Menage After Midnight (2 page)

He took the liberty then of touching his fingertips to her cheek.

Sophia turned into his caress, so that her lips brushed against the warmth at the centre of his palm. She glanced up at him, knowing from just that one touch that they’d chosen wisely. “I’m not the wronged wife you seemed to think.”

“Are you not?” He ran his fingertips slowly down her neck until they rested just over her breast. The touch barely there, and yet it fanned the flames he’d already stirred in her quenyte, causing anticipatory tingles to race all over her body. Beneath the satin of her gown, Sophia’s nipples grew taught. Instead of pinching though, as Alexander would have done, Paris let her hang in a state of heightened expectancy.

Lord dammit, kiss me. Let this properly begin.

“Then why risk such a tryst, if you don’t lack passion in that regard?”

“Perhaps I merely relish the thought of another man.”

He raised an eyebrow at that and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Any man, or should I consider myself honoured?”

“I’m…” She hesitated, still frightfully aware of his hand hovering just shy of the skin of her breast. “You’re very appealing, Mr Ashcroft, a fact of which I’m sure you’re aware, but I’m assured you’re also discreet.”

“It pays to be so. And it’s Paris, Mrs Lovich.”

“Paris,” she rolled the name upon her tongue. Yes, she would enjoy addressing him as such.

A smile ran into the grey of his rain-washed eyes. “Then instruct me. Tell me why it is you’ve brought me here. What can I do to please?”

“Tell you?” It was her turn to raise a brow.

“You may be as explicit or coy as you chose, but the more exact you are, the better I’m likely to please.” He led her to the bedside and had her sit upon the edge, while he knelt before her, holding her hands. “I’m not easily shocked. Whatever it is, you can say it.”

“Well, my, that is good to know.”

Oh, the very wickedest part of her soul simply screamed at her to do it.
Shock him. Shock him
.
Find out right now if this is going to work.
She dropped her gaze to where their clasped hands lay cradled in her lap. “Perhaps… I wonder if I might first present to you a question?”

“Anything.” He tilted his head in reassurance.

Sophia sucked in a deep breath. “Mr Ashcroft, I wonder what are your views on sodomy?”

There, she’d done it. She’d been forthright and made him blush to boot. His eyes widened and then his brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. I beg your pardon, what did you ask me?”

She gave a nervous giggle and freed a hand to cover her mouth. “Have I shocked you? I’m so sorry. Does it trouble you to hear such words from my mouth?”

Paris withdrew one of his hands too and gave the back of his head a scratch. “I confess I’m a little confused. It’s not at all what I was expecting.” He returned the hand to her knee and thoughtfully rubbed his thumb back and forth. “First, before I answer, pray tell me why you ask. Is it… Is that what you want from me? Buggery?”

Heat rose through her cheeks, but Sophia ignored it. “Is the idea abhorrent to you? It was purely opinion I sought. Do you think it a gentlemanly sport or the deplorable act the lawmen and church would have us believe?”

“It’s a sin.”

“You believe our souls will burn for it?”

Paris shook his head. “I don’t know. Forgive me,” his grip tightened around her fingers, “I’m afraid you’ve rather thrown me.”

“Do you imagine I’ve invited you here to take me like that?”

“No.”

His rather too sharp denial, made her suspect he meant yes.

“If I asked you, would you indulge in such an act?”

“I…”

Her mirth bubbled up at his slack jawed response. “No, I think perhaps you choose to imagine that I desire wholesome and rather more conventional intercourse from you. Mayhap you suppose that it is my Alexander that treats me in such a deplorable fashion and that is why I have need of your company, to experience things as they are intended.”

“I wouldn’t suggest…”

“You don’t need to suggest it. I can see it in your face.”

His tongue poked out and briefly wetted his lips, which his teeth then dug into. “My purpose here is to please you in whatever way you request.”

