“Who will it be tonight?”
They had left the waiting area and gone into a smaller room where a woman dressed in a gentleman’s suit stood behind a counter.
Behind her was a small stage, and up on the stage were seated a variety of young men and women. They appeared to have been chatting, but as Jane and Thomas entered, they stopped speaking and turned to face them.
“Well?” Thomas said, turning to Jane.
“Well?” she echoed.
He gestured toward the group. Each person on the stage was attractive, though they differed widely from one another in size, shape, and skin color.
“Who do you wish to watch?” he asked.
She felt her cheeks heat. “You want me to choose who I wish—?”
He met her gaze. “I want you to choose everything, Jane.”
Oh. The thought of that, just the idea of it, was enough to make her want to melt. But she wouldn’t waste this evening, this moment when she was going to be able to make all the choices she could, when she was going to experience things she could safely assume no young lady of her station ever had.
Or if they had, they were not speaking of it.
“I want . . .” she began, her gaze traveling over the group in front of her. “The gentleman there, and the lady there.”
The woman behind the counter nodded in satisfaction. “They will be a pleasure to watch, my lady,” she said, beckoning to the two, both of whom rose and disappeared behind a curtain.
“You can go into Room 12,” the woman said, pressing a key into Thomas’s hand. “Your seat is the sofa, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Thomas repeated.
And then they were out of that room and walking down the hall to Room 12, Jane’s heart beating faster with anticipation.
What would she be seeing? Would he be pleased with her reaction? What else could she possibly choose tonight?
“You are still fine with this?” he asked, pausing before the door.
She gave him a small smile as she nodded. “I am,” she replied.
“Thank goodness. I might have died if you had said no,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
He put the key into the door and flung it open.
And then they stepped inside.
Jane had surprised him, yet again, with the choices she had made—the male of the two she’d chosen was a heavily muscled dark-haired gentleman who looked as though he’d come straight from the docks. His features were strong and fierce, his dark hair and eyes making him look like a brigand or a pirate.
The female was a lushly appointed redhead, with pale skin, brown eyes, and freckles. Her hair was unbound, and streamed down her back, while her gown was cut low enough to see the valley between the curves of her full breasts.
The two of them sat on the enormous bed that dominated the room as Jane and Thomas entered, both nodding but not getting up as Jane and Thomas lowered themselves onto the sofa that faced the bed. The sofa was small, made for just two people, and their thighs touched.
“Good evening,” the woman said. Her gaze flicked between Jane and Thomas, settling on Thomas. “Tell us what you want to see.”
Her tone was sultry, and she put her hand onto the man’s thigh, giving it a squeeze as she spoke.
Thomas gave a wolfish grin in response, his eyes on Jane, who shifted beside him.
“What do you want to see?” Thomas said to Jane.
She looked back at him, her eyes wide and sparkling, her mouth still curled in that faint smile she’d worn before. “I don’t know what to ask for. Perhaps—” she said, her eyes getting even wider. “Perhaps we can see the velvet thing?”
“Tipping the velvet?” the woman said, sounding pleased. “I like the way you think, my lady.”
“What are your names, if you don’t mind?” Jane asked. “I am Jane, and this is Thomas.”
“I’m Hattie, and this is Miles,” the woman said. “He doesn’t like to speak much. He uses his mouth for other things,” she continued.
The man—Miles—gave another of those wolfish grins, aimed directly at Jane.
“And then we want to see all of it,” Thomas added.
“Thank you, sir,” Miles replied in a growl.
“Do you have any instructions for how we get to everything?” Hattie asked.
Thomas turned to look at Jane, who shook her head.
“No, however you wish.”
“Excellent,” Hattie replied, getting up off the bed.
She nodded toward Miles, who also got up. “I will tell him what to do. If you wish anything done another way, you can tell me.” She looked over at Miles. “Is that clear?”
“Yes,” he said in a gruff tone.
Thomas could see the man’s erection already straining against his trousers. Presumably Jane could see it, too.
“Take your shirt off.” Hattie shot a quick glance toward Jane. “You’ll like what is underneath, my lady, I promise.”
Miles yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor, then straightening his shoulders and placing his hands on his hips.
His chest was broad, covered with dark hair, and his arms were thickly muscled, making him look even more like a dock worker. As though he had been hauling boxes and pulling bowlines for hours a day.
Hattie stepped behind him to kneel on the bed, wrapping her arms around his upper body and kissing his neck. He responded by tilting his head back to allow her better access, and his hand began to travel down.
“No,” Hattie ordered. “Not yet. That is mine to touch.”
He grunted, instead reaching behind himself to put his hand on her waist.
She slid her hands over the planes of his chest, glancing up at Jane and Thomas every so often. Her fingers were splayed over his skin, the whiteness of her digits a sharp contrast to the dark hair she stroked.
