Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

10

“Icould ask you the same thing,” Cull gritted out. “Seeing as the answer is obvious, however, I’ll spare my breath.”

Pippa’s eyes narrowed in the holes of her mask. Even with her brunette wig, those glorious blue orbs suited her. What didn’t suit her was being in a godforsaken brothel teeming with male prostitutes. And kissing one of those undeserving bastards, to make matters worse.

Molten jealousy sizzled through Cull’s veins. Logically, he knew that he had no claim on her, but he didn’t give a bloody damn about rationality. A week ago, he had been the one kissing Pippa. His lips had been on hers; her sweet moans had belonged to him. Things might have progressed a great deal further, if not for his ugliness. When confronted with all her glowing beauty, how could he have revealed himself for the beast that he was?

He hadn’t had an answer then, and he didn’t have one now.

But he did know this: hell would freeze over before he let some Casanova-for-hire service Pippa. It was one thing when Cull couldn’t offer her what she deserved: a respectable, high-class marriage. He’d stayed in the shadows, knowing that Longmere’s world was the one she belonged in. But now Pippa wasn’t after propriety, was she?

She wanted a night of pleasure.

And Cull could give her that. He burned to show her all the ways a man could satisfy a woman; hell, he’d been fantasizing about her for fourteen bloody years. If Pippa was willing to take on a masked stranger as a lover—one who hid behind the name of a Norse god, for Christ’s sake—what did it matter if Cull kept on his mask? There had to be a way to make this work. For them to be together…if only for tonight.

He’d spent the week mulling over the matter like a namby-pamby fool. Vacillating between his desire for Pippa and what was best for her. Now clarity struck him: from the moment they’d met, he had wanted her…and always would. Why couldn’t he, for once, go after what he wanted? If she wanted a taste of carnal bliss, why shouldn’t he be the one to give it to her?

Of course, Pippa might need convincing of his plan.

“What I do is none of your dashed business.” She crossed her arms. “How did you find me here?”

“Ain’t a thing that happens in London without my knowledge, if I take an interest.” Having made his decision, he saw no point in beating around the bush. “When it comes to you, sunshine, I’m definitely interested.”

“Of all the arrogant, high-handed, conceited…” She balled her hands at her sides, apparently running out of synonyms.

In truth, Pippa was adorable spitting mad. He was wise enough not to share that observation. Her eyes had an alluring glitter, and in the low-cut vee of her violet gown, the creamy tops of her breasts heaved in a way that gave his eye muscles pleasant exercise. She was also sputtering as if she wasn’t used to being angry. Or expressing it, anyway. He thought it was a positive sign that he could evoke strong feelings in her.

If those feelings could be something other than animosity, I’d be onto something.

Hearing voices approach, he took her arm.

“Let’s discuss our business in private,” he said under his breath. “Unless you want to air our laundry in public?”

She yanked her arm away and marched toward a door.

He got there first, opening it for her. The room was empty, thank Christ.

As he locked the door behind them, he saw that the chamber was designed with pleasure in mind. The black damask walls framed a large bed fitted with red silk sheets. To the right of it, a wide scarlet divan and rug sat before a blazing fire. Cull felt his eyebrows rise at the other feature of the room: a reclined seat made of leather straps was suspended from the ceiling by four ropes.

It swayed suggestively.

Pippa furrowed her brow. “Why would they have a swing in here?”

Cull cleared his throat, trying to think of a civilized reply while trying not to picture her lying naked in that swing. The things he could do to her…

Get your thoughts out of the gutter, you bastard. This is Pippa. She is a lady.

Just because he was about to propose a night of uninhibited passion didn’t mean that he would act in an uncouth manner. Besides, he knew the kind of gents Pippa preferred: sensitive, lordly types like Longmere. Bloody Baldur was cast from a similar mold; slender and refined, he was Cull’s polar opposite.

Cull couldn’t change his physical attributes, but he did have manners.

“A diverting way to get off one’s feet, no doubt,” he said blandly. “Perhaps the divan is more to your liking?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “We don’t need to sit for this discussion. Answer my question: how did you know I would be here?”

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he told her. “After you left Lady Fayne’s yesterday, she sent a note to this establishment. Out of concern, I kept an eye on you. Sure enough, you headed here tonight.”

“In other words, you were spying on me,” Pippa said grimly.

“I am looking out for you.”

“Spare me the semantics.” Tossing him a contemptuous look, she stalked to the blazing hearth.

He tried not to notice how her movements caused the swing to rock subtly back and forth.

“You’re ruining everything, and I want you to stop,” she fumed.

Had she wanted to be bedded by that blond bastard then? The notion forced a growl from Cull. “What am I ruining? A cozy little romp with Baldur? Was he the one you were looking for just now?”

“For your information, I was on my way out when I saw a cl—” She cut herself off. “Someone I know.”

Relief eased the knots in his chest. Running through his mental list of her clients, he deduced who was most likely to be in attendance.

“Lady Hastings?” he surmised. “I thought she terminated your services a week ago.”

“How did you…” She planted her hands on her hips. “My business is none of yours.”

“Was she why you were peering around the corner?”

