Chapter 4

Four

Rose

Was I doing this?

We were near strangers, yet I felt as though I'd been aware of him for a long time, watching me in the theater. And I'd learned quite a bit about Alfred Moore Emerson III in the past few days, thanks to a friend at the New York World .

Born to a high society family, Moore took over the business when his father died eight years ago. There had been a nasty public divorce, one of the first New York divorce cases involving someone of Moore's status. Mrs. Alfred Moore Emerson III claimed adultery on Moore's part, and a woman alleging to be his lover testified in court about the proclivities enjoyed by Moore on a regular basis. This had led to salacious articles in the newspapers for almost half a year.

After that, he hadn't remarried. In fact, after the divorce he'd lived quietly, almost respectfully. With no hint of a trouble whatsoever.

But I knew a little something about scandals, having lived through one myself back in Ohio. Maybe he and I weren't so dissimilar after all.

And after that kiss? My body was humming, ready for more.

So yes, it appeared I was doing this.

I moved the half-full tea cup on his desk and pushed the papers out of the way. Then I climbed up onto the wood and settled my skirts. Moore didn't assist me, but he was close. His big body looming before me, the heat jumping between us nearly singed my skin.

I wasn't lying when I said I hadn't experienced such a strong, instantaneous reaction to a man before. After just one kiss from Moore, my blood hummed. The tips of my breasts pressed shamelessly against my corset, begging for attention, while slickness coated the insides of my thighs. I wanted to find out what it was about this man that turned me into a mindless, lust-filled creature.

When I looked up at him, the wicked gleam in his dark gaze caused a shiver to race through me. Daylight streamed through the windows and reflected off the silver threads at his temple. His jaw was pure determination. "Skirts, Rose."

I grabbed the layers of silk and cotton and began lifting them higher, revealing my legs. Were we going to screw right now in his office? I wasn't altogether opposed to the idea, but he might want to lock the door first. "Aren't you worried someone will walk in?"

"No one would dare." He dragged his gaze down my half-clothed legs, an agonizingly slow sweep. "The benefit of being a surly bastard most of the time."

Biting my lip, I toyed with the folds of my skirts. "So what now, Mr. Emerson?"

He lowered himself into his chair and scooted closer. Yet he didn't touch me, his hands firmly on the armrests. "I want to see your pussy."

The crude word from such an elegant man caused me to shiver. "Do you always talk so lewdly to ladies?"

"Only to ladies aroused by lewd talk. Ladies like you. "

So he'd noticed that earlier, had he? I hadn't tried to hide it, exactly, but I hadn't expected him to read me so well. I was an actress, after all.

"Skirts, Rose," he ordered. "Show me."

Perhaps I should've felt awkward, but having his rapt attention gave me confidence. I lifted my skirts and slowly eased my knees apart. He sat perfectly still, murmuring, "That's it, keep going. You're soaked, aren't you? I can see you've ruined your poor drawers."

I spread myself open, my hot center revealed to him. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved. "Oh, you are a mess. Look at that beautifully swollen flesh. Would you like for me to stroke it?"

I was nodding before he even finished the question. I did this at least three or four times a week myself, more so when I needed to relax. "Please, Mr. Emerson."

His eyes flicked to mine. "A proper and respectful girl deserves a reward, don't you think?"

A rush of desire flooded every part of me. I didn't need to fake my reaction or pretend with him, as I had with other men in the past. Moore cut past all my defenses to give me exactly what I craved. Hmm, perhaps I did the same for him? I whispered, "Yes, sir. I do."

With a growl, he angled forward, his big hands pushing my thighs impossibly wider. "Lie back. Let me taste you."

Taste me? Oh . I tried to hide my surprise as I eased onto the surface of the desk. In my experience, most men didn't bother with activities that were solely for me. They skipped right to the part where their cock was involved.

I was eager to see what Moore could do. Fifth Avenue tycoons weren't known for their generosity, after all.

A hot, wet stripe of his tongue went through my folds, across my clitoris, and euphoria rippled through me. But there wasn't time to recover because he did it again. And again. Always with flick in the precise spot where I craved him the most.

"Christ, you are delicious," he mumbled between licks. "I could devour your pussy for days."

I wished he would. This was leagues better than any attempt in the past. This was a goddamn revelation.

I glanced down at where he rested between my legs, his dark head bent, eyes closed as he returned his mouth to my flesh. This time he focused his efforts on my clitoris—and I nearly jolted off the desk. The pleasure was not to be believed. " Oh, god! "

He rubbed his palms on my thighs. "Relax, sweet girl." He kissed the nubbin of flesh. "I will give you what you need."

I couldn't move, couldn't object—nor did I want to once he set himself to his task. He sucked and licked, his tongue relentless, and I could feel my insides coiling, the pleasure gathering in my toes. At some point he draped one of my legs over his shoulder, and I dug my boot heel into his back, trying to bring him closer. I was sweating and gasping, my head thrashing on the ledgers and papers underneath me—a reminder that we were in his office, during the day, when anyone might enter.

Only a naughty, shameless tart would allow this.

It rushed over me then, as if a dam burst. I bit my lip to keep from shouting, and then I was climaxing, my limbs trembling uncontrollably. My womb convulsed in sweet pulses and sparkles exploded in my bloodstream, yet he didn't let up. "Yes, yes, yes," I whispered. "Oh, god."

