His Darling

"Anthony," she said, out of breath, "people are going to notice we've been gone too long. Henry will notice." She pushed futilely against his chest.

He smirked. "You're worried about Henry?"

She shook her head as his other hand snaked around the nape of her neck. It was too late. He had crushed his lips against hers again. His tongue pushed aggressively past her lips and plundered her mouth. His fingers moved inside her with renewed vigor. This time, Ada ignored the sparks of pleasure and beat Anthony's chest hard with her fists. She bit her lip hard as he withdrew his fingers too quickly.

He caught her wrists immediately in his large hands, but not before she'd landed at least one blow that seemed to have taken him by surprise.

"Let me go," she seethed.

As she felt his grasp on her wrists loosen slightly, she wrenched her hands away and stepped back. Not daring to look at him, she mustered as much sangfroid as she could. She straightened her skirts and made sure her décolletage was no longer indecent. "I'm going inside. Let us not speak of this." She began walking toward the glow of the French doors.

"He's going to tire of you, you know."

She stiffened but did not turn around. "Yes, I know."

"And what will you do then?"

She didn't know. It wasn't a matter she liked to dwell on. She bit her lip.

"What will you do, Ada?" Anthony sounded far too pleased with himself.

"Well, what will she do, Weston?"

Ada stifled a small shriek. How long had Henry been standing on the little stone staircase down to the garden? He looked quite at ease as he pulled his cigarette case from his jacket pocket.

"Bloody hell," he said, finding the case empty. He snapped it shut. "Well, then," he said, regarding them thoughtfully, "what will my lovely Ada do, indeed?"

She froze in place as he walked toward them. "Henry, I-"

"No, my darling, this is for Anthony to answer. He seems to know." Henry smiled, but Ada noticed even in the shadows of the garden that it did not reach his eyes.

Anthony's self-assuredness had flagged a bit. He looked only at Ada as he spoke. "I wondered what she'll do when you're done with her, Aldridge."

Henry's eyes flashed. "When I'm done with her?"

Ada's stomach twisted as she looked indignantly at Anthony. The whole horrible scene—Anthony's callousness and Henry's growing rage—grew cloudy as her eyes filled with tears. Never had she felt particularly ashamed of being a rich man's mistress, but Anthony's cavalier questions were a keen reminder of the transactional nature of her relationship with Henry Aldridge. She clutched her sapphire necklace and blinked back tears.

"What are your plans for her, Aldridge?" Anthony laughed joylessly. "You must have considered this question."

He looked vaguely alarmed as Henry closed the distance between them.

Henry's voice was laced with steel. "What concern could it possibly be of yours, Weston?"

Anthony hesitated for a moment. Ada found that she could not look at him. A tear streaked her cheek as she closed her eyes.

"I thought," he said, finally looking Henry in the eye, "that I might have her when you're done with her."

She heard a muffled crack and a grunt. When she opened her eyes, Sir Anthony Weston was in a heap. She gawked at Henry, who looked poised to deliver another blow. Anthony held his jaw and cautiously rose to his feet.

"Get the hell out," said Henry. "Your fiancée is wondering where you are—mostly because I rather loudly suggested you were off fucking somebody else." He turned to Ada. "I'm glad to find I was mistaken"—he placed a hand at her waist and pulled her to him—"but if you speak to her again, I assure you that you'll find London a most inhospitable place."

Anthony straightened his waistcoat and tie.

"Am I understood?" Henry's question sounded more like a statement.

"Yes," murmured Anthony, wincing. He turned to leave.

Henry held her a little more closely. "And Weston," he said, his smile back in place, "I may have let it slip to Miss Wharburton about your debt at the Athenaeum."

Sir Anthony glared, still holding his jaw.

"She ought to know what she's getting into, don't you think?" Henry chuckled.

Ada watched as Sir Anthony swallowed his pride in one violent gulp, and quickly bowed to them. Then he was gone.

Henry didn't watch him leave; he was looking at the stars beyond the line of trees bordering the garden. "Lovely evening," he said.

She stared mutely at him. The evening had been many things, but she could not say it had been lovely. His hand still gripped her waist, branding her skin even through her corset and dress. A cool breeze presaged rain; she shivered.

"Would you care to explain," he said quietly, still looking at the night sky, "what you were doing out here with Weston?"