“And now your trousers,” she said.
Thomas heard Jane gasp, and turned to her. “If you want to stop—” he began.
“No, not at all,” she replied. She swallowed, and then put her hand on his leg, squeezing it as Hattie had done to Miles at the beginning of the show.
Her eyes were dark with what Thomas had to assume was passion, and she was breathing more heavily beside him.
He put his hand on top of hers, stroking her skin. Idly pulling on the ribbons tied around her wrist as though he was undoing a package.
Miles undid his trousers and let them drop to the floor.
He wore nothing underneath, and his erection sprang proudly out from the thatch of dark hair.
Hattie got off the bed to stand in front of Miles, who had a fiercely hungry expression.
“Now undress me,” she said.
Miles made another one of those inarticulate growls, his fingers going to the back of her gown, undoing it as he pressed close against her. He slid the garment off her shoulders, and she wriggled to get it past her hips.
She wore a very thin chemise underneath her gown. Her nipples were large and dark red, and the hair covering her pussy was dark red also.
“Take this off however you like,” she said, an anticipatory smile playing on her lips.
Miles didn’t hesitate, but put one hand on her belly, still behind her, then put the other hand to the front of her chemise, yanking it down with a loud shredding noise as the garment tore.
The fabric fell onto the floor, leaving Hattie also entirely naked.
“Kiss me,” she commanded, still keeping her gaze on Thomas and Jane.
Miles stalked to stand in front of her, his back to them, grasping her jaw and pulling her face up to his, then lowering his mouth to hers.
They couldn’t see the actual kiss, but they could see the two heads moving, see how her hands had come around to rest on his back, to go lower and squeeze his arse, see how his back muscles flexed as he shifted.
And they could hear the smacking of lips, the soft moans and rustles as they kept kissing.
Her hand had tightened its grip on his thigh, and her breathing was more intense.
“How does this make you feel, Jane?” he asked in a low rumble.
She breathed out before replying.
“I—it’s exciting,” she said.
Before Thomas could add anything, Miles had stopped kissing Hattie, and was instead hauling her onto the bed, spreading her legs wide so they could see her pussy.
“I didn’t say you could do that,” Hattie protested, but it didn’t sound like a reprimand.
He growled in response, then got onto his knees at the end of the bed and put a hand on each thigh, holding her wide for him.
“Do you see how wet he makes me?” Hattie asked. “And he’ll make me wetter still, won’t you? With your tongue and teeth and mouth.”
Another growl, and then he bent his head to her, his dark hair stark against her pale skin. Her hands went to his head to clasp him there, and she inhaled sharply at whatever he was doing.
“Just like that,” she said, writhing with pleasure as her breasts jiggled in response.
Thomas held himself rigid, not wanting to do anything that would seem as though he was taking command—he wanted Jane to know she was in charge here, could ask for anything, and he would give it.
But watching the two on the bed, hearing the sucking and licking noises Miles was making as he devoured Hattie’s pussy, was more arousing than anything he’d seen before. His cock throbbed in agony in his trousers, his body felt as though it needed to be touched.
But only by her.
And then her hand was sliding up and down his thigh, so close to his erection, and he held his breath as she moved her palm closer, closer, until she had her hand resting on him, making him long to shuck his trousers as Miles had so she could stroke him skin to skin.
“Is this—?” she asked, as though to seek his permission.
He cut her off with a short huff. “Goddamned right it is,” he said. “Touch me as much as you want, Jane. I want all of it.” Both of them were still facing toward the bed, their gazes riveted on what Miles and Hattie were doing.
Hattie moaned just as Jane grasped his shaft, rubbing him through the fabric of his trousers.
And then Hattie was crying out, her body undulating on the bed as Miles continued to grip her thighs, the muscles of his back flexing as he kept her from closing her legs.
Hattie screamed as Jane gripped him tightly, his cock aching from being so close to her and yet not nearly close enough.
And then, as soon as Hattie’s cries ceased, Miles was up on the bed on his knees, twisting Hattie so she now lay sideways.
His cock was even more erect now, and he held it with one strong hand, the other holding him up over her body.
“Now?” Hattie asked, looking over at Jane.
Thomas felt her nod quickly, and then Hattie smiled.
“Fuck me,” she commanded, and Miles pushed into her as she wrapped her legs around his body.
The two began to move together immediately, him thrusting in and out as she clung to his shoulders, her body shaking from the intensity of his actions.
Miles grabbed the leg that was closest to them and raised it up so they could see flashes of his cock as it went in and out of Hattie’s pussy.
His hand gripped her thigh as he moved even faster and harder, now shoving Hattie up the bed with his movements.
And then Miles froze, flinging his head back as he groaned, a long guttural noise that seemed as though it had burst from him.
