Lord of Pleasure (16 page)

Oh, well, now
that
was indeed a dilemma. The poor girl goes and makes a mistake, and she’s imprisoned to a man for the rest of her life.

Charlotte lowered her chin, showing him her clear disapproval. “Why wouldn’t you talk to your own sister about it before making such a life-altering decision for her?”

He hit his hands against the arm of the chair. Twice. “Because she has a tendency to want to do things
her
way. And when it comes to this, there simply is no other choice. She
has
to marry him. She simply has to.”

“
Has to?
” Charlotte sighed. “There are always choices, Alexander. You simply snatched away her ability to make one. And seeing you fear her reaction, you clearly understand that quite well.”

His features tensed. He eventually nodded and murmured, “You’re right. I simply…I still see that scrawny, annoying girl who used to ask me why we have ten fingers and ten toes instead of eight fingers and eight toes. Even back then, she never liked any of my answers. She always told me I ought to find better resources.”

His sister sounded like quite the rebel. Much like her brother. Charlotte reached out and placed a hand on the rough edge of his cheek, wishing she could make his troubles disappear.

He stiffened, his green eyes meeting hers.

She lowered her hand, sensing that her touch had irked him. “Your intentions are well placed. At least have faith in that.”

He lowered his chin slightly, and she heard the arms of the chair creak from beneath the applied pressure of his hands. “As of late, I have very little faith in any of my intentions.”

“I have faith in your intentions.” Charlotte reached out again and traced the outline of his husky profile with her forefinger. Starting from his stubbled chin, she moved her finger up to his soft lips, over his smooth nose, then up across his forehead. “You’re a good man, Alexander. Misguided at times. But you’re a good man. Believe that. I know I do.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He simply remained frozen. As if there was something improper about her presence, about her touch. About that moment.

She slowly took back her hand again. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to keep touching you.”

He blinked, his green eyes taking on the hazy, heavy look of a late summer sky night. “You can touch me,” he murmured.

Her pulse leapt in response to his soft words. What a never-ending mystery he was. He seemed capable of giving so much and yet so little. She reached out and played with the silk of his embroidered gray waistcoat, wishing there was a way she could dig out the man hidden beneath.

He reached up and gently brushed the side of her cheek, taking on a much too serious appearance. “Might I ask you something?”

Charlotte leaned the side of her face into the warmth of his palm. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

“Why do you still mourn for Chartwell? Hasn’t your time of mourning for him passed?”

She lowered her gaze, suddenly unable to look at him. “I have never truly mourned for him,” she finally whispered. “I actually am mourning for my mother.”

“Forgive me.” His fingers brushed the side of her face as he tilted his head slightly to one side. “You must have loved her very much.”

Charlotte blinked away tears that threatened to tumble forth. And for the first time in a long while, she felt as if she would fall apart if she didn’t share what had been trapped within her all this time. This sense of not being able to forgive herself.

She removed his hand from her face, brought it to her lap, and squeezed it. “Yes. She was an amazing woman.” Her voice sounded exhausted. Even to her own ears.

Charlotte lifted her hand and pointed to her lower lip with the tip of her finger. “She had this scar. Right here. She claimed she had received it in her younger days as a fish. When my father reeled her in with his hook.”

Alexander grinned. “Clever.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Yes. She was born with natural wit. What is more, she was forever looking for an opportunity to make me laugh. Which is what I truly miss most.”

Her smile faded. “When I met Chartwell during my first Season, I was smitten. He was so charming and handsome. My mother told me right away, ‘Charlotte, do not involve yourself with him. Your heart will only be torn asunder.’ Indeed, she saw him for what he truly was. Yet I doubted her. I thought I loved him. Thought I knew him. I sought him out wherever I could. When he eventually proposed and ardently outlined how well suited we were for one another, never once did he include the notion of love in his proposal. Fool that I was, I accepted his proposal for I believed that once we were married, he’d eventually come to love me as much as I loved him. My mother grudgingly agreed to the marriage, mostly because she knew it was what I wanted, and our finances allowed for it, but told me I would live to regret it.”

Charlotte shook her head. “After I married him, my mother would only see me if I called alone. I couldn’t understand it. I was simply too naïve. Whenever I professed my love to him, he merely nodded. Or changed the subject. Each day, I waited for his words of love, but they never came. When my mother ceased asking that I call upon her, I thought it was because she was still angry with me. My only hope was that in time I could show her how happy I was.”

She paused. “Then one afternoon, not even a week into the Season, I came home early from an appointment with my modiste and found Chartwell entertaining a woman. Though not in his bedchamber. But in mine.”

