A Woman of Good Reputation

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1)

Submitted: April 26, 2007

Reads: 744

Comments: 2

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Submitted: April 26, 2007

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Stephen Merritt, Earl of Chesham, hated brothels. He never went to brothels. But he had quarreled irreversibly with his mistress weeks ago. He had not been able to find a suitable replacement. And his friends claimed he had been sulking since then. They claimed they were quite tired of his melodramatic behavior. They claimed that a very simple tumble would do wonders for his disposition. Stephen felt sour at having been dragged to a brothel but he did somewhat think that a woman would do him good.

It was just his luck to get the clumsiest whore in the whole place, he thought, with a sigh, as he pulled at his cravat.

"W-what?" she stammered at him, eyes wide.

Stephen looked at her, truly took her in. She was dressed, unexpectedly, to the nines, in the very latest fashion, a beautiful, rich, dark blue dress that nipped in attractively at her waist and revealed an impressive amount of cleavage. She even had a hat on, a smart little thing tipped in an off-center manner on her head, with a long ostrich feather curling out of it. Her hair was a dark chestnut, shot through with red highlights that the lamplight glinted off of. She was wearing it down, in curls all around her shoulders. He lifted his eyebrow. "That is quite a costume you're wearing there," he said. She must be the most successful, most popular, whore in the place. Stephen decided he'd have to thank Shay and Morton for that gesture later. He walked over to her. She looked frozen into place, was staring at him as if she had no idea what he was doing in the room.

Experimentally, he spanned his hands around his waist. "Are you wearing a corset?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Yes," she said, breathlessly, staring up at him wide-eyed. Her eyes were blue. A very dark blue. Like her dress. No wonder she'd decided on that particular color for the dress.

He smiled at her. "I like you. You're unusual."

"I don't know what you mean," she said, continuing to gape up at him.

"And you're American," he noted. "Even more charming. I'll undress you first, if you don't mind."

"But I mind very much!" she exclaimed, giving every impression of being absolutely indignant.

Stephen regarded her in surprise. Then he caught on. "Ah. I see. That is why you are dressed this way. Are you going to play the role of the innocent? Shall I play the role of the very dangerous seducer? Hmm?" He cupped a hand around her breast, watched as she gasped and went even more wide-eyed. "You're very, very good at this. No wonder you can afford such an elaborate costume."

Abby stared at him, trying to figure out what he was about. She could not. The only thing that was crystal clear to her was that his hand on her breast felt shockingly good. It was all extremely wicked, but a thrill started in her toes and curled upward through her. She felt suddenly hot and liquidy, strangely restless, out of breath. She was intensely aware of the waves of heat radiating off of him, of the alluringly male smell of him. She had never been near a man like this. Nor a man with such eyes. They were gray, and they were hot and tempting. Come and play, they seemed to say to her.

And then, suddenly, abruptly, he kissed her. Abby gasped in surprise, and that was when he slid her tongue into her mouth. Abby had been kissed before. She had been too curious about it not to try it. But she had never been kissed like this. The astonishing intimacy of his tongue stroking her mouth, the silken, intoxicating taste of him, drifted through her. She swayed toward him unthinkingly, with a sigh of contentment.

"You take the innocent thing too far," he growled at her. "Kiss me back."

"What?" she asked, dazedly, thinking she should really stop him from taking such liberties with her.

"Kiss me back," he said again, his voice low and gutteral, husky, as he closed his mouth back over hers.

Whatever could he mean? Experimentally, she copied his actions, slid her tongue into his mouth. He made a harsh noise of approval and crushed her to him. And now, once she had figured out exactly how to kiss, she threw her heart and soul into it. This experience was remarkable, she thought. She had never experienced anything that felt so wonderful. How could she have gone all her life without doing this? She clutched at his hair as she kissed him desperately, sweeping her tongue through the contours of his mouth, rejoicing in the rub of his tongue against hers. She should stop doing this, and she would, momentarily. As soon as it stopped feeling so wonderful.

