Thursday Taster Gentleman #7

Well, let's see what else can happen at this party! Remember to check out all the other tastes arrayed on the blog.

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“Harrold, this is Percival Jackson and his wife Priscilla.” He clasped Percival's hand and nodded to the elegant woman next to him. Her gown probably cost twice what Veronica's did, something she was sure to complain about later. Veronica introduced him to two more pairs, all emigrated from England with substantial inherited wealth. She might not meet his expectations sexually, but Veronica was exceptional at getting her foot in the most exclusive doors. It had proved financially beneficial in the past.

After standing by her side through several inane conversations, Harrold's attention began to waver. Gazing over the assembly, he paused to admire several bodices and more than one cinched waist. Having a wife gave him respect and position, but Veronica took no offense at his wandering eye. If anything, she encouraged it, eager for him to find another bed.

The woman who drew his attention most wore a fitted dress with short sleeves, her arms bare down to her fingertips. That was probably why she was surrounded by men, each taking his turn holding her hand and kissing those fingers. She looked his way, and he found himself unable to break the gaze. Minutes later, he glanced her way again and admired her throat as she tipped it back, laughing —no necklace. Obviously she wasn't the wife of any of the guests: they wore gloves and necklaces as well as ornaments in their hair. She was still smiling when she met his eyes again, holding his gaze like it belonged to her. She blinked and turned, speaking to the gentlemen surrounding her before leaving them and striding in his direction.

“Follow,” she said when she came near, walking right past him.

He didn't excuse himself to his wife or her friends. None of them seemed to take any notice. Veronica didn't break in conversation, covering his withdrawl. The bewitching woman looked over her shoulder and seemed unsurprised to see him there. Her eyes drew his attention, glittering shards of topaz or amber. They seemed to glow unnaturally in the lamplight. She led him down a corridor and opened a door next to a pair of chatting women. Both watched them, but neither said a thing.

“You are a difficult man to get a hold of, Harrold. I don't think I like that,” she said as she strode to a trimmed lamp and opened it, casting the room in a gentle glow.

“Pardon, madam, but I'm sure I'd remember if I made your acquaintance.”

Full red lips pulled up on one corner in a smirk. “You had better believe you would.” Her lusty tone told him much. “We haven't met,” she said, circling him. “I'd been informed that you were in need of my services.”

Harrold's brow furrowed. What woman provided a service he needed? What service...?

A light shone behind his eyes just as she said, “Delores was quite insistent. More than is proper. I had to set her down for that.” Lynn, for that must be who this woman was, regarded her painted nails. “She enjoyed that, I think. Would you?” She glanced at Harrold from the corner of those oddly sparkling eyes.

“Would I what?” He was completely flustered. How had a whore gotten into this party?

Her palm slapped across his face. It was a sensation he was familiar with. Many ladies had spurned his advances when he was younger. However, this woman had a stronger arm than any of them. This pain rivaled that of the time his cousin had punched him in the jaw for dandling his lady.

“You will pay heed when I speak. Would you enjoy being reprimanded by me?”

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Tantalizing Tuesday - the stone that broke the camel's back

Tantalizing Teaser for you. Well, maybe not that tantalizing. Make sure you check the blog for the spicy samples!

One more pebble left her hand.

“Stop that!” one of the boys shouted. Lynn continued to turn the rope, feigning complete innocence. The younger girls jumped as though there had been no interruption. A couple of them started giggling. That only made the boys angrier.

Lynn watched the girls jumping while the boys continued to play whatever ball game they had invented. Peeking over her shoulder, Lynn chucked another stone.

This time all the girls saw her and giggled madly, several falling out of the spinning rope. She gave them all reproachful looks, even letting out one, “shh.”

“Uh-oh,” one of the older girls said, looking in the direction of the boys.

Spencer was in Lynn’s face, gripping the neck of his shirt and roaring. Lynn wondered if her hair were blown back by the blast.

“That’s it!” he declared. “Water fight.”

Lynn was picked up and tossed over his shoulder. She tried to kick free but had no luck. The girls ran in all directions, squealing, and the boys seized their armaments from the side of the school.

“You,” Spencer said, dropping her with her back to the wall and hefting a bucket, “are hosting the wet t-shirt contest.”

Thursday Taster - Gentleman #6

I promise, one day I will post from another piece, but well, this one is going so well! Check out all the tasters by hopping to the blog.

