Alexandra Whitworth, whom at the tender age of three and twenty became the Dowager Duchess of Hawthorne, was nothing more than a pauper.
Her solicitor had broken the news to her just two weeks hence, but he had not left her without options. The estate was hers, but the debt she’d been left with would soon see that even that was taken from her. In desperation, she’d begged the solicitor, a Mr. James J. Randolph, to help her keep the wolves at bay. His counsel had been nothing like she’d imagined.
He’d brushed the tips of his fingers over her knee in a most forward manner and suggested that he’d heard of a way many widows had paid off debts after their late husbands’ deaths. Alex had frozen at the feel of his foreign touch. She’d not felt a man’s caress in more than two years, not since her husband’s illness had taken control of his body.
Mr. James J. Randolph wasn’t an unhandsome man, though he was rather short in stature. He had kind brown eyes and his face was more than pleasant to look upon. His hair was thick and ash in color and his body was stocky and well muscled, a physique more suited to a boxer than a solicitor.
“I’m not sure I know what you speak of,” Alex stammered nervously.
“Come now, surely the ways of married life are not forgotten to you.” His hand skimmed higher over her thigh, up her hip and over the rigid bodice of her black mourning dress until it skimmed just beneath her breast. She let out a moan and then gasped at her impropriety. Her husband had been buried in the cold ground for less than a month, but her body didn’t seem to care. It was betraying her to a man she’d only met on a handful of occasions.
“You are a stunning woman. In your possession you hold youth, beauty and titles. The only thing you lack is money. Money is easily obtained if you know where to look.”
Alex knew she needed to focus. Her situation was dire, and she had no family left to turn to, but James had pulled her bodice down until the plump mounds of flesh that had been bound burst free from their captivity. His fingers tweaked and pulled her nipples, and she could feel the moisture gathering at the juncture of her thighs.
“God, you are lovely,” he said, taking a rosy nipple into his mouth and suckling.
Alex moaned and grasped his thick sandy hair with her hands, pulling him closer, begging him for things she’d almost forgotten. Things her elderly husband had never felt comfortable doing to a woman at the peak of her sexuality—a woman too young to know what she was missing.
“Please, I beg you,” she said, and for a moment she was able to forget her despair, her loneliness and her anguish.
“Then you agree?” He asked, quickly undoing the buttons to his trousers. His cock sprang out, erect and full, the tip glistening and swollen with his desire.
Alex couldn’t remember the question, such was the sight that was displayed before her. He was not overly long, but his thickness was more than enough to give her pause. She could only imagine what it would feel like to be stretched by such a magnificent tool.
“W…what?” she stuttered. “What are you talking about?”
He smiled at her. One filled with a combination of cunning and tenderness.
“The look of lust in your eyes is a distraction, but you are my charge and it is my duty to look out for you. What I am speaking of is exclusive soirees, for the discreet and very rich. Members of society will only be permitted attendance by invitation, and once they receive the invitation a hefty fee must be paid to gain entry. Men and women alike will be welcome. This will be their refuge, a place they may indulge in anything carnal, acts that are shunned and never spoken of, even in the most bawdry houses of ill repute. Their identities will be kept secret, from you and everyone else in attendance. The price will protect their identities and indulge their fantasies.”
He tweaked her nipple once again and moved closer, so that his straining cock was mere inches from her mouth. Alex licked her lips in anticipation of the feel of male flesh penetrating her body, the taste of it on her lips, the strength of it thrusting into her dripping cunt.
“But how will people know what is to be expected of them?” She asked, flicking her tongue over the salty tip, savoring his unique flavor. She felt power fill her as he shuddered under the grip of her hand.