Guilty Pleasures (23 page)

“These are quite the finest tits I believe I have ever seen, madam,” he told her. He cradled them in his palms as if weighing them. Then, bending over her, he first kissed her shoulder, and then nipped at her ear. “You are going to be fucked, madam, as you never before have. I am a master at the arts of Venus, and know how to prolong pleasure. You have never had a lover like me, Jane. You will not so easily discard me. You will be mine until I decide you will not,” he told her.

“I cannot be owned. The late duke thought he was buying a new toy when he married me. It was my second season, and I was only seventeen. Like everyone else, I thought it was an honor to be married to a man like Manley. But I was wrong. He had heirs. He only wanted an ornament, a plaything. Everything I do to train these thoughtless men who think only of their own pleasure I learned from my husband, whose interest was in himself only. Fortunately I was wise enough to comply with his every wish, and eventually he learned I had an intelligent mind. I despised him. I probably even hated him. But I was the wife he demanded. He left me a very wealthy woman for those nine years I spent as his possession. Of course, part of the reason he did so was to annoy his weakling heir.” Lady Jane laughed. “I have helped myself to the best of the jewels, and no one dares say nay to me. However, I do not go to Manley Hall. I am happy in my London house, and I have a cottage by the sea near Bath. But do not think to own or control me, my lord.”

“It is your fantasy, madam,” he surprised her by saying. “I am only here because you want me here. Like everything else around you, I am a figment of your imagination. I suspect, however, the reason you brought me into your life is that you are ready to share your passion with a strong man, not one of these London dandies whom you have had as your previous lovers. You said yourself that pleasure can be gained only by both parties not just taking, but giving.” His thumbs began to circle her nipples. “I can be gone anytime you choose to banish me, Jane.” His lips found the crook of her neck and pressed a deep kiss into it.

It was her fantasy. Jane could banish him when and if she wanted to do so. But not just yet. She leaned back against him briefly and felt the hard ridge in his breeches pressing against her arse. She had seen that lovely cock of his earlier, and Monty should not be the only one to enjoy it. Jane had never seen her companion respond to a man’s cock with such enthusiasm. Nor had she ever seen Monty’s face light up as it had when he was fucking her and when she came. “Take off your clothes,” she said.

Releasing her, he laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to do it?” he asked her teasingly.

She was going to refuse, but then she decided otherwise. Undressing him could prove to be a great deal of fun. “I think I would,” she answered him, turning about to face him. She undid his fine linen shirt, which she noted was embroidered with his crest, and removed it. He had no plainer shirt beneath it, as was the custom. Her hands smoothed over his bare chest, which was devoid of hair. The skin was firm and taut. Bending her head, she licked first one of his nipples and then the other. She unbuttoned his satin breeches and pushed them down. “You have no drawers on,” she exclaimed, half shocked.

“No, I don’t,” he replied. “I find drawers spoil the line of the garment.”

“And the lack thereof makes it far simpler for a man gone seducing,” Jane said.

“Ah, madam, you have found me out.” He chuckled as he stepped from the cream-colored satin breeches.

He was magnificent in his nudity. Strong broad shoulders and chest. A narrow waist and hips, a tight firm arse, long legs, and a fine penis that she intended to put to good use several times before the Channel closed tonight. Looking up into his startlingly bright blue eyes, she ran her hands over his body. The flesh beneath her hands was smooth, and it was firm. He was a man who cared about his appearance, like all of these London dandies. Yet he was not one of them. She stepped close enough to him so that the tips of her nipples just touched his chest.

He smiled down into her face. “You are pleased with what you see, madam?”

“How can I not be?” Lady Jane responded.

His arm went about her waist, pulling her closer. He tipped her face up. Then his lips met hers in a deep and passionate kiss that seemed to go on and on and on. Jane felt every bit of antagonism she had ever felt for men drain instantly away. The kiss was magic, as was the man now holding her in his arms. How had this happened?

He broke the kiss off, caressing her face with gentle fingers. “The need to control began that terrible night when you were but a girl. Never had you felt more helpless and frightened than when that man straddled you, attempting rape. You vowed then you would never be weak, be in a position to be controlled ever again.”

