April 1, 1826
“Am I boring you, Frost?”
Vincent Henry Bishop, the Earl of Chillingsworth, who many knew simply as Frost, allowed his hand to slide appreciatively over the contour of his current bed companion’s naked waist and hips. Widowed two years ago—if there was any validity to the rumors—the thirty-five-year-old Lady Gittens was on the hunt for a new husband.
If true, the dear lady had deplorable taste in men if she considered him a candidate for marriage.
“Did I seem bored five minutes ago?” His fingers separated as Frost cupped one of the fleshy cheeks of her buttocks.
He and the delectable widow had spent the better part of three hours in the lady’s bed. His companion was enthusiastic and inventive. The cooling sweat on his flesh and his pounding heart were proof that he had been fully engaged in their love play.
Maryann was reclining on her side with her buttocks teasingly close to his still-rigid cock. Frost sensed her smile.
“Not at all. Five minutes ago I managed to command all of your attention.”
He brushed aside her dark blond hair that was sticking to her damp flesh. “When I’m with you, I need all of my wits,” he murmured, kissing her on the bare shoulder.
“Then why have you have checked your watch three times in the past hour?”
Although he had tried to be discreet, her plaintive tone implied it was a considerable offense. “And that is my sin?”
Women. They fretted over the oddest things.
“The hour is growing late, my sweet. As much as I enjoy our encounters, I have other obligations.”
Frost sighed. He and Maryann had been lovers for three weeks, and she was already displaying signs of possessiveness. Even though he had made it clear that she was not his only lover, the lovely widow was pressing him to set aside his other women. She thought she could dictate the terms of their little arrangement, and for a time he had been willing to indulge her whims.
Unfortunately, spoiled creatures tended to become tedious over time.
“Yes.” She stiffened in his casual embrace. He hid his smile in her hair. “My sister. I’ve been commanded to make an appearance this evening.”
Maryann made a soft scoffing sound. “No one commands you, my lord.”
He playfully swatted her on the buttock. She cried out in surprise.
“It is good of you to notice.” There was a slight warning in his tone, but his companion was oblivious. “However, I make a point of listening to Regan. She has a nasty temper when provoked.”
Maryann shifted in his embrace until her back was pressed against the soft mattress. She gazed up at him with limpid blue eyes. “Your sister is not the only one who gets cross when she doesn’t get her way.”
Frost gazed down at her body. She was a beautiful woman. White, unblemished skin that still held a ruddy blush from their lovemaking, full breasts with erect nipples, and generous hips that bore the marks of his hands and teeth. The thatch of hair between her legs glistened with the evidence of their lust. “You should have no grievances with me. You’ve had your way for half the afternoon, wench,” he said teasingly.
“Only because it pleased you to do so,” she said with a pout.
“And that is why we have gotten along famously.” He lightly ruffled the hair between her legs and kissed her on the lips. “You understand me all too well.”
With some regret, he began to rise. “I should go.”
Something akin to panic flashed across Maryann’s flushed features. She reached for his wrist to halt his escape. “There is no rush. It is early still, my love. Tarry awhile longer.”
The temptress parted her thighs as she guided his hand to her womanly folds. His cock stirred with approval as his fingers tested the proof of her desire. Frost hesitated. Sensing her victory, she arched her hips, the action allowing his fingers to deepen their penetration.
The three hours they had spent tangled in the sheets had passed quickly. If he had not promised his sister that he would join her and their friends for dinner, he would have stayed until his body was fully sated.
Frost grimaced. “I have no time for this.”
He withdrew from Maryann.
Her eyes snapped open with frustration. “How can you possibly stop now?” she demanded.
“With much difficulty and regret.” He covered her hand with his and gently peeled her fingers from his cock. “Be reasonable, my sweet. I do not want to start something that will take us hours to finish.”
“Then give me an hour more,” she pleaded, crawling after him when he stood. “Just one. I promise you will be grateful you granted me this boon.”
Without warning, Maryann dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. She suckled the head of his arousal with enough pressure to make him groan with pleasure and discomfort. The lady possessed an exquisite mouth.
His fingers brushed her shoulders. “Maryann.” He drawled her name in a manner that was an equal balance of praise and curse.
It only took him a second to come to a decision.
Stunned by his order, Maryann released him and lifted her bewildered gaze to meet his. Frost pounced. Hauling her to her feet, he spun her around and bent her over until her hand found purchase on the mattress.
She laughed with delight. “Yes, please, my lord.”
Frost was not seeking her permission. He used his foot her widen her stance as his hand curled around the length of his hard flesh. “Is this what you want?”
His vigorous thrust filled her and she gasped at the swift invasion.
“Yes. Hard and fast. Let’s not waste a minute of the hour!”
Seizing her roughly by the hips, Frost set a pace that would have made a seasoned prostitute at a brothel wince. However, Maryann moaned in pleasure as he buried himself into her sheath over and over.
Frost suspected he would be late for Regan’s gathering, but his sister would forgive him. His gaze admired the curve of Maryann’s spine as he reminded her who was in control of their relationship.
He intended to pleasure her for the hour he had promised, and then he would walk out of her life without a single regret.
Copyright © 2013 by Alexandra Hawkins