Lady: Impossible (17 page)

I straighten up. ‘Is there even anything to do right now?’

‘Not really, to be honest.’

It occurs to me that I could assign him a task, like ask for dessert or something. However, there’s no point creating work just for the sake of it.

‘Take some time off. Return to duty when you have to pick up my mother.’

He laughs, and it’s bitter, which catches me off guard given our moment of relative civility. ‘Be off duty around you? I don’t think so.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mr Baxter.’ I mutter the next part under my breath. ‘Arse.’

‘I meant
me
, Emilia. Just in case I forget you’re off limits.’

‘Oh.’

I can’t tear my eyes from him after that. Finally, he’s given me some confirmation that this isn’t a one-sided attraction. It’s not just all me.
 

Damn it. Now I have serious butterflies, and my knees are beyond weak. Take any cliché about how a woman feels when the man she fancies confesses he feels the same way, and multiply it by ten. That’s how utterly slayed I feel. It’s the type of feeling you hear about and wish would happen to you but, now that I’ve experienced it, I naturally end up realising how inappropriate the feeling is in this situation.
 

Instead of feeling empowered, I now feel weak, like I’m the idiot confusing lust with genuine affection. I hate to say it, but I feel like such a girl – a silly teenage girl – and that makes me angry with myself.

Under my intense stare, Blair seems uneasy, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at me while he drums his fingers on his thigh. ‘Anyway, I should go.’

I hold up my hand. ‘Wait.’

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I not telling him to leave? Walking away is the sensible thing to do, and I should let him do it, especially now that I’m confused and pissed off.

He seems just as conflicted, the softness in his eyes making me think he wants to stay. ‘Is there something you needed?’

A cold shower is what I need. My friends tell me about this sort of thing, where a man suddenly crops up and blinds you. Blair is the butler and I’ve only known him for two weeks, yet I’m so infatuated with him that I can’t even breathe when I think about him.

I make a demand of him. ‘Tell me you don’t want me.’

He turns towards me so that he has his back to the bannister, his brow knitting. ‘Sorry?’

‘Tell me you don’t want me. I can’t deal with you wanting me. I thought I wanted you to admit it, but now… No, you need to take it back before I… Before…’ I ball my hands into fists, like I seriously have to contain my panic.
 

‘Okay –’

I cut him off, my temper getting the better of me. ‘It’s like you were put here to torture me. It’s so cruel.’ Before I can stop myself, I’m shuffling toward him, narrowing the gap between us. His eyes flash with panic, but there’s something receptive about his alertness, something that tells me he won’t stop me if I make a move.
 

I want to make a move.

I shift so that I’m facing him side on. Blair sits up, likely sensing this is no joke. I’m not teasing. This time, I don’t care that our legs are touching. I scoot even closer, not feeling guilty in the slightest when he clenches his jaw and levels a glare at me.
 

‘Don’t come any closer. I won’t be able to resist.’

I almost laugh. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

‘Then why take advantage?’

‘Don’t put this all on me. I hate it when men act like there’s nothing they can do when a woman hits on them.’

I poke him in the chest, but he immediately grabs my hand, erasing any sense of victory. I shiver from the contact but make no attempt to pull away. We stare each other down, this contest the most intense by far.

‘You shouldn’t provoke me.’ He eases his grip on my hand but pulls me closer. ‘Though maybe you can’t help yourself.’

I lean in, almost slipping from the awkward positioning. I’m in serious danger of doing something stupid. ‘I think you and I are beyond help.’ I bite my lip. ‘Why are you my butler? You, of all men in the world?’

Blair inches a fraction closer, and now our foreheads are almost touching. ‘Tough luck, I suppose.’

I lose myself in his blue eyes, praying he’s as foolish as I am. ‘Please stop me.’

He squeezes my hand before releasing it, and then speaks to me in a tone so husky that goose bumps break out across my skin. ‘Sorry, m’lady. I’m not interested in stopping you.’

Before reason can kick in, I lean in even further to close the remainder of the distance, with Blair – true to his word – making no move to resist my advance. I plant my lips on his and place a hand on the back of his neck, allowing myself to give in.
 