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“Missus Pearson, I was so sorry to hear about your husband. He was a pillar of the community.”

The widow stood, as did most of the guests. There weren't enough chairs and settees for half the attendees. Harrold bowed over the black lace glove and kissed the hand within. Before rising, he looked up through his long, dark lashes at the older woman, holding her gaze.

She wasn't old, much younger than his mother. Like Delores, her age seemed to distinguish her. As he rose, she stepped closer, hand sliding up his arm. “Your condolences are appreciated. We have been lonely in John's absence.” She stood near enough that Harrold could look directly down her pale cleavage, held in place by her black gown and corset.

Harrold's fingers found her waist, holding her lightly, preventing her from stepping back. “Being lonely can be difficult.”

“Indeed. Where is your beautiful wife this evening?”

Harrold smiled at the ploy. “Just there.” He indicated a cluster of women with a nod. “Mingling with the ladies of substance.”

“I find they have little substance, myself.” The widow's hand dropped slowly, brushing the front of Harrold's trousers and his thigh. He inhaled sharply. “I understand that you keep accounts. John left quite a mess for bookkeeping. I could use someone to help me sort it out.” Her hand moved again, making each caress seem happenstance, but her eyes left no doubt to Harrold that she intended each and every one.

“Harrold, Missus Pearson. You look lovely tonight. How you manage that is a wonder.” Harrold dropped his hand as Corbin approached. The widow took the opportunity to open space between them. “I see you found Harrold. Is he all I promised?” Corbin's grin was predatory.

The widow's smile was much wryer. “He is. We have requested he help keep our books.”

“Fabulous. I hope you consider our offer to manage those accounts and see to the will. A lady such as yourself shouldn't worry about business.”

Harrold noticed a slight souring of the widow's expressions. “Yes, well, we need to consider that.” Putting tone with expression, Harrold believed the widow had every intention of running the business herself. A clever woman if she could.

“Harrold,” Veronica called, waving for him to follow her.

“If you'll pardon me, the wife calls.”

“Yes, an obedient husband is rewarded,” the widow teased with a gleam in her eye.

Tantalizing Tuesday - Prickly

The sun lit the dust motes hanging in the air, creating tiny sparks of light that shifted, appeared and disappeared at will. In direct contrast, voices lifted, increasing in pitch and volume. The stillness stirred, whirling the in passing of the smaller of the two people in the kitchen. The larger walked by, but paused, letting the sun shine on his head and shoulders, both bent over the window sill. His knuckles whitened as he increased his pressure on the shelf holding a dozen tiny pots. They needed watering, again.

Turning his back on the other, the one still yelling, he filled a pitcher and began spilling a small amount in each, careful that none received too much at once, watching the drips pool on the wood around the base of each pot. He stopped before the water could run. Several of the dark green plants had blooms - yellow, pink, coral. They weren’t fragrant and the plants themselves were armed with spikes, but that only made them more beautiful, just like the other person in the room.

“Well?” the smaller one asked.

“If I hug you, will you prick me?”

“I’ll give you a prick.”

He hugged her anyway.

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Thursday Tasters - Gentleman #5

Still sharing the opening scenes of Gentleman. I hope you will visit all the other authors offering their own taste. Thursday Tasters Blog

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After a lunch with several other businessmen, Harrold had charge of a new ledger, which he worked on late into the evening. Detouring on his way home, he gave Delores the bad news.

“Both Veronica and my employer have need of me Thursday. I will come later, but I'm sorry to say I'll be at the Baskins' party for hours.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. She is quite selective. I will tell her, though. Thank you for letting me know. Are you coming in?” She stepped aside.

“I have had nothing to eat and am famished.”

Delores pursed her lips. “I might feed you, if you earned it.”

Remembering his last exchange with the older woman, he twitched in his pants. “What services would you require?”

“Oh, hot and dirty work.” Her eyes shone with a smile she prevented from reaching her lips.

“I'm afraid I have no work clothes.”

“Well, then you shall simply have to shed what you wear.” She turned her back, paced down the hall, and snapped her fingers.

Harrold dashed to her side. Veronica wouldn't miss him.

Delores led him to a door he had never been through. He had sampled all of Delores' girls, even tested that Miranda was ready for the life she'd entered. In all that time, he had seen every boudoir, each with slightly different decor. Delores' room was like none of them.

