CONTROL #1: Unmasking Mr. Darcy [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 10.2 : Taste

Asher watched Genevieve take another bite of strawberry shortcake. She wore no lipstick, only a bit of gloss, so it was a surprise to him that he was so mesmerized by the way her lips moved over the confection.

"Do you like it?" he said, leaning closer.

They were seated in chairs in the refreshments room. He'd declined cake, but watching her eat now, he found himself getting hungry. And he wasn't entirely sure if it was cake he was craving.

"Oui. It's very good." She cut a piece with her fork and held it up to his mouth. "Would you like some, Monsieur Blackstone?"

Without taking his eyes off her, he licked his lips and parted them.

Her throat worked nervously, but she slid the piece of cake into his mouth. He kept his gaze hard on her as he chewed and swallowed. "Divine," he murmured.

If he kissed her now, would she taste of strawberries? Champagne? He found himself desperate to know.

He'd spotted Jade earlier, but as he was about to approach, his ex-girlfriend was already talking to her. With an inward groan, he turned away and tried to get away as quickly as he could. It was just his luck that Piper had to be here tonight. Even without meaning to, she'd cock-blocked him. Which was entirely in character, if one thought about it.

But just as he was about to climb back up the mezzanine, he heard a sexy voice speaking French. Genevieve stood alone, wearing a man's evening suit which should have looked ridiculous on her except that it ... didn't. Which was odd. He'd never known himself to be turned on by a cross-dressing woman before. Of course he didn't want to simply assume she was a woman, just because he noticed her breasts straining beautifully against her waistcoat. But she was Mademoiselle Genevieve, she said. And it was then that he noticed his cock was showing more than just a polite interest in this stranger.

It was probably the accent that did it. She may or may not be actually French, but he didn't care. All he knew was he liked the way her tongue made such interesting, sexy sounds. And that he would very much like to do interesting things to that same tongue...

"Would you like more?"

God yes.

"Thank you, no. But I'm very pleased you're enjoying it."

"You will watch me eat, monsieur?"

"My heart desires nothing more." Okay that was cheesy. But he couldn't help it. The fake English accent was making him say the dumbest things, apparently.

The corner of her mouth quirked in amusement, but she just continued eating her cake. "So.. you prefer not to dance," he said.

"Even if I did, I am not quite dressed for it."

"Maybe not for the ball, but if you like, we could dance somewhere more private."

"Is that so?" She licked a bit of icing off her lip. "And would you lead, or shall I?"

"Whatever you wish."

She feigned thoughtfulness. "Hmmm. Perhaps I shall let you lead." She put the fork on the plate, after having polished off the last of the cake. "How private is this place you are taking me?"

"Very." With his thumb, he brushed her now ungloved hand as he took the empty plate from her. "We shall be free to do whatever we like."

To his surprise, she stood up. He stood up as well — he was playing the part of a 19th century gentleman after all. "Lead the way, monsieur."

After calling one of the wait staff to take the dessert plate, he offered her his arm.

Relieved to finally be able to get away from the crowd, he led her out the refreshment room and up the stairs to the mezzanine. Charlie kept a guest room for him on the far end of the wing of the second floor, but he didn't want to scare Genevieve off by whisking her directly to it. The mezzanine was dark, and while they had a good view of the party, if he kept the door locked, no one would disturb them.

"Are we allowed to be here?" Genevieve asked as she surveyed the scene below them.

"Strictly speaking, no," he said. "But no one has to know, do they?"

She gave him a curious look, then smiled before turning her gaze back to the party. She didn't put her gloves back on, having removed them before eating her cake. For a long moment, he stared at her bare hands resting on the balustrade. Maybe the Victorians had the right idea, he thought. Having a woman's hands covered in public made a man desperate to see them come off. He took off his gloves, then tossed them on the side table by the settee.

As he expected, she jumped slightly when he pressed his chest against her back, caging her with his arms as he planted both his hands on the balustrade. "Monsieur..." she whispered, breathless.

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle." Lust made his voice thick and low. He struggled to maintain his English accent, to stay in character despite his desperate need to tear her trousers . "But I find myself unable to keep my hands off you." He covered her hands with his, gently rubbing his thumb over her soft skin.

"Someone could see—" she started to protest, but he felt her lean backward against his body. If she didn't feel his raging erection five seconds ago, she certainly would now.

He gave her earlobe a tiny nip with his teeth, and was rewarded with a soft moan from her. "I locked the door," he murmured.

There were no more protests after that. Not when he pressed hard kisses down her jawline. Not when he pulled her jacket off slowly, and dropped it on the floor. Not when he unbuttoned her waistcoat. And not when he cupped her breasts over the fabric of her shirt.

With a groan of satisfaction he found her nipples were hard under his fingers.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I hope you enjoyed  this excerpt of Unmasking Mr. Darcy! If you'd like a copy of the book, you can purchase the ebook by typing the following URL in your browser or check the external link of this chapter:

anselacorsino.com/darcy