Chapter 5
I t had been a long time since an encounter had made Silas breathless.
Oh, there was always release, he never missed it and he worked hard so his partners didn’t leave without it either.
But encounters were forgettable, meaningless most of the time.
And every time in the last few years, especially. He didn’t entangle himself very easily.
After all, he knew how much one could lose when one did so.
But here, with this remarkable woman lying in his arms, her dark hair down around his chest, her lush body tucked up close to him, it was hard not to feel like something very unique had just happened.
“Why were you watching me with Simone that night?” he asked.
She started a little, as if she hadn’t expected him to question her about anything. There was a little triumph in that, for Arabella didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would be easily surprised. Her armor was her knowing sensuality.
“It was the beginning of a road for me,” she said after a moment’s consideration.
He wrinkled his brow at the answer that didn’t quite seem like one. “Ah, so you’re saying it was early in your career?”
She shifted and those beautiful dark blue eyes moved away from his. “Yes,” she said slowly.
He hesitated. There was part of him that felt the she was holding something back from him.
But then again, women in the trade often had to do that.
They didn’t tell all because the secrets were both their greatest risk and their biggest currency.
She didn’t owe him the truth, so why did he want it so much?
She seemed to sense that and now she did look up at him again. “I-I didn’t mean to spy on you with her.”
“Did it embarrass you to see us?” he asked, arching a brow. “You don’t seem the kind of woman who would be.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t then. I’m not now.
What you did that night, what we just did, it’s as natural as breathing.
To want is to be human. To fuck is to be alive.
” She sat up a little, her hands tracing his chest gently.
“I know why that night stuck with me, why I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
But I was surprised when you told me you remembered me, too. Why?”
There was a flash of a moment when he considered telling her the truth.
When he pondered blurting out that he didn’t know why.
That she had captivated him that night and tonight and he feared she might continue doing so.
That he had thought of her both at his most aroused and also at his most broken.
But he didn’t say any of that. He reverted to the rakish rogue that had served him well his entire life.
“Do you think,” he began, dragging her a little closer and lifting up to kiss her neck gently, “that it’s every day a man looks up on the edge of coming and sees a gorgeous stranger watching him from the shadows?
” He kissed lower, nibbling along the lovely line of her to her collarbone.
“Hands fisted at her sides, pupils dilated with desire she can’t hide? ”
She shivered as a response and he moved down her chest and latched onto her nipple. He licked her there, as she began to twitch against him most prettily. “It made the entire experience so much more intense.”
He continued to lick lower, pushing her back. He reached what remained of the splash of his earlier release on her belly and began to slowly rub the evidence of his pleasure into her skin. She moaned. “Did you touch yourself after?”
She jerked under his fingers and whispered, “Yes.” He brushed the roughness of his stubble against her thigh and then licked back to the sweet wetness of her pussy. She lifted into him and whispered, “And many times afterward thinking about it…and you.”
He sucked her clitoris and she obliged him by starting to shake almost immediately.
No wonder this woman was sought after, that men tracked her all through the hells like he’d seen them do tonight.
He was certain they did the same in opera halls and ballrooms. She was a revelation, a sunburst of desire and pleasure and surrender that could wrap a man up and make him feel warm when he came in from the cold.
He sucked her harder and she came in long waves against him, her gasps and cries gorgeous in his ears. When she went weak, he looked up from between her legs and met her dark eyes.
“Do you want to do this for a while?”
She blinked. “Are you asking to be my protector?”
Protector. There was a loaded word for a man like him.
Protectors in the sense she meant were rich and often titled and had a great deal to offer a lady who surrendered her favors.
He didn’t have nothing, but it still might not be enough in comparison to the dukes or marquesses or princes she could have claimed.
And protector in the other sense? He’d never been able to protect anyone he ever cared for. And he hadn’t ever been protected by those who should. So what did he know of that sacred duty?
She sat up a little at his hesitation. “Or perhaps, Mr. Windham, you’re just talking about being my lover.”
He tried to read her, tried to determine if her little smile was real or false. He couldn’t. She was too good at keeping the truth from her eyes.
“That might be better,” he said softly. “I might not be here for long enough to take on any larger role than that.”
She was quiet for a moment, as if she was letting that sentence sink in. Then she shifted out from under him and to her knees. She crawled toward him like some lovely, sleek tiger stalking her prey. “You know, Simone would caution me not to give away what I normally sell.”
“She’d be very smart to do so,” he admitted, and shivered as Arabella cupped his cheek and smoothed her fingers across his jawline.
“But…I think in this case I’ll make an exception. For a while. For fun.”
“Fun,” he repeated as she reached between his legs and began to stroke the cock that was already half-hard again thanks to the taste of her pleasure on his tongue and the irresistible game of her. “I like fun.”
She laughed. “I can tell that about you. And it’s good, because we’re about to have a great deal of it.”
He laughed too as she pushed him back on the bed and then her dark head lowered so she could finish what he hadn’t let her earlier. And as she took him in her mouth, he closed his eyes and let all the pleasure erase anything else he felt.
At least in that he could trust.
* * *
I t was nearly six in the morning when Arabella’s carriage pulled up to her townhouse in the heart of Mayfair.
Silas hadn’t been entirely wrong when he said they’d shut the Donville Masquerade down.
By the time they came out of that lovely little room in the back, there were very few patrons left.
They’d parted ways with a kiss and a promise to play again soon.
And now she was home and though she was deliciously exhausted from the demands of Silas Windham, she was also incredibly satisfied. It wasn’t often one fulfilled a long-held fantasy and found it fully lived up to expectations.
Her driver helped her down and her butler opened the door for her as if he’d been expecting her.
Barnaby was just entering his middle age, far younger than some of the senior servants she encountered.
He was a handsome man, she’d picked that specifically when she made her household choices.
Why not have something pretty to look at every day?
His wife, her cook, was equally enamored and that was sweet.
But he was also efficient and strong enough to offer physical protection if she needed it. And as with all her servants, he didn’t judge her.
“Welcome home, Miss Comerford,” he said with the same tone as he would have had at six in the evening. “Would you like tea or straight to your rest?”
“Tea would be lovely and perhaps some of the scones left over from yesterday? I’m famished.”
“Of course, miss. Right away.” He inclined his head and left her.
She entered the parlor just off the foyer and smiled.
Her home was not enormous, but it was very fine.
Her third protector, the Duke of Kentwood, had gifted it to her to live in while they were lovers.
He’d been a very good man to her after a very bad experience prior and she had spread her wings under his tutelage for over a year.
Yes, he’d wanted to tame her wild, but he hadn’t been cruel about it.
When it was over, he’d given her the house outright, along with a small annuity to cover its upkeep and care for as long as she lived in it. It had been the height of generosity.
It had also given her enormous power and freedom in whom she picked as a lover and how she managed that person.
And it had allowed her to offer a place to each of her sisters when they’d escaped the cruel machinations of their father.
Even now, Julia stayed with her while she looked for her next protector.
There was no fear of being put out into the street at the end of an arrangement, so therefore no rush to accept any man who might take her.
Arabella crossed to the window to look out on the street as the city began its day.
Once again her mind slipped to Silas and his hands on her, his mouth on her.
But also on his confession that he’d thought of her over the years just as she’d thought of him.
It was funny that such a brief moment had silently bound them and brought them to this place.
“You are home very late.”
Arabella started and pivoted to find Julia entering the parlor behind her. Her sister was still in her nightrail with a silky robe tied over it and she was barefoot.
“And you are up far too early,” Arabella said.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Julia said, and came to stand with her at the window. “I waited up for you a while last night and then tossed and turned. So when I heard you, I thought I’d come down.”