He tore his mouth off of hers, and she was grateful as she sucked in air. But then he kissed his way down her neck, and stole her breath away again. She could not think. She could think of nothing except the marvelous things he was doing. She dropped her head back to give him as much access as he wanted to the column of her throat. How thoroughly improper, she thought, vaguely. And then, but why, why was this wondrous thing improper?

His mouth kept moving downward. She had assumed he would stop at the base of her throat, but instead he kept moving hungrily. He was suddenly kissing the curve of her breast. He took her hands gently out of his hair, without lifting his head, and tugged at her sleeves. Her dress fell abruptly forward. She had not realized he had unbuttoned it. Things were getting badly out of hand, she thought. She really must stop him. She could not possibly let him undress her.

"Wait," she began, trying to catch her breath.

Stephen was lost in her taste. He had never kissed a woman who tasted so delicious. He heard, from a great distance, through the roar of his blood in his ears, her weak protestation. Damn, he thought. Her silly play-acting. Could they not be done with it? "Shh, shh, my sweet," he mumbled into her skin, even as he worked desperately at her corset strings. "I will not ruin you. Only let me see you..." He pushed the corset off her shoulders, pushed it down.

The air rushed in at her breasts. Abby was mortified that she had let things get this far. "No, no," she said, desperately, looking down at the astonishing sight of his burnished gold head hovering over her bare breasts. "You really must-" She stopped talking when he flicked his tongue out over one of her nipples. The one simple gesture sent an onslaught of rampaging sensation over her. It felt perfect. And then he fastened his mouth onto her breast and sucked.

The exquisiteness of the pleasure that rushed through her buckled her knees. Luckily he was supporting her weight, or she would have collapsed straight to the ground. Dear Lord, she thought, in shock. She was surely the wickedest woman on earth, but clearly she had been meant to be treated this way, because she had never felt anything so right. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, desperate for his attentions.

And, in shock, she heard herself tell him, "The other one. If you please."

He heard her and obeyed, moving his head and lavishing attention onto her other breast. Abby closed her eyes and heard herself make a sound very like a purr. She put her hands into his hair and pressed him against him. She wondered if she could ask this man to do this for hours. Would he grow bored?

Stephen could not figure out what he was doing. Or, he knew very well what he was doing. He couldn't figure out why he was doing it. He had come here for his own pleasure, and instead he was obeying the directives of his strange, play-acting whore, who had the most irresistible reactions to every move he made. Listening to her purr, feeling her hands urge him against her, was far more pleasurable than any well-known trick she could have plied on him. He pushed the rest of her garments off her hastily, carried her just as hastily over to the bed.

Stop him, Abby told herself, firmly. Stop him. Instead she reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers fumbling with themselves. She had, naturally, no experience with men's clothing. She also had no experience with men's chests. She blinked in surprise at the sprinkling of gold hair, at the well-defined breadth of his muscles under his skin. Men had nipples, too, she realized. She had never really thought about it. She laid her palms against his chest, feeling the scratch of his hair, the smooth heat of his skin. He took a shaky breath and then did yet another shocking thing. He moved one of her palms down, down, down the length of his body, pressed it against the front of his pants.

Abby blinked in shock. He hissed a swear. She looked up at him. "I-" she began. She should really tell him that she had no experience in any of this. She did not really want him to stop. Her heart was pounding, and she felt more deliciously alive than she ever had in her life, and it did not even alarm her that she was sitting naked on a bed with her hand settled on a strange man's pants. She just wanted to know what she should do next.

Hesitantly, she rubbed, briefly, against him. His eyelids flickered in reaction. Thoughtfully, curiously, she reached into his pants. He groaned and closed his eyes.

"Am I doing it right?" she whispered. She could not really read his response.

He laughed harshly. "Please stop playing the innocent. It actually is not something I enjoy." He heard himself saying it, but he was beginning to doubt it, because he did not think a woman's touch had ever felt so magnificent. He was aching to be inside her. It had been too long, he thought. It was the reason why his reaction to her was so heated, so out-of-control.

"But-" began Abby. Why did he not believe that she didn't really know what to do? Why did he not give her some instruction?

And then he muttered, "Yes, yes," and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. "Keep doing that."

