keep his word, although he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. This would be a breakfast Julia Prentiss would not soon forget.
Julia sat cross-legged on a pile of colorful pillows in the middle of the floor, securely garbed in a satin robe Paine had generously loaned her from his wardrobe. Paine lounged next to her, propped on an elbow, and dressed only in a pair of thin silk Indian-styled trousers, having forgone the wool trousers he’d worn out to find breakfast. He peeled a section of orange and offered it up to her, creating the effect that he was a loyal squire serving his queen. Having such a handsome man staring at her in overt adoration, serving her every need, was highly intoxicating.
It was also highly hazardous. She almost believed she was a queen when he stared at her thus, almost believed a host of other things, too: that last night had been more than a discharge of a duty, a fulfilment of a contract between them; that he’d felt what she’d felt at the end; that he’d stolen her dress and conjured up the forfeit because he didn’t want her to go. Most dangerous of all, that there was something real between them, that their night together didn’t have to end. That was the biggest folly of all.
‘I love oranges. We seldom have them in the country except at Christmas,’ Julia confessed, using a finger to wipe an errant dribble of juice from her chin.
‘They taste better when someone else feeds them to you.’ Paine hoisted himself up to take her head in his lap. He looked down at her with a soft expression in his blue eyes that did strange things to her stomach. He could feed her worms for all she’d care when he looked at her like that—as if she was a divine goddess and he a devout worshipper. This man was far more rakish, far more seductive than any rumour had suggested. He was a consummate master at his trade.
‘Is it always like this?’ She arched her neck back to see all of his handsome visage staring down at her.
‘No, hardly.’ He held a succulent orange slice over her mouth and made a show of gently squeezing sweet drops of juice on her lips. Julia felt her breasts tighten in analogy, remembering the way he’d manipulated her nipples with soft pressure until they’d been erect with need.
‘I can see why,’ Julia said softly. ‘If such pleasure was so readily available, I doubt anyone would get much of anything done.’ She blushed at her own frankness and Paine laughed again, popping another slice of orange in her mouth.
‘How is it that you are privy to such carnal knowledge?’ Julia asked between bites.
‘I shouldn’t tell you. A master never shares his secrets,’ Paine flirted. ‘But I can hardly have you walking around London thinking just anyone can do this.’ He dribbled juice on her lips. She flicked her tongue across her lips to gather the juice and heard him groan at the action, a low throaty groan that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pleasure. It was a small, thrilling piece of power to think such a simple motion could affect a man of his experience.
He offered her a slice of orange dipped in ground sugar, sliding it into her open mouth and letting her suck the juice from it. She closed her eyes and sucked hard, wholly unaware at how the sight of her savouring the rare treat with abject delight was pushing the limits of Paine’s restraint. His hand clenched in her hair.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, recognising the intensity of the need mirrored in his gaze. He wanted her. His eyes said it. His body said it. She was sharply alert to the intimacy of his lap, the thinness of the silk fabric. She had only to turn her head slightly to encounter the full dimension of his rock-hard manhood. Julia thought of the orange slice, of its slightly phallus-like shape, of sucking the juice from it. Would Paine like that? The look in his eyes suggested he would. Hesitantly, Julia turned her head. She parted her lips and mouthed him through his trousers.
Paine gave a sharp gasp at the contact. She drew back, worried the idea wasn’t to his liking after all. ‘Don’t stop, Julia, don’t stop,’ he pleaded, a gentle hand urging her head back to his straining member.
Julia was giddy with power. She sucked hard until Paine made no effort to confine his satisfaction to groans, but gave full vent to his enjoyment with loud cries.
‘Julia, pull it out, let me be in you.’ He panted, close to his end.
Julia found the hidden slit in his trousers and pulled free the swollen member, slick with its own juices. Her hand clenched about its tip, revelling in what she had wrought. She reached over his head for the trifle box he’d used last night and rummaged quickly for a sheath.
‘Now, straddle me, Julia.’ Paine instructed, helping her to roll the thin sheath over his sex. ‘Take me inside you and ride.’
Julia lowered herself on to him, exhaling in wonderment as she slid on him. He was so large, much larger than she’d thought last night. Yet he fit perfectly, filling up the space inside her. She began her motions and he joined her in a seamless rocking rhythm that teased her, then ultimately fulfilled her as she found the place she’d found last night, soaring in Paine’s arms. He drew her down to him as he shuddered his own release, muffling his cries in her shoulder.
They lay together, their breathing slowing in unison as the initial power of climaxing ebbed. Julia wanted to stay clasped against him, warm and sated in his arms, for ever. Reality intruded. If she moved, breakfast would be over. She would have to go. But she no longer wanted to.
She wanted to stay. She wanted to feel this pleasure he’d awoken in her again and again. She didn’t imagine such pleasure could be found with Oswalt. She fought a shudder. The horror of doing such intimate things with him escalated against the backdrop of what she’d shared with Paine Ramsden.
‘Are you cold?’ Paine reached for a throw to wrap about them, misinterpreting the reason for her shudder.
Julia searched for a way to prolong the moment, the minutes of their time together. ‘You have not answered my question yet.’
‘Mmm.’ Paine breathed into her hair sounding like a well contented man. ‘There are studies, sutras, in India that teach men and women about sexual congress. Each person has a different task, a different function in the act. There are such teachings in China as well. Remember my cabinet with the yin and yang symbol?’ He shifted Julia to the side and wrapped an arm about her, warming to his subject. She waited for him to continue, her curiosity getting the better of her at the idea of such studies.
‘In China, the man is the yin and the woman is the yang. It’s the man’s task, through lovemaking, to make the woman give up her essence, her yang, without losing his own yin to attain it. When a woman climaxes, her essence is surrendered.’
Julia punched him in the shoulder. ‘That sounds completely arrogant and not so enjoyable for the man if he can’t—what did you call it? Climax?’ She tried out the new word.
‘That’s the whole point,’ Paine instructed. ‘Attaining a woman’s yang without climaxing yourself makes you strong and it increases your life. It’s the mark of a skilled male to be able to claim such discipline. There’s tales of men being able to have congress with up to fourteen women before releasing their yin.’
Julia levered up on one arm and searched his face quizzically. ‘Last night, and just now, did you, uh, steal my yang, as it were?’ She’d felt that he’d held back nothing, as had she. It would be a private disappointment to learn she’d been cheated in a fashion.
Paine smiled. ‘No, my enchantress. I gave up as much as I took.’ Paine folded his arms behind his head.
‘So you’ve taken my
