Chapter 5: The First Patron

True to his word, Baron d'Arcy arrived at my apartment the following afternoon, punctual and bearing gifts. I had spent the morning scrubbing the floors and arranging wildflowers in a chipped vase to make the tiny space more inviting. Draping a shawl strategically over a threadbare chair, I tried to create an illusion of comfort and charm. It wasn't the grand boudoir a courtesan of legend might have, but it would do.

When I opened the door, the Baron presented a bottle of fine Bordeaux and a small velvet box. Inside the latter glinted a delicate gold necklace set with a single sapphire. "A token, for the beautiful Madame V," he said, his eyes roaming over the pale blue day dress I'd chosen to accentuate my figure. The necklace was far more valuable than anything I owned. My heart fluttered at the sight—both at its beauty and at what it signified. This was not a mere trinket; it was a down payment.

"It's exquisite," I breathed, allowing genuine delight to color my voice. "You are too generous, Nicolas." I turned and lifted my hair. "Will you do the honor?"

He needed no further invitation. With slightly unsteady fingers, he clasped the necklace around my throat. The gesture was intimate, almost marital, and I felt the cool press of the sapphire against my skin like a promise.

Over wine, we settled onto my small settee and spoke in low, lazy tones. The Baron seemed fascinated by every detail I offered of my fictional past—how lonely widowhood had compelled me to seek solace in the city, how I longed for companionship and sensations that polite society had denied me. As I spoke, I let my fingers trace idle patterns on his sleeve, and occasionally I bit my lip as if embarrassed by my own boldness. Each little act stoked the fire in his gaze.

He leaned in, the rich scent of wine and his cologne surrounding me. "My dear, I hope you have found some of that companionship you seek... in me," he murmured, running a knuckle gently along my cheek.

I tilted my head into his touch. "I believe I have," I whispered. "Though perhaps... I could be certain with a little more evidence." My eyes flickered to his lips suggestively.

The Baron chuckled, a deep sound, and wasted no more time. He set his wine aside and drew me into his arms. Our lips met, his kiss assured and possessive. Unlike the transactional approach of the men I'd been with in taverns, Baron d'Arcy savored me slowly, as one might a fine wine. It was a heady feeling, being courted and desired by a man of his stature. But I did not forget for a moment that this, too, was an arrangement—one I meant to keep on my terms as much as possible.

His hands caressed my back and hips through the fabric of my dress. In response, I daringly slid a hand up into his silver-streaked hair, tugging just enough to elicit a pleased hum from him. He was warmer and more solid than I'd expected, his body still virile for his age.

"Shall we move somewhere more comfortable?" I suggested between kisses, nodding toward the curtain that separated my bedchamber nook from the sitting area. My quarters were small, but I did have a proper bed, freshly made with linens I'd laundered that morning.

Nicolas's eyes gleamed. "Lead the way, my enchanting V."

I rose, taking him by the hand. Inside, nerves fluttered—this was a critical moment. I needed to bind him to me with pleasure and warmth so expertly that he'd never want to leave. For all the chemistry between us, I knew a man like him had seen and had many women; I had to distinguish myself.

As we entered the bedroom nook, sunlight filtered through the thin drapes, painting golden stripes across the bed. The Baron removed his coat and waistcoat, placing them neatly over a chair, revealing a fine linen shirt stretched over a still-broad chest. I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for him, and he stepped gladly between my knees, cradling my face for another lingering kiss.

His tongue traced along mine, unhurried, exploring. I allowed myself a soft moan, encouraging him, my hands sliding around his waist. When we broke apart, both breathing a touch faster, I began to untie his cravat with playful teasing tugs. "I've been wondering all day," I said coyly, "what you taste like… without the wine."

His eyes darkened at the implication. I pulled the neatly folded fabric from his neck and let it flutter to the floor, then trailed my lips along the line of his jaw. He sighed and closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations as I continued downward to the column of his throat. I could feel the quickening of his pulse under my lips.

Emboldened, I dropped to my knees on the rug before him, looking up through my lashes. Surprise and hunger flashed across his face as he realized my intent. In his world of aristocratic mistresses, perhaps few ladies would debase themselves so—kneeling at a man's feet. But I was not a lady bound by such rules; I was a courtesan forging her power.

Slowly, I worked open the front of his trousers, releasing his stiffening member. He drew a sharp breath as my fingers wrapped around it. He was fully erect and hot to the touch. I glanced up once more to ensure I had his rapt attention—his parted lips and intense gaze were answer enough—then I leaned forward and took him into my mouth.

"Dieu," he swore under his breath, one hand finding purchase in my hair. I fought the instinct to pull away at the tug; instead I relaxed my jaw and let him slide deeper over my tongue. It was not my first time doing this act—Julien and I had experimented in our passionate nights—but this was different. This was calculated seduction. I used every trick I knew: swirling my tongue, sucking gently at first, then with increasing intensity, listening to the Baron's breathing grow ragged.

He tried to remain composed, but I saw his head tilt back and felt the tremor in his thighs. "Mon ange... you'll undo me too soon," he groaned. With a gentle but firm pull, he drew me off his length, lifting my chin. I let him see the wicked light in my eyes as I licked a residual drop from my lip.

