Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (9 page)

Sir Arthur reclined into his chair, his
outward demeanor one of placidity, but his eyes had steeled.

“Your father dreamed of opening China to
trade,” he said, as if lecturing Charles. “I think you share the
same, and it would provide the two of us yet another interest in
common.”

This time Charles said nothing. He reminded
himself that he had no wish to have Sir Arthur oppose his election.
Should he win, Sir Arthur would then be a colleague to him. It was
unfortunate their paths had crossed at the Red Chrysanthemum, and
Charles had a sinking feeling he would only see more of Sir Arthur
in the days to come.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“W
ell, what do we intend
tonight, Miss Terrell?”

She and Sir Arthur occupied the same room as
yesterday. He stood before the settee, both hands resting atop the
walking stick he favored so much that it might as well have been a
fifth appendage for him.

“Will you sit, sir?” she asked, indicating
the armchair she had used yesterday.

With slow deliberation, he flared the tails
of his coat and took a seat. He was dressed even more impressively
this night. She noted the impeccable tie of his cravat, the lack of
a single wrinkle in his trousers, and the fine silk of his
waistcoat. In contrast, she wore the same garments but for a fresh
chemise. Accustomed to being barefoot from her time in the West
Indies when no attempts, not even dampening oneself with water,
seemed to relieve the swelter of the summer heat, she opted not to
wear stockings and shoes when she could.

Facing him, she settled atop his thighs. He
reached for her. His hold felt forceful but awkward, as if he did
not know how to hold a woman. Unlike the embrace of Master Gallant.
She pushed him away.

“Patience, Sir Arthur,” she said. “I have a
performance first for you, after which, you shall be rewarded for
your forbearance.”

“Very well, but make it quick,” he said, his
eyes aflame with desire. “I have an engagement to dine with a
friend tonight.”

She leaned upon his chest and toyed with his
neckcloth. “You need do nothing. I promise you will enjoy the
show.”

He raised his brows. “You have had
experience on the stage?”

She began to loosen and unwind the linen. “A
different sort of stage.”

“Were you a dancer?”

“A dancer unlike any you’ve seen.”

Grasping his neckcloth on either side, she
yanked his head down toward her bosom. He buried his face in the
lush orbs, kissing their tops with reverence and hunger. She slid
the neckcloth from around his neck and wrapped it about one of his
wrists. He licked and sucked at her flesh, reminding her of a dog
lapping at a bone. She slid from his lap, darted behind the
armchair, and pulled his arms around the back. He exclaimed in
surprise, but she had wrapped the linen about his other wrist. She
caressed the length of his arm.

“Fear not,” she assured him. “I merely wish
to ensure that my performance will not be interrupted.”

“If this be some trickery or mischief—”

She tied a knot about his wrists, noting the
jeweled rings upon his fingers, a beautiful sapphire among them,
then returned to the other side of the armchair. The man did not
appear pleased, but he would be distracted soon enough. She began
untying her petticoats.

“Tell me of yourself, Sir Arthur. You seem
quite an important man, endowed in all ways that matter,” she said
as the garments pooled at her feet. Men of his sort often liked to
talk of themselves.

His breath caught, for her chemise was thin
and he could undoubtedly see the silhouette of her legs. “Well, I
would be guilty of false modesty if I denied that I am a man of
influence.”

“You are friend to Sir Fairchild.”

“I am, and while he may bear the title of a
baronet, I surpass him in many more respects.”

She began unlacing the front of her corset.
“It be plain you are a man who wants for nothing.”

His gaze fixed once more upon her breasts.
“My interests in the East India Company have returned a fine sum
for me. And there are many men who owe their fortunes or their
careers to me.”

“Indeed?”

“I own three boroughs, including my own. A
fourth, Porter’s Hill, is practically mine. These are votes I can
deliver to the Prime Minister whenever needed.”

“You’re a powerful man, then.”

“Sir Fairchild cannot claim the same.”

She wondered at a man who felt the need to
disparage his own friend. Four inches, she predicted to herself.
His cock, at its full length, would measure no more than four
inches.

