Read Online The Mysterious Mr. Heath by Ariel Atwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ariel Atwell
Tags: historical regency
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more than an hour past the normal time, earning a curious look from Peters, her new private secretary.
“Are you quite all right, sir?” Peters asked.
“Of course I am all right,” she snapped. “Just because I am a bit later than usual doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong.”
“Of course not, sir,” said Peters. “But it is unusual for you to miss an appointment, although Lord Wickham was quite understanding. I’ve rescheduled him for next week. In the afternoon.”
Damn. She had totally forgotten about that one. “Thank you, Peters. You may go now.”
“Yes, sir,” said Peters, bowing and leaving her in solitude.
Two hours later, Laurence admitted defeat. She had read the same paragraph in the document she was supposed to be reviewing at least five times now and not absorbed a single word. It was damnably difficult to pay attention to the finer points of contract law when erotic memories of Matthew Hastings kept dancing through her brain.
He had looked so delectably handsome in her bed that morning, even when Martin arrived and Matthew had to hastily grab his clothing and tiptoe across the hallway back to his own room.
Just thinking about the feel of him inside of her body was enough to send shivers down her spine. How was she expected to wait an entire day to be alone with him again? It was absolute torture.
There came a gentle knock, and Laurence looked up from the papers she wasn’t reading to see Peters peering at her from around her office door with a rather tentative look.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Heath, but Mr. Hastings has asked to speak with you briefly about the Worrell case. Is now a good time, sir?”
“Show him in,” she directed, her pulse quickening.
“Good morning, Mr. Heath,” was Matthew’s greeting several long minutes later, his cheery tone containing no trace of anything even remotely untoward. The memories plaguing her seemed to be having no noticeable impact on him, she thought peevishly.
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings,” she said crisply. “You wish to see me?”
He shut the door and walked toward her in a most purposeful way. “I wish to do far more than that.” He took her into his arms with the kiss of a man starved a million years for affection. His large hands snaked down behind her back to grasp the cheeks of her bottom and pull her even more closely. “I also wish to hold you and lick you and bury myself deep within you.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she said even as she reveled in the feel and taste of him. “If someone should walk in and discover us, we would both be ruined.”
“It might almost be worth it, for I have been unable to focus on anything all morning for wanting you again,” he said, before reclaiming her lips for another long kiss. She felt his hands fumbling at her waist, and before she realized what he was doing, her trousers were unfastened and down to her ankles. His clever fingers wasted no time delving into the soft folds of sensitive flesh between her legs until she gasped.
“Matthew, you really must stop,” she whispered urgently but to no avail.
“I cannot stop,” he said. “God, you’re so wet for me already.”
She tried one more time to tell him to cease, but again the words got lost in her throat as his fingers surged in and out of her, stoking her into a frenzy of need.
He nipped her ear with his teeth. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” she said. When he pulled his fingers away, she moaned in protest.
“Let’s find out if I do,” he said, walking her backward toward the large mahogany desk in the center of the room.
He spun her around until she was bent over, her arms resting on the desk, her backside tilted up and vulnerable to him.
“You look so beautiful right now. It is all I can do to restrain myself, for I want to take you in the most shockingly base and animalistic way.” He slide his finger down between the cheeks of her ass. “Will you let me have you
“Are you quite all right, sir?” Peters asked.
“Of course I am all right,” she snapped. “Just because I am a bit later than usual doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong.”
“Of course not, sir,” said Peters. “But it is unusual for you to miss an appointment, although Lord Wickham was quite understanding. I’ve rescheduled him for next week. In the afternoon.”
Damn. She had totally forgotten about that one. “Thank you, Peters. You may go now.”
“Yes, sir,” said Peters, bowing and leaving her in solitude.
Two hours later, Laurence admitted defeat. She had read the same paragraph in the document she was supposed to be reviewing at least five times now and not absorbed a single word. It was damnably difficult to pay attention to the finer points of contract law when erotic memories of Matthew Hastings kept dancing through her brain.
He had looked so delectably handsome in her bed that morning, even when Martin arrived and Matthew had to hastily grab his clothing and tiptoe across the hallway back to his own room.
Just thinking about the feel of him inside of her body was enough to send shivers down her spine. How was she expected to wait an entire day to be alone with him again? It was absolute torture.
There came a gentle knock, and Laurence looked up from the papers she wasn’t reading to see Peters peering at her from around her office door with a rather tentative look.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Heath, but Mr. Hastings has asked to speak with you briefly about the Worrell case. Is now a good time, sir?”
“Show him in,” she directed, her pulse quickening.
“Good morning, Mr. Heath,” was Matthew’s greeting several long minutes later, his cheery tone containing no trace of anything even remotely untoward. The memories plaguing her seemed to be having no noticeable impact on him, she thought peevishly.
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings,” she said crisply. “You wish to see me?”
He shut the door and walked toward her in a most purposeful way. “I wish to do far more than that.” He took her into his arms with the kiss of a man starved a million years for affection. His large hands snaked down behind her back to grasp the cheeks of her bottom and pull her even more closely. “I also wish to hold you and lick you and bury myself deep within you.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she said even as she reveled in the feel and taste of him. “If someone should walk in and discover us, we would both be ruined.”
“It might almost be worth it, for I have been unable to focus on anything all morning for wanting you again,” he said, before reclaiming her lips for another long kiss. She felt his hands fumbling at her waist, and before she realized what he was doing, her trousers were unfastened and down to her ankles. His clever fingers wasted no time delving into the soft folds of sensitive flesh between her legs until she gasped.
“Matthew, you really must stop,” she whispered urgently but to no avail.
“I cannot stop,” he said. “God, you’re so wet for me already.”
She tried one more time to tell him to cease, but again the words got lost in her throat as his fingers surged in and out of her, stoking her into a frenzy of need.
He nipped her ear with his teeth. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” she said. When he pulled his fingers away, she moaned in protest.
“Let’s find out if I do,” he said, walking her backward toward the large mahogany desk in the center of the room.
He spun her around until she was bent over, her arms resting on the desk, her backside tilted up and vulnerable to him.
“You look so beautiful right now. It is all I can do to restrain myself, for I want to take you in the most shockingly base and animalistic way.” He slide his finger down between the cheeks of her ass. “Will you let me have you
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