“How . . . ?” she began, startled by his words, but he gently pressed two fingers to her lips, smiling.

“I am your creation, my love,” he reminded her. “You have no secrets from me, Jane. But by building such a strong fortress about yourself, you have also denied yourself what most women want. Love. Marriage. Children.”

“I have my career,” she responded. “I am exactly where I’ve always wanted to be.”

“But you are lonely,” Charles Pell said. “And you reinforce your need to be powerful by
training
these foolish men whom their foolish wives send to you. You have taken lovers, but only those whom you could bend to your will. You have never really shared yourself with any man, fantasy or real, for fear of losing control. But with me, that will change. You are finally ready to be loved, Jane. And I will love you, but not as a supplicant at your whim. As an equal partner in the relationship that we will begin to form this night.” He smoothed his hand down her unfashionably long hair. “Do not look so surprised, my love. I am your creation. If you were not ready, I should not be here.”

“I am not sure,” Jane said softly.

“Aye, you are,” he informed her. “The rule of the Channel protects you, my love. At any time you find yourself fearful, you may end the fantasy. But you will not.” Then he picked her up in his arms and walked to her bed, where he gently laid her down, joining her. “Tonight,” he said, “you will let me take the lead, and you will trust me, Jane.”

“For now,” she replied.

The words hadn’t even died on her lips when he began to caress her practically naked body. The stockings and garters still encasing her shapely legs added to their shared excitement. His touch was gentle, almost tender. She practically purred with the simple pleasure his hands were offering her, stretching her length that he might not miss an inch of her soft skin. And just when Jane thought he could get no better, he began to kiss and lick her flesh. She sighed with pleasure at his actions.

“You are delicious,” he told her, stopping a moment to smile into her face.

“You do not feel the need to hurry?” she said, noting his swollen cock.

“No, I do not. The delights we will share joined will be even better for waiting.”

Then he continued to explore her slowly with hands and lips and tongue. He did not confine his erotic actions to just her chest and belly. Whispering for her to turn over, he explored the line of her spine, a finger tracing the bone from her neck to just above her arse. His hands fondled the rounded hills of her buttocks, pulling them apart, a finger pressing against her fundament, but going no further.

“Ohh!” Jane gasped as a short burst of pure desire flamed up in her cunt.

Gently he nudged her onto her back again, and cupped her mons with a big hand. He could feel the heat, the moisture, and faint throbbing. He squeezed, and another little cry escaped her. Her legs fell open to him, and taking the invitation, he went down on her, spreading her labia open, finding her clitoris with his tongue, tasting her, feeling his cock grow tighter, savoring the essence of her on his tongue and lips.

None of her lovers had ever made love to her as the Earl of Pelton was now making love to her. They had but one goal in mind, and that was to fuck her. And the truth was that she had entertained the same goal. All she had ever wanted was a cock in her cunt, a quick orgasm, and a farewell kiss. And she had led the dance herself, deciding whom she would take to her bed to satisfy her libidinous nature quickly, and then be gone. She had wanted lovers who would play stud to her mare in heat. Nothing more.

Yet suddenly this fantasy of hers had taken an entirely different turn. For the first time in her life she was experiencing being made love to, and it wasn’t frightening, and she didn’t feel helpless. She felt—she searched for the right word—she felt “cherished.” His tongue was truly wicked as it foraged in her flesh. Jane cried out with a small clitoral orgasm, begging him, “No more, my lord. I want you inside of me. I need you!”

He complied, kissing her with his lips and tongue so that she tasted herself, which added to the level of her excitement. Then, mounting her, he pushed slowly, slowly, slowly into her. She was almost ready to scream with her desire, but remembering how he had brought Monty on so nicely, she refrained from complaining. Fully sheathed, he said to her, “Look at me, Jane,” and she did. “Do you feel the throbbing?”

She nodded and contracted her vaginal muscles about him.

“Ahh, wicked one, do not tease me, else I am not able to give you all the passion that you deserve,” he cautioned her. Then he began to move upon her, the cadence of his rhythm increasing until the world began to spin about them.

