Temporary Mistress

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An Excerpt From: TEMPORARY MISTRESS

Copyright © CECILY FRENCH, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Madam is going to offer you to Viscount Danbury?” The scantily clad brunette stared at Franny, her mouth a petulant pout. “You just got here yesterday and ain’t even bedded anyone yet. What makes you so bleedin’ special?”

“I don’t know,” Franny said honestly. “Who is Viscount Danbury?”

“Lord, don’t you know nuttin?” The woman’s pout became a sneer. “Phillip Graves, Viscount Danbury, is the greatest lay in the ton or my name ain’t Mary. They say he can have you screamin’ at what just his tongue can do to your twat, let alone do to it with his prick. Handy with his fingers too, if half of what I’ve heard is true.”

Franny’s cheeks burned. “Have you—”

“Been with him? Naw. But I watched him once through a peephole into the room ’e was using. Prettiest arse you’ve ever seen on a man, cheeks nice and tight and legs that’ll hug you snug while you ride him. And his cock!” Mary shivered, but her expression turned greedy. “Lord save the woman who ain’t big and deep enough to hold all of him! I’d let him—”

“That’s enough, Mary.” Madam Terez’s entrance into the sitting room ended the description of Franny’s prospective employer. “No need to scare the girl.”

“Why her and not me?” Mary complained. “She looks like a virgin decked out in that dress. Is that what Lord Danbury is wanting? ’Cause I can play the virgin with the best of ’em. Just did it last week.”

“Shut up, Mary,” Madame Terez ordered. “His lordship is needing something special.”

Her gaze inspected again Franny’s choice of dress. The pale-yellow muslin gown, with lace at the collar and short sleeves, skimmed Franny’s curves, such as they were. The snug, low-cut bodice and the silken corset underneath showed just enough of her breasts to arouse interest. Underneath, the barest of chemises covered the rest of her.

“After all,” Madam Terez had said when handing Franny several different dresses to try, “the man deserves a peek at what he might be purchasing.”

Now she nodded at Franny’s choice of dress and asked, “Who did your hair?”

Confidence calmed Franny’s trembling insides. “I did,” she said proudly. Twin tendrils curved the slopes of her cheeks, and matching ribbons hung from the cascade of black curls balanced on her head to trail down her neck.

“Very nice,” Madame Terez nodded in satisfaction. “Years ago in France, they would have doused you with water to show off your body. But this ain’t France and I don’t want my carpets all wet. Come, my dear, ’is lordship is waitin’ to see you.”

Ignoring Mary’s departing scowl, Franny followed Madam Terez from the room and downstairs. The smell of cigar smoke wafted from the front parlor where callers were received and Franny’s tension returned. Oliver smoked cigars.

“Good morning, my lord,” Madame Terez called to the back of the lone figure standing by the fireplace as they entered the room. “I hope you are well today?”

After tossing his cheroot into the flames, the man turned and Franny’s heart slammed into her ribs with such force she thought she might swoon. Any and all adjectives for describing male beauty evaporated at the sight of the tall, powerfully built man whose amber-eyed gaze set her insides quivering. Wide of shoulder and long of leg, his form stirred to life Mary’s descriptions of his prowess in the bedroom. A lock of honey-colored hair fell over one amber eyebrow.

But it was his mouth, full and generous, that sent a cascade of delicious shivers scrambling over Franny’s skin.

His mouth would truly be a force of nature, bringing to life any fantasy a woman could entertain.

Even a woman like Franny.

“My Lord Danbury, this is Franny Talbot,” Madam Terez said. “Franny, this is Phillip Graves, Viscount Danbury.”

Franny produced the curtsy she had practiced. “My Lord Danbury,” she said.

His only answer was to continue to stare at her, his eyes seeming to pierce the muslin fabric, and even as her brain commanded her not to, a blush warmed her from her toes peeking from the open shoes to the ribboned crown of her head.

He came forward to slowly walk around her, his gaze heating her skin’s warmth to a near flame, and a throbbing ache began between her legs. Merciful heavens, if he could do this without laying a hand on her, then everything Mary had said must be true indeed.

“I believe,” he said finally, “that I am going to be in your debt, Terez. A diamond indeed.”

Madam Terez favored him with a smile. “Well, then. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

She left, closing the door behind her. Franny clasped her hands together and waited. The ticking of the wall clock provided the room’s only sound unless one counted the roaring of Franny’s heart in her ears.

He broke the silence first. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” She made her way to a nearby sofa, but hesitated. Did one wait for a viscount to sit first?

He must have read her mind, because his soft chuckle teased her ears. “You may sit.”

“Thank you.”

She lowered herself to the sofa, carefully arranging the skirt of her dress. When she had settled herself, Phillip sat beside her and took her hands. “Do you understand why I am here?”

“Yes, my lord. You need a mistress. Least that’s what Madam Terez said.” Her gaze rested on their joined hands.

“Look at me.”

She raised her head and Phillip found himself staring into the depths of eyes so blue they were almost violet. Her hands nearly vanished inside his, but he could easily imagine them wrapped around a love-satisfied organ, arousing him again into erectness. Beneath his trousers, said organ stirred in anticipation. “Do you want to do this, Miss Franny? Do you want to become my mistress?”

She shrugged and her gown slipped off one shoulder just enough for him to view the creamy skin. “Not much choice, my lord. It’s here or the streets, and that’s no choice.”

“How long were you on the streets?”

“Two months.”

“And did you work in another house before that?”

“No sir. I was still at home.”

Phillip dropped her hands. “Explain,” he said.

