, showing small white teeth against her full red lips. Her sherry brown eyes lit with joy and her dark curls bounced as she ran to him.

He took her into his arms and she tilted her head back. He adored the juxtaposition that her slightly oversized nose made with her otherwise delicately etched features. For some reason it always held a sort of irresistible carnal appeal to him. He kissed the tip of her nose and she laughed. He bent and pressed his cheek to hers and rubbed his recently shaven face against her softness. She smelt of cold air and sunshine.

Warmth entered his heart, chasing away all the coldness of his doubts. He only doubted himself when he wasn’t with her. When she was in his arms, how could he question the power of his love for her? It was so strong, so real—surely it would keep all the demons at bay.

“And what did John say to you in the garden to make you laugh so?” He hated the twinge of jealousy that prompted the question. It flattered neither him nor her. John was her friend.

“Just his usual Jacobin ravings.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, fitting his hand into the curve of her waist as he moved to kiss her.

His lips pressed hers far more lightly than he desired. He lifted his head. She arched her neck back and gazed up at him, her eyes grown dark, smoky brown, and her lips blood red and slightly parted. A rapid pulse beat in her throat. Hunger surged through his loins.

His back still burned from her scratch marks the previous afternoon. God, she was so sensual, so divinely sensual. He could take her all night long, make her come and come again. She was the first woman who had ever been able to fully sate him, to exhaust him. And she was such a little slip of a thing. The first time he’d set eyes on her he had dismissed her as a nervous, green girl. Until he had seen her enjoy a glass of fine wine so deeply she’d practically been making love to it.

And that full, red velvet mouth. The way she could kiss, the things she could do…
Christ
. A fresh surge of blood roiled through his body and made his cock throb.

He could pull her down the corridor hall and into his bedchamber. No one was upstairs. They could be quick and quiet and none would be the wiser. But he didn’t want her like that. He wanted to be able to take the time to make her beg and fuck her hard enough to make her scream. He wanted to lose himself in her.

But she wasn’t going to mark him up again.

She moved to wrap herself tighter to his body and he stopped her by grasping her shoulders and turning her to face the other direction.

He leaned close to her ear. “Go sit with Rachel in the parlour.” She laughed softly and he gave her a slight push. “On now with you.”

She gasped and half turned back. “Well, that’s a fine good afternoon to you, too.”

“Go.” He smacked her rear. “And try not to appear so sultry.”

She descended the stairs, her smart little arse swaying saucily the whole way. After that, he waited long enough so that his urgency was not so apparent to the casual observer. Long enough that it might not seem suspicious. And then he went downstairs and into the parlour.

Aunt Rachel sat in a satin brocade and mahogany Chippendale wingchair, with her little dog Willie in her lap. With her black hair arranged in an elegant upsweep, she was gowned in dark plum velvet. A queenly appearance he gladly financed, for she was his late mother’s beloved sister, abandoned after the war against the British by her feckless loyalist husband and made penniless by the vengeful courts.

“Come, Emily, you said you wanted to go to Main Street,” he said.

High spots of vivid colour stained Emily’s cheeks the moment before she glanced down. “Oh, yes, but I had thought you were too busy.”

“Well, if you hurry yourself, I won’t be.” With his blood still half heated, it was easy to sound snappishly impatient. This kind of subterfuge was ridiculous. Once married to Emily, he was going to have to find his aunt and her daughter, Nancy, a new house. Something modest but comfortable.

Two weeks ago, Alex’s brother James had moved out to his own domicile in unspoken protest at Alex having Emily in the house. James did not approve of Emily and her middling-sort background. He felt that having her in the family might tarnish his chances for political rise. James was a dreadful prig and always had been. He couldn’t help it and Alex didn’t hold it against him. At least he’d had the good taste to remove himself.

From all appearances unaware that her days in this house were limited, Rachel set her book down and gave Emily an arch look. “But you’ve been shopping three times this week already.”

Emily jumped to her feet, smoothing her skirts as she did so. “That is the way it is with art supplies. One just never knows how much one shall need and they are so costly I hate to buy more than I require at a time.”