“Go on,” she urged. “You won't want to ruin your clothing. I'll fetch your food, for incentive.” She did smile and somehow made it seem menacing.

Harrold hurried to remove his clothes once she closed the door. His cock was already hard and aching from her implications, her haughty stare, and her commanding tone. Why had he never paid her more attention?

The room was warm and cheery, very feminine with lace and frills throughout. The girls' rooms tended to be more wood and gilding, but here, every surface was dressed, with the exception of a bare patch of floor where all the carpets ended, and a stretch of wall behind it. The austerity was noteworthy against all the other furnishings.

Delores returned, the smell of hot beef and gravy wafting to Harrold and making him salivate. He didn't notice he'd taken position on the bare floor until she said, “Perfect.” Sliding the plate onto a bedside table, she added, “Now kneel.”

He hesitated. For some reason his knees locked, offended at the idea of bowing to a whore. She picked up his belt from where he'd dropped it and lashed him on the chest with it. His member bobbed as it hardened further. He collapsed to his knees.

“Better,” she said, dropping the belt. He started when she closed a manacle on one of his wrists. “This is where I break the girls who will not bend.” A second cold metal cuff followed the first. Harrold craned his neck and saw the chains attached to the stone behind him. “I have hot and dirty work for you.” She raised her skirts and stepped forward, pushing his head back as her crotch smothered him. “Start working. The more you do, the more food I will give you.”

Harrold sunk into the furred lips that covered his mouth, puffing air through his nose. He nipped and kissed for a moment before using his tongue. He'd rarely done this with the girls, most often sampling them while they used their mouths on him. He wasn't practiced and Delores was not musky and wet as the girls had been. That was quickly changing.

His cock continued to throb and longed for a hand, a mouth or, best of all, a woman to wrap around it. Instead, he was working to pleasure the woman he paid for sex. The irony was not lost on him, but neither was the joy of doing it, particularly when she took his hair in her fist, jamming him further between her legs until his tongue was coated in her.

“Yes,” she cried at last, rocking her hips into his chin. She stepped back and stumbled, falling to the carpet before him. He could really see now what he had been licking and sucking just a moment ago: her dark short curls were spread by the rich, pink skin glistening between.

He groaned, fighting the chains to touch her, to touch himself. The smell and taste of her still filled his nostrils and mouth.

After a quick chuckle, Delores slid her ass forward, bringing it in reach of his now dripping cock. “Time to finish the job,” she said, grabbing his shoulders for balance while wrapping her legs around his waist.

He pulled on the chains, wanting to hold her, to fuck her. Instead, he was at her whim, subject to her thrusts, her time. She would rise on her feet and bob on the barest tip of him, taunting, and then thrust down, encasing him.

Eventually she couldn't play any longer as her slick heat had the inevitable result. She sank down and ground her hips into his, seeming to climax with him.

“Harry, Lynn is going to adore you.”

He dropped his head while Delores released the manacles.

“I'm sorry,” she said, lifting his chin with a finger. “I'm sure we'll arrange something. Go on and eat.”

His frown disappeared as he sprinted to the plate, tearing into the beef with his teeth. Delores ran a hand over his cheek.

“My poor, caged man. Lynn will free you,” she murmured, almost too quietly for Harrold to hear. More than ever, he wished he could be here Thursday.

Tantalizing Tuesday - Forever

Amy stared at her left hand, at the brilliant diamond shining on her finger. She remembered the moment it had been placed there, when she had agreed to spend the rest of her life with one person. She had crushed on Dustin for years before he finally noticed her. Then it had taken seven more to convince him that she was worth his time. They’d been exclusive for three years after that before she’d nudged him toward proposing. Only nudged, she hadn’t pressured him or nagged. Just told him that he could move in with her; they could share financially as well as emotionally. He’d liked that and it had been the stepping stone to the previous Valentine’s Day. It hadn’t been her dream. He hadn’t taken her out somewhere special and surprised her with a ring in her wine or under her napkin or tucked away somewhere she would spot eventually. He had made dinner and pulled the box out with dessert, leaving it out while they ate. Then he asked and she said yes. It was supposed to be the beginning of their forever. Only her forever didn’t include Jody. She tugged the ring off, leaving it behind.

