Read Online Lessons and Lovers by Portia Da Costa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Portia Da Costa
Ads: Link
trying not to dwell on Starr’s impenetrable foibles and idiosyncratic standards of what was correct and proper.
“He’s a very private man, Darryl, and he likes to observe certain protocols,” she continued, swirling her finger around the base of her glass, “Although God knows why he thinks dining with me is improper when he’s perfectly happy to—”
Good God, what am I saying?
She hesitated, but Darryl’s eyes were wide and bright and his silence tacitly urged her to continue.
“Well, he’s a bit more than just a servant, Darryl,” she murmured, blushing again.
“I know. I can tell.”
“It’s… It’s difficult to explain. I—” She studied the fine crystal pattern of the glass, unable to face him.
“There’s nothing to explain, Hettie,” Darryl replied softly, his strange composure throbbing in every syllable. “You need him and you’re fond of him, and it’s obvious he worships the ground you walk on. And neither of you owe me any explanations.” His long brown hand slid over her paler, more slender one. “I’m the one who’s in debt here. You’ve let me come into your house when a guest is the last thing you need.”
“But, Darryl—”
“It’s okay, Hettie,” he whispered, stunning her all over again by lifting her hand to his lips.
His mouth barely brushed her skin but it had all the impact of a real kiss.
Hettie bit back a gasp of confusion—as much from the import of Darryl’s words as from the contact between his mouth and the back of her hand.
Does Starr worship me?
She knew he felt something for her, but the wall he built between them was so hard to breach. It was so impossible to tell precisely what was going on with him, even in the throes of sexual passion. He almost always cried out her name as he climaxed, but it was never long before he reverted back to his usual respectful yet iron-clad emotional distance. He was like a perfect male robot, programmed to serve her. A beautiful, intuitive, thoughtful and sexually inventive robot certainly, but still one following a very stringent code of conduct.
“Goodnight, Hettie. Please don’t think I’m rude, but I feel very tired again.”
Hettie snapped back to full consciousness, realizing that Darryl was already taking his leave of her. She’d been so busy wool-gathering about Starr again that she hadn’t noticed that Darryl had relinquished her hand and was already on his feet.
“Goodnight, Hettie. And thanks for everything.” His gaze flicked down his own body and he grinned impishly, then with a spin like a dancer’s he turned and was through the door and gone before she’d even framed her answer.
“What’s the matter with me?”
Alone and frustrated, Hettie prowled her room.
What’s happening to me?
One day she was a grieving widow, mourning the loss of a husband she’d loved deeply. The next she was some kind of insatiable sexual glutton, experiencing random pangs of lust and totally unable to organize her feelings or formulate any kind of plan that would help her resolve them.
I’ll have to say something soon…or I’ll go mad!
And yet she hardly dare think about her tall blond servant. Her relationship with him was already mutating faster than she could cope with. Nursing Piers, then mourning him, had allowed her to compartmentalize her peculiar interactions with Starr. But now that the keenest pain of loss was ebbing things weren’t so clear-cut.
For her, and maybe for Starr too. She thought about the massage. He’d come to her during the daytime—and taken her so hungrily she could still feel the effects of it.
What was all that about, Mr. Iceman? You broke a rule, Starr. Not mine…one of your own.
The resumption of sex between them had been a huge catalyst. It was no use fooling herself. It wasn’t as if she’d stopped missing Piers all of a sudden. She did miss him, but she’d been brought back to full sexual life again. She was a mass of surging hunger, and wild to fuck. It
“He’s a very private man, Darryl, and he likes to observe certain protocols,” she continued, swirling her finger around the base of her glass, “Although God knows why he thinks dining with me is improper when he’s perfectly happy to—”
Good God, what am I saying?
She hesitated, but Darryl’s eyes were wide and bright and his silence tacitly urged her to continue.
“Well, he’s a bit more than just a servant, Darryl,” she murmured, blushing again.
“I know. I can tell.”
“It’s… It’s difficult to explain. I—” She studied the fine crystal pattern of the glass, unable to face him.
“There’s nothing to explain, Hettie,” Darryl replied softly, his strange composure throbbing in every syllable. “You need him and you’re fond of him, and it’s obvious he worships the ground you walk on. And neither of you owe me any explanations.” His long brown hand slid over her paler, more slender one. “I’m the one who’s in debt here. You’ve let me come into your house when a guest is the last thing you need.”
“But, Darryl—”
“It’s okay, Hettie,” he whispered, stunning her all over again by lifting her hand to his lips.
His mouth barely brushed her skin but it had all the impact of a real kiss.
Hettie bit back a gasp of confusion—as much from the import of Darryl’s words as from the contact between his mouth and the back of her hand.
Does Starr worship me?
She knew he felt something for her, but the wall he built between them was so hard to breach. It was so impossible to tell precisely what was going on with him, even in the throes of sexual passion. He almost always cried out her name as he climaxed, but it was never long before he reverted back to his usual respectful yet iron-clad emotional distance. He was like a perfect male robot, programmed to serve her. A beautiful, intuitive, thoughtful and sexually inventive robot certainly, but still one following a very stringent code of conduct.
“Goodnight, Hettie. Please don’t think I’m rude, but I feel very tired again.”
Hettie snapped back to full consciousness, realizing that Darryl was already taking his leave of her. She’d been so busy wool-gathering about Starr again that she hadn’t noticed that Darryl had relinquished her hand and was already on his feet.
“Goodnight, Hettie. And thanks for everything.” His gaze flicked down his own body and he grinned impishly, then with a spin like a dancer’s he turned and was through the door and gone before she’d even framed her answer.
“What’s the matter with me?”
Alone and frustrated, Hettie prowled her room.
What’s happening to me?
One day she was a grieving widow, mourning the loss of a husband she’d loved deeply. The next she was some kind of insatiable sexual glutton, experiencing random pangs of lust and totally unable to organize her feelings or formulate any kind of plan that would help her resolve them.
I’ll have to say something soon…or I’ll go mad!
And yet she hardly dare think about her tall blond servant. Her relationship with him was already mutating faster than she could cope with. Nursing Piers, then mourning him, had allowed her to compartmentalize her peculiar interactions with Starr. But now that the keenest pain of loss was ebbing things weren’t so clear-cut.
For her, and maybe for Starr too. She thought about the massage. He’d come to her during the daytime—and taken her so hungrily she could still feel the effects of it.
What was all that about, Mr. Iceman? You broke a rule, Starr. Not mine…one of your own.
The resumption of sex between them had been a huge catalyst. It was no use fooling herself. It wasn’t as if she’d stopped missing Piers all of a sudden. She did miss him, but she’d been brought back to full sexual life again. She was a mass of surging hunger, and wild to fuck. It
Similar Books
