DisobediencebyDesign (11 page)

“Ha!” Joseph downed his brandy then rose to pour himself
another. “I’ve been out West. I’ve got some exciting stories. I’ll try to
temper them.”

Joseph went to the liquor cabinet, decanted some brandy
carefully as if it were a precious liquid, swirled it in his glass, then
upended the snifter and swallowed every drop. He moved gracefully but with a
roughness that reflected his background, giving him a distinctive appeal Arthur
hoped investors would find enticing and encouraging. It was certainly enticing
and encouraging to him.

Joseph poured himself another and joined Arthur at the
hearth.

“When do we go to London?” Joseph placed his glass on the
mantel then yawned and ran his fingers through his hair.

That Joseph acted with such familiarity was gratifying. Their
relationship had become as intimate as Arthur’s with Henny. Almost. “Next week.
It’s the beginning of the Season.”

“I’ve heard of your Seasons. Lots of parties.” He raised a
suggestive brow. “Rather decadent.”

“Yes, like Rome I’m sure.” Arthur chuckled.

“Not really my milieu. I’ll be out of my element. I’m
nervous about all this.”

Another endearing quality was his bald honesty.

Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Joseph’s arm. “You don’t
have to attend every event, just the more strategic ones. I’ll introduce you
around at my club as you might be spending a lot of time there. Also I want you
to see my tailor once we get to town.”

Joseph crinkled his forehead. “Oh?”

“You’ll need the latest fashion in evening dress, plus a
morning suit. And there’s my wedding in June.”

“Ah yes.” He sighed with a touch of melancholy.

“Trust me…my tailor will make you look so smart my distant
cousins will just assume you’re another distant cousin.”

Joseph stared into the fire. “You’re doing an awful lot for
me, Arthur.”

“If you don’t want to accept my generosity as a token of my
esteem and friendship, consider my support as part of my investment.” He patted
his shoulder. “Don’t feel beholden to me, Joseph. I’ll take my cut when the
time comes.”

“Okay.” He squeezed Arthur’s hand. “What about after the
wedding?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, am I to continue staying with you? I could go to a
hotel.”

“Joseph, the house is huge. Don’t worry—you won’t hear me
and Henny.”

Joseph grinned, and when Joseph grinned ingenuously, he was
quite handsome. Too handsome.

“What about a honeymoon?” he asked, possibly with a hint of
envy.

Was he so important in Joseph’s life? The thought was
flattering.

“We won’t go anywhere until the business is settled and
you’re back home across the pond.”

“Hmm…” Joseph snorted, holding Arthur’s gaze. “You have your
life all planned out, don’t you?” His tone conveyed only comment, not judgment.

Arthur smirked. “I like living that way.”

Joseph glanced at his brandy. “What if it doesn’t turn out
as planned?”

“Well,” Arthur started, suddenly self-conscious, “I think we
can figure something out between the two of us. We make a great team, don’t you
think?”

Joseph smiled. “Yes I do.”

A moment of stillness hovered in the air. Perhaps it was
just the liquor mingling with the heat from the fire but a giddiness riled
Arthur to the notion that he could do anything. The world was full of
possibilities.

He cupped the back of Joseph’s head then leaned in and
kissed him full on the mouth.

Joseph recoiled for a split second before giving in, letting
Arthur explore him, their lips grazing, their tongues tangling, rough skin
against rough skin. It was absolutely marvelous.

It was positively wrong.

Arthur pulled back, panting. “Christ, Joseph, you must
forgive me. I cannot think what I was doing.”
Good God
he was mortified.

Joseph stared at him stunned but not horrified. “And have
you ever done such a thing?”

“No never.” Arthur closed his eyes briefly. “I mean not that
I haven’t ever thought… I just haven’t.”

“Oh.” Joseph seemed befuddled.

“And you?” he dared ask.

“Yes. But never of my own volition. I was always—” He sighed
heavily. “It’s different for me. I’m always the prey. When one is the mere
courier boy of the wealthy, one must endure a great deal—”

“Oh Christ, Joseph, I’m so sorry—”

“I’ve never been with a man because I wanted to, I mean,
sometimes I wanted to but it simply was not my choice and I was doing it
anyway.”