“I was not peering. I was simply looking for her because I was worried.”

“Because you think her husband has dastardly intentions toward her?”

She heaved out a breath. “Do you ever tire of being such a know-it-all?”

He laughed; he couldn’t help it. He’d been called many things, but a know-it-all? Never.

“You’re delightful,” he said, earning another huff from her. “And, yes, I do get tired of it. Of knowing things I’d rather not. Such as the fact that the woman I recently kissed planned to spend the evening with another man.”

“You have no claim on me,” she said. “I am my own woman. I can do what I want.”

“Aye, you are, and you can.” He strode toward her, and she froze like a cornered doe. He brushed his knuckles lightly along her jaw before dropping his hand. “And if you are in the market for a lover tonight, I’m applying for the position.”

What is happening? Pippa thought dazedly.

One moment, she was annoyed; the next, she was…captivated. Unable to look or pull away.

The sincerity smoldering in Cull’s dark-brown eyes was magnetic. Or maybe it was his humility, the way he cut to the truth of his desires without pretense or prevarication. It was the opposite of the nuanced flirtation that she was used to. Cull was telling her point-blank that he wanted to be her lover…and that it was up to her whether she wished to take him up on his offer.

If she wanted to have this man, she could. The choice was hers. The notion made her feel heady, as did his nearness. Baldur, for all his perfection, had affected her senses like a mild breeze. Cull, however?

He hit her like a thunderstorm, every part of her crackling with awareness.

Why should she deny herself what she wanted? It was why she’d come here, wasn’t it? To exercise her freedom and experience desire free of emotional entanglements. And to do so on her own terms.

“What do you have to recommend you?” she asked. “As a lover, I mean.”

A startled look came into his eyes, followed by an appreciative gleam.

“I know how to pleasure a lady,” he murmured. “To my knowledge, I have never left one unsatisfied.”

From another man, the reply could have come off like a boast. Yet Cull was clearly in earnest—clearly cared about his partner’s pleasure. The fluttering in Pippa’s belly increased.

She lifted her brows. “Would you know if you had?”

Edwin hadn’t known. Or maybe he hadn’t cared. After he’d found his satisfaction, he’d fallen asleep or gone back to his own chamber.

“I bloody well hope so,” Cull said.

Again sincere. And flutter-worthy.

“You could be a contender,” she allowed. “But I have terms.”

“As do I.”

Interesting.Cocking her head, she said, “First, this is a one-night-only affair.”

“No strings attached,” he agreed. “If both parties are amenable, however, we should not discount the possibility of future nights.”

“I will not be amenable.”

That would be far too dangerous. She could not let herself form an attachment; the whole purpose of this was to satisfy her physical needs without the risk of heartbreak.

He didn’t look overly concerned. “Your other terms?”

“Precautions will be necessary.”

Pippa was grateful that her mask hid her flaming cheeks. Charlie had coached her to institute this non-negotiable condition. It was one thing to indulge in a night of ardor, another to do so in a reckless manner. Truth be told, Pippa didn’t know if she was even able to bear consequences, so to speak. She hadn’t conceived in a year of marriage. Another failure that had been laid at her door.

“I have a contraption that will prevent unwanted eventualities,” she said briskly.

“One could not accuse you of being unprepared.” Humor in his eyes, he went on, “There are many ways to approach lovemaking, sunshine, some of which would render your contraption unnecessary.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It will be my pleasure to clarify matters.” His mouth twitched. “For now, you have my word of honor that I would never put you at risk. Being acquainted with unwanted consequences—I, myself, being one of them—I have never acted carelessly in this regard.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. How to respond to the fact that he’d referred to himself as an “unwanted consequence.”

It was getting harder to think in general. She felt a trifle warm, possibly because of the fire and most certainly because of this chat. It struck her as being the most intimate conversation she’d had with any man. Cull didn’t seem at all bothered by her demands. In fact, he was studying her with an intensity and, yes, hunger that made her blood rush through her veins. Her nipples throbbed beneath her bodice, a matching pulse between her thighs.

“If you have stated all your terms…?”

Had she? “Um, yes.”

“Then it’s my turn. I have only one: my mask stays on.” His shoulders braced, he said, “Last time, I didn’t express myself well. It is not because of you that I can’t take it off. It is because of me, because of who I am—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted.

Strange how this was true. Whereas last time his refusal had ignited her anger, now she found it a relief to have that small barrier between them. To set limits during her exploration of uncharted territory. Not seeing his face made everything less personal…and less potentially painful if this proved to be yet another bad decision on her part.

He drew his brows together. “It doesn’t?”

“This is a one-night liaison, not a relationship,” she said firmly. “And you’re not the only one wearing a mask this eve. I’ll keep mine on as well.”

His shoulders eased; he released a breath that she hadn’t realized he was holding. He brought his hand to her face again, his long fingers trailing along her jawbone and down her throat, the careful, callused touch tightening and loosening everything inside her simultaneously. She swallowed as he cupped the back of her neck, bringing her closer. Close enough to feel the heat radiating between them.

“Pity to keep something so beautiful hidden,” he murmured. “Then again, you have countless other attractions to unwrap.”