“Is this your ‘performance’?” Sir Arthur
asked when the loosened corset fell to the floor. “I approve thus
far but expect the full act has not concluded.”

Standing in only her chemise, she gave him a
demure smile. “It has barely begun, sir.”

Slowly, she began to undulate her body,
swaying her hips while caressing herself with both hands. She
touched arms, bosom, ribs, and belly. The fire in Sir Arthur’s eyes
flared. Stretching her arms above, she undulated to a rhythm in her
head. Rotating, she presented him her backside. Her hands traveled
down her sides and cupped her buttocks.

“My God,” Sir Arthur choked.

Turning back around, she loosened the top of
the chemise. It slid off one shoulder. She rolled and thrust her
hips.

“Your people are possessed of such vulgar
lewdness. Such wantonness can only be the work of the devil,” he
muttered to himself, but his ravenous gaze stayed upon her.

Stepping back, she sat down on the settee
opposite him. Reclining, she flared her legs apart and propped her
ankles upon the seat on either side of her. His eyes widened at her
bawdy position. The chemise fell down her legs and covered the area
between her thighs. She continued to caress herself, pushing one
hand below her chemise to grab a breast. Her efforts had warmed her
body and brought to life a craving between her legs. She imagined
Master Gallant sitting before her, bound to the armchair and forced
to witness her wanton display.

As she groped and fondled the breast, she
reached her other hand to her mound. Sir Arthur, if he were not
bound to the chair, might have thrown himself at her.

She made purring sounds and did not need to
look at his crotch to know that his cock stood at stiff attention.
Her visible hand slid lower. She stroked herself through the
chemise. She wanted to bring herself to spend before him but also
wanted to save herself for Master Gallant.

Sir Arthur began pulling at his bindings.
“Well done, Miss Terrell. A commendable performance. What do you
intend for the finale?”

Her mind toyed with the possibilities.
“Would you care to glimpse my cunnie?”

His mouth fell open. Parting her legs
farther, she inched her chemise up and paused before baring
herself.

The veins in his neck extended. “Teasing
slattern.”

Though she would have preferred not to, she
decided she had best satisfy him. She lifted her chemise and
presented him the forbidden paradise. He stared at her and looked
ready to drool. She replaced her chemise, rose from the settee and
sauntered to him.

“Now that you’ve seen my private, I think it
only fair…”

She knelt before him and began to unbutton
his fall, freeing his quaint little erection. It was even smaller
than Sir Fairchild’s, who had not length but some girth. Sir Arthur
held his breath as she gazed upon his cock.

“A lovely Thomas you have,” she purred,
stroking it with a finger.

His breath became shallow. She wrapped her
fingers about him and leisurely moved up his length, dragging the
tips of her fingers over its crown. She put her forefinger to the
underside of his cock and gently caressed an area just below the
flare of the head. He groaned and closed his eyes. Wrapping her
hand about him once more, she rubbed, twisted, and pulled his
member.

Sensing that he was near his peak, she
grabbed him more forcefully and pumped her hand up and down his
shaft. Within minutes, groaning and grunting, he spent, shooting
his seed a surprising distance. Some of his mettle dribbled onto
her hand, and she spread it about his quickly softening cock. He
quivered and, exhaling a long breath, slumped into the chair.
Rising to her feet, she found linen to wipe her hand, then went to
untie him. He shuddered once more before attempting to stand.

“I shall call a valet for you,” she
said.

He grabbed her arm before she could move. “A
lovely ‘performance’, Miss Terrell, but was it necessary to tie me
to the chair?”

Once more she was struck by the menacing
quality of his tone, but she did not let it affect her. “If you
will allow it again, Sir Arthur, I will enlist my mouth for the
encore.”

His eyes widened. She smiled prettily at him
before liberating her arm from his grasp.

She refused to be daunted by this man. He
could prove of use to her. While she would have felt safer as the
mistress of someone with a more jovial nature, as Sir Fairchild’s
had been, she believed Sir Arthur to be genuinely flush in the
purse. Her youth and beauty would not last forever, and men like
Sir Arthur were the only means of securing her future.