He collapsed onto Hattie immediately afterward, and she wrapped her arms around him.
The silence was sudden, and Thomas could hear Jane’s panting breaths beside him, feel how she shifted as though uncomfortable.
Likely her body ached to be touched as much as his did, and he couldn’t wait for her to allow him to do so.
“Thank you,” Jane said at last, her voice lower than usual. Her hand was back on his thigh.
“It was our pleasure,” Hattie replied, lazily stroking her hand through Miles’s dark hair. “Wasn’t it?”
He grunted in reply, and Hattie shrugged, a little smile on her curved mouth.
Thomas rose, adjusting himself before offering his hand to Jane to assist her.
She stood, a bit unsteady, and Thomas put his hand on her elbow to prevent her from stumbling.
She gazed up at him with passion-darkened eyes, her cheeks rosy, her mouth redder than usual, probably because she’d been biting her lip.
He wanted to bite her lip, too.
“Take me somewhere private,” she said, her tone urgent. “Now.”
Jane had never felt more exhilarated, more alive, than she had in the past half hour. Watching two strangers perform intimate actions in front of her was far more than she had expected—just watching them had set every nerve ending on fire, made that part of her ache with want.
And now they were going somewhere so he could do the same thing to her.
She’d had no idea that men did that to ladies before. That ladies would like it as much as Hattie clearly had.
That the man would like it as well, judging by how aroused Miles had been, how he’d been intent on his task, had brought her to that pleasure.
She hadn’t intended, of course, to touch Thomas there. On his cock, which had been hard as iron in his trousers.
But she’d needed to, had been desperate to touch him, had wanted to kiss him, and more, but knew that that would be coming later.
Now, in fact.
They paused in front of another door, and Thomas turned the knob and opened it, allowing her to step inside first, following quickly after and shutting it behind them.
She heard the distinct sound of a lock being slid, and then his hands were on her arms, stroking up and down, and she leaned back against him, tilting her head against his upper chest, wiggling her body so her arse could feel his erection against her.
“You’ll be the death of me, Jane,” he murmured, kissing her temple.
“You’ll be the little death of me,” she retorted smartly, delighted at her own wordplay.
He snorted, burying his face in her hair, his hands clasping each other as he embraced her.
Like the first room, this room was dominated by the bed, a massive four-poster made of some sort of dark wood. The bed covering was a lush fabric in shades of cranberry, gold, and navy blue, and there were multiple pillows strewn on the bed and, intriguingly, on the floor in front of the bed.
Assistance for someone’s knees, perhaps?
She wouldn’t have had that thought an hour ago. But now she knew, and that knowledge was kindling her from the inside out.
“What would you like first?” he asked.
She knew he wouldn’t let her demur to his suggestions. It was clear this was her night, her choice, her desire.
“I want you to undress.” She jutted her chin toward the bed. “Right in front of the bed, right in front of me.”
“Gladly,” he replied, biting her shoulder gently before disengaging from the embrace.
He strode past her, removing his jacket as he walked, placing it on a nearby chair before turning back to face her.
He met her gaze as his hands went to his collar, loosening his shirt. He yanked it out of his trousers, then drew it up over his head, flinging it on top of his jacket.
He was leaner than Miles, with more sharply defined musculature. He was much less hairy—Jane hadn’t realized that men could come in such a variety—and a line of hair ran from his belly button down into his trousers as if it were tantalizing signage.
And then he’d removed his trousers, stepping out of them adroitly as he put them over his shirt on that same chair.
His erection thrust through his smallclothes, and she swallowed at the sight. He was aching for her as much as she was aching for him.
And he had to wait longer to reach his release because this was her night, her choice, her desire.
As if he was following her unspoken wish, he reached for his cock and grasped it, sliding his hand up and down it as he kept his eyes focused on her. “You do this to me, Jane. Your soft, sweet body. Your delicious kisses. Your aching pussy. Tell me how it feels, Jane.”
“Not until you’re naked,” she ordered, surprised at her own audacity. Though she shouldn’t be—he had brought this forth in her; he had encouraged her; he had helped her give voice to what it was she wanted.
Which was . . . him.
But she couldn’t think about that now, about the inevitability of their parting.
Now was for now, and she would savor every drop of this experience to remind her later of everything she’d done and felt.
“And then you’ll tell me?” he coaxed, his hands at his waistband.
She nodded.
He slid the smallclothes off, stepping out to stand proudly naked in front of her.
She let herself look her fill—though she could never tire of looking at him like this—her gaze running over his strong shoulders, his lean abdomen, his erect penis, and his muscled legs.
Even his feet were attractive.
“I think about you when I’m touching myself,” he said, putting his hand back on his cock and sliding it up and down.
“What do you think about?” she asked.
