Excerpt from Chapter Six of Charlotte’s Control
Excerpt from Chapter Six of Charlotte’s Control
The following night over a solitary dinner eaten at her desk, Charlotte reviewed her notes from the articles she had read on steam powered locomotives to compare them to her notes from the salon. She was fascinated by this particular invention, but still struggled with the science.
Might William share his learnings from university with her, as Charles had?
Gracious. She had no business wondering if he would share education with her. They were not going to spend enough time together for him to do that. Besides, he likely hadn’t even taken classes that would allow him to explain the science to her, he was so young.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the documents, she put William from her mind.
Soon, however, the diagrams and her scribbled notes with arrows were replaced by visions of hands, slender with youth, ensnared in a cravat.
That eager gaze, staring up at her as she leaned over.
Her nipples hardened, and she shifted on her chair, tilting her hips as though to grind herself against the wooden seat.
For a moment she allowed herself to imagine straddling those slim hips, rubbing up and down the hard length between them, building a delicious friction for her and—No.
She refocused on learning the new technology, only to begin the daydream again.
Giving up, she abandoned the remains of her meal and took her wine with her upstairs.
After changing for bed and fluffing the pillows, she lay down and opened Homer.
In her first few months of widowhood, lying in their shared bed had been unbearable, and she’d taken to lounging in a chair and reading.
These past months, she’d changed the furniture and bedding, enabling her to sleep better, although she still read for as long as the candelabra by her bed would allow, or until she fell asleep with her book on her, whichever came first.
She could not immerse herself in Odysseus’s quest tonight, however.
Even the calming neutral shades of taupe and white, echoed on the walls, curtains, bed linens and upholstery of the two Chippendale armchairs did not soothe her.
William’s challenges regarding the tale remained forefront in her mind.
Her forearm tingled from the ghost of his touch.
Shifting, she sat with two pillows behind her and legs extended. She tried lying on her side, the book on the bed beside her. Then sat again, legs bent with the book propped on them, then back to her side.
Her nightrail shifted against her skin, chafing her belly and puckering her nipples. Instead of the paper, she felt hair as fine as silk, gold shot with cream, and saw wrists wrapped in snowy linen, with a mouth-watering bulge in the lap below them.
Gah!
She rolled over to her back, abandoning the book. She stared at the canopy of her bed, but still saw William’s face. His wide eyes as he stared at her, trying to assimilate why she had tied his wrists. She’d been dying to ask how long he’d taken to extricate himself from the cravat bond.
Her devilish imagination conjured him contorting his fingers to reach the knot, it tightening a hair, and him drawing in a breath of worry.
Considering how he would explain it to his friends if he could not undo it.
Now his wrists a bit reddened from twisting back and forth to move it closer to his hands.
His fingers reaching again, those long, aristocratic, pale fingers with the neatly trimmed nails. How they’d feel inside her.
Stop! He’s too young for you. She threw one arm across her eyes as though to block the images.
Has he ever even had sex before? She groaned. That thought definitely did not help. Now she could imagine introducing him to all the joys of sex, that eager gaze absorbing everything.
Not since Charles was alive had her body sung this much. Her rare self-induced orgasms were foothills compared to the mountain of this onslaught of desire. Her body had fully awakened—for a rakelet, no less.
Why this completely unsuitable young man could breach her walls and test her control, she could not fathom.
Alone in her room, she was too tired to fight it.
She rolled to her stomach then rolled back with a sigh.
The best way to alleviate this was self-pleasure.
It would not take long tonight, at least.
Sitting, she drew her nightrail up and over her head before lying back. Propping her feet on the bed, she spread them wide.
She pinched her nipple with one hand and slid the other down her belly to pet her nether lips, smoothing over them a few times before parting them to dip in to the wetness created from her daydreams.
Giving in entirely, she pictured William, cravatless, unlacing his shirt to show a firmly muscled chest. Hands still tied, they dropped to the fall of his breeches, peeling them away from his cock as it sprang free, pointing right at her as it dripped with readiness.
Moaning under her breath, she gathered her moisture on a finger and dragged it up to the tight bundle of nerves just above to make slow circles.