Oh, he was good—resilient, brave.
Excitement tingled through her body at the thought of what was to come. Paris rose up only after she’d made direct and pleading eye contact. His lips brushed hers, the kiss whisper soft. Its delicacy left her hungering for more. Maybe he was being circumspect, maybe he still didn’t know what to make of her, but there was tension in his limbs in addition to what had been there before. The second kiss too was more tease than fulfilment; it raised her expectations only to abruptly cease once her breathing grew shallow and uneven.

“What say we forget about plans,” he whispered into her ear, “and take things as they arise?”

Sophia smiled. “Yes, yes let’s.” That would suit just fine.

* * *

Her skin was a full shade darker than the fashionable apple-blossom, which made her damn near exotic, and she hadn’t a blemish or patches anywhere he could see, but then right now he couldn’t see anywhere near enough. Hell, his mind was still addled from that question she’d thrown at him. He might have sidestepped it for the moment, but the notion was planted in his brain now, churning over and over, throwing up picture after picture of them entwined with his cock nestled between the soft, fleshy cheeks of her rump.

Nobody had ever requested such a thing of him. The women he usually entertained knew only that they wanted affection. Their requests were simple, a kiss, a touch, a smile, the deep prick of his cock followed by a shattering climax. Easy, for the most part.

He’d known Sophia would be different. Damn! He smiled as the image of her delightful bottom raised in greeting subsumed his thoughts again.

Perhaps they ought to wade into conventional waters first.

Another kiss… He drew his fingers through the rich mahogany strands that framed her face, pressed her back into the eiderdown. Just the touch of her lips had his cock bucking for release, but this wasn’t about him. He had to remember that. Her arms wrapped around him, hands slid beneath his frock coat and his waistcoat. He sat up again and let her undo the row of buttons. Paris shrugged off the restrictive outer layers while Sophia unravelled the cravat from around his throat. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she pushed him back so that he was forced onto his knees on the floor again.

Never breaking eye contact, she bunched the fabric of her skirts, raising them slowly to reveal stockings, garters and then the pale skin of her thighs. “Kiss me,” she begged, her legs splayed to show the ruby-red flesh of her slit.

Paris pressed his lips to her inner thigh, climbed higher slowly. Curious to be with a woman who knew what she wanted, not that he delivered the prize immediately, but rather skirted the issue, delivering light brushing caresses, until she was writhing and sighing and then seeking out his head. Her fingers curled around the locks of his hair, nails dug into his scalp as she guided him.

Paris touched her nub with his tongue, and her breath hissed through her teeth in response.

“Is this the sort of kiss you want? Does your cunny crave all the attention?” He licked and then brought his fingers into play, sliding two into her cunt while he settled his other hand over the lower part of her belly, pressing a little as he teased her nub.

Oh, yes, she liked that, did his Sophia.

“Good,” she squealed. Her whole body rocked to the motion of his lips.

Lord, she tasted so sweet, dewy and fresh, and her sheath clenched at his fingers as though she intended to draw him inside. Just as soon as he’d given her the peak she so craved, he was going to sink so deep inside her they might never find a way of parting. Her grip on his hair tightened a little further.

“Just there, just there.”

“Here?” As if he didn’t know. Women were all different, but some things never really altered, it was just a matter of precision, and of knowing the strokes. He dabbed his tongue against her nub and wriggled a third finger into her cunt alongside the other two.

The welcoming groan told him he’d got it right.

Maybe he didn’t want to wait this one out, just because it was his normal routine didn’t mean he had to play that way with Sophie. Her hot cunt would certainly welcome his prick. Hell, he needed at least a touch, a hand on his cock, preferably her hand, but even his own would do.

Paris ripped open the placket fastening of his breeches and yanked his shirttails out of the way. Hmm, felt really good to have even the air touching his erection. Yes, Sophia. He was with Sophia. Finally, after all these damn weeks of mooning and hopeless yearning. One push and she would finally be his.

Enough. He wormed his way up her body, weaving a path of kisses over her stomach and breasts, to her neck and chin. He settled his hips neatly over hers. They were a perfect fit. So perfect, his cock was bucking for entry before he’d even looked down into her eyes to ask permission.

