Improper Relations by Juliana Ross

Author:Juliana Ross
Language: ara, eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

He left before breakfast the next morning. For the first fortnight of his absence I was untroubled; he’d said he might be gone as long as a week or two. My duties with Aunt Augusta kept me occupied during the day, and though I was bothered by frequent twinges of desire, no one around me seemed to notice. When my drawers caught and pulled against my cunny, making me gasp, I had the presence of mind to cough. Soon I was coughing often enough that Aunt Augusta ordered me dosed with her syrup for catarrh, a most unpleasant experience indeed.

The rasp of my chemise against my nipples was an even worse torment. Every time I moved, it seemed, I could feel them stiffening against the linen, and images of Leo at my breast, suckling and nipping and tickling, would pop into my brain, no matter what else I was doing.

At first I resisted the act of self-pleasure that Leo had shown me, certain I could wait for his return. But a third week passed, then a fourth, with no word from him, and I grew frantic with worry and suppressed desire. Had he tired of me already? Perhaps he’d found another lover, a woman of experience who knew how to please him.

Soon I was waking in the middle of the night, my sheets and nightgown in a tangle around my legs, the place between my legs throbbing with need. It was unbearable—I could wait no longer—so I did as he’d shown me. When the great house was dark and silent and cold each night, I would hide under my bedcovers, close my eyes and allow myself to dream.

As I touched myself I thought of his cock in my hands and in my mouth, and I remembered the feel of his mouth between my legs, licking and sucking at me until I came. In my fantasies I became Ida, and he was bending me over the table in the library, pulling my skirts out of the way, pushing roughly into me, fucking me soundly, and the sight of it, behind my clenched-tight eyes, gave me orgasms night after night.

But then, after the beauty of my release had dulled and died, I would still be alone in my cold, drafty room, shivering alone in my bed, and I would miss him more than ever. I’d never been more lonely, never more alone.

And then, as my hope faded to twilight, Leo returned.

I had no knowledge, no presentiment of his arrival—he was simply there, one morning at breakfast, exactly thirty-eight days after he had left. Ignoring me, as I knew he had to do. Or perhaps it reflected a change of heart.

I murmured a good morning to all, curtsied to the marquess and seated myself at some distance from the others. Plucking a slice of toast from the rack at my end of the table, I introduced the merest glaze of marmalade to its surface and ate as quickly as good manners allowed.

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