Free An Experienced Mistress by Bryn Donovan Page A

rendered faithfully in the painting he’d seen at the art exhibition a few weeks ago. An irrational thought, but the idea of someone else seeing her nude irritated him, so he put the picture out of his mind.
    She responded to his touch and the rosy tip grew tauter, as firm as a berry not quite ripe. He lowered his head to take a taste.
    Then he felt her grip his wrist. “No, wait,” she said, pushing his hand away and covering herself up again.
    Will pulled back as if burned, closing his eyes for a moment. By the time he lifted his head to look at her, he simmered with anger.
    “Why did you stop me?”
    Her eyes flashed, a temper to meet his own. “I believe you agreed that I would set the pace.”
    “Bloody hell,” Will muttered. “What did I come here for?”
    The color rose in her cheeks.
    For all his frustration, he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. It never occurred to him that he might upset such an experienced woman of the world.
    Her face looked vulnerable and he regretted what he’d said.
    Yes, she was his mistress, and it wasn’t so unreasonable to expect her to act like it. But all his life Will had been trained to be a perfect gentleman, and prided himself on the same.
    “I am sorry,” he said at once. He wanted that stricken look off her face, wanted them both to be at their ease again. “You are in the right,” he added grudgingly. “I agreed to your way of doing things.”
    “Perhaps you were mistaken to agree. If that’s the case, I understand.” The coolness returned to her voice. She moved as though to shift away from him, but the settee had little space to spare. “If you would like to find a more—conventional mistress, Mr. Creighton, I suggest you do so.”
    “No.”
    He didn’t know why that came out of his mouth. Maybe he did need a girl whom he could simply, well, fuck, as so many of the men in Crimea put it.
     
    Will continued to consider that possibility after he took his wry leave and his carriage pulled away from her cottage. He simmered in a high state of agitation. Lust pumped like blood through his body, ignoring his stern attempts to quell it.
    This was not what he bargained for. Not at all. He wanted a blind release from his frustrations, not a new frustration on top of them.
    Yet he admitted that the experience, inconclusive at it turned out, wiped away the dullness and resentment into which he’d plunged for so long. It replaced that bitter mood with something different: almost unbearably maddening, but also fresh and exciting.
    When he first imagined the sort of lessons a mistress like her might give, he imagined trying out myriad different positions: her straddling him on a chair, or her up against a wall, her legs wrapped around him...or her stretched over him, her pliant mouth surrounding his cock, while he tasted and teased her as well...
    He desired to try everything with her.
    And he wanted to hear her say the same endearments to him that she’d gotten him to say to her.
    What? He frowned at this last thought. It didn’t matter what they said to each other.
    He might, as she said, take a more conventional mistress. Surely he’d find an inventive one who could immediately gratify his desires. And Genevieve could take some other, more patient gentleman along her slower path to fulfillment.
    Anger rose up in him at the idea of her with another man.
    Ludicrous. She was a courtesan. She’d just serviced another man. Why should the thought of her with a new one cause him so much consternation?
    But he couldn’t stand the idea of her entwined with some other lover, eventually exploring the very depths of the realm of sensual delights.
    He didn’t even want her kissing someone else.
    Damn. How had she managed, with that brief and paltry encounter, to cast such a snare on him?
    She manipulated well.
    Yet for all her rules and speeches, she didn’t give the impression of being cold or calculating. When his hand stroked her warm neck, he’d felt the wild flutter