"Not especially." It was the truth, impertinent though it sounded.

She flinched as he wrenched her even more closely to him. His face remained inscrutable. The distant din of guests milling about was the only sound. She wondered what people were saying about her and Henry's disappearance.

"I shall ask this only once," he said, finally turning to look at her. "Do you love Weston?"

Ada could have laughed if he hadn't looked so bleak. "No! No." She shook her head. "No," she murmured again.

"But you won't tell me why you were with him?"

She stared at him and swallowed. "You asked him to!"

"Asked him to steal you away?" He laughed humorlessly. She hated the sound.

"There was no stealing away, Henry." She sighed. "You asked him to take me for some fresh air. That's"—she hated his smirk even more than his bitter laugh—"that's what he said."

"And you believed him?" He let go of her at last. "How gullible you are."

She scarcely had time to register her anger before her hand shot up. Shock radiated through her as she beheld the red handprint she had left on his cheek.

She waited breathlessly for him to react and jumped a bit when he finally moved. She watched his hand as if she were paralyzed; he wrapped his fingers firmly, deliberately around her throat.

"I'm the one you're hitting?"

Ada felt a fresh wave of anger wash over her. "You're the one," she said through gritted teeth, "who told your friends to fuck me for your amusement. Is it so absurd that you might ask Sir Anthony to walk me to the garden?" Henry's grip on her throat intensified, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her flinch.

"I didn't tell them to fuck you," he replied hoarsely. "I'm the one who fucks you."

Now it was her turn to smirk. "Until you're done with me."

Henry released her throat, and for an instant, she braced herself for a return of the slap she had given him. Instead he wrenched the neckline of her dress down until her breasts were fully exposed. She stared at him in shock.

As he pulled her to him and bent his head to kiss the full tops of her breasts, she froze in panic. How far was Henry going to go? Any guests in need of fresh air could stumble upon them at any moment. Exactly how much humiliation was Henry going to subject her to? Was this her punishment for hitting him?

Only it felt too good to be punishment. Henry had wrapped his lips around her nipple. She moaned as he sucked it lightly between his teeth. The pleasure shot directly to her core; it was impossible to keep still, impossible not to press herself against him. His lips trailed up to her neck; she gasped as he sucked hard at the base of her throat. Now she would bear a mark there. She silently wondered how many more ways Henry could make her unfit to appear in public. No doubt he had no shortage of ideas.

"You think I could ever be done with you?" he asked, clutching her waist. "Tell me how to be done with you when I want you the moment I wake up." He pulled her to him and caught her as she nearly stumbled. "Ada," he said as he led her to a high retaining wall near the garden steps, "I want to give you the goddamned world." He pushed her against the wall and caged her in. Ada inhaled deeply, memorizing his scent: tobacco, Curzon, and port. Her body undulated involuntarily, grinding against his thigh. He smiled and kissed her swollen lips. The thought of the obscene picture they made—his tongue in her mouth, her breasts exposed and tight with arousal, her body moving shamelessly against his leg—only deepened her pleasure. She almost wanted to be discovered by some guest who'd wandered out to the garden. What a whore I've become, she thought. And how delicious it is.

Henry broke off the kiss and whispered in her ear; his breath ruffled the wisps of hair at her temple. "I need to be inside you, my darling."

"Yes, Henry." She was already yanking up her skirts. He gripped her left thigh and wrapped her leg around his waist. His hand felt hot through the thin linen of her drawers.

"Damn it, why can't you be naked?" He laughed under his breath and unbuttoned his trousers.

She smiled as she reached for his hard shoulders. "I shall be naked later."

"I certainly hope so," he said shakily as he slid easily into her. Ada shut her eyes and let out a throaty moan. He clapped his hand over her mouth with his other hand. She waited for him to move.

"Ada," he said quietly. "Weston got you all wet."

Her eyes were wide open. She tried to shake her head and speak, but he pressed his hand more firmly against her mouth. It was foolish to deny it anyway: Weston had made her embarrassingly wet.

"I want this cock to be the only one you crave." He thrust into her hard. She whimpered into his hand. "I want—oh, God!—to be the only one who gets you wet."