Arthur searched his face. “Then make it your choice. Don’t
let men like me bully you around.”

Joseph’s gaze was deep, grateful. “Yeah…okay.”

Arthur turned away. “It’s late. I’m going to my room.”

In an instant, Joseph had Arthur in his arms, his mouth
pressed against Arthur’s, assaulting him with passion. Arthur submitted
willingly, reveling in the powerful embrace, his cock springing to life as it
rubbed against Joseph’s crotch.

Joseph let him go. “I’ll have you know I like women very
much.”

Arthur chuckled in relief. “Obviously I like them quite a
bit too.”

“I’ve had enough of you, Lord Petersham.”

The use of his title cut but was probably Joseph’s way of
establishing a modicum of control.

“Thank you, Joseph. I’ll see you in the morning.”

A tumult of emotions racked Joseph to the core. The scheme
had been progressing smoothly then Arthur had to go muck things up by kissing
him. Joseph would have taken Arthur to bed except Henny might have come looking
for her fiancé in the middle of the night. Discovering him in Joseph’s bed, in
Joseph’s arms, would have been an utter and complete disaster.

He and Arthur cleared things up in the morning, Arthur
apologizing profusely, endearingly heartfelt, Joseph finding himself with the
upper hand, as the one to offer solace. They both agreed that while their brief
intimacy had been diverting, it should never happen again, chiefly out of
consideration for Henny, even though, Arthur insisted, she might find the idea intriguing.

“She could join us,” Joseph had joked.

“You’ll touch her over my dead body, Mr. Phillips,” Arthur
had retorted with a laugh.

And then the incident had blown over. Except Joseph remained
agitated in such a way solitary gratification was unsatisfying. He needed
something more.

He needed Sophia.

As always, he had difficulty pinning her down. She was
either with Henny and their mothers, discussing wedding plans, or dodging—so it
seemed as his presence was far too ubiquitous—the Duke of Royston’s attentions.
She did not come to the studio much and when she did, Henny often accompanied
her.

Without her, frustration mounted and tore at his
concentration.

He paced and wandered around the studio, poking the fire,
twiddling his pencils, thinking of her, his cock aching with unrequited desire,
his mind unable to focus on whatever it was he was supposed to be preparing for
Arthur…

And then she walked in.

It was as if the gods had decided to smile upon him.

“Joseph?” she said, her gaze sweeping over him, assessing
his state of discomposure.

“Sophie, my love.” He held back. They were on display behind
the wall of glass.

She flicked her gaze to the curtains then walked to the door
and locked it.

Joseph casually strolled to draw the drapes and pulled the
cords slowly.

With privacy secured they fell into each other’s arms.

Their reunion had been too long delayed. Her mouth was an
exquisite refuge into which he fell completely, her body a sanctuary for his
lustful fantasies. He stroked and squeezed, deliriously murmuring endearments,
licking and nipping, removing bits of his clothing, unfastening bits of hers,
leading them both toward the bed, picking her up and placing her on the
mattress, stretching himself alongside her.

“Darling, I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her neck.

She wrapped her arms around him. “Oh Joseph! It’s been
horrid! Mama made me go for a drive with him and then he tried to kiss me.” She
shuddered. “I’m always on my guard because he might suddenly appear and he
usually does. He’s gone into Little Bytham this afternoon. I headed here as
soon as I could.”

“I’m glad you came. I need you, Sophia.” He kissed away the
tears that dampened her lashes.

“I need you too.” She propped herself up on an elbow. “It’s
just not the same when I touch myself alone.” She plucked at the buttons of his
shirt. “I think of you but it’s nothing compared to what you did to me last
week.”

“Or what you did to me.” The memory lingered vividly.

She hid a smile as she continued to play with his buttons. “You
said you would teach me.” She raised her gaze to meet his.

His cock stirred at the entreaty, seductive yet so innocent.
“Of course.” He kissed her tenderly. “Lie down.”

She rolled onto her back, pulled up her skirts and gave him
a wistful, encouraging smile. He slid his fingers through the split of her
drawers, between the plump folds of her feminine flesh already wet for him. He
spread the sticky moisture and when he reached her clit she yelped, staring at
him wide-eyed.

“That, my love, is your clitoris. Your locus of pleasure.”

