Mistress in the Making by Lynne Silver Page B

Please.”
    “Better.” He nodded approvingly. “But not quite enough.”
    A tear slipped out of one eye. “Lucas!” She was going to crack. Cry, scream, or possibly yank the headboard apart in frustration.
    Lucas stopped his finger making lazy circles around her swollen clitoris. He’d heard her desperation. He was looking for something from her, but she wasn’t sure what. If she knew, she’d give it. Anything to get him inside her, bringing them both to completion.
    “You want me to beg? I’m begging. Finish it. Finish me. Please. I’m empty without you. I need you.”
    “You need me to what?” The stark angles of his face were distorted in the flickering candlelight. He was a god, or a demon holding the keys to everything she wanted and needed.
    He was going to make her say it. Digging into her reserves, she pulled all the vocabulary Madame Bella taught her onto her tongue. “Finish me. Put your cock inside me. Fuck me.” She’d expected embarrassment at her coarse language, but instead was free as a bird and found herself experimenting with other phrases, shocking desires rolling off her tongue and into Lucas’ ear.
    He took her at her word and positioned his hips between her thighs. She was so damp he slipped in with ease and she squeezed around him to keep his cock in place. But he didn’t stay still long. His hands found hers and wrapped around her wrists over the tied cravats.
    “You’re mine?”
    “Yours,” she confirmed.
    She met his gaze for a brief second, but it was too much. They both closed their eyes and concentrated on the slick thrust of his body into hers.
    “You needed me.” His smugness made it a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway.
    “I did. I do, so much.”
    She inhaled his tangy sweat, knowing she’d forever remember the smell of Lucas in the throes of passion. He pushed into her with frenzied need and she met every thrust. She needed it, needed him, his warm smiles, his commanding presence, and his body pressed skin-to-skin with hers. They’d been poised on the precipice so long it didn’t take much to send them flying together into bliss.
    Slowly they sailed back to reality. His large body draped on her bound one offered a sense of security. The pounding of his heart was a drumbeat against her breast. When it slowed from a military march to a slow waltz, she murmured to him.
    He pushed off and untied her, starting with her legs. When she was completely free, he rolled her to her belly and rubbed her stiff, sore muscles until she was practically purring. As he rubbed, they spoke quietly—little nothings about his evening and who he’d met at the ball. She shared that she’d be visiting Madame Bella’s tomorrow to see about letters from her sisters.
    “Don’t get too comfortable there,” he said. “I need you back here.”
    “I promise,” she said with a yawn. “I’ll always return to you.”

Chapter Seven
     
    “Charlotte!”
    Thin, young arms engulfed her as soon as she stepped three feet into Madame Bella’s front parlor.
    “It’s good to see you,” Emmy said, squeezing even tighter.
    “How is life on the outside?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t hugged Charlotte, but instead stood three feet back with her observer’s eyes as she nearly always did in a crowd.
    Charlotte laughed, thrilled to be back with girls she welcomed into her heart as sisters. “Girls, let me take my coat off first. Then I shall tell you all.” She unbuttoned her wool pelisse and shrugged it off, laying it carefully on the back of a chair.
    “Sit here, Charlotte.” Emmy patted the cushion next to her and grinned.
    She returned the smile and skirted her way around the three other eager girls to join Emmy.
    “Very well, what shall I tell you first?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap.
    “How is Mr. Morgan? Is he as kind as he is handsome?” Emmy asked.
    “Or is he cruel like his brother?” Lucy countered.
    She threw a sharp look at Lucy. “How do you know