“Ah God! Ah God!” Jane cried out. “It is so good, Charles. So good! Do not stop. I beg of you. Ah, yes! I am dying! I come! I come!” And she did as she had never done before. Her vagina spasmed and spasmed and spasmed. She saw stars, and yet she felt totally in control of herself.

“My love! My love!” he cried just a moment behind her, his juices pouring into her in almost violent spurts of his passion.

Ping. Ping. Ping. The Channel is now closed.

“Good night, my love,”
Jane heard him whisper as she came to herself in her bed.

“Damn!” she said. “Damn, and damn again!” She had just experienced the best sex she had ever had with an incredible man, and the Channel closed on her? She wanted more! She wanted him back! And she wasn’t going to be able to get him back for several days. She couldn’t play in the Channel every night, not with the week she had ahead of her.

Her schedule was just too tight with the quarterly sales meeting and finalizing the autumn list and Martin Stratford’s semiannual family board meeting, where she had to answer the questions his uninterested daughters asked only because they were concerned with how much money they could get from their father’s publishing house shares if Martin took the company public, which he wasn’t going to do, or if some big conglomerate wanted to add Stratford Publishing to the list of their company. There weren’t many family-owned publishing houses left these days. J. P. Woods wasn’t a happy camper right now. But she did have a few more hours of shut-eye coming, and she had better take it if she was going to be on top of her game.

Monday morning the halls of Stratford came alive with frantic whispers passed from office to office, desk to desk. J. P. Woods was on a tear.

Her longtime assistant, Gloria, plunked the paranormal manuscript on the young editor’s desk. “Approved, but don’t go gushing your thanks, kid. Madam Publisher isn’t happy today for whatever reason. I’ll tell her you’re thrilled. When she calms down, you can do it personally.”

“Gotcha,” the editor said, but she couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice.

“What’s bitten her?” Mick Devlin, the editor in chief of Stratford, asked Gloria. “She was fine on Friday. She get stood up or something over the weekend?”

“Far as I know, she stayed home,” Gloria said. “Don’t say I said it, but maybe she’s going through the change. Women have a tendency to get in serious moods when that happens. You wouldn’t know that yet with your lovely young wife.”

“Four kids, deadlines, and an occasional bout of PMS is bad enough,” Mick responded with a grin. “You mean it’s going to get worse one day?”

“Just about the time those twins of yours are teenagers,” Gloria replied with an answering grin.

Every dark, wet, and icy winter’s day dragged that week. J. P. Woods had never known such a long, slow week. By Thursday she was desperate to return to her fantasy, but Friday was the board meeting. Then her sister Marybeth called to say their mother had fallen on the ice and broken her hip.

“Can you come up?” she asked. “She shouldn’t be alone when she comes home from the hospital, and I just can’t be running over there all the time. Julie won’t help out at all now that she has that job down in Boston.”

“Find someone Mom would like to live in,” J.P. said. “I know your family keeps you hopping, but Julie and I can’t just pick up and run to Maine. She just got her job, and it’s the one she’s been gunning for over the last few years.”

“But you’re head of a company,” Marybeth complained. “Why can’t you come home and help out, Janie?”

“Precisely because I am head of a company,” J.P. answered. “Listen, sis, I saw that Mom has a decent house, and all of you have extras because of me. Now, you stayed in Bug Light, Marybeth. Find a good woman who likes to play poker. Someone who will look after Mom, cook, and keep the house for her. I’ll try to get up sometime in the spring. But I can’t come now.”

“It must be wonderful to be so important,” her sister sniped.

“It is,” J.P. said sharply. She didn’t have to feel guilty.

“If the boys had stayed home . . . ,” Marybeth began.

“For what?” J.P. wanted to know. “Dad’s boat went down with him. If it was difficult earning a living as a commercial fisherman twenty years ago, think of how tough it is now. Bug Light is practically all old people at this point. The military is the best place for the boys, and they’ve both attained the rank of chief petty officer. In twenty-five years, they can retire with good pensions. It’s a helluva lot better than they could have done staying home. Now, find someone to stay with Mom. I’ll pay for it.”

“But, Janie,” her middle sister whined.