The disgust and anger within her swelled as images of him and that large-breasted brunette flashed through her mind. “What was worse, he wasn’t in the least bit apologetic. He told me repeatedly that
I
was being irrational about the whole matter, that it was perfectly acceptable for a married man to keep a mistress.” She feigned a laugh. “Acceptable. And then you know what he did? He asked me to leave. As if
I
were the one to have done something wrong.”

She was quiet for a moment, still in disbelief of the direction her life had taken. “I was so ashamed. What was worse, I had no one to talk to. Respectable women simply aren’t allowed to discuss these things amongst themselves. I desperately wanted to tell my mother about what had happened, but I was so ashamed. So the silence between us grew.”

She drew in a shaky breath and let it out. “Then one night, I found a half-burned letter in the hearth of Chartwell’s study. A letter from my mother’s servant. Begging that I see her. That she had suffered from a form of apoplexy and was fading. That is when I knew Chartwell had been destroying her letters all along, and in turn had been destroying me. He wanted to punish me for not accepting his indiscretions.” A tear finally slid down her cheek. “I never understood how he could be so cruel.”

Still kneeling before her, Alexander raised his hand and brushed away the tear with his thumb. He shifted his jaw, then hoarsely whispered, “He deserved what he got.”

Charlotte smiled with trembling lips.

Seeing the compassion and tenderness in his eyes made her feel as if a new beginning was possible. And it was a wonderful, warm feeling, to say the least. For when she thought about everything she had been through with Chartwell and her mother, a deep anger and regret always flared within her.

But now, with Alexander touching her like this, looking at her like this, with so much understanding in his eyes, a shielding calm came over her, and for the first time since her mother’s death, she believed she could survive. And not only survive, but become more because of it. So much more.

Charlotte pressed Alexander’s hand to her cheek more firmly with her own, wishing to God she could hold on to this moment, this feeling, namely
him
, forever.

Silence hummed in the room around them.

Alexander pulled his hand away, then suddenly leaned in and brought his mouth down to hers.

The timing of his kiss was perfect. She accepted his lips with a genuine need she had never felt in her entire life. His hot tongue pushed open her mouth.

Although his kiss was loving, soft, and slow, Charlotte wanted so much more. She wanted a true night of passion. One she would carry with her for the rest of her days, no matter what happened between them from this night forth.

She tore away from their deep kiss, grabbed hold of his jacket, and pushed it back from his broad shoulders and off his arms, letting it slip to the floor. “I want you,” she whispered, grabbing hold of the buttons on his waistcoat and undoing them as fast as her fingers would allow. “Before we say good-bye.”

Alexander let out a gruff laugh and grabbed at her hands, trying to still them. “Charlotte. As amazing as your offer is, I cannot take advantage of you anymore. Aside from advice, I admit to bringing you here for one other reason. I wanted to personally assure you that although we are going our separate ways, I’ve ensured that you’ll never have to depend on anyone again. Not Madame de Maitenon, not the school, not anyone. In two weeks, you will receive papers from the Lord Chancellor. Sign them, deliver them, and your part of the estate will be returned to you without delay. Without further waiting or court proceedings.”

Her eyes widened. Impossible.

He paused, his eyes soft. “I hope that I haven’t overstepped my bounds. I simply wanted to ensure you were cared for.”

She blinked, almost refusing to believe him. For what she had been unable to accomplish in a year, he had accomplished in less than a few weeks. And what was more, he did it without her having to ask him to do it.

“Oh, Alexander,” she breathed, her heart squeezing at the beautiful gesture. “I…thank you.”

“You are most welcome.”

Overwhelmed, Charlotte leaned toward him, wanting to show him more than ever how she desperately needed and wanted him. And it didn’t matter that she was going to have to let him go. All that mattered was this moment. Here. Now. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “This one last time.”

He blew out a heavy breath and squeezed her hands tightly with his own. “It is late, Charlotte. You have an hour’s worth of travel ahead of you.”

Her brows came together, not quite understanding his intentions. Didn’t he want and need her, knowing that most likely they would never see each other again?

She slipped her hands away from his and met his gaze. Leaning toward him, she slowly unbuttoned his waistcoat. “I want this. Don’t you?”

Alexander grabbed her hands again, stilling them with his own against the last button of his waistcoat. His breathing was notably heavier, his chest rising and falling in deep rhythms. “You deserve more than this. You deserve more than what I have to offer.”