"Doing this?" she asked, cautiously, because she wasn't sure exactly what she was doing that was right.

"My God," he said, kissing the curve of her shoulder. "My God, you shall kill me."

She didn't really know what to say to that.

"Stop, stop, stop," he rasped out. "Not like that. You feel far too good, and I do not want it that way. I am going to get my money's worth out of you."

Abby withdrew her hand in indignation. "Your money's worth?" she said, hotly, and then he pushed her onto her back and stretched out over her and kissed her mouth again in that shocking, intimate way that she loved. Another thing that was shocking and intimate was the weight of him stretched out over her. Their bodies lined up in perfect precision.

Stephen did not drive his way into her. He did not want this amazing experience to end so quickly. He moved his way down her body, with the determination that he would pleasure her. For some reason, he wanted her to remember him as having brought her pleasure, as not being just another client.

His mouth scalded over her stomach. That in itself was startling. Even more startling was when he nuzzled between her legs.

Abby's eyes shot open. In shock, she pressed her legs together.

Stephen decided that no client had ever taken such time over her. Not a surprise, really. Why bother with making sure she enjoyed the experience?

"Let me do this," he coaxed her. "Let me. You will not believe the pleasure I will bring you."

As he'd already brought her a great deal of pleasure, Abby could not imagine what he could possibly be talking about. But she wanted desperately to find out. She slowly slid her legs apart.

The pleasure was immediate, instantaneous. She gasped in breathless astonishment. She heard herself exclaim, "Oh!" She could not believe how wonderful he felt. Yes, she was a thoroughly indecent woman. But why had no one told her how good she could feel?

Instinct, from nowhere, washed through her. She arched her hips up and toward him. Dizziness burst over her. She tangled her hands in the sheets of the bed, hoping to ground herself. She could feel anticipation coiling within her. For what, she had no idea. What could she possibly be hoping for that was better than this? But she moved restlessly.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," he heard her sigh at him. "Yes, yes, yes. More. Please more of that."

She was vocal, he thought, detachedly, but not in the dirty way that whores could be vocal, that they thought was so appealing. She was saying yes to him, asking for more of him, in honesty.

The same honesty that was in her sudden loud cry as she climaxed.

The waves of pleasure buffeted over her, more than she felt she could handle. She shouted aloud with it, riding the current of it, as it thrummed and shivered and wracked its way through her body. She threw her head back, gasping for air. He left her, took his hands and mouth off her, which was fine with her, because she had to catch her breath. She uncoiled into the bed, feeling exhausted now in the aftermath of it, but feeling more thoroughly content than she ever had in her life. Eyes closed, she tried to recall the exact sensation of the amazing pleasure that had washed over her. How had he done that?

He was back suddenly, licking sweat off her skin as his mouth made his way up her body.

He had finished undressing, she realized, forcing her eyes open with great effort. "I'm sorry," she panted.

"Sorry?"

"I behaved in a...very unladylike manner."

He chuckled warmly into her skin. "You behaved in a delectable manner. It is extremely gratifying when a woman screams with pleasure under your hands."

She blushed. Which was simply enchanting.

Then she said, "I am thoroughly exhausted. Would it be awful if I slept for a little while? Would you wake me in a bit?"

He laughed outright. "You are not sleeping, you little wench. It is my turn for pleasure."

"What?" she asked, looking genuinely confused as she looked up at him.

"Darling," he said, in exasperation. "Please drop the act. I am very weary of-" He slid a finger inside her. She stiffened in unmistakable surprise. And so did he. He blinked down at her in shock. "Wait a second," he said. "You cannot possibly...That cannot be...Are you a virgin?"

Finally, she thought. Finally he was realizing she was not playing a part. Holding his gray gaze, she nodded slowly. "Or...Not anymore, am I?"

"But..." he sputtered, and the door suddenly slammed open.

Stephen, feeling slow in the face of this unexpected revelation about his eager, adorable whore, lifted his head, just in time to be shoved off of the woman under him by an extremely furious man.

Who shouted at him, "How dare you treat my daughter in such a manner?"

Uh-oh, thought Stephen. This was not good.


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