She blushed. It was damned charming.

“When you are aroused as you are now, you create a natural
wetness. Use that to stroke yourself.” He flicked his finger back and forth,
petting her, keeping in check his own desire in order to bring her to ecstasy.

She sucked in a mouthful of air and held it too long.

“Darling, breathe.”

He stilled his finger against her and she exhaled.

“Good. Relax.” He resumed his ministrations using a circular
motion. “You can do whatever feels good—pressing, rubbing, pinching—”

“Pinching!”

He chuckled. “Give me your hand. I’ll show you.” He guided
her finger to her sex. “It’s that little nubbin. Do you feel it?”

“Oh!” She jerked her hand away.

He calmly reclaimed it and returned it between her legs.

“Touch yourself in the way that feels most pleasing to you.
I’ll be right here.”

Arousal vexed his cock as her expression transitioned from
surprise to curiosity to delight to bliss, her finger working steadily,
rhythmically.

“Now increase the pace and you’ll find the pleasure grows.”

She worked furiously, lost to him, lolling her head, arching
against the mattress, moaning distractedly. The magnificent display of
sensuality taunted him to satisfy his own needs but he resisted and watched
her, mesmerized, until she bucked up with a cry then landed on the mattress,
panting and staring up at the canopy.

“Oh,” she said. “I’ve always wondered how to capture that
feeling. Sometimes I wake up from the most luscious dream. Now I can make it
happen without dreaming.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

Joseph chuckled in amazement. This was a woman who could
orgasm from a lover’s spoken fantasy or, apparently, from a dream.

“How did you know how to do that?” The rasp of afterglow
tinged her voice.

“I’ve had some experience.”

“With women, you mean.”

“Yes,” he stammered. “A few.”

One by one she opened the buttons of his trousers. “How
many?”

Shit
. He should not have said that. “Sophie!”

She untucked his shirt. “How many?”

Would the number seem high to her? Or surprisingly low?

She started to unbutton his drawers, a devious glint in her
eye. “You know I could just look at you and not touch you.”

Jesus
, he’d probably come anyway. “Twelve.”

She stared at him in astonishment.

“That’s not what you were expecting.”

“No.”

He raised a brow in invitation for her to extend the
thought.

“Three. I thought it would be three.” She plopped down. “Did
you love all of them?”

Shit
. “Look, Sophie, darling, I wasn’t in love with
any of them.” He inhaled deeply. “Do you really want to know?” He turned to
face her.

She stared at the canopy with a dreamy expression. “I guess
you really have had an exciting life. Arthur said so.”

“Do you think me despicable? If you want to end our liaison—”

“No!” She propped herself up on her elbow again. “I want to
continue exploring. I want you to show me the ways of pleasure.” She toyed with
the buttons on his shirt.

“And I want to continue all of that too. But I need to know
if you are comfortable with my past.”

“Your past? Were you the Don Juan of New York?”

He laughed. “Nothing so romantic.” He stroked her cheek. “You
know how your virginity is a highly valued treasure and you are taught to keep
it, and not to do anything like what we are doing or you’ll be ruined?”

“Yes. My governess made sure I understood all of that. And
Mama has admonished me about dancing too much with one man or taking walks with
Geoffrey. And about how my husband wants me to be pure and unsullied and even
the hint of impurity would be ruinous.”

“Well it’s different for girls of my class. There are not
the same strictures. For some of them the act of sex is just another pastime
and for others, it is their profession.”

“Oh. I suppose I did know about that. But that’s awful,
isn’t it? And we should pity such women who have been led astray?”

Joseph composed his thoughts. “For some yes, it is a
horrible necessity and life for them is brutish. For others, though, they
choose that way of life and are very well compensated for it. Some are quite
rich.”

“Like mistresses and kept women? I’ve heard some men have
those.”

“Sort of like that. There are also women who employ other
women. They give them a warm place to live, food to eat, pretty dresses, and in
exchange the girls provide services to men.”

Sophia stared at him, realization dawning on her face. “Is
that who you were with?”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. He did not want to
have this conversation with her. Not now, probably not ever. “Well yes, some of
them were. Do you despise me?”

“No! It’s just so different than the men I know. Well…I
think it is.”