I hardly know this man. He haunts me, makes me feel things I shouldn’t. But the last bastion of my resolve quickly disappears when he weaves his fingers through my hair, and deepens the kiss. He pushes his tongue past my lips and makes me moan for him. This is what I wanted from day one, to have him make me feel good. The longer the kiss lasts, the more of him I need.
 

I’m unbalanced, sliding off the edge of the stair. Blair steadies me by placing a hand on my waist, but I tumble to the side anyway, forcing me to break the kiss. I open my eyes and move my hand down in time to break the fall, but in the end I collapse onto my back, my backside on the edge of the landing.
 

I lift my head and prop myself up with my elbows, still giddy from the kiss. ‘If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never forgive you.’

The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable – it’s the kind of unadulterated lust every woman wants to the see from the man they covet. It’s wrong that I’m encouraging him, but if he doesn’t care, then I can’t bring myself to care either.

I can’t not have him.
 

Chapter 9:

Seven months of chastity and two weeks of pure frustration are about to be obliterated. I splay my legs, eager to get on with it, while Blair clambers between them to kneel on the third step down. The way he removes his suit jacket, swiftly tossing it aside before unbuckling his belt, confirms his own desperate need. He pushes my dress up to my waist, taking the opportunity to run his hand up my thigh. The skin-on-skin contact feels unbelievable but when he reaches my knickers and roughly pulls them down, my arousal goes into overdrive – the knowledge that he’ll soon be inside me is too much to fathom. He tosses the knickers over his shoulder, the primal look in his eyes almost frightening now that I’m wet and on display for him. My breathing catches in anticipation.

It’s a damning scene: the butler and me on the stairs, his jacket in a heap, and my discarded underwear to the side.
 

Neither of us utters a single word. Blair removes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves like a man who knows he’s about to about to get his hands dirty. Rushing now, he takes off his waistcoat and loosens his tie, undoing his top button while he’s at it. There’s something so sexy about this. Always one to prepare, to finish a job thoroughly, his next task will finally be me. I don’t even need him to fully undress to get turned on, but nothing compares to what follows these delicious preparations. He keeps his eyes trained on me as he drops his trousers and lets his cock spring free, his damn shirt getting in the way of a full viewing.
 

I don’t need to see it all, though. What I really need is to feel him.

I try not to openly gape, but can’t help the flush of desire spreading across my skin. ‘Promise me you won’t leave me wanting.’
 

He snorts. ‘Lady Emilia, I wouldn’t worry about that. Why don’t you lie back down like a good girl and let me handle this?’ he says smugly.

I gasp as he pushes my dress up and takes hold of my hips, pulling me towards him with such vigour that it’s difficult to think he ever resisted this. As I wrap my legs loosely around his waist, a part of me screams that I should stop this, but all I’m interested in is him making me scream.
 

‘You might want to drop the formalities considering what we’re about to do.’

He’s not having any of it. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him smile as widely as he does now, clearly enjoying his power over me. ‘Lie back down, m’lady. And for once in your life, try not to talk back.’

I huff, not exactly impressed, but any ire I feel is instantly erased when he slowly guides himself into me. The moment is completely surreal – the type of event you know will change everything. I’m left gasping from the way he’s stretched me. Blair is a reward I know I don’t deserve but will take anyway.
 

I moan deeply as he takes his first few thrusts, tightening my legs around him to get better friction. ‘Oh, fuck.’

He, too, is overwhelmed, grunting as if savouring the moment. ‘Like that, m’lady?’
 

I can’t even say anything. I try to brace myself by holding onto the landing’s edge, but Blair pulls me towards him again, slamming into me. Our situations have reversed. He’s the boss and I am the willing servant, taking his punishment and his pleasures in equal measure.
 

‘You didn’t answer me.’

When I still don’t reply, he thrusts again, hitting me so deeply I cry out from the delicious discomfort. He repeats the forceful action twice, as if my silence means I didn’t feel anything the first few times.

Finally, I manage to say one single word: ‘More.’