He saw fear glimmer in her eyes, but she kept her gaze fixed on his face as she told him how she had come to be at Madam Terez’s house. “So with Oliver and that other fella looking for me, I’m as good as dead if I go back,” she finished. Her hands gripped one another and a wobble entered her voice as she added, “But if you give me a chance, sir, I promise to do my best to satisfy you. Please let me try.”

Damnation! You’re hardly more than a virgin. What the blazes was Terez thinking offering me a girl who’s probably never had her mouth on a man’s cock or done it anywhere but in a bed in her short, professional life? I should ask for a woman who at least knows what she’s doing between the sheets.

But her beauty, as well as her obvious fear, stopped him from doing just that. Her skin gleamed like a pearl in the firelight’s glow and a faint smell of summer flowers surrounded her. With a woman like her on his arm, winning the prize for having the most beautiful mistress would easily be his. Again.

And how could he turn her out on the streets with the likes of Oliver Sidlow hunting for her? “Have you ever bedded a man for just the pleasure of it?”

“No sir.”

“Never known any pleasure from a man?”

“They got what they wanted,” she said with more than a trace of bitterness. “Didn’t stop to ask what I might want. Most times, there wasn’t even as much as a kiss, if you could call it that. More like slobbering.”

“That’s a shame,” Phillip said softly. “Bedding one another should always be pleasurable. Pleasuring a woman, watching her be pleasured, is half the fun. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“They got what they wanted,” she repeated.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?”

With a feathering touch, he ran his forefinger over her lips, letting it trail down to trace the soft curve of her jaw until it rested above the valley between her breasts. She sat quite still, almost as if expecting a blow. Only the quickening rise and fall of her chest showed she was at least somewhat aroused.

“No,” she said. “Never like that.”

“When a man kisses you, it should be something like this.” Leaning in, Phillip lowered his head to let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of her lips. They tasted of cherries, sweet and tart all at once.

“Let your tongue touch mine,” he instructed. “First the tip, then slowly, slowly, slide it into my mouth.”

He took her into his arms as her mouth opened to do as he asked. Her hands met behind his head and held him in place as she continued her task. Beneath her dress, her heart beat in a frantic rhythm as her tongue met his and she gently sucked it as he feasted on hers. Sweat broke out on his forehead as the tips of her nipples hardened against his chest and his cock swelled as he imagined feasting on the rest of her.

A moan broke from her throat and he pulled back. A rosy flush stained her cheeks and her kiss-brightened eyes proved his attentions were successful. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I did.”

“That,” he said, “was a kiss. Now, Franny—”

“My given name is Francesca,” she supplied.

“Really?” he asked. “Very well, from now on, your name in public will be Francesca. Only in private will you be Franny.”

“And I suppose I am to call you Phillip.”

He considered. “I suppose so. After all—”

“I mean calling you ‘my lord’ this and ‘my lord’ that when everyone knows we’re sharing a bed seems a bit la-di-da, don’t you think?”

He laughed at her spot-on imitation of a ton dowager. Her sweet mouth’s droll expression quickened his heart. Beauty and wit. He could almost feel the weight of the winner’s purse in his hands.

“You will be my mistress for two weeks,” Phillip continued. “In that time, I will provide you with a new wardrobe and a place to live. In return, you will be available to me at all times. Do you understand?”

“Well, that’s what a mistress does, isn’t it?” she asked. “To always be ready to hop in bed with her patron?”

“There are other places to make love besides a bed.”

She recoiled as if he had struck her. “I won’t do it with no one but you,” she rasped. “And I won’t let anyone watch us or share our bed. If that’s what you want, then you can find another honey pot to dip your prick in.”

“I don’t share my women,” Phillip said stiffly. “Especially not when I am the one in bed with them.” Then softening his tone, he added, “And after the first time I bed you, you’ll not want another—not while we’re together.”

“And when our time is up?” she demanded. “What happens to me then? Back on the streets, always looking over my shoulder for Oliver or someone like him?”

Phillip considered. If circumstances were different, she would be his for five months and his final gift would be enough money to keep her until a new lover came along. His other women always found one within days.

But from her described history, Franny was not like his other mistresses. Her only experience with sex was from the hands of men who had wanted only one thing—a quick fuck, with no thought of pleasure. In her and out of her and a coin, maybe two, if she were lucky. He might very well have to teach her everything about pleasing and being pleasured.

The thought of teaching her how to please him hardened him again, and his balls ached at the thought of her riding him while he held her hips and drove his cock deep inside her. The imagined taste of her honey pot filled his mouth and he swallowed before asking, “What do you want to happen?”

The glitter in her violet eyes darkened them to nearly cobalt. “I want to have enough money so I never have to rely on a man again,” she said. “I want to be as free as I can be.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t want a man at all after this?” he asked, half amused at her declaration.

“If I do, it’ll be when I want him, not because I need him to provide for me,” she said fiercely. “A man got me into this life, so why shouldn’t a man help me get out of it? You can do that, can’t you?”

“And you’ve never wanted a man, have you?”

A shadow of—what? Fear? Anticipation?—passed over her face. “Don’t know what that feels like to want someone,” she whispered. “Wanting someone is like in books and stories, where everything is wonderful and no one ever gets hurt.”

Her answer startled him. “Do you know how to read, Franny?”

Annoyance pulled her sweet mouth into a frown. “Yes, my lord, I know how to read,” she snapped. “And write and do arithmetic past division, even fractions and the like. I used to read the newspaper when I was at home, and more than the tidbits on who was seen where and wearing what. I won’t shame you, least ways when and if we’re seen together.”

By heaven, she was a tiger. Phillip rose, walked to the door and opened it to find Terez waiting in the hall.

She stood and peered past him into the room before directing her gaze to his face. “Well, my lord?”

“She’ll do, Terez,” Phillip told her. “She’ll do.”