Page 23 of Doxy for the Ton (Misfits of the Ton #7)

B y the time they returned to Grosvenor Square, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and streaks of red stretched across the sky.

Mimi leaned against Alexander, relishing the solidity of his body, despite the odor of coal dust that clung to him. He hadn’t complained once during the day—not even when Mrs. Briggs ordered him to clear up after supper.

In fact, he’d been the epitome of charm. Not the gallantry that a suitor employed to court an unsuspecting debutante, nor the false declarations of chivalry that a rake adopted to debauch an innocent—but genuine kindness, born of a desire to improve the lives of others.

Even Lily had warmed to Alexander, venturing to exchange a few words with him while she handed the potatoes around. As for Sam, by the end of the evening, the little boy’s expression of admiration as he looked at Alexander had turned into one of adoration.

Today, Mimi had seen a different man—someone who weathered Mrs. Briggs’s orders, entertained a small boy, and even had the insight to notice Lily’s wariness and treat her with gentleness and compassion.

That man presented a very real danger of capturing her soul—and she was in danger of willingly giving it to him.

Clinging to his arm, Mimi ascended the steps. The butler waited at the top, his forehead creased into a frown.

“Ma’am, we were wondering when you’d be home.” He glanced at Alexander and arched a dark brow.

“I think, Wheeler, a bath is in order,” Mimi said after they’d entered the hallway. “In my dressing room, please.”

“Will His Grace be staying?”

A plea shone in Alexander’s eyes—not a demand to stay, nor a bid to claim her body…

But a plea, from his heart, not to be hurt.

“Yes,” she whispered. “He’ll be staying.”

“Very good, ma’am.” The butler bowed then strode across the hallway, calling for Charles and Mrs. Hodge.

Alexander placed a hand on Mimi’s cheek. “ May I stay?” he whispered. “I will, but only if you wish it.”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “We must get you clean, at least. Your poor valet thinks badly enough of me as it is—he’d have a fit of apoplexy if I sent you home covered in coal dust and—”

“Don’t speak of it!” He laughed. “I’ve never done anything so disgusting as clean out those chamber pots. I’ll look at chambermaids differently from now on. Women with stomachs as strong as oxen. I salute them.”

“And the women at Mrs. Briggs’s house?”

“I admire them also, but none more than you.”

She held out her hand. Smiling, he took it, and she led him upstairs. He approached the door leading to the bedchamber they usually shared and turned the handle.

“No,” she said.

He turned to face her, sorrow clouding his expression. “You want me to go?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep there tonight.” She gestured to her bedchamber—the chamber she had vowed never to share.

Hope ignited in his eyes.

“But first,” she said, “methinks the duke needs a bath.”

She opened the door to her dressing room, where her maid was already pouring water into the bathtub.

“Water’s all good and hot, ma’am,” Gracie said, opening a drawer to pull out a dish of soap. “It’s—Oh!” She let out a yelp as she noticed Alexander, dropping the soap. “Y-Your Grace. I didn’t expect to see you in here.” She turned to Mimi. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to…”

“It’s all right, Gracie,” Mimi said. “You may retire now.”

“But won’t you need me to—”

“I have all I need for tonight, Gracie.”

The maid glanced at Alexander again and blushed. Then she curtseyed and exited the chamber.

Mimi gestured to the tub. “Your bath awaits, Your Grace.”

Smiling, he removed his jacket. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. She approached him, but he raised his hand.

“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Let me remove my own clothes, while you watch.”

He continued to remove his garments until he stood before her, naked, the candlelight casting shadows across the planes of his muscles. She lowered her gaze and saw the evidence of his desire jutting proudly from the thatch of wiry curls.

“Does my lady like what she sees?”

“Very much.” She took his hand and led him to the bath. He stepped into the water and sank back, submerging his body, then gave a low growl of pleasure and closed his eyes.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

“Your Grace, we’ve not even begun.”

“My body aches all over after a day’s hard toil. What shall you do to ease it?”

Mimi reached for the soap and held it to her nose, inhaling the scent of lavender and herbs. She dipped it in the water and rubbed it against her hands until bubbles formed. Then she began to lather his body, running her hands along his neck and shoulders, until the tension in his muscles began to ease.

“Mmm,” he murmured, a lazy smile on his lips. “If only I could remain here forever.”

“You’d catch cold as the water cooled, Your Grace, and your skin would shrivel.”

Mimi continued to lather his chest and moved her fingers across his body in circles, spiraling inward toward his nipples, which stood, firm and erect, glistening in the candlelight.

“Oh, Mimi, to feel your hands on my body… I—Oh!”

He let out a low cry as she flicked his nipple with her fingertip.

“Witch,” he growled, and reached for her, curling his fingers around her upper arms. “Would you abuse the power you have over me? We must restore the balance.”