CHAPTER NINE

“M
y sister could not find
employment as a housemaid on account of them teapots,” said Sophia,
a member of the Red Chrysanthemum, who, like Terrell and Sarah,
relied on Madame Devereux for room and board.

“The town is overrun with blackamoors,”
Sophia continued as Tippy dressed her hair.

Sitting at a vanity nearby, Terrell watched
as the maid brushed long, soft locks. They reminded her of Master
Gallant’s, though lighter in color. After Sir Arthur had left, she
had dressed herself. Not surprisingly, the man had shown no
awareness that she might require release as well, but Terrell was
accustomed to such neglect. Moreover, she fully intended for Master
Gallant to address her needs.

“I would sooner brush against a Jew than a
Negro,” continued Sophia, who was fully aware that Terrell occupied
the dressing chambers.

The young woman, a few years senior, had
made no effort to conceal her contempt since the day Terrell first
arrived at the Red Chrysanthemum. Terrell had sought to fill the
position now held by Tippy, but the proprietress saw that Terrell
could best be of service in other capacities.

“There won’t be a decent wage to be had on
account of them,” said Sophia. “I wonder that some of them don’t
work for scraps.”

“For certain they work much harder, though
they be compensated less,” Terrell said with calm.

Sophia glanced over, dainty nose wrinkled in
disdain. “
If
they are possessed of a work ethic, and perhaps
they must, for even mules and oxen can be made to work. Their
coarse natures and inferior minds must put them at a
disadvantage.”

Terrell said nothing, though she wanted to
respond, “If your kind were given to hard work, there would be no
need to enslave my kind to toil the fields.”

Instead, she replied, “Lucky for me, the men
do prefer my coarse nature and inferior mind.”

Sophia colored, no doubt remembering the one
gentleman who had chosen Terrell over her. “I suppose there are men
inclined to fuck even sheep and cattle.”

Terrell drew in a sharp breath. Tippy began
to cough in discomfort.

“You’ve done my hair all wrong!” Sophia
snapped at the maid. “And I wanted ringlets about my face!”

Before Terrell could respond in kind to
Sophia, a slim and finely dressed woman entered. Her light-brown
hair pinned in loose curls atop her head, she wore a fur-trimmed
pelisse, spotless white gloves, and the prettiest shoes with
ribbons.

“Lady Wendlesson!” Tippy greeted. “Er, Miss
Katherine, that is. You’ve arrived early. I shall be but a
moment.”

“Allow me,” Terrell interjected. “What
orders has Master Gallant given?”

“Only that she be ready in the small
room—the farthest one—on the third floor.”

“If you would follow me, m’lady,” Terrell
said to Miss Katherine.

Her ladyship gave a small nod. Terrell knew
the room, which was often reserved for members who planned to stay
the night. With only a bed, chair, table, and sideboard, it had
none of the furnishings familiar to the other rooms at the inn.
Once in the room, Terrell assisted her ladyship with her pelisse
and gloves.

“How lovely these are, m’lady,” Terrell
admired as she fingered the lace trim before placing the gloves
neatly upon the top of the table. She had once owned a pair as
elegant before circumstances forced her to sell her belongings.

“They were part of my wedding trousseau,”
her ladyship replied in a small voice.

“Felicitations to you, m’lady.”

“Thank you.”

Terrell could not discern if the woman was
happy about her nuptials but said, “His lordship is a fine
man.”

Miss Katherine looked down at her clasped
hands. “He is.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, there be a lot
of us who would envy your position if we had the right.”

“You know my husband?”

“Oh! Not in that way—I don’t merit his
attentions. But I’ve seen him about.”

Miss Katherine seemed deep in thought. “But
there were others…were there many?”

“Not a great many,” Terrell fibbed. “His
sex, they all must have their
outlet
, you understand. You
ought not censure him for the urges common to all men.”

“I understand,” Miss Katherine sighed.

“His was of a nature that an ordinary opera
dancer or tavern maid would not serve.”

Her ladyship appeared to wince. Terrell
quickly added, “But I do recall the day he informed Madame Devereux
that he had married, and I never saw or heard such cheer in him
before.”