“Kiss me.”

If she’d imagined his first kisses teasing and coy, then this surely compensated. There was no getting enough of her. Her eye-tooth nicked his lips as they kissed, and her tongue swirled against his, possessing and possessive, while her fingernails raked continually against his back, before diving lower to squeeze hard the muscles of his arse.

It took a moment or two to realise the squeak of floorboards he was hearing wasn’t caused by their rumpus on the bed. Paris tentatively turned his head. Shit and sorrow! Lovich stood with his back to the inside of the chamber door. Paris returned his gaze to Sophia. Had she noticed? “Your husband…”

“I know.”

Not an iota of worry clouded the bliss written on her face.

“Is it a problem, him being here?”

“Not if you don’t think it is.”

“It’s not.”

The fact Lovich hadn’t rushed at them and dragged them apart—hadn’t done anything at all in fact—seemed to signify his approval of their little tryst. Strange man. If Sophia had been his, Paris would have killed any other man he’d found with her.

Her hand cupped the side of his face, and Paris nuzzled against the caress.

“You don’t mind Alexander joining us, do you, Paris? I’m afraid I invited him. He always knew. We don’t keep secrets from one another.”

That’s what she’d whispered when she’d leaned over to Lovich at the card table, not goodnight, not an entreaty to come to bed, but that she intended to take another upstairs.

Mind? Well, if he minded it was only because he was inches from sliding inside her sweet juicy cunt, and Lovich’s ill-timed arrival was slowing things down considerably. He wanted to fuck. Lord, how he wanted to fuck this woman.

Paris stroked a hand down her long white neck, until it came to rest over the top of her breast. There remained something delightfully enchanting about the fragility and strength she combined. So petite he thought he might snap her with one overzealous push, and yet there was an air of strength about her too, inbred no doubt as part of her impeccable pedigree, although, he wasn’t at all au fait with her people, other than to know she was a Penrose by birth, and that her mother’s side had ties to their current host Lord Egremont.

Sophia dug her fingers back into the flesh of his flanks, causing his breath to hitch. He burned with the ache of wanting her. His balls pulled up tight, and his cock reared as he pressed the tip towards her slit. He stopped short of entering her though, too conscious of Lovich, who had moved to the bedside. Lovich’s shadow slid over the top of Sophia’s prone form, causing tension to tighten the muscles in Paris’s back and shoulders. Irritation nipped at his nerve-endings, but neither the irritation nor Alexander’s presence curbed his enthusiasm for the woman beneath him. God-damn it, this might not be the scenario he’d wished for, but he’d take whatever morsel she offered, and if that meant tolerating her husband’s looming presence, then so be it.

Lovich chose that precise moment to move forward into the light cast by the glowing coals. He stood mere inches to the front and side of them now, his hip level with Paris’s head. While Paris would have preferred not to acknowledge Lovich, it seemed prudent to be certain of his continued safety. He’d been invited to bedchambers before now that he’d then had to fly pursued by a cuckolded husband.

Lovich’s stance spoke more of sexual tension than anger. The frontfall of his breeches hung open, and his fist was formed, but not in a manner as to present a threat. Rather, his fingers were curled around the ruddy length of his cock. Dear Lord, the man actually intended to seek release while watching them fuck.

“Why are you waiting, Ashcroft?” Lovich asked.

The heat of embarrassment prickled across Paris’s cheekbones and into the tips of his ears. His lips drew back so that he knew he scowled. He did so hate being provoked, and yet… Hell, if he hadn’t waited weeks for this. He’d wanted to possess Sophia Lovich from the moment they’d met, and he was damn well going to do it. Lovich could watch all he damn well liked.

Paris surged forwards in a rush, provoking a gasp of shock from Sophia as his cock slid into her cunt, filling her, completing the bond between them. He held himself still a moment, watching Lovich’s expression. Not a hint of jealousy flickered across his noble face. Not a single blessed hint.