“Alexander, I’m fully dressed. I cannot—”

“Oh yes you can,” he said, and pulled her into the bath. She let out a squeal as water splashed over the edge of the bathtub and he held her against his chest.

“My gown!” she cried. “It’s—”

“An inconvenience, I know,” he said. “I must do something about that.”

He reached behind her and began to untie her sash. Then he tugged at her gown, but the sodden fabric clung to her body.

“Oh, damn it!” he cursed at the sound of material tearing. “I’ll buy you another.”

Then he gripped her gown and ripped it apart.

“Alexander,” she said, “at least let me—”

“No!” he said. “This is my pleasure and I shall indulge in it.”

Her body throbbed with desire at the raw, primal need in his voice, and she grew still while he tore off her garments until she lay on top of him in the bath, clad only in her stockings.

He grasped her thighs and parted them until she could feel his manhood, hard and hot against her center. She parted her legs further and moved to impale herself on him, but he held her still.

“Not yet,” he rasped. “The pleasure will be all the sweeter for the wait.”

Then he took her face in his hands and pulled her toward him to claim her mouth.

Pleasure flared in her center and a low mewl escaped her lips as she fought against the swell of pleasure, rising like a giant wave against which she had little defense.

He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, and she surrendered to the invasion, melting in his arms as the soft, velvety weapon sought to claim every inch of her. She curled her own tongue around his, and his whole body vibrated with a long, low growl of the primal beast claiming his mate.

To surrender was to step onto the path of destruction—but what sweet destruction! The urge to succumb to desire threatened to overwhelm her as their tongues circled each other in a slow, sensual dance, until he began to devour her, guttural sounds of pleasure vibrating throughout his body, sending a fizz of need through her blood—a pure, primal need to be thoroughly pleasured.

He was a drug and she the victim, unable to survive without tasting it.

She surrendered and, with her own tongue, began to devour him in turn, relishing the taste of spice, desire, and pure masculinity. One taste was not enough—it would never be enough—but if one taste were all that she could have, then she’d take her fill and relive the memory in the years to come.

She let out a cry of surrender, and he broke the kiss, cradling her face in his hands as if he cherished her more than his own life. His eyes, the color of dark sapphires, glowed with desire—and love, as if his soul called out to hers across a chasm, seeking to entwine with hers forever. Understanding shimmered in his eyes as if he recognized her cry for what it was. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him, then he rose to his feet, cradling her in his arms. Water ran off his body in rivulets as he stepped out onto the carpet. Then he took her hand and led her toward the door adjoining her bedchamber. He paused and lifted his eyebrows in a gentle plea, then waited, on the brink of the abyss of her total surrender.

One word and she would be his.

But he remained still. No persuasion, nor coercion—he simply waited for a sign, for permission, his gentle patience piercing her heart.

At length, she nodded. Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside her chamber. She stiffened as the door slammed shut, as if she had sealed her fate. Then he placed a kiss on her lips and stood still, as if waiting for her to relax once more.

He carried her across the chamber and placed her on the bed. He caressed her body with his gaze, and a delicious warmth spread through her blood at the desire in his eyes—not the desire of a man wanting pleasure, but the raw need of a man who wanted nobody but her, a man who wanted her so badly that he would destroy the world around him to claim her as his.

It’s a dream—a folly…

Mimi curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to silence the voice inside her head.

The voice might speak the truth, but she would gladly silence it for one night of pleasure—the pleasure that he promised with a single, smoldering glance.

He reached for her stockings and peeled them off, peppering the bare skin of her legs with gentle kisses, tracing a line to her feet, where he kissed each toe with gentle reverence.

“Such soft skin,” he whispered. “And I shall worship every inch of it tonight.”

“Alexander, I—”

“Hush,” he said. “Let me give you that which you desire. Let me satisfy the need that I have seen in your eyes—the need that governs your every waking moment.”

“The need to be pleasured?” she asked.

Hurt flickered in his eyes, and he shook his head. “No, Mimi,” he said. “The need to be safe.”

He crawled onto the bed and placed a kiss on her belly, and want surged as his tongue flicked against her skin.

“The need to surrender and to trust…”

He followed a trail with his lips until he reached her breast, and her nipples hardened to painful points.

“And,” he whispered, his breath hot against the skin of her breast, “the need to be loved.”

He flicked his tongue over her nipple, and a fizz of need ignited in her center. She arched her back, offering her breast, chasing the pleasure.

“That’s it, my love,” he said, and she let out a mewl of frustration as he lifted his head from her breast. She drew in a sharp breath as an inferno filled her mind until all she could focus on was her body and its raw, base need to be satisfied.

“Alexander, I…” she said as she arched her back once more in offering. “I—Oh!”

