At home, she ordered a bath, noting that they had an hour until supper.
Luke asked if he might have one after hers, and the maids acquiesced.
Strolling upstairs, Belle’s courtesan demeanor settled over her. An added sway showed in her hips when she walked. Her movements were more languid, soft and smooth. A brush of her hair off her shoulder, a lick of her lips. She sank into her alterego, enjoying the swish of her inner thighs brushing, the scratch of her chemise and stays against her breasts.
After her bath, she asked the servants to light extra candles in the dining room and donned one of her most provocative gowns. Cut as demurely as any day dress, it was an innocent ecru with embroidered flowers on the cap sleeves, empire waistline, and hem. But without stays or undergarments, the imported raw silk was lightweight enough to allow the shadows of her cleavage and areola to be visible in the right light. She’d also checked the rear view, and sure enough, the cleft of her bottom and shake of her cheeks were perceptible. Bringing him upstairs could prove entertaining, providing he did not trip.
With the front of her hair pinned off her face, she left the rest to curl around her shoulders and made her way to the stairs. Still in persona, she trailed her fingers along the banister as she meandered downward.
Lounging in her dining chair, she sipped the glass of wine she’d requested be brought from the root cellar and waited for her next conquest. Her nipples were pebbled in eagerness, and she crossed her legs to provide a bite of pressure to the swollen flesh between her thighs.
Luke rounded the doorway with a smile, saying, “What shall we—” His voice stalled as he caught sight of her.
Belle lifted a brow and smiled, arching her back a fraction more.
He gaped at her, stumbling the last step forward to grip his chairback with a white-knuckled hand.
“Sit. Aren’t you hungry?” she asked through her lingering grin.
“I am most definitely hungry.” He sat with a thump, still staring and making it obvious what he wished to eat. His gaze kept dipping, but he brought it back to meet hers each time.
How sweet. He is at least trying to keep his eyes on my face.He was so gentlemanly and mature about respecting women. And now about owning his future and avoiding delinquency in the gaming hells. He’d make an excellent husband.
For someone else.
He shook his head, closing his eyes once. But as soon as they opened, they returned to roam her form.
She might have to rethink the stairs for fear he’d hurt himself. After all, having him precede her would provide a delectable view.
Belle had asked the housekeeper to keep their meal short and sweet. Thus the soup course had been skipped, and they were served a vegetable pie and mild sausages. She asked Luke to pass the breadbasket, forcing him to look at her again as he did so. She swiped the bread through the liquid from the pie and ate it. Putting the remaining piece down, she sucked her thumb into her mouth as though it had sauce on it.
He stared, knife and fork in hand, unused.
Her tongue curled out around her thumb, then she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard. While her movements were designed for show, she kept imagining his cock in place of her thumb and wanted to squirm in her chair. Releasing the digit with a pop, she moved to her forefinger.
His eyes shuttered. Placing his fork down, his hand dipped below the table, likely to adjust himself in his trousers.
Perfect.
“What were you saying when you came in?” she asked, testing whether he wanted to discuss the revelations of the day or his reaction to them. Unfair, perhaps, when she’d already distracted him, but if he had any concerns, she’d rather know them now.
“I cannot recall,” he said, twisting his head side to side. His gaze slid to the shadows outlined against her bodice.
“Right, then. Is the food to your liking?” She frowned. He’d managed only a single bite, and she rather hoped he’d need his strength later.
“I am enjoying the meal, thank you.”
She smiled at the innuendo and managed another forkful, although she could not taste the food for want of tasting him.
After three more bites, his chair scraped back. He stood, reaching for her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Come. I’ve had enough. I prefer to have my next course—and given your attention to your thumb, perhaps yours—in the bedroom.”
Off-balance, Belle followed him. At his gesture, she preceded him up the stairs. This was unscripted territory. Always before, if she took the role of seductress, it was either agreed upon beforehand or the client followed her lead, enjoying being the center of the interaction.
She was so distracted she forgot to add seduction to her movements. Nonetheless, she heard a groan from a few steps below her. He’d caught sight of her rear moving under the diaphanous fabric.
