Page 47 of The Notorious Lady

Devil take it. Witnessing her pleasure was even better than experiencing his own. He wondered what it would feel like to come with her body surrounding him, pulsing around his length.

His cock jumped in approval at the thought, and he stifled a bitter chuckle. He wasn’t certain that reality would ever come true.

* * *

The journey in the carriage back was fraught with tension. Something had shifted between them. And Grace didn’t want to start the conversation to figure out exactly what had changed.

On her part, her emotions were in tumult.

Grace had been a young girl when she’d been forced into the world of brothels. She didn’t want to remember that time. After being sheltered for all her life and then thrust into the world of depravity—it almost killed her. Sometimes she wished it had. Yet she’d survived. She’d spent years after that trying to find meaning in what had happened. Some validation for the things she had gone through. She had tried to understand how physical relationships between men and women were supposed to work. But she could not. It was only years later, at Hades’ Hell, when she had a chance to speak to women more experienced in life that she started to come to terms with everything that had happened to her. And she’d learned how it was possible to create a brothel where the workers were not forced to do their job. Where they understood what was demanded of them. Where they had a voice—the power to say no. The power to choose what they’d say yes to.

And more importantly, where they were adult women who enjoyed their chosen profession, or at the very least, weren’t afraid of it.

Thanks to those women, she had learned that there was far more to desire than just sharing a bed with someone. There was nuance to desire. Shades of colors from pink to black.

There were people who were shunned for their needs, their wants, their preferences. And she had built the kind of brothel that would welcome them all. She wanted to give people freedom to express themselves, but also, she wanted to protect the harlots.

She also wanted to assuage her curiosity about all the things she’d wished she’d known before she was so ruthlessly dropped into the world of depravity. She wanted the chance to learn more about this murky world and dip her toes in it without drowning.

Thus she created The House of Pain and Pleasure to merge all her goals. And it worked.

It was a safe place all harlots flocked to. It was a popular destination for the rich and powerful. Their clientele and the services they had offered expanded greatly. And she felt good about it. She wasn’t afraid of brothels, of pleasure, or anything anymore.

It was her safe haven.

She had studied the art of seduction. She watched people explore their desires. She thought herself a master of pleasure.

That is why her earlier experience with Ford had been so confusing.

She had known how this act was performed. Had seen it numerous times. Had partaken in it—although she wished to forget those memories. But this was different.

She had never felt this closeness, this strange pull toward a person before.

And the pull had only intensified after tonight.

She wanted him.

She wanted to bathe in his warmth, to taste his skin, his lips… She wanted to be wrapped in his arms.

And this was a dangerous feeling.

She couldn’t let him see how he affected her.

But she wouldn’t be able to hide it forever.

The truth was simple. This charade had gone on long enough. She had to let him go.

The carriage lurched to a stop. They’d spent the entire ride without speaking to each other, without even looking at each other.

Ford hopped out of the carriage and helped her out, his fingers enveloping hers in the first contact they’d had since they left that room in Porter’s house. He held on to her hand longer than was necessary. Finally, he met her gaze. “Would you like to come inside?”

Yes!

Her heart screamed, and her body jolted in response, ready to spring into his arms again.

But she could feel how much strength it took him to ask this. Their earlier interlude was just that. A blind act of passion. He’d brought her to heights of pleasure she’d never felt possible. And now he wanted more. Even as he’d embraced her in the dark room, stroking her back in the aftermath of her orgasm, she’d felt the hardness between his legs.

He wanted her.