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Now could be as good as she made it.
Manuela moved up until she was straddling Cora again and ran her hands up that beautiful, bronzed skin.
“I am not sure what your plans for me are, Your Grace,” she teased, “But I am not leaving this room until I’ve gotten to lie on that birthday-cake bed of yours.”
“This is why I don’t let anyone in my rooms,” Cora said ruefully, as she lifted herself up to sitting. She kissed Manuela again, deeply, ravenously, and after a long moment, pulled away. “I guess you’ll have to spend the night, then. I can’t send you home under the cover of darkness.”
Manuela nodded in agreement, turning away to hide her very pleased smile. “You know best, Your Grace.”
Sixteen
“Are you certain youdon’t need my help serving the food, Your Grace?”
“It’s quite all right, Marie,” Cora insisted as she lifted the lid of one of the platters on the small table in her sitting room. “This smells divine,” she praised as the scent of freshly baked bread and fried bacon wafted up. Marie nodded in confusion, clearly at a loss over Cora’s sudden enthusiasm regarding food. She was notorious for being indifferent when it came to her nourishment and most mornings missed breakfast entirely, and shenevertook it in her rooms. Today, not only was she famished, but she’d called for it to be served in her sitting room...for two. She bit back a smile thinking of the reason for her mighty appetite this morning.
The luscious, wanton reason who was currently splendidly naked and curled up in the bedchamber. Cora tightened the sash of her robe a bit tighter and grinned at the befuddled maid.
“If I need anything else I will ring,” she instructed the girl, then tipped her head in the direction of the door when she remained frozen in place.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Only after a none-too-discreet peek at Cora’s closed bedchamber doors did Marie finally leave the room.
“Do send the footman with the bag when he returns,” Cora called, but Marie was already gone. Mostly likely on her way downstairs to report on everything she’d seen while delivering the food, including Cora’s orders to send for a change of clothes for Manuela. The mistress’s unusual morning would be enough gossip to keep her house staff buzzing for the rest of the week.
Typically, this was the kind of thing that would send her on a rampage reminding her employees they were paid as generously as they were in order to ensure their restraint when it came to discussing Cora’s comings and goings. Today she couldn’t be bothered. And to be perfectly fair, this morning had been quite out of the ordinary. For one, it was almost eight and Cora was still in her dressing gown instead of on her way back from her morning ride in the Bois de Boulogne. For another, she had an unannounced guest...in her bedroom. Something which had not occurred since...well, ever.
A frisson of unease snaked up her spine at that thought. Not because she worried about any gaffes from her staff but because she was stepping over lines in the sand that had served her well for a long time now.
But the last time she’d done this, she thought she was falling in love. That last time, Sally pretended to be falling in love back. With Manuela, the cards were all on the table. This was no fairy tale. This was two practical women acquiescing to a mutual desire with the full knowledge that there was no possibility beyond a few weeks of very enjoyable evenings. More than enjoyable. She had to admit, even if only to herself, that Manuela had been right to push her.
She’d needed this.
“Sentimentality is not your strong suit, Cora,” she told herself as she poured some coffee into a cup before heading to the bedchamber doors. Anticipation itched under her skin as she turned the handle and was welcomed by a sight that could not be called anything but decadent.
“I was wondering where you’d gone to,” her bedmate protested from the middle of the bed. She was still naked but was clutching the white sheets over her breasts in an attempt at modesty. Cora leaned on the doorway, admiring all that toasted-almond skin. Manuela’s hair was down now, a mass of cinnamon curls cascading down her back and chest. Her eyes smudged with a hint of kohl. Cora was sorely tempted to drop the cup of coffee on the carpet and crawl under the covers to have another taste of her.
“I brought you coffee,” she offered instead, raising the porcelain cup.
“You are an angel,” Manuela said, disappointingly extending only one hand for it.
Instead of handing over the coffee, as she’d intended, Cora took a small sip of it and shook her head. “This is very fine coffee, sweetheart. The best in Paris. I’m going to need an incentive to part with it.” She made sure to be very clear of what she meant byincentivewhen she directed her gaze to Manuela’s chest. It took a moment, but the vixen soon caught up to the bribe.
“That is pure extortion, Your Grace, and I would know,” she said with a wink, even as she let the sheet fall and leaned back on her hands, giving Cora a perfect view of her breasts and lower still.
“That’s much better,” she said approvingly, her mouth suddenly dry as walked over to the bed.
“I have my own requirement too,” Manuela informed her as she took the coffee. She had a sip of the drink with her eyes fixed on Cora then made a circle in the air with her finger. “No robes allowed in this bed.” That advisement was delivered with a particularly heated glance over the rim of the cup that pulled hard at Cora’s core.
“I’m not usually keen on others setting rules in my domain,” she said, undoing the sash on her robe, before letting it slide off her body. The heavily embroidered silk fell with a whoosh by her feet as Manuela watched her heatedly. “Happy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her own hair was down too. Unlike Manuela, hers was very straight and dark and hung down her back in a thick ebony curtain. She usually put it in a braid, but this morning there had been no time.
“Very happy,” Manuela answered, tipping her head back to drink the last of her coffee before stretching to place the empty cup on the table beside the bed. The movement exposed more of her skin, revealing that triangle of kinky curls that made Cora’s mouth water. Manuela’s eyes never left Cora’s body. Without a word she planted her hands flat on the mattress, lifting that delectable, round bottom in the air.
“They brought breakfast,” she said, as Manuela roamed the length of the bed to her. “It’s in the sitting room.”
“That’s not what I’m hungry for,” the heiress answered as she reached Cora at the foot of the bed.
She couldn’t resist sliding her own hand over the curves of Manuela’s back until she reached that plump bottom and took a handful. “What are you hungry for, then?” she asked breathlessly, as her lover kissed her way up, planting gentle kisses on the knee resting on the bed, the inside of her legs. She lifted her gaze as she licked the juncture of Cora’s thighs and palmed her crotch.
“I want this,” Manuela tightened her hand right there, tugging at the thatch of hair, before lowering her head. “Can I have it?” she asked, and the friction of her mouth right there, was enough to make Cora shake with need.
