Pacing the floor wouldn't bring her, but he couldn't quite help it. Crossing the room again, Stephen Anstett stopped to pour a brandy, dashing the liquor into the glass with disregard for the errant droplets that spilled over the side. He felt tightly wound with anticipation, and the liquor burned a little going down he took such a big swallow.
Would she come?
Actually, that was quite a bad pun, he thought to himself in amusement. If she arrived, she would come, he'd see to it.
He'd gambled finally telling the delectably lovely Lady Albright of his sexual infatuation. But without risk there was no gain, and he certainly hoped to strike good fortune this evening. Since she had a reputation for being virtuous and unattainable, yet carried an air of inherent sexuality that tantalized and was part of her potent attraction, he wagered she was celibate by choice, but not by inclination. Her husband, too, had been dead several years. In short, he hoped with every fiber of his being what she needed was a good, hard cock.
He would be more than happy to stand in stud, if she would only give him a chance.
Taking another sip of brandy, he almost choked as he heard the soft knock.
Hope surged through his body, centering predictably in his groin. Even as he walked through small tiled hall to the door, he could feel himself swell, his erection growing against the fitted material of his breeches. He saw the slender cloaked figure outside the door with a flicker of triumph, stepping back to let her slip inside. When she pushed her hood back it revealed a wealth of gleaming auburn hair, and a perfect oval face. Eyes framed by long lashes, their color an intriguing mix of gray and green, were veiled and unreadable as they gazed up at him. Carla Albright said without preamble, "Apparently, I have lost my mind."
Studying her fragile, lovely features, Stephen saw her soft tempting lips tremble, and he reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth to caress her chilled fingers. "I'll thank the powers above, then, for your insanity. Here, let me take your cloak."
Yes, yes, yes, his mind chanted.
She didn't resist when he slipped the garment from her shoulders. She still wore her ball gown, the low décolletage displaying her firm, full breasts to advantage, the deep green color a foil for her dramatic coloring. For a woman he knew to be both sophisticated and worldly, she seemed very unsure and was obviously nervous. "This isn't some sort of absurd wager is it?" she asked him with a straightforward look. "A bet in the books at your club to see if you could get under my skirts?"
"Hell, no," he responded vehemently. "I'm not Peckington with his arrogant posturing, and I wouldn't do that to any woman, much less you."
She cocked one perfect russet brow. "Is that the basis then for his lordship's zealous chase? Men are the oddest creatures."
"When in the presence of a beautiful woman, I suppose we are," he admitted. "But do not lump me in with that buffoon, please."
"I am not, quite obviously, since I have turned him down numerous times, but somehow am here with you." She glanced around with interest, taking in the small but elegant foyer of the townhouse he'd bought recently. Then she looked backed at him, lifting her chin slightly. "This is one night."
He couldn't help it, he grinned. "I want to fuck you, not claim ownership. I'll take the one night, and gladly. If you decide afterwards you want to do it again, that will be my pleasure, I'm sure."
Carla's eyes widened at the crude word, and then she shrugged, a lift of her smooth shoulders. "I suppose, though I wouldn't put it exactly the same way, that's how I feel as well. Whether it's fair or not, our disparate ages make anything but an exclusively private relationship impossible."
The sound of her hushed voice, and the way she stood so demurely, made him harden to full mast. Staring down at her, he said, "Agreed. And I warn you, I'm impatient. That part you are going to have to forgive. After all, I've been imagining this a long time."
"And apparently you have a good imagination." She looked pointedly at the bulge in his breeches, a delicate flush touching her smooth cheeks. "Good heavens, Stephen."
"Blame yourself." His hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her into the circle of his arms, tightly against his body and rigid erection. He lowered his head, his mouth finding hers, their lips touching, parting, and touching again. She tasted as sweet as any dream--and he had had many erotic imaginings of this moment. He indulged himself, tangling his tongue against hers, feeling the enticing curves of her body as she pressed against him.
)
