Corset Diaries

by Katie MacAlister

  There are times when I hate the sane part of my mind. “You can’t just throw that in my face.”

  His voice came from right behind me. “Why not? It’s the truth. I love you, madly, wildly, with every atom in my body. I worship you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, touching you, talking to you, arguing with you.”

  It was the last bit that did me in. Only a man truly in love would look forward to the arguments as well as the happy times.

  His arms went around me, warm and strong, his breath gently steaming on my neck as he nuzzled my hair aside. “Tessa, let it go. I know you’re trying to keep everyone happy, but for tonight, at least, let me make you happy.”

  Now, how was I supposed to resist that? I couldn’t. I melted.

  I leaned back against him, turning