“More likely they’re too polite to discuss such things with
you.” He pulled her against him. “My father had a business arrangement with a
courtesan. He would treat her shipments with extra care and she would
compensate him for the service. They eventually became good friends. When I
turned eighteen he sent me to her to learn about women and their desires.” He
ran his hand slowly down her body to rest on her hip. “So I would know how to
please them and especially—if I were to get married—so I would know how to
please my wife. I had been with girls before but didn’t really know what I was
doing. She taught me.”

“What you did for me the last time we were together.”

“Yes…and what you did for me.”

“You’re tutoring me for my husband,” she huffed with
disappointment.

“That’s certainly not my intention, love. I’m doing this for
us. But your husband will be pleasantly surprised.”

“Joseph,” she began haltingly, “I don’t want my virginity to
be such a treasure.”

His gut clenched. “Oh no, I’m not taking it, Sophia. I
won’t. You know I won’t.”

“I thought as much. I just wish it were the same for me as
it is for those other girls.”

“Their days are difficult, darling. They work themselves
ragged. Their lives are short and their joys few.”

“Our time together is short,” she said with a melancholy
smile. “What pleasure shall we share today?”

She was right. They might never find themselves alone ever
again. He wanted to possess her yet there was only one way a man like him could
possess a girl of her class. He rolled on top of her and kissed her deeply.

“Do you feel my weight against you?” He trailed kisses down
her neck, undulating his hips, his cock threatening to free itself from his
only partially buttoned drawers. “My body’s rhythm. That is the movement of
carnal love.”

Her respiration increased as she followed his lead, moving
her body in time with his, her hands gripping his back.

He lifted his head to gaze upon her. Her cheeks flushed a
sinfully alluring shade of pink. “I can’t give you that pleasure, Sophia. But I
can give you another. A similar pleasure, where I enter you, our bodies join, I
bring you to orgasm, I fill you with my seed. Do you want this?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

Her reply rendered him rock-hard. Inwardly he cursed and
thanked the clothing acting as a barrier between them. His wasn’t just bald
lust—
she
did something to him, made him want their coupling more than
ever and made him want to give pleasure more than ever.

And they were about to do something rather unconventional.
Whoever her husband would be, most likely he would never require it of her.
This would be her first and last time. And Joseph wanted it to be the most
wondrous sensual experience of her life.

“Darling, I want you to undress while I fetch something from
the cupboard.”

“Yes, Joseph.” Her eyes flickered with unspoken
inquisitiveness.

“And take off every stitch this time.”

Sophia pulled her dress off her shoulder and started on her
underclothes, trying to ignore the sounds of Joseph rummaging about on the
other side of the studio.

He returned with a butter dish and placed it on the bedside
table. A bizarre accessory indeed, but the sight of him frantically removing
what remained of his clothing diverted her attention from the curiosity.

He stood before her, stark naked and magnificent. She
swallowed a gasp of surprise as she stared in aroused disbelief.

She had seen marble statues of Herakles and Zeus on the
Continent, her governess explaining that such powerful muscularity was a
representation of an ideal in Greek society, an ideal that good Christian
British men were meant to aspire to in their virtuous living.

The lesson had not included a word about the raw, masculine
sexuality that would make her blood pump harder, flushing her skin and swelling
her sex, warming her despite her own nudity. For before her was the ideal made
flesh, flexing and breathing and covered in fine, light-brown hair.

Joseph too was flushed and gawking, the wonder on his face
softening the brutish strength suggested by his bulk. “Sophie. You are divine.”

He pulled her into a passionate embrace, his mouth feasting
like a hungry man’s, his avaricious grasp claiming her down the length of her
spine to grab her buttocks.

“Get on the bed.” The brown flecks in his gray eyes darkened
to a foreboding hue.

He jumped on the mattress after her, clutching her to him,
delving in with a deep kiss, the new intimacy of skin on skin thrilling, warmth
melding into warmth, blurring where her body ended and his began. He cupped a
breast, pinched the nipple and growled a laugh when she jerked against him. He
smoothed his hand down her curves to rest at the pleasure spot between her legs
then rubbed gently, his strokes long and languorous, tantalizing her only
enough to start that luscious climb to oblivion. His tongue in her mouth matched
the slow cadence.