Page 54 of Whiskers and Wiles

Kat laughed with him still in her mouth, reaching to grab and squeeze his balls when he attempted to thrust deeper. He gasped and went still, allowing her to enjoy him to the fullest. Whereas many women of her acquaintance balked at the idea of pleasuring a man in such a way, Kat had always loved it. It gave her complete power over the man and made him putty in her hands. Or rather, mouth.

Her own sex tightened and pulsed with arousal. She was bathed in pleasure at just the sound of Waldorf’s increasingly wild sounds, his heady scent, and his salty taste. She’d missed him in that way so desperately over the years that she had spent far more time than she should have seeking out just the right instrument to pleasure herself that matched his dimensions precisely.

She did not have to seek that out now. She had the real thing right there, attached to the real man. When she felt he was close, and when she did not wish to wait a moment longer, she climbed over him, letting the bedcovers fall back so that he could feast his eyes on the sight of her naked and aroused body, and held him so that she could bear down and draw him inside of her.

She gasped and panted, vocalizing how good it felt to have him inside her again, stretching and filling her. Waldorf growled with desire, reaching to grab her hips, but only to steady her as she took him in to the hilt, then pulled back to begin to ride him. Every sensation that filled her was a revelation of excitement and remembrance. He had loved when she’d ridden him in the past, and he seemed to love it just as much now.

“Glorious,” he panted. That was the only word he was able to get out as Kat increased her speed and angled herself to get the most pleasure from him.

A thousand memories of nights in the past flooded back to her, and she grabbed her breasts to play with them, pinching her nipples and making them red and pert, because she remembered he liked that. Waldorf, in turn, slipped a hand against her sex rubbing it against her clitoris as she continued to bounce on him, because that had never failed to bring her to completion.

It did not fail now either. Her cries became more and more desperate, until at last, her body burst into bliss and she cried out his name. Wave after wave of pleasure throbbed through her, making her giddy and happier than she’d been in God only knew how long.

The moment her strength began to fade with her orgasm, Waldorf grasped hold of her and deftly flipped their positions without pulling fully out of her. As soon as Kat was on her back, feeling like a puddle of pleasure, he continued to thrust into her, balancing himself above her, until, within a minute, he spilled his seed inside her with a raw, beautiful cry of completion.

After that, the two of them collapsed together in the bed, panting and clinging to each other, as if they’d found something that had been lost for ages but had finally been reclaimed. They had found something they’d been missing for too long. As Kat snuggled against Waldorf, exhausted not just from days, but from years, the seed of hope in her heart that they could reclaim what they’d lost began to sprout and grow.

Seventeen

Never hadan afternoon been spent in such perfection. Waldorf’s heart was light and his body as sated as it’d ever been as he and Kat napped after making love. The moment had been everything he’d dreamed of in his weaker hours—no, his finer hours—for the last twenty years. And after a supper that was likely as mad as the luncheon had been, Waldorf didn’t really notice, he and Kat had returned to their rooms and repeated the afternoon’s delights in his own bed.

He could not have asked for things to wrap themselves up so perfectly if he’d tried. Kat would be his very own again. They could resume the course they had been so wickedly blown off before and be happy together. Kat was not as old as all that, even though she was approaching forty. She might still conceive a child. He could still be a father.

As morning light peeked through the curtains of his guestroom, and whichever of the couples it was on the other side of the wall greeted the new day in their own, unique way, Waldorf smiled himself awake, content with the new chapter of his life.

He would be a better man, a good husband. For, of course, Kat would wish to marry him as soon as they were able. He would provide her with a home and whatever employment she wanted. The two of them might go into business together, combining their wiles and their wits to investigate matters of delicacy for various members of theton. They might engage in the politics of Britannia in some way, campaigning tirelessly for unity. Or they could do both together, and no one would be the wiser.

It was only as an afterthought that Waldorf considered he would avoid the Curse of Godwin Castle by marrying Kat. Let Lawrence and Dunstan fight it out amongst themselves which of them would end up saddled with the wretched place. Waldorf’s money was on Dunstan becoming the unlucky owner. Dunstan already had the very worst of luck of any of them, particularly in love. His late wife had ruined him in more ways than one. Lawrence was too good and too jolly to let a curse affect him, so it would have to be Dunstan.

Waldorf smirked at the thought and turned, reaching for Kat, intent on sharing his thoughts about the family with her. But when his outstretched hand met nothing but cool sheets and he opened his eyes not to find Kat sharing his bed, but a smug-looking Napoleon, who stood as though he believed cats should still be worshiped, staring at him, unimpressed, Waldorf frowned.

“Kat?” he called out, sitting up.

His movements caused Napoleon to leap off the bed and skitter into the other room. Waldorf clutched the bedcovers to his middle, as if Napoleon were a mischievous devil who had only climbed onto the bed in the first place to see his tender bits, and perhaps to play with them as if they were balls of wool.

“Kat? Where have you gone?” he called out again, swinging his legs to the side of the bed to stand.

“I’m just in here,” Kat’s voice sounded through the open doorway, wide awake and with all of her usual, businesslike efficiency.

Waldorf frowned as he reached for the banyan someone, likely Kat, had set out on the chair beside the bed. He robed himself, then walked on bare feet across the cold floor to the doorway separating their two rooms.

Kat was already fully dressed, sitting at the vanity, finishing styling her hair. She was impeccably put together, and from the sharp way she stared at her reflection in the mirror, not a soul would have guessed how free and passionate she had been the evening before.

Waldorf was a bit hurt, if he were honest. His heart had imagined the two of them lying about in bed, kissing and touching, and perhaps repeating the performances of the day before. He’d so enjoyed having her cuddled up to him, humming with contentment. A part of him could not help but feel as though she should continue to be as sweet and affectionate to him as ever, after the new understanding they had come to.

Instead, she glanced at him through the mirror, frowned slightly, and said, “You slept so long I was beginning to think I would have to take Napoleon’s water bowl and toss it over you to wake you.”

Waldorf’s jaw dropped, but no words left his mouth. It was silly of him to be hurt because life was returning to normal. It was selfish of him to imagine that Kat would forgo everything else simply to bask in his presence.

His head and his heart disagreed on that matter.

“It is only just past nine o’clock,” he observed, nodding to the clock on the mantelpiece of Kat’s fireplace.

“Yes, and Lady Walsingham said yesterday that breakfast begins at half-eight, and we should all be finished well beforeten, when the Ordeal of Affection begins.” She sniggered a little as she spoke.

The absurdity of Lady Walsingham’s continued efforts to throw the couples under charge into increasingly ridiculous scenarios went a long way to cure Waldorf of his bruised emotions. “God only knows what that is,” he said, retreating into his bedchamber so he could wash and dress appropriately, and shave, which was not something he’d been required to think about for years.

“Today is the day we must put our all into swaying Lord and Lady Walsingham toward the Mercian Plan,” Kat called to him from her room. “The retreat ends tomorrow, everyone will return to London the day after, and Joint Parliament will open three days after that. This truly is our final chance to redeem ourselves and the cause of unity.” She appeared in the doorway in time to say, “This is our final chance, and we cannot fail this time.”

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