Seconds—or, perhaps it was minutes?—later I returned to myself. My skin grew sensitive, so I wriggled when Moore gave me another lick. "Please, no more."

He rested his forehead on my mound, his shoulders heaving as we both tried to catch our breath. Dazed, I threaded my fingers through his soft hair. At any second he would rise up and shove himself inside me, pumping until he climaxed. I wanted to enjoy this blissful, selfish moment a little longer.

"Thank you," he murmured. My hand fell off his head as he straightened. He flicked my skirts over my legs, covering me. "I'll see you off in a hansom."

His expression was etched in granite, his movements abrupt. Was he so anxious to be rid of me, then? But when he stood to help me sit up, I quickly recognized the problem.

A very large problem.

His trousers were tented with an erection that could not be missed. I smiled, pleased he'd been so aroused by my body. And it put us on even ground, because this was a problem I could solve. This particular act, I knew.

I allowed him to assist me to my feet. But when he tried to step back, I chased, keeping close as I placed my hands on his chest. "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Emerson?" I blinked innocently up at him, yet he wouldn't meet my eye.

"Rose, I must return to my duties here. We've had our fun. Now it's time for me to see you off."

"But I can't possibly leave you in such a state."

I started to drag my hand to his groin, but he grabbed my wrist, preventing me. "Don't."

"Why not?" I stared up at him, confused. Men never said no to this. "I don't understand. You don't wish to finish in my mouth?"

A shudder went through him. Then he inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. His fingers released my wrist in order to sweep a rogue curl behind my ear, his big body relaxing slightly. "What does a sweet girl like you know about sucking a man's cock?"

"I know that you'll like it. I'll like it, as well." And I did. Even on my knees I felt powerful, in control of everything around me. A goddess. The act wasn't taken; instead it was given. A gift of nothing but pleasure, exactly as he'd just bestowed on me.

I could tell he was wavering, so I pressed closer and nipped his jaw with my teeth. "Wouldn't you like to see my lips sliding over your shaft? Or my tongue bathing your crown and making it wet?"

" Jesus Christ ," he hissed softly. "When you use those words, I can barely resist you."

"Then don't resist. You won't be able to concentrate for the rest of the day if I leave now." I ran one fingertip down the center of his abdomen, then lower, and even lower until I reached the bulge in the cloth. I touched him lightly, teasing. "Please, Mr. Emerson?"

He drew in a deep breath, then took a step back. I could see his defenses going back up, the powerful man of business in place once again. I knew I'd lost.

This was confirmed when he said, "I'll escort you to the curb. We'll act polite, but that's all. No one can suspect anything untoward took place here today."

Disappointment pressed on my shoulders, but I wouldn't beg. I had my pride, and it was far more fun when men were begging for me. Not the other way around.

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I think everyone will have their suspicions when they spot that ." I pointed to his groin.

He dragged a hand down his face. "Give it a moment. When it calms down I'll walk you out."

I didn't require an escort. Though it was sweet of him to offer, I'd been looking after myself for a long time. I pinned my hat, then packed up my wicker basket and lifted it off the floor. "I'm hardly a debutante, Moore. I can see myself off. Besides, would you walk one of your shareholders to a hansom? I think not."

The scowl he wore was fierce. "You and I both know you aren't a shareholder."

"Yes, but they do not." I waved my hand toward his office, which had been filled with young men toiling away at their desks. "It arouses suspicion if you escort me like a beau."

I decided it was pointless to argue with him. And I was at an advantage. I could leave the room, while he could not. "Goodbye, Moore."

"Wait—"

But it was too late. I was already at the door. "The performance is at seven o'clock sharp. Don't be late."

"I won't be there," he said, almost angrily. "What happened here today cannot be repeated, Rose. I've endured enough unwanted attention for a lifetime. I am not looking to keep a mistress, especially one so famous."

"Famous!" A wide grin burst free on my face before I could prevent it. "What a lovely piece of flattery. Well done, Moore."

"I am serious," he snapped. "Today is the last time we will see one another."

He was trying to convince himself, obviously. I didn't believe it, not after the way he'd kissed me, with such desperation and hunger. Not after the way he'd licked my center so feverishly. Not witnessing the erection in his trousers that had yet to dissipate. "I'm certain you are wrong. But don't worry, I'm not angling to be your mistress. As I said, never the same man twice."

Repeat encounters required a level of trust in a partner, and I didn't trust anyone other than myself. I'd believed in passion and promises once, only to be spectacularly burned. I would never fall victim to a pretty face or flowery words ever again. I would marry, but it would be my choice, years from now when I was ready to move out of the city and give up acting.

"Does this not count, then?" He tilted his chin toward the desk.

"No. This was a . . . an overture. Neither of us removed our clothing. Your intimate parts never met with my intimate parts."

The edges of his lips twitched like he might be fighting a laugh. Putting his hands on his hips, Moore stared at his feet. "Rose, that is utterly ridiculous."

"My rules, Mr. Emerson. They only need to make sense to me. Until tonight!" I let myself out of his office and pretended to ignore all the eyes on me as I strode to the elevator.