"If you prefer to take me another way, monsieur, I'm entirely at your service," I said sweetly.

His response was a husky laugh as he urged me up from my knees. "You are full of surprises," he murmured, clearly impressed and inflamed by my daring. "Now it is my turn to properly reward you."

Nicolas guided me onto the bed and began to undress me with reverence, as if unwrapping a cherished gift. Layer by layer, my day dress and stays and chemise were peeled away, until I lay bare before him except for my stockings. His gaze traveled over my nude form appreciatively, lingering on the curve of my hips and the peak of my breasts.

"You are a masterpiece, ma chère," he whispered, climbing onto the bed beside me. His hands and lips soon followed his eyes, exploring my body with experienced patience. He kissed down the slope of my neck, over my collarbone, then captured a nipple in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue until it stiffened and I gasped with pleasure. He alternated attention to each breast, one hand fondling what his mouth did not occupy.

Heat pooled between my legs as I allowed myself to truly feel the sensations he gave. This was different from Henri's hurried rutting or even Julien's earnest lovemaking; the Baron took his time, savoring my responses. It aroused me more than I expected. When his hand finally drifted to my inner thigh, I parted my legs willingly, silently urging him on.

He found me wet and ready, circling my sensitive bud slowly with a fingertip. I let out a trembling sigh and arched toward him. "Yes... like that," I encouraged softly, reaching down to cover his hand with mine, guiding him to press a little harder where I craved it most. He obliged, clearly delighted by my responsiveness.

"My widowhood was a rather cold and lonely one," I breathed against his ear, each word a sultry exhalation as his fingers sent ripples of pleasure through me. "You have no idea how much I've longed for a man's touch..."

He growled softly, withdrawing his hand. Before I could whimper at the loss, he positioned himself over me. I hooked my stocking-clad legs around his waist, opening myself to him completely. We locked eyes as he eased his manhood inside me. Despite his eagerness earlier, he entered me slowly, inch by inch, watching my face. I made sure to give him what he wanted: my eyes fluttered, my lips parting around a moan of pleasure as he filled me.

"Mon Dieu, you feel sublime," he groaned as he began to move, setting a deep, steady rhythm. He braced himself on his forearms, careful not to crush me with his weight, and I slid my hands over those arms, up to his shoulders, marveling at the flex of muscle with each thrust.

I let my passion rise to match his, meeting each roll of his hips with my own. The room filled with the erotic sounds of our coupling—the creak of the bed, the soft slaps of skin, our mingled breaths growing faster. I gasped praises into his ear, telling him how strong he was, how he filled me perfectly, how I never wanted him to stop. Some of it was even true; the pleasure building in my core was very real. He was skilled, hitting spots inside me that made me writhe and cling to him in delight.

Soon, the Baron's restraint began to falter. His thrusts grew faster, more erratic. I was close too—an unexpected bonus. Realizing this, I deftly reached a hand down between our joined bodies and found that needy nub, rubbing it in quick circles to push myself over the edge.

White-hot ecstasy burst within me. I cried out, my inner walls clenching hard around him. With a strangled shout, Nicolas followed, driving deep as he spilled his release inside me. He trembled through the throes of pleasure, and I held him to me, cradling his head against my breasts as we both caught our breath.

In the hazy aftermath, he rolled to the side, pulling me with him so that I was nestled against his chest. His hand stroked lazily up and down my back. "I haven't experienced such passion since my youth," he admitted between contented sighs. "You, my dear, are extraordinary."

I smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest, tasting the salt of his exertion on his skin. "You inspire extraordinary devotion," I replied softly.

He tipped my chin up and looked into my eyes. "I want to keep you, Madame V. As mine."

The words sent a thrill through me—victory. But I kept my expression tender, perhaps even a touch vulnerable. "And I want to stay," I murmured. "However I can... with you."

We both understood the unspoken terms of this arrangement. And so it was that Baron Nicolas d'Arcy became my first patron. Within days, he secured me a more fitting residence—a lovely little townhouse on a fashionable street, all expenses paid. He visited me nearly every afternoon or evening he could steal away, lavishing me with gifts: gowns, jewels, even a monthly allowance in coin so that I might live comfortably.

In return, I gave him my youth, my charm, and my body—whenever and however he wished it. I played the doting mistress, hanging on his every word, stroking his ego as skillfully as I did his flesh. But privately, I remained clear-eyed. This was a stepping stone, I reminded myself. A foundation upon which I would build my new life.

Still, I cannot deny a certain gratitude and affection for the Baron. He was the first to see value in me after my fall, even if it was lustful value. And under his patronage, I transformed further. Madame V became a fixture in the city's underworld of desire: a courtesan with a wealthy benefactor, whispered about in select circles. I was no longer clutching at survival—I was thriving, my coffers growing, my confidence blooming.

Yet with confidence came ambition. As sweet as Nicolas was to me, I knew I did not want to bind my entire fate to one man's whims. I had clawed my way out of ruin; I would not allow complacency to pull me back down. And so, even as I spent my nights sighing in the Baron's arms, by day I quietly began to plan for a future where my power would rival that of the men who thought they owned me.