Charlotte freed her hands from his again in disbelief. She stared at him. Hard. Something was different. Something she couldn’t quite explain.

“Is something wrong?” she prodded.

“I…” He paused, then dramatically quirked a bronzed brow as if to prove otherwise. “No. Why?”

She lowered her chin, showing him that she was on to him. “Because the Alexander I know would have thrown up my skirt over an hour ago.”

He let out a laugh and groaned, tilting his bronzed head slightly back. “Yes, yes. I know, I know. Charlotte. I merely want to do what is right by you.”

She blinked. “What is right by me? And what do you think that is? Denying me my last pleasure? This is our last chance to be together, and I’ll not live with regret. I’m done living with regret.” She stared him down, a sense of naughty urgency driving her. “Now I am ordering you to frig me. Senseless.”

Alexander’s eyes widened and his lips parted in clear astonishment. “Charlotte!” It sounded like a reprimand.

She rolled her eyes, irked by his exaggerated seriousness. Where was the carefree man who had so arrogantly boasted of his prowess? Who was this man anyway? “I am not asking you to marry me and in turn destroy your family. I am merely asking for a night of passion. Isn’t that all you wanted from me all along? A good frig? What makes this moment any different from the rest?”

He exhaled loudly through his nostrils. Then half nodded. Ever so slowly, he rose to his feet until he towered over her, parading his full height of over six feet. He stared down at her, his green eyes harboring a sharp, wild light she’d never witnessed before.

Silently watching her, he stripped off his waistcoat and whipped it to the floor. His jaw tightened as he yanked off his lopsided cravat and collar and tossed them aside.

Charlotte’s heart thundered as she stared up at him, frozen and confused. He was furious with her. Both his stance and his eyes shouted it, and yet for some reason he continued to undress with obvious determination.

His fingers undid the three small buttons around his throat, exposing the open slit of the shirt that ended at his midchest. He gathered up the bottom of his shirt and ripped it up past his broad chest and shifting shoulders and up over his head. He lashed the shirt aside, his well-defined arms, chiseled stomach, and broad chest tightening and shifting from the violent motion.

He stepped toward her, blocking her completely into the space of the chair. “If it is the Lord of Pleasure that you seek, Charlotte,” he said in a raw, harsh tone, “then it is the Lord of Pleasure you shall get.”

With that, he grabbed her by the waist, yanked her up and spun her around, redirecting her back into the chair. Without even giving her a chance to properly grab hold of the chair, his grip tightened on her skirts.

Her heart skittered as she heard cloth ripping from her waist. He jerked her backward several times, making her gasp in an odd combination of fear and excitement. He finished tearing off the last of her skirts and sent them in a rustling whoosh down to the floor.

Her eyes widened as she glanced down. He had separated her dress in half. In mere seconds.

He leaned toward her, the heat of his body encasing her exposed chemise and lower half. “I hope you brought spare clothing,” he growled into her ear. “Or you’ll be traveling naked back to London. Now hold on to the chair and don’t let go.”

Charlotte instinctively tightened her hold on the arms of the wooden chair as her lips parted to say something. For she wanted him with all of her heart, yes, but not at the expense of his pride. “Alexander, I didn’t—”

He violently ripped the rest of her clothing from the upper portion of her body, scattering small onyx buttons everywhere, and shoved it down the length of her arms. He yanked the silk material off completely from her wrists and hands, causing her to scramble to try to hold on to the chair.

His hands slowly slid from her shoulders down the length of her arms and curved toward the inside of her waist, sending fluttering sensations across her entire body, making her very aware of the fact that she only wore a pair of pantaloons, a chemise, and a corset.

He leaned in, his warm breath heating the side of her bare neck, and suckled at her skin. Her entire body pulsed with roaring heat as he sucked harder, looking to intentionally leave his mark.

As provocative as it was, it was also a touch frightening. Because it was very, very obvious that he had absolutely no intention of making love to her. Oh, no. He planned on frigging her. The very thing she’d asked for.

Alexander shoved up her chemise, then grabbed hold of the open flaps of material belonging to her pantaloons right between her thighs. She stiffened as he jerked the seams viciously apart. The pantaloons now loosely clung to her hips by mere threads, exposing her naked backside to him.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee, and she felt his hands unbutton his trousers. He released himself, and she felt his stiff, heavy cock fall onto her backside.

“Alexander,” she whispered, wanting him to know that she was sorry for making him feel as if he meant nothing more to her than this. “Forgive me. I—”

His hand slid between her thighs and found that blissful area that always brought paradise. He rubbed it hard, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure up the length of her core, then moved his finger and slid it deep into her. “Enjoy it,” he said softly.

