The Courtesan's Bed

Free The Courtesan's Bed by Sandrine O'Shea

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Authors: Sandrine O'Shea
find me witty and good company. Oh, yes, and I’m wealthy, which I suppose I should’ve mentioned first, since we are to have a business arrangement.” A business arrangement that would evolve into much more.
    A silence filled the room.
    Darius could tell by the furrow in her brow that she was seriously considering his offer.
    Finally, he said, “I’m not asking you to marry me, Régine. We will stay together until one of us tires of the other.” Though he doubted he could ever tire of her. “And then it’s farewell, and no hard feelings.”
    â€œWhat would be your terms?”
    He threw out a monthly stipend that made her swallow hard, added a generous clothing allowance that surpassed that of a certain profligate duchess of his acquaintance, and assured her he was known to most of the jewelers in London.
    She smiled seductively. “And what are your requirements in the boudoir, monsieur?”
    He returned her smile. “As often as you like, and I promise you will want me often. But if there are days you wish a respite, that will be fine too.”
    A faint flush warmed her cheeks. “You’re very confident.”
    â€œIt’s one of my finer attributes.”
    She smiled, obviously amused.
    â€œSo,” he said, staring deeply into those expressive eyes, “do we have an agreement?”
    â€œThere is much to consider.”
    He let his gaze rove over her face like a slow, soft caress, settling on her delectable mouth. “Perhaps a kiss would convince you of the seriousness of my intentions.”
    She stared boldly at his lips and patted the place next to her on the settee. “By all means, monsieur.”
    He sat down, angling his body so he faced her, and draped one arm across the back of the settee just behind her shoulders. She leaned toward him, willingly turning her head. He raised his hand and gently traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips. Her skin was as dewy and silken as a rose petal in the morning. When he reached her chin, he tilted her head and leaned over to reach her voluptuous, inviting mouth with his own.
    He kissed her lightly at first, a mere pressing of the lips to both soothe and arouse her.
    She responded with a sigh and the parting of her soft, sweet lips for an open-mouthed kiss that tasted faintly of brandy. Then he deepened his kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She moaned softly and stroked his tongue with her own, sending a tremor of desire rocking through his body, straight to his prick.
    She raised her hand to his cheek, and he thought he’d melt at her tender touch. He slipped his hand around her waist and drew her even closer, needing to feel her warmth, pleased that he’d caused such a response.
    When they parted, breathless and panting, Regina purred, “You kiss very well, Clarridge.”
    Then she undid the top three buttons of her gown in blatant invitation.
    He stayed her hand. “That’s not necessary.” At least, not yet.
    Her expression turned perplexed. “But I thought you wished to please me.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œWell, it would please me if you’d touch my breasts.”
    Ah, so she was testing him to see how far he’d go. He hadn’t expected her to move so fast, or talk so frankly, but she was experienced and accustomed to being intimate with strangers without preamble or coyness.
    He grinned. “Touching your beautiful breasts would certainly please me.”
    He caressed the long column of her ivory neck, causing her to tremble beneath his fingers. But rather than undoing the rest of the buttons, parting the fine silk fabric and burrowing for the Promised Land of her bare breasts, he practiced the art of gradual arousal, which he knew from long experience that most women appreciated. He placed his hand on her left breast, feeling its soft fullness beneath the layer of cloth.
    Regina closed her eyes with a gentle sigh, and her head fell back

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