Compromised for Christmas (The Jennings Family #1)

30. Fitz

30

Fitz

London

THIS WAS IT; this was Fitz’s chance. Excitement vibrated through his veins as he rushed up the stairs to his mistress’s rooms. Why was Fitz excited? Because Fitz had a plan. A plan in which he was going to surprise his wife. Because after his night with Georgiana, Fitz knew he would go to any lengths possible for that woman. His heart clenched. He—and no one else—would fulfill every last one of her desires.

Now, he didn’t really know what those desires were, just that his wife had somewhat—urm—risqué preferences. Her response two nights prior to his question… You want me to hurt you? Well, he was fairly sure her answer meant yes. She wanted him to give her bruises. Nerves rattled his ribcage. How did one go about bruising one’s wife in a pleasurable way?

It was infuriatingly clear that a certain pair of rogues probably knew exactly how. His chest filled with white-hot fire. The way she had spoken of them at Christmas breakfast two days prior. It was seared into his brain. There had been such awe in her voice. Not only could they fuck her in every way she ever dreamed, but apparently, they also saved children. How was Fitz supposed to compete with that?

He paused before his mistress’s door and blew out a breath. He would start with becoming the man his wife longed for. Every last carnal craving she had—he would deliver. And he knew exactly who could help him learn how to do just that. He knocked on Adelaide’s door.

A moment later, the door swung open, and an abundantly curved woman wrapped in deep-purple silk, brunette hair tumbling down in artfully arranged curls, greeted him. She smiled wide, her red-rouge lips curving, eyes glowing.

“Fitzwilliam! It’s so lovely to see you again, darling.”

He reached up and squeezed the back of his neck. “Greetings, Adelaide.”

She giggled. “Greetings, puppy.” She stepped back and turned away, sashaying toward the sitting area of her parlor.

Her flat was set up for seduction, with a plush ivory sofa covered in blankets of fur and velvet, the largest forest-green chaise he’d ever set eyes on, and a very sturdy desk, all right when one walked in. There was a door that led to her bedroom, if one got that far, and a short hall that led to a kitchen area toward the back. Fitz hastily followed her and settled on the sofa opposite where she had spread herself out over her chaise, head propped up on her hand. He took off his gloves and stiffly slapped them over his thigh.

She gestured to the table in front of her which had a glass of whisky, Fitz’s drink of choice, ready and waiting. He quickly picked it up and gently passed it back and forth between his hands. He was usually so comfortable here. But being back here felt…different. Like he’d accidentally put on a wrong man’s shoes.

“Now, first thing’s first, sweetie. I know how you struggle with your words. Your letter indicated you are in need of tutelage. Tutelage that requires my capable hands. So will this be hands-on tutelage?”

Fitz’s brow puckered. “What do you mean?”

Her smile grew, and she stared at him fondly. “Fitz, will we be doing these things you want to learn about? Together. Say, for the sake of practice.”

His eyes spread wide. “Oh! No, no, no, no.” He laughed, but it came out wheezy and gargled. “I-I require informarghamation.” He winced. “ Information . Perhaps detailed instructions. Discussion.” He cleared his throat, his foot picking up a rapid tapping. “Not actual, urm, practice.”

Why did he find such difficulty with something as simple as words? They always came out wrong, skewed. If he wasn’t blabbering, he was saying things that apparently held a much different meaning than he intended.

“I must beg your pardon,” he hastily added.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Adelaide reassured with an understanding smile. “I knew there was a very good chance that was not what you intended, which is why I asked. I cannot say I’m not disappointed, but I understand.” She pushed up to sitting and clapped her hands. “So, what do you need help with, my sweet puppy?”

Something uncomfortable danced around in his stomach, a feeling that made his fingers twitch and his feet itch to run. My sweet puppy . The endearment had never bothered him before. That was what Fitz was, wasn’t it? A bumbling puppy, always stumbling over his own feet and words. But his wife wanted a man . Confident and knowing.

You can do this, Fitz. You can learn to be that man for her.

He lifted his chin. “Do you know of the Duke of Ironcrest’s proclivities?”

Her eyes flashed with surprise, but she quickly schooled it. Adelaide was exceptional at her job. She would never judge her clients for anything—whether that came in the form of an intimate request or an inarticulate response. Fitz usually fell in the latter.

“Yes, I am familiar. I do not have personal experience, but I am close with others who do.” She studied him and picked up her glass of champagne, swirling the bubbly liquid. “He is known for restraining his lovers, everyone knows that.”

Fitz swallowed. The rumors were true then. R-restraints. He blew out a breath. Lord, he was stuttering in his own mind. How was he ever going to do this? Everything will be well. It’s why he went to Adelaide. She would assist him, inform him. What did one even use? Rope—

“But that’s not all. It is common knowledge that he is a…rougher lover. Marking his women.”

Fitz’s heart went cold. Because it was eerily close to the words his wife said to him the other night. That was the man his wife truly wanted. The one she had meant to meet up with in his study back in Kent.

“And choking them,” Adelaide continued.

Fitz choked.

“P-pardon. Did you say ch-choke?” Did his wife want him to choke her? Oh God. Shite. Ballocks. Bloody hell. Buggering—

A hand rested on his knee, and he flinched. “Easy, Fitzwilliam. Darling, breathe.”

He drew in a shaky breath.

“Maybe we focus on these items for now. Unfortunately, these items are tame compared to other things I’ve heard. But I’m sure it will give you plenty to try out with your little wife. Do you know any details about what exactly she is seeking?”

