How to Live Indecently by Bronwyn Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

the bed and sat down on the bed’s edge. “I’m glad you came.” It was too early for goodbyes. He wouldn’t start saying farewell to her just yet. “Let’s get you dressed.”
    * * *
    Jamie made the most decadent of ladies’ maids, a fact driven home by his rather erotic rolling of her stockings. The white silk came up high on her thighs, Jamie’s hands stroking the sensitive inner part of her legs ever so slightly, his thumbs skimming the tender flesh of her nether regions. A delicious tremor shot through her.
    “You’re doing that on purpose.” Daphne murmured.
    “You like it.” Jamie’s thumb pressed upon her in a most carnal caress. There was no doubt of it. His every touch could reduce her to bonelessness. “There is another pleasure I could show you if you’d allow me.”
    He’d asked. As if there was any question of not allowing it. But she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Lie back, Daphne, and open to me.” Jamie knelt between her legs, a posture not all that different than the one he’d already assumed to help with her stockings, but stockings were quickly forgotten in the wake of the gentling breath he blew against her, the breath a reminder that she was already damp in expectation. His mouth found the core of her, a well-hidden pearl within the shell of womanhood.
    His tongue flicked over the tiny pearl, coaxing her toward pleasure with each wicked pass and she claimed it, letting the thrill, the elation wash over her.
    * * *
    Afterward, she let Jamie help her with her dress and shoes, let him strap the knife on her leg while her thoughts wandered freely in her mind. Never had she imagined such decadence existed, that her body was capable of finding such pleasure. Neither did she fool herself that such pleasure could be had at any time or with anyone.
    They took a last look around the room for anything they may have forgotten. Ridiculous tears started in her eyes at the prospect of leaving. It was a shabby room, although it had been clean. By the light of day the shabbiness would be more pronounced. She was glad she wouldn’t be there to see it. It was absolutely silly to cry over a cheap room designed to be used for cheap pleasures. But it was the place she’d been with Jamie. It was the place where she’d proven to herself pleasure was possible in the arms of a man. Maybe Jamie was right. Maybe nothing was impossible.
    Jamie rubbed an errant tear away with his thumb. “Don’t be sad, Daphne. The adventure isn’t over.”

Chapter Eight
    The supper room was deserted. It was just after two and the place was in the process of closing. Waiters cleared tables, a few of them nodding as she and Jamie passed through. John Rhodes’s staff had seen to the phaeton and horses. They’d been watered and fed in the interim and were now hitched, ready to go. Jamie tried to pay the sleepy groom, but the man turned away the money.
    “Mr. Rhodes says I’m not to take a shilling from you. There’s a blanket on the seat,” the groom pointed out, “and a swordstick you can borrow, courtesy of Mr. Rhodes. He noticed you didn’t come in with any. He says you and the lady can come back anytime. You’re good for business.”
    “We’re good for business,” Daphne repeated, tucking her hand through Jamie’s arm as the phaeton pulled out onto the street. “I wonder how much money a song-and-supper girl makes?”
    “If you’re popular you can make enough to live on as long as your standards aren’t too high, and you can always count on one free meal.”
    “Let’s do it,” Daphne said firmly. “Let’s run away and be supper-room entertainers. We’ll eat oysters and dance on tables every night.” And when its closing time, we’ll go home to our one-room flat and make love until the sun comes up not caring a whit for all the trappings of Mayfair we’ve left behind. She left the last part unspoken. Jamie didn’t strike her as a man who would eschew responsibility permanently. Sooner or