Alex caught her eye and the flush on her cheeks grew brighter. He smothered a chuckle and winked at her.

Aunt Rachel shook her head. “Oh, my, I would hate to always have to be running to Main Street in this frigid weather. You may ask Cato to go and get what you need.”

“I must inspect the items personally, else I cannot be sure of the quality,” Emily said.

Aunt Rachel shrugged and opened her book again. “It’s your risk for an ague.”

* * * *

In the carriage, Alex’s lips moved on her neck as if he were ravenous for the taste of her. Emily could feel him working the buttons loose on his breeches.

“You are ever so ready,” she said in dry, disinterested tones as if wetness wasn’t also slipping down the insides of her thighs.

“I am, my love, I am.” The words were a breathless sigh spoken into the curve of her neck. He took her hand and led it to his erection.

She gripped him tightly and stroked the velvety hardness.

He groaned softly. “God, yes, just like that, my love.”

It was like this every time they went ‘shopping’. He was never able to wait. She moved off the seat, lowered herself to her knees and then took as much of his thick length into her mouth as she could manage. She adored the satiny saltiness of his cock in her mouth but, even more, she gloried in his trembling hands upon her head, his beautiful blue-grey eyes riveted upon her face.

He was so involved with other people. All day long they came to him, asking for money or advice or that he should negotiate or plead on their behalf. And, for the truly deserving, he was always generous with his time, influence and funds. He remembered everyone’s name, knew all about their families. He could make anyone believe they were the single most interesting person he had ever met and people adored him for it.

For a man wealthy enough not to have to engage in a vocation, he stayed remarkably busy, always out to some dinner party or meeting. He was working now on persuading members of Congress to pass the Naval Bill.

However, in these moments he was completely hers.

She wanted to swallow him whole but she couldn’t. He was too huge and she hadn’t mastered the art of taking him deep into her throat without the urge to gag. She suspected he was unusually large. But she had never seen any other naked men and had certainly not seen any fully engorged. She had asked him once and he had laughed.

“Yes, yes, I am. Huge.”

But then he had laughed again, low and sensual, making her feel that he was merely teasing her over her inexperience. She’d felt too foolish to pursue the issue, so she still didn’t know.

It didn’t seem to matter. From his reactions, she knew he equally adored every touch and caress of her tongue, lips and hands. How incredible that he should want her when she knew he’d had so many other, more beautiful, more experienced women.

Salty fluid seeped from him, like nectar on her tongue. She laved the crown then focused on the point beneath that seemed to please him so well. His hands tightened on her head.

“You’ve got a wicked mouth.” His voice sounded husky above the clatter of the wheels on the street pebbles.

Yes, it did make her feel very wicked to service him like this in his fine carriage. To be on her knees as they rolled through the city. She laughed deep in her throat with his cock in her mouth.

“God, oh God.” His hands tightened even more.

Her blood was raging in her veins; desire tingling in her cunt. Her juices flowed freely. She thirsted for the taste of his seed on her tongue. She wanted to own every part of him. And very soon she would, if only for those brief moments when pleasure consumed him. She laughed again, this time with the joy of the moment, and she redoubled her efforts, working her mouth and her hand.

“Now,” he breathed. “Oh, God, now.”

He needn’t have spoken. She felt the surging in his cock and her breathing quickened with her rising excitement. She loved to make him come like this. He groaned. A second later his seed surged into her mouth in fierce jets. She swallowed while trying to maintain her hold over his jerking flesh, trying to milk his every last drop. But his hips bucked and made it hard to do so.

She fell away from him and laid her head against his nankeen-clad leg, panting from the extent of her recent exertions. He caressed her hair. Several moments passed and she knew he had recovered by the lessening of his laboured breathing.

“Alex?”

“Yes?” His voice was languorous.

“When are we going to be wed?”

He laughed softly. “What’s the matter, don’t you like the excitement of finding time alone?”

“Oh, come now, Alex. Tell me when.” She made a fist and hit the inside of his leg. “When?”