She arched a bit as pleasure zinged through her.
It had been a year since feeling like this.
Lord, she missed Charles. Her hand stilled at the thought.
But her body was too primed, it needed release.
She rubbed, dipping in to wet her finger every few strokes.
Her flesh swelled and heated under her touch, becoming more sensitive.
She imagined Charles’s face between her thighs, waiting for her permission to lick and suck.
When she closed her eyes, though, she gasped.
William’s face had replaced her husband’s in the vision, dark eyes eager as ever.
Mouth agape, panting, hot breath against her sensitive flesh.
She conjured his spiced rum deliciousness layered over the thick scent of her arousal.
Her eyes slid open, head turning as her hips bucked and her orgasm built beneath her hand.
Imagined he was there in the window frame, silhouetted against the darkness, front lit from her candles.
His gaze roamed her naked form end to end, silently begging.
She murmured, “Watch and learn, rakelet.”
His response was to scramble over the windowsill.
What in the world? Conjured images were not that uncoordinated, nor did they make that much noise. He almost fell on his face getting over the casing.
Sitting up, she grabbed one of her many pillows and held it in front of her. Her embarrassment at being caught performing such an act was tempered by her fury at him invading her privacy. This was beyond bold, even for him.
Belle’s voice whispered in her head, “You invited him in.”
Ignoring it, she focused on the fact that he should never have been at her window to begin with. “Lord Stanton! What do you think you are doing?”
“’Tis William.” He grinned at her unapologetically. “I’m obeying your command, Mistress P. Watching and learning. Please proceed.”
Oh no. He was not the one who would give orders in this bedroom.
Nor would she be swayed by his pretty words like “please” and “obey.” He’d climbed the trellis just as Belle had imagined and was in her bedroom!
The audacity, the rudeness—he wanted to watch?
A lingering spurt of arousal shot through her at the idea.
He continued to stare at her from where he’d frozen a few feet in from the window.
Did he like what he saw?
Focus, Char. You have a strange man in your bedroom.
Yes, but he obeys orders, at least sometimes.
She clicked her teeth together. He needed to obey the rules of civility. She snapped, “Turn around.”
He whirled.
Ignoring the skip of her heart at his alacrity in obeying that command, she reached for her nightrail and tugged it over her head.
Gnashing her teeth, she needed to send him away.
Her anger ebbed, replaced by mortification.
He’d not only seen her near-decade-older body naked, this near-stranger had witnessed her self-pleasure.
No matter how satisfied she was with her looks, and how beautiful he said he found her, she looked quite different than girls his age.
Grasping at her anger again, she whisper-yelled, “Get out! How dare you climb into my bedroom without permission.”
He turned back, his mouth turning down when he saw she was covered. “Mistress. Your statement implied consent, as I was struggling to see enough to learn from there. Would it help if you tied me again, so I do not disobey…?”
Still fighting the burst of pleasure from his inability to look away, she was undone. His words evoked images that shoved the last of her anger and embarrassment aside. Heat flared in her, igniting her sex again, nipples hardening to stiff points.
Oh God, him tied close enough to watch but not allowed to touch.
William must have noticed her reaction, as he stepped forward and asked, “Mistress, pray continue so that I may learn. Please?”
No. ’Twas a terrible idea. She stood, drew her loosely braided hair out of her clothing, and pulled her wrapper around her.
“I think not. Now, tell me what you’re doing here—” She held up a hand as he started to speak. “And I do not mean watching and learning. Why did you come here and in such a clandestine manner?”
“I wanted to see you. I could not bear to wait until I happened upon you at another ball. And my circumstances do not allow me much time to make social calls, nor did you permit them.”
“Yet you thought I’d permit this?” She growled her question in a near-shout as she glared at him.
“I hoped. I beg your pardon, Mistress.” His grin tilted further on one side, a sly twinkle entering his gaze. “How may I make it up to you?”
Unh. How had he discovered her weakness so quickly and easily? The rakelet was shrewd as well as brave.
She opened her mouth to command that he leave but could not form the words.
His eyes glinted. “You are gorgeous. Naked or clothed.”