Unable to focus, Charlotte reluctantly released a small moan.

His finger slid in and out, in and out, causing her world to whirl with a rising, pent-up pressure she wanted to release.

“Do you know what the best part about fucking is?” He rubbed faster, causing her to gasp. Causing her to grow so wet, she could feel his finger slipping. “No matter who you are, you can always momentarily find utter bliss.”

He removed his finger and positioned himself behind her, spreading her bum tautly apart. She breathed in and out, gasping, unable to catch her breath, unable to say anything anymore. Even in response to his words.

“We all want utter bliss, don’t we?” he whispered. “We simply all define it differently.” With a single violent thrust, he buried his thick cock deep inside her.

They both cried out at the same time.

He reached down around her, toward her lower front, and fingered her, forcing her to climb much quicker to her pleasure than she wanted to. She panted and pushed back against his shaft, which completely filled her, then moved forward again toward his fingers, which promised just as much. Between the two, she was utterly blind with pleasure.

She desperately tightened her hold on the chair as he repeatedly slammed into her, forcing her to take in more of the unspeakable pleasure that was swiftly cresting within her. All the while, he never stopped fingering her. His ability to focus on both, when she could barely stand, yet alone hold on to the chair, awed her.

She gasped repeatedly as he pushed out every breath from her with each forceful, slamming thrust. Each breath she took brought her closer and closer to that moment she wanted so much. That moment of complete bliss.

She cried out as her core tightened. Her entire body followed, releasing every flying sensation in her being, pushing her to the most amazing peak she’d ever experienced in her entire life. Her arms weakened, and she felt herself wanting to fall into the chair.

Alexander savagely held her in place as he continued to drive repeatedly into her wetness.

“Did you find it?” he hoarsely demanded between each thrust. “Did you?”

“Yes!” she cried out, almost in a sob. “Yes!”

“Good…” The hand that had been fingering her slid up and out and grabbed hold of her waist. He slipped his cock out. Using his other hand, he hurriedly finished pleasuring himself, making a point to keep her in place to the end.

The back of his hand jerked and slapped against her bollocks as his breaths grew all the more ragged and guttural. His hand jerked faster and faster, his hold on her waist growing tighter as he ground his body against her backside.

Her heart skipped as his large hand, which viciously held and jerked his rigid cock, repeatedly grazed her skin with a heat that slowly burned from the unrelenting contact.

He groaned aloud as his body stiffened behind hers. A sticky warmth spurted across her backside. He groaned again, wrapping his hot, sticky hands around her body, and pulled her backside flat against the length of his sweat-ridden large, muscled body. He shuddered as his shaft spurted the last of his warm seed.

They both stood there, their breaths heavy, their bodies still naked, silence and night still all around them.

Alexander slowly pulled her chemise down and around her torn pantaloons. And stepped away. As if only now realizing what they had done.

Charlotte turned, her arms and body shaky, and fell back into the chair with a thud, knowing she shouldn’t even try to stand. Her gaze floated past Alexander’s naked body and met his gaze.

He stared down at her for a long moment, his unshaven face flushed, his green eyes hauntingly serious. He then turned away and grabbed up his trousers that were laying crumpled nearby. “I didn’t want it to end like this,” he finally murmured. Without so much as looking at her, he pulled his trousers on and yanked them up. “Allow me to find some clothes for you. So that you may leave.”

He walked past, buttoning the flap of his trousers into place. The soft glow of the candlelight bronzed the broad back of his skin in the most beautiful way. He disappeared into the darkness beyond the small parlor.

It was all too much.

Charlotte closed her eyes and placed a shaky hand to her mouth, stifling an aching sob. It was well and over. She had completely and utterly destroyed whatever had been left between them. Without meaning to. Fool that she was, she had been much too focused on her own needs and her own pleasure to realize she should have been focusing on what truly mattered most to her and her heart—
him
.

She had seen it all in his eyes. The betrayal of what she’d done. She hadn’t asked for Alexander. She had asked for the Lord of Pleasure. As no doubt so many others had asked for. And now? Now she wished she could have her Alexander back.

She reopened her eyes and lowered her hand, knowing she couldn’t possibly face him after what she’d done. She hurried over to where her shredded clothes lay, gathered them to her chest, and hurried out of the room. Spotting a cloak hanging from one of the hooks in the corridor, she snatched it up and wrapped it tightly around herself. She flung open the door and disappeared into the night. Where she well and truly belonged.