“Sh-she admitted she wants me to h-hurt her.” This was incredibly difficult to speak about. “During one encounter, she, urm…she asked me to use her. Roughly,” he managed to scrape out, though it sounded like someone had gripped him by the ballocks.

Adelaide studied him thoughtfully. “Well, this is very interesting. I will help you, darling. We will show her this puppy has fangs. Don’t fret.” She leaned forward. “The most important part in all of this is communication. Understanding limits and safety.”

She paused, and he nodded to indicate he followed.

“It is of my opinion that it is always best to slowly work up to one’s limits. If she wants you to be rough with her, to mark her… You pull her hair; you use an unyielding grip— bruising —you bite her.”

Visions of their encounter in his study filled his mind. How his wife had practically purred when he had fisted her hair, controlling her with that firm touch. Perhaps he had a chance at this.

“Let her guide you if she wants it harder, if she wants more pain. And often times it is good to soothe after inflicting the pain.”

That sounded doable. And he could just confirm with her if he was doing it satisfactorily as they went along.

“Though do not continually ask her if what you are doing is to her liking. That will do nothing but kill the mood.”

Oh.

“Just think what an animal would do,” Adelaide said. “Rough intimacies are simply embracing your primal side. You need to become feral, puppy. I am sure you are capable of that.”

Feral. Right. He could do that. His want for his wife certainly felt feral. He took a sip of whisky and nearly dropped the glass. Damn his sweaty palms! The Duke probably didn’t have sweaty palms. The Duke was the epitome of feral, a beast. An ox of a man. Fitz? Fitz was a billy goat.

Lovely. He was a feral billy goat.

“Now,” Adelaide said, regaining his attention. “Things like choking require specific knowledge. You cannot simply wrap your hands around a lover’s neck.”

Fitz’s fingers tightened around the hard glass. Just the thought of wrapping his hands around Georgiana’s neck… It scared the ever-living shite out of him. He shifted in his seat. Apparently other parts of his anatomy felt differently. Other parts of his anatomy were…curious.

“Hand placement is crucial,” Adelaide was saying. “Grip and apply pressure on the side, like so.” She demonstrated on herself. “You don’t want to cut off her airway, you just want to give the semblance that you’re choking her. That’s what’s so titillating about it, the threat, the hint of harm, but not actual harm.”

Fitz stared, wide-eyed, at Adelaide. “That is titillating? F-feeling like you’re going to be killed?” And again, his cock pulsed. Should Fitz be concerned that he liked the idea of pretending to harm his wife? This cannot be normal.

“Desires practiced between consenting adults with full comprehension of what will happen is normal.”

It would seem Fitz had said that out loud. His ears burned.

She waved him over. “Come here, puppy, practice on me. I think you need to see the difference. There is a thrill in being completely in someone else’s power—when you can trust them with that. And being the one with that power. I think that could be good for you.”

Fitz put down his glass and slowly approached Adelaide. He sat next to her, leaving a generous amount of space between them. She showed him where to place his hands. He reached forward, his hand made contact with her flesh—

His body rebelled. He jerked back.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t touch you, Adelaide.” He sucked in a not-nearly sufficient breath. “You’re not her. I can’t.”

Adelaide’s face softened. “Oh, puppy. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

He glanced away and fidgeted with his trousers. That was not a topic he wanted to discuss with Adelaide. He was having his own struggles with coming to terms with it. What he felt for his wife was overwhelming. Uncomfortable. Disconcerting. It made the ramifications of failure too daunting to even contemplate.

He cleared his throat roughly. “This discussion has been…eye-opening. Would you be able to procure some informative pamphlets or illustrations, perhaps? Directions? I need to be able to do this. For her. I need to be the man she wants.”

That made Adelaide frown, her pretty, slim brows pinching. “Fitzwilliam… You don’t need to change or be someone else to earn anyone’s love or affection. If she is requiring you to do something you’re not comfortable with, if she is pinning her happiness on you changing, frankly, she doesn’t deserve you at all. You are a rare, genuine man in this world, Fitzwilliam.”

“No one wants a genuine man who is nothing but vanilla custard in bed,” he muttered.

“None of that,” Adelaide said sharply, and Fitz’s gaze snapped back to hers. “You may be more nervous than most—”

Fitz snorted

She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine, much more nervous than most. But you are a phenomenal lover. You care so much about your partner’s pleasure, utterly selfless in bed. A rarity. You don’t need to be the Duke. You don’t need whips and knives—”

“Kn-knives,” he squeaked.

She waved him off. “My point is, you don’t need these things to satisfy your wife. Just because you don’t partake in these proclivities, it doesn’t make your lovemaking boring. Multiple orgasms that leave one brainless are not boring . Your cock being ready within minutes for another round is not boring .”

He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He knew her words were true…but it didn’t help. Because his wife wanted those things—Lord, he hoped she didn’t want knives—and he wanted to give her those things.

Adelaide studied him, lips pursed. “I wish I could give you confidence, darling. So many men who don’t deserve it have it. And you, you surely are worthy of it in spades.”

He lifted his head and smiled weakly at her. “I wish it were only that easy.”

“I am going to help you, darling. I will procure some things for you. Fortunately for you, I know all the right people for this. I should only require a day or two, and then I will deliver them. In the meantime, if you have a copy of Fanny Hill, I would recommend you start there. Specifically, Letter XI I think you will find most enlightening.”

Fitz left his mistress’s flat feeling slightly better. He had a plan; he had an assignment to focus on. Fitz enjoyed studying. He enjoyed books. This was perfect for him. He would treat it like any other subject taught at Oxford. This lecture just happened to be on The Principles of Pleasure and Sexual Proclivities.

He was determined to get top marks.