I close my eyes in bliss, trying to writhe against him in a way that matches Blair’s even rhythm as he picks up the pace. Apparently not satisfied with the tilt of the position, he grabs hold of my arse and lifts me a fraction higher. The improved angle ensures he rubs against me in the best possible way.

He groans in approval. ‘Oh, you’re so wet, so hot, so... ’

This is really happening. The butler and I are fucking. I, Emilia Pembroke, who’s never really been that adventurous in bed, is now being unceremoniously fucked by her butler on the stairs of the family’s London residence.
 

Being naughty feels so fucking good.
 

I weave my fingers through my hair, so at Blair’s mercy that I’m unable to latch onto anything else. Mustering the strength to lift my head up for a few seconds, I lock eyes with Blair as he continues to drive into me. The brief flicker of shame is quickly consumed by our intensity. We’re completely lost in lust.

I lay my head back down, whimpering as the tension in my core begins to fray what’s left of my control. I want to rip off my dress and have him devour me completely, feel his heated body on top of mine. But, with that option out of the question, I focus on my expected high.

‘Blair.’ I hate that I’m pleading, but it’s all for a higher purpose. ‘Harder.’

He reacts almost immediately, tightening his grip on my hips and slamming into me as if he’s angry that I’m telling him what to do. He curses, his forehead shimmering from the sweat of his efforts as I start to quiver around him, my moans and his expletives echoing off the walls.

This is the beauty of being home alone. I can be as loud as I want.

‘So close.’ I sound like I’m sobbing, the duality of pleasure and pain reducing me to desperation. ‘More.’

If I had patience, I would tell him to take it slow and make this last for longer, but I want him so badly that patience is impossible.
 

‘You want more, do you?’
 

‘Yes… please.’

I steel myself for the deep thrusts I expect, but they never come. He surprises me by slowing his strokes so he can employ another move: pressing his thumb on my clit and rubbing it in tight circles.
 

‘Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ It’s several seconds before I realise I’m murmuring his name over and over in a desperate, reverent chant.
 

‘I can’t believe we’re doing this.’ He sounds tortured.

I start to lift my head, worried about him, but my climax arrives first, sending me into the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. My back arches from the pressure as I convulse and cry out for him. My legs go lame, and my eyes roll back. For me, the release is more than physical. I feel freed from obligation and rules and every expectation by which I’ve been burdened. I haven’t just thrown caution to the wind. I’ve banished decorum and decency as well.

I slowly come down as Blair thrusts into me, searching for his own high. He feels so amazing inside me that I wish we could stay like this for hours. When he comes, with a strangled cry, I muster the energy to prop myself up on my elbows, expecting to see satisfaction all over his face.

Blair does appear satisfied, but guiltily so. Mouth slack and eyes unfocused, he pulls out and collapses against the wall, shying away from me and pulling up his trousers in a hurried fashion.
 

My heart pounding for a different reason now, I quickly sit up and lower my dress as I move down a step. ‘Everything okay?’

He immediately shakes his head. I’ve watched people come to terms with bad news before. Their dog just died. A favourite grandparent has had a stroke. They partied too long and completely wrecked their A levels. This is all of those things, squared. ‘I can’t believe I just let that happen. What is
wrong
with me?’

I try to keep my tone light as I wipe my brow in exhaustion. ‘It’s just a bit a fun.’
 

He’s panicking, and now it’s making me panic. I know my words are hardly convincing, but I don’t know what else to say. Being comforting is not my strong suit. You might even say I’m useless at it.

I pick his cufflinks up off the stairs and hold them out for him as he rolls down his sleeves. He ignores them, dropping his hands to his lap so he can zip up his trousers. Knowing he needs a moment, I withdraw my hand and close my fist. The cufflinks dig into my palm, a thorny reminder of how we weren’t meant to do this.

‘I’m
that
guy now,’ he says, his voice laced with revulsion. ‘The one who can’t keep his dick in his pants.’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ I laugh nervously, thinking humour might defuse the situation. I’m wrong. He won’t even look at me. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. And I won’t get pregnant. I’m on the pill.’