He put his hand on the back of her neck and tightened gently. “Soon, my impatient love, very soon.”

She resisted the urge to grit her teeth but she was frustrated still. He always said that. Always. ‘Soon’ was fast becoming her most hated word in the English language. All her hot excitement faded. She gave a long and exaggerated sigh and shrugged out from under his touch.

“Oh, don’t be this way,” he said.

She ignored him and slid away. She pulled herself up and then tossed herself onto the opposite seat and threw a glare at him.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

She traced a seam in the plush velvet seat cushion with a fingertip. “Yes, but I don’t see why we can’t even puff it up some.”

“If we make a public announcement, everyone, including Aunt Rachel and my cousin Cornelia will expect a grand public wedding with all the celebrations.”

She inhaled deeply. His widowed cousin Cornelia Hazelwood, at over a half-century old, she was one of the most proper and powerful Philadelphia ladies. Just the memory of those steely, sky-blue eyes was enough to freeze her blood.

“Do you want that, Emily?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. In fact, the thought of such a lavish spectacle, getting married under the curious eyes of a throng of wealthy, high-placed strangers, made her mouth go dry and her stomach churn. Alex knew so many important people. She was really still a sheltered, shy young woman. Oh, she could handle Alex well enough, that much was true, but she didn’t know how to converse with those who moved in society circles. Not without some heavy fortification from wine. She was going to need to learn how to be a gracious hostess, but the thought of being suddenly thrust into it on her wedding day wasn’t something she relished.

“Let me work past some things on my agenda and then, when the time is right, you’ll be the first to know.” He smiled and offered her a wink.

She wasn’t comforted.

* * * *

Upon arriving at an inconspicuous boarding house near the Northern Liberties, Emily pulled her hood low over her face and allowed Alex to lead her to his rented rooms. Entering, she inhaled the exotic scent of sandalwood and vanilla from the beeswax candles he kept there.

Alex’s personal servant, a free black man named Zachariah, had come here before them and lit the fire in the large hearth that opened on to both this sitting room and the bedchamber. Now the tall, thin, quiet man spoke in low tones with Alex.

Zachariah had been present that first night she’d come here. Thankfully he was discreet, unquestionably loyal to Alex.

When he’d left, she dropped her dark wine-coloured pelisse onto a wingchair then walked into the bedchamber. No one viewing the nondescript building from the outside could imagine the luxury of the furnishings and plush rugs within. Coming here was always like a naughty, sensual secret. It made her feel like a woman of the world.

A large mahogany bed hung with crimson velvet dominated the chamber. The sight of it reminded her, as always, of the night she had come here as Alex’s paid doxy and lost her innocence.

With her grandmother recently dead and the city economically devastated by yellow fever, she’d been desperate for rent money. However she couldn’t have done it with anyone else except Alex. She knew that now. But that night she hadn’t realised what was happening between them. The next morning she had taken her money and fled from him, leaving her heart in his keeping.

Behind her, Alex’s footfalls whispered on the rug. He brushed her ringlets off her neck and his warm breath tickled her nape. His lips touched her, sending shivers through her. Her nipples beaded and her knees went weak.

Rising carnal excitement made her forget to be vexed with him over the wedding date issue. Sadly, that was always the case. She was so susceptible to him. Knowing she wasn’t alone, that women of all ages smiled swooningly at his least attention, didn’t make her feel much better about it.

He tugged on her laces, almost wrenching them. His haste startled her.

“Don’t break them,” she said.

He nipped at her neck. “Nymph.”

He grasped her hips and pressed his groin to her buttocks. His erection throbbed against her and his breath was heavy in her ear. There was an urgency, a harshness to his approach today. He had been like that in the weeks before he had asked her to marry him when he had feared his long-time nemesis, Richard Green, had meant to do her some harm.

Now something was nettling him again but she knew it would do no good to ask. If he wouldn’t volunteer information on his own, he wouldn’t respond favourably to being questioned. He’d told her there were things about his past he could never share with her. She had accepted this about him, albeit reluctantly.