Anticipation made her light-headed as he bent his head. Yet he stopped, a sliver of space between them…and she realized that he was waiting. For her to affirm her choice. She tipped her mouth up, searching out his. The velvety warm contact elicited a sound from her, between a sigh and a moan. This was what she’d been longing for since the last time.

Heavens, the man could kiss.

During her marriage, kissing had become a perfunctory gesture. A peck of greeting or a routine prelude to bedding. But Cull…he kissed her as if he wanted to do it forever. As if there was no other end, nothing he wanted more than just to have his mouth on hers.

Her fervor matched his. When he licked at the seam of her mouth, she invited him in. The hot, bold thrust of his entry mimicked another act that would soon follow, and she shivered from head to toe. If kissing felt this good…

He took his time exploring her mouth. His male taste had an unexpected burst of peppermint. Dentifrice, she realized. She found it oddly endearing that he’d taken the effort to make himself agreeable to her. Not that he’d needed to: kissing him was addictive, his masculine flavor tinder to her fire. She wanted more of him, everything…

“Turn around,” he murmured against her lips.

She did, bracing her hands against the wall. The black flock of the paper teased her palms as he unfastened her dress. There was reverence in the way he freed her from the constriction of buttons and laces, as he revealed her layer by layer. When she was down to her chemise and stockings, he kissed her nape, and her silk-covered toes curled with desperate wanting.

He moved closer, sandwiching her between the wall and his brawny frame. The sensation of being surrounded by hardness was delicious. The weight of his manhood pressed into the small of her back, the heft of his virility causing her to dampen with anticipation.

When he suckled her earlobe, her head fell back against his shoulder.

“Arms up, love,” he murmured. “Time to show me what I’ve been waiting on all these years.”

She raised her shaking limbs, and he pulled the chemise over her head. Now she was naked, save for her stockings, and bashfulness crept over her. She was no virgin, but she’d only been with her husband, and he’d never made her feel this…exposed.

“Turn for me, sunshine.”

Inhaling, she did. Cull’s hot, appreciative glance burned away her inhibitions.

“I didn’t think it possible, but you’re even lovelier than I imagined.” His voice was both rough and soft, like the flock of the wallpaper against her spine.

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, and an odd noise left her.

He gave a husky laugh. “That sound is almost as pretty as you are. Shall we see what else makes you purr?”

He took her hands, pressing them to the wall above her head. His kiss was slow and intoxicating. His brawny, fully clothed chest rubbed against her nipples, setting off sparks of bliss. Wanting more of that exquisite abrasion, she pressed herself against him.

“Impatient minx,” he breathed against her ear. “I’ll get to those pretty tits of yours. Be warned, however: I plan to suckle them thoroughly.”

Heavens.

He took his sweet time getting there…not that she was complaining. He lavished attention on her ears and neck, dragging his tongue along her throat. She let out a surprised gasp when he spun her around again. Her palms flattened against the wall as he winnowed out sensation from parts of her she didn’t know were designed for pleasure: the slopes of her shoulder blades, the length of her spine. He explored each vertebra with his tongue until she was trembling like an autumn leaf clinging to a branch.

He didn’t stop there. Going down on one knee, he turned his attention to her garters. He undid them one by one, kissing the marks they left before unrolling the silk down her calves.

Rising, he murmured, “Now spread these long, beautiful legs for me.”

Pressed against the wall, her cheek burned, but she did as he asked. When his fingers delved into her intimate folds, she whimpered.

“Jesus wept, you’re drenched.” A growl entered his voice. “I wager you could come for me right now, couldn’t you?”

He probed deeper, finding her secret bud of sensation, rubbing it with demanding strokes that arched her back. Goodness, the way he caressed her…it was far better than her own furtive fumbling. Far better than anything she’d experienced. Pleasure gathered inside her, building and building.

“That’s right. Ride my hand, love,” he urged. “Work that sweet pussy until you spend for me.”

His wicked words and skillful touch unraveled her control. She soared to a pinnacle then went over the edge, floating on gusts of ecstasy. Then she suddenly...plummeted. Shivering, disoriented, undone, she felt too good…too much. The release broke a dam inside her.

Cull nipped her earlobe. “Now that we have that out of the way, time for me to sample your delectable nipples…”

He turned her around just as emotions began pouring from her. A powerful flood she couldn’t stop. Before she knew what was happening, a sob escaped.

“Pippa?” Cull’s eyes blazed with concern. “What’s amiss, love? Was I…was I too rough?”

She shook her head but couldn’t stop the sounds crowding up her throat. Couldn’t stop what she was feeling or explain it. Couldn’t do anything but weep. He removed her mask, and too overwhelmed to stop him, she looked away. She didn’t want him to see her exposed and pathetic and hurting. Her tears would probably send him running.

Better to be the one to leave.

“I…I have to go…” She reached blindly for her clothes.

And was pulled against Cull’s chest, his burly arms holding her securely.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said gruffly. “It’s all right, sunshine. Let it out.”

It wasn’t all right. But the fact that he said that it was—that he was here—tore down her remaining defenses. Knowing she had a safe harbor, she surrendered to the torrent.