Was one man's touch really so different from another's? Henry was going to make her come hard and quickly. His body, his filthy words—he made Anthony look downright inexperienced. He squeezed her thigh and pulled her closer as he fucked her. She squealed against his hand as he shortened his thrusts, increasing the pressure on her clit. She wanted so much to kiss him. Her tongue darted out and licked his palm. His eyes narrowed. He leaned in to whisper in her ear once more. "My Ada," he murmured just loudly enough to be audible over her moans, "what a cock-hungry little thing you are. So desperate for pleasure that you'll take it wherever you can get it, won't you?"

She whined into his hand. No, she wanted to say, I don't want it from just anyone. But she had nearly come for another man just moments before, hadn't she? And most shocking of all, she liked being told she how shameless and pleasure-drunk she was; it made her pussy tighten. Her eyes rolled back as Henry rocked against her, his obscene mouth still at her ear.

"Yes, my little fille de joie," he whispered, "it's all you fucking think about, isn't it?" Without easing the intense pressure on her clit, he bent his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Ada bit into his palm as the tangle of sensations fogged her brain. As his tongue flicked and tickled her nipple, she pressed herself even more firmly against him.

His mouth wandered over to her other nipple. "Come for me, Ada," he said before fastening his lips to it.

She tilted her head back and held her breath as the pleasure uncoiled from her core. Henry licked leisurely circles around her nipple as she clawed at his arms through the silk-lined fabric of his jacket. She cried out, grateful that his hand was still there to stifle the noise, though she knew any passerby could have heard her.

"My God, Ada," he said as he carefully took his hand off her mouth. "Is there any sweeter sound?"

She laughed shakily. "I've rumpled your jacket." She laughed again as she looked down at herself. "And I am quite in disarray."

"You are exactly as I want you." He slanted his mouth across hers and licked gently at her lips until she opened for him. The kiss somehow relaxed and aroused her at once. As she came down from her orgasm, she realized that he had not come yet.

As if reading her mind, Henry gently withdrew his hard cock and smiled at her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed gently down. "And now I want you on your knees."

The next moment passed in a blur. Henry whisked off his jacket and placed it at her feet. She gripped Henry's arms for support as she knelt, grateful for a buffer between her knees and the earth.

She looked up at him, her mouth slightly agape.

"Ada," he whispered, looking down at her, "is there any sweeter sight?" He smiled and cupped her chin in his hand. "Take me in your mouth."

Gazing up at him, she licked the drop of moisture from the tip of his cock and wrapped her lips around the smooth head. She had taken him in her mouth before—enough to regard herself as experienced—but never in a quasi-public place.

"Christ," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Ada moaned as she worked her tongue along the underside of his cock. Henry's reaction when she pleasured him never failed to delight her; it was as if he had never experienced the sensation of her mouth—of any woman's mouth—on his cock. She loved to hear him hold and catch his breath as her lips slid down until he touched the back of her throat.

She was still wet. If she was honest, she was often wet in his presence, but she'd found that sucking him made her pussy crave him again; she squirmed as she felt his balls constrict under her gentle fingers.

"Ada, look at me," he murmured.

She obeyed. His eyes narrowed as she rubbed the head of his cock back and forth across her wet lips. She watched him earnestly as she tasted him with a zeal she usually reserved for the caramels he routinely brought her from the confectioner's shop.

Henry exhaled shakily and sank his fingers deep in her hair, destroying her coiffure. He held her head and began thrusting lightly between her lips. Ada's moans grew louder and more frenetic as he made use of her mouth. She had made him desperate for release. The thought made her squirm until she felt the insides of her thighs press wetly together.

A hint of cigar smoke wafted past her. She grew silent immediately and looked up at Henry. He watched her with parted lips as he continued thrusting in and out.

It wasn't until she heard men laughing that she stilled.

Henry's hands held her head fast. She pushed ineffectually at his legs and tried to free herself. His grip was tender but unescapable; she felt a slight tremor in his arms as he kept her mouth fastened to his cock.

She knit her brows and looked pleadingly up at him. How close were the men? How many were there? She would die of shame if they saw her. Were they getting closer? Another peal of laughter punctuated the conversation. She could almost make out the words.

"Ada," Henry whispered.

She begged again with her eyes. He looked heatedly at her; it seemed her mute plea only provoked him more.