He nodded toward her. “How you’ll undo your gown and let it slide slowly off your shoulders. How it’ll pool at your feet and then you’ll be wearing only your chemise, your stockings, and your shoes. How I can see the outline of your breasts through the sheer fabric. How you might raise the hem of your chemise inch by inch, showing me more of your leg, your thigh, until you show me what I am dying to kiss.”
She gasped at his words, then reached around to undo her buttons so she could suit her actions to his words.
Thankfully she’d gone without a maid for long enough she was able to undress herself. There was a benefit to being a scandalous lady, after all.
Not to mention being able to do all this without worrying someone would find out. Because if they did it wouldn’t matter. She had already caused gossip when Mr. McTavish had jilted her—likely many already believed her capable of such behavior.
And now she knew she was capable of such behavior, and she was proud of it. She wished every young lady could have this kind of experience, to know how their bodies felt, and what their bodies wanted to do, and what was possible between two people. Or more, she thought, thinking of Miles and Hattie.
“Show me, Jane,” he said in a ragged voice. His hand still stroked his shaft, his gaze was hungry on her, and it was as though he was touching her, he was regarding her so intently.
But he wasn’t touching her, and she would have to change that.
She put her gown on top of his clothing on the chair and went to the bed, passing him to sit up on it. She folded her hands in her lap, straightening, biting her lip at how exposed she felt.
She still wore her chemise, stockings, and shoes, as he’d requested.
And then he got down on the floor, kneeling on the pillow, his hands on her thighs spreading her knees apart. As Miles had done to Hattie.
Her breath hitched. “Will you be—tipping the velvet?” she asked.
“Yes, indeed,” he replied, and his words were a promise, a vow, a dedication.
He lowered his head to one knee and kissed it softly. It wasn’t nearly enough.
But before she could say anything, his lips moved up her thigh, kissing every few inches, his fingers spreading her wide, drawing the hem of the chemise up so it rested around her hips. So she was open to him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. He glanced up at her, a wicked smile on his mouth. “I am going to kiss you there, Jane. And you are going to tell me what you like. If you don’t like something, just let me know, and I will try something else.”
“Oh,” she breathed. He made it sound as though she would know what she would like, and she supposed that she would—after all, she was a woman who was exploring, and who had more knowledge than she had the day before, and likely she’d have more knowledge tomorrow.
He returned his fervid gaze to there, to her pussy. Just knowing the word made her feel stronger.
And then he blew softly on her, and she shuddered.
And then he pressed his mouth there, and she started in surprise.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No—I just—go on,” she said.
“What do you want, Jane?” he demanded. “Tell me.”
“I want you to—I want you to keep doing that,” she replied. “Kiss me there until I come.”
He chuckled in response, then gave her a strong, fierce lick that sent shivers through her whole body. His hands were gripping the globes of her arse, his elbows tucked into her knees holding her wide for him.
She leaned back on her arms, closing her eyes as she surrendered to the feeling.
His mouth was warm and urgent, kissing her in a variety of ways, clearly listening to her response because he did more of what made her sigh, and less of the things that didn’t cause as much of a reaction.
His tongue licked there, where he’d rubbed her to climax in her bedroom, and while both feelings were marvelous, they were also entirely different. This felt as though she was losing her consciousness, lost over to sheer pleasure with each swipe of his tongue.
When he’d touched her there, she’d been so very aware of her entire body, of how it ached. Now everything felt blissful, as though she were half asleep and lying in a lily pond or something equally whimsical.
And then something shifted, and she began to feel a drive toward the peak of pleasure, a suffusing of her entire body as she headed toward the inevitable orgasm.
One hand reached up to caress her breast, and then his palm was rubbing over her nipple. His other hand was now on her pussy, his fingers caressing her as his tongue kept up its wicked assault.
She tilted her head back more as everything came together in one mad rush, and she screamed as she came, shaking and crying as the climax flowed through her.
She’d never felt so boneless in her entire life. So satisfied.
She allowed herself to fall back onto the bed and he got up to lie beside her, placing one hand on her stomach.
“Did you like that?” he asked, his expression smug.
She huffed out a breath as she gave him a mocking glance. “I think my scream at the end there might answer that question.”
“I like to hear you scream,” he said softly, then leaned forward to kiss her.
She could taste herself on his lips.
“Thank you,” she murmured when they drew apart.
“Thank you for letting me see that. It was a pleasure.”
His fingers strayed up to her breast again, feeling their fullness. His erection was hard against her leg.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, nodding toward it.
He shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m an adult—I can handle a little excitement.”
She arched her brow. “Just a little? Don’t be so modest, Thomas.”
He let out a snort of laughter, and then he was kissing her again, and she didn’t want it to stop, never wanted it to stop.
Only it would have to. Eventually. If eventually meant as soon as next week.
But she would have these moments to savor forever.