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Thursday Taster - Gentleman #4

I'm hoping to have something new to excerpt soon, but for the time being, I'll continue to share from Gentleman.

And remember, once you've indulged in my sample, share the love and visit all the other authors offering their own taste. Thursday Tasters Blog

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“Harrold, the Baskins are having a dinner Thursday. You will escort me.

Harrold paused in sipping his tea. “Thursday. I'm afraid Corbin has me booked late that evening.”

“You shall come after,” Veronica told him.

“Yes, dear.” He might have argued, but she would win in the end. She always did.

He never seriously considered divorcing her—he couldn't turn out a woman, even one as cold as Veronica. Even as she wore him down, he couldn't help but see the girl he married when he looked at her for longer than a moment, a girl he had wanted to shelter and protect.

“You will also inform Virgil that the rose in the back is getting out of control.”

Harrold set the china on its saucer. He'd never understood Veronica's need for him to speak with the slaves.

“Your mother requires a new settee as well.”

Harrold rubbed his hand over his forehead. “What is wrong with the one she has?”

“Have you seen it? It's striped. I won't have it in the house.” Veronica waved a hand dismissively.

As though speaking of her had spurred her to action, his mother, Anne, appeared with a black slave behind her. Her wicker chair had metal wheels on it and creaked as it moved.

“Harrold, Veronica.”

“How are you this morning, Mother?” Veronica asked.

“I ache,” she complained. “The mattress may be at an end. Also, if I'm to spend so much time in one room, it must be larger.”

Harrold added another total to his mental ledger. It was a habit bred from his employment. He kept accounts for Corbin Cooper and several others. His funds could not accommodate everything the women demanded.

“There are no larger rooms, Mother.” He and Veronica had moved to the smaller one.

“Indeed,” Mother said, setting her teacup down. “Perhaps a larger house. One that could accommodate grandchildren.”

Harrold braced himself by the forearms on the edge of the table, hanging his head. If Veronica would let him fully enter her, they might have children already. However, even those first few times, she cried in pain and pushed him away. He hadn't tried in months. Turning his fork, he pressed it into the palm of his hand, the pain relieving other tension. The women wouldn't kill him, but they might come close.

Abandoning the rest of his breakfast, Harrold found his appetite gone. “I am needed at the office.” He would seek more businessmen for more books. If the women continued to make demands as they had the last year, he would need a way to pay for it. Also, more time in the office was preferable to that spent in their company. If this had been a one-time request, he wouldn't let it bother him. However, the demands were constantly increasing and they seemed to talk of little else.

Dark-skinned Virgil was in the carriage house, seeing to one of his many chores: the horses.

“The missus would like you to trim the rose hedge.”

“Of course, sir. I'll see to it next, sir. Anything else, sir?”

“Knock me unconscious with that brush,” he said in a quiet mutter. The slave didn't blink, but a smile came to the corner of his mouth. “No, Virgil, thank you,” Harrold finished in a louder voice.

“Thank you, sir.”

Harrold walked the eight blocks to Corbin's office house. He and several barristers worked in the many rooms of the house. One small room held the numerous ledgers and folders of receipts and records. Harrold had just opened the book belonging to one of the shipping lines employing the lawyers when Corbin knocked on his door.

“You're in early,” he said.

“Wanted a head start.” Harrold peered at the book rather than his employer.

“I need you on Thursday,” he said. Despite what he'd told Veronica, Corbin hadn't said anything about Thursday before now.

Harrold sighed. “Veronica expects me at the Baskins'”

“Ah, perfect. That's where I wanted to see you. I need help landing a new client, the widow Pearson.”

“Well, I shall be there.” Corbin had often used Harrold to charm wives and daughters of potential clients. He rarely did more than kiss hands and exude natural charm, but one or two of those had given him what his wife would not. A widow, a likely prospect for business—no wonder that Corbin wanted him there.

After a lunch with several other businessmen, Harrold had charge of a new ledger, which he worked on late into the evening. Detouring on his way home, he gave Delores the bad news.

“Both Veronica and my employer have need of me Thursday. I will come later, but I'm sorry to say I'll be at the Baskins' party for hours.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. She is quite selective. I will tell her, though. Thank you for letting me know. Are you coming in?” She stepped aside.

“I have had nothing to eat and am famished.”

Delores pursed her lips. “I might feed you, if you earned it.”