"Don't look away," he mouthed. His gaze seemed somehow both hard and unfocused.

Ada looked helplessly up at him as he resumed using her mouth. She silently prayed that Henry's guests would come no closer. Their voices rumbled behind her. She heard one of them mention the upcoming Health Exhibition in the city and felt a slight wave of relief. It seemed they hadn't been spotted. Perhaps a hedge was shielding them from view.

Henry was thrusting faster now. He looked as if he wanted to devour her whole; his nostrils flared as he reached the back of her throat and held himself here a moment. She didn't dare make a whimper.

Another pungent whiff of cigar. Ada's heart pounded as she watched Henry get close. It was obvious that he loved the threat of being caught with a woman kneeling at his feet. Perhaps he had been caught with previous mistresses. She didn't like to think of him with other women in general, and the thought of him filling another woman's mouth with his spend made her almost ill with jealousy. But as his gaze flickered between her swollen lips and her eyes, she became less concerned with other women. He was watching her, clutching her as if he had never experienced such lust and might never again.

Her pussy pulsed with desire. It was wicked of her to find Henry's perversity exciting, wicked of her to enjoy being all but coerced to pleasure him with a potential audience mere feet away. There was no helping it. Henry had made her a little wicked. Perhaps she always had been, and that was what had drawn him to her.

She could hear snatches of the men's conversation. One of them proposed going inside for a brandy. Would they wander around the retaining wall on the way back inside? Ada's eyes darted restlessly. Henry twisted his hands in her hair and pulled hard. She gasped around his cock and looked back up at him. He cocked his head at her in mock chastisement. Such was the consequence of looking away. She would have moaned if she weren't terrified of discovery. Few things aroused her the way Henry's reprimands did.

Suddenly Ada felt his fingers dig into her scalp, and he threw his head back with a raspy sigh. She whimpered quietly as he pushed deeply into her; his spend slid hotly down her throat. He watched her swallow it and then closed his eyes again as a few more spasms overtook him. She swallowed the last of his spend and shifted until she could catch her breath. His fingers released her hair and massaged her scalp in soothing little circles.

"God, Ada...your sweet fucking mouth," he sighed.

The men had gone back inside. If she and Henry had been sighted, she doubted it would take long for word to spread. If the men had been watching, however, they hadn't bothered to lower their voices and had left before the finale. Relief, tentative though it was, washed over her.

She released Henry's cock with a final few licks and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth as he watched.

"This mouth," he said again, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip.

She smiled up at him. "What about this mouth?"

"I own this perfectly naughty mouth." He parted her lips with his thumb and held it there until she licked it.

"Henry," she said, gingerly taking his thumb from her mouth, "help me up."

He laughed and pulled her steadily to her feet. Guests were still happily dancing and eating inside, though she suspected a few had retired for the night. She looked up at the stars but knew his gaze was fixed on her. She busied herself by flattening her breasts and gently pushing them back into the tight bodice of her dress. Her chemise was showing above her neckline. Her hair was irredeemably disheveled. Her skirts were rumpled. Her neck was mottled with love bites. She looked every bit as wanton as she felt.

"Do you know the funniest thing about this party?" he asked as he finally turned and looked at the stars.

"Do tell me the funniest thing about this party," she replied wryly. She shook her head at the expanse of stars. "Have you ever seen so many?" she said, pointing skyward.

He leaned in and pressed kisses on her neck. "The funniest thing," he said between kisses, "is that this was going to be our engagement party."

Ada stepped out of his embrace and stared at him. "Our what?"

He reached for her hand and pulled her back to him. "I was going to announce our engagement."

"We are engaged?" She chuckled at the inanity of her own question. "Henry, I feel certain I would remember a proposal."

He resumed kissing her neck.

"Henry."

He turned her face to his and leaned in to kiss her. She pressed her fingers against his mouth.

"Henry, I don't like this joke."

He snatched her by the wrist and kissed her hard before she could say another word. Ada's annoyance warred with the pleasure she took in kissing him. The kiss grew heated and she moaned despite herself.

"My jokes," he said, breaking off the kiss at last, "aren't generally this expensive." He pulled a small glass box from his jacket pocket. Ada gawked at the ornate gold trim on the lid of the box and watched him take out a ring before she could fully grasp what was happening. He held the ring out to her.