Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Silk, and decadent, sent from Paris before the Corsican caused havoc. Do they not feel cool to a heated body?
What are you wearing?
What a question to ask a lady. I am wearing a smile. Why are you clothed?
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
I am snacking on French Champagne, eating syllabub and fruit from my session houses. Although… eyes Lee up I like the look of you. Hmm, you could be edible. However, you I see, have brandy and pound cake. Do you know there is a new way of thinking that rich food can kill you…
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Your important parts sore? Truly this is private. Sigh very well. My bible, my sponge and vinegar to soak it in. Mistress must take such things into account, especially with a man so potent as I believe Ash to be. And now it seems, it also holds some silken ties…
Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
What is a burrito? I wrap myself in my blankets unless I have Ash to warm me. Sadly, he is not amenable. Eyes Lee up and down again It can get rather cold in these draughty houses. All I need is a hot body or a hot brick.
Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Not unless I can put mine on your back… or front?
What are we reading?
We are reading my story to happiness. A Most Unusual Mistress.
Why be a wife if a mistress has more fun? All Adriana has to do is get Ashley to agree.
Finding her intended bollix deep in his mistress, when she was trembling with wanting, did not impress Adriana. If being a mistress entailed being part of such passion, then a mistress only she would be.
Ashley. Earl of Addersley thought otherwise. He wanted a wife on his terms. Terms that would send this lady of the ton screaming, or would they?
“I fear, my love.” He kept his voice calm despite the anger now raging within him. “You do not have the facts assimilated correctly. For why am I to be blackened as a cheat and a liar?”
Her chest heaved, once more unknowingly allowing him a cock-tightening view of her breasts straining at their confines as they threatened to spill out and...and what? Demand attention? Hardly. Protest his attraction? More likely. Receive his touch? Dare he? Regretfully, Ash reminded himself just whom he was facing. He held his hands out in supplication. However, Adriana had not yet finished blackening his character.
“Because you are one? Any man who states he is no longer harboring a mistress and is then found bollocks-deep inside said mistress only days before his wedding is not to be believed,” she said, her anger evident in her words. He watched, fascinated, as she picked up two small, exquisite Sèvres vases from the mantle and threw them at the wall in quick succession. They shattered in the hearth, and Ashley waited for her reaction to such damage. Adriana showed no sign of even noticing her wanton destruction and merely dusted her hands on her skirts.
Unusually, no servant appeared to discover the reason for such noise. He wondered if such temper was the norm, and the servants well used to it.
He chose not to ask her.
“Therefore,” she said. “I do not believe anything you say to me. Lud, she is treated better than me. Have you ever touched me with such desire?” She laughed bitterly. “Perchance I should phrase that have you ever touched me? We both know the answer. Yet I have seen the way you look at me when you think you are unobserved. Indeed, on one occasion, my lord, I was the observer as you took yourself in hand and fisted yourself until you spilled your seed while shouting my name. So I know you are not indifferent to me. But touch me? Make me come? Pah. Do I not deserve the attention you paid her?”
“You are to be my wife,” Ash said stiffly. He knew his face reddened in shame, for he was ashamed of the discomfort he had caused her. “However,” he continued, ignoring the ripple of excitement her query had aroused, “not my whore. I respect you.”
“I would be better off as your mistress and get the body and the fucking I desire,” she said frankly. “Lud, Ash. I want your love, your body, and to be fucked. If that is not to be my culmination, then let me be your whore. For a twelvemonth, I have spied and regarded you in secret, stroking myself after peering at you without your knowledge. Lud, I ache for your touch. If, as your wife, I do not receive all that I desire, I do not desire to be your wife. Why should I settle for less than all you can—if you chose— give me?” she demanded. “Just because it is assumed women of our class do not enjoy more than the mere mechanics of sex, or indeed, merely tolerate a husband’s touch, do not assume that of me. If, as your mistress, I will receive more than duty demands, then make me her. However, don’t bother to make me your wife. I have too much esteem to settle for less than I deserve.”
He wondered if he imagined what he heard. “And you feel you deserve to be my mistress?”
“Well, I deserve more than a ten-minute fumble once the lamps are dimmed.”
You see what terrible happenings I have endured? Men!
My poor long suffering author Raven has a web and a blog
as well as Facebook sites. www.facebook.com/rmcallan