She let out a cry as his hot, wet mouth clamped over her breast. He suckled hard, drawing her nipple into his mouth, then a spike of pain morphed into pleasure as he grazed his teeth over the tip. He continued to feast on her, then he lifted his head and smiled, his eyes almost black with desire, before he gave her other nipple the same loving attention.

When he withdrew and sat up, the skin of her breasts tightened at the rush of cold air. She tried to sit, but he pushed her back, a smile of satisfaction on his lips.

“Oh no, my sweet one,” he whispered, “I’ve not finished with you yet. Lie back.”

Her body obeyed, sinking into the bed, and she parted her thighs.

“That’s my good girl.”

A pulse of pleasure throbbed in her center at his gentle praise, and he placed his hands on her thighs and nudged them further apart.

“Much as I enjoyed supper at Mrs. Briggs’s, I find I’m hungry again,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time for dessert—something a little sweeter.”

He dropped his gaze to her thighs, and shyness engulfed her as he looked upon such an intimate part of her.

Then he lowered his head, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. Beset by panic, she stiffened.

“Alexander, I…”

He lifted his gaze. “What is it, my sweet?”

“You… I mean, I…” She swallowed her shame. “I’ve never…”

“You mean you’ve never had a man pleasure you with his tongue…?”

She blinked back tears and shook her head. He grew still, and she braced herself for ridicule.

But none came.

“Will you trust me?” he asked.

She nodded. She had already given him her trust the moment she accepted him into her bedchamber.

“Then lie back and let me give you that which you have denied yourself for too long,” he said. “Your body is beautiful and deserves to experience pleasure. You deserve pleasure, and I’ll not let anyone—even you—deny it.”

He placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then inhaled.

“Ah,” he whispered. “Your body is ready for pleasure—the most perfect scent known to man. And I shall treasure it, for I know it’s for me”—he placed a kiss on her curls—“ all for me.”

He flicked his tongue against her skin, and she drew in a sharp breath as the sensation of pleasure began to build.

“Let it happen, my love,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

He dipped his tongue into her curls, and she swallowed a cry as he ran the tip along her flesh. He grew still, as if he waited, and she parted her thighs wider, chasing the pleasure. He let out a growl of approval, and she tilted her hips while he dipped his tongue in and out. A surge of pleasure flooded her center and a shudder vibrated through her bones, rippling across her body until, after a few heartbeats, it subsided.

Sweet heaven! How could so much pleasure be taken from his ministrations? Not even at her own hand had she elicited such sensations. It was as if her body were an instrument and she a mere novice—but he was its master, a true proficient in the art of pleasure.

He lifted his head and smiled. Then he crawled on top of her, molding his body over hers, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

“My beautiful Mimi,” he said. “Do you know how much I’ve longed to see the pleasure in your eyes? Are you ready for pleasure at my touch?”

“There’s more?”

His eyes flared. “Oh, my love, what has life denied you?

He shifted position until she could feel him, hard and hot, moving slickly against her flesh. A deep pulse throbbed in her center, like the glow of a flame, moving in and out as each breath ignited it further. Then he eased himself inside her, inch by inch, as if he savored each moment until he was fully sheathed. He closed his eyes, his lips curving with pleasure while he withdrew and entered her again.

The flame swelled in her mind as he increased the pace, until each movement grew harder. His breath came out in hoarse rasps, in time with each thrust as he increased the pace. Mimi arched her back and lifted her hips, meeting each thrust.

“That’s it, my love, you’re close,” he murmured, “so close…”

“H-how can you—Oh!” she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as he slammed inside her body. He plunged in again, his movements growing more frenzied, and a nugget of pleasure began to ripple and throb, deep inside, with a powerful sensation, radiating outward from her center until her whole body shook with it.

“Oh, Mimi!” he cried. “I can feel it—you’re so…so… Sweet saints alive!”

He let out a hoarse cry as her body clenched and rippled around him. Then he threw back his head, his mouth open as if he strained for breath, while he continued to pound inside her.

Then her body tightened for a heartbeat before it ignited.

“Alexander!” She let out a scream as the sensations tore her body to pieces, shattering then re-forming to disintegrate all over again as wave after wave of ecstasy ripped through her, until, finally, she lay boneless beneath him. At length, he grew still then reached for her hand, curling his fingers through hers and tightening his grip as if his life depended on her.

Then, with a deep sigh, he settled, his heartbeat pulsing against her chest in unison with hers, as if they were a single creature, forged from pleasure, passion…

…and love.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into the bed, relishing the delicious sensation of his weight on top of her. Then he brushed his mouth against hers and she tasted salt on his lips.

“Alexander…” she breathed, and he clung to her, molding his body against hers as he moved onto his side, taking her with him. He curled his arms around her and held her close.

“I promised you’d be safe with me,” he whispered, “and you always shall.”

He kissed her again, and his breathing grew steady as he drifted into sleep, his final words barely discernible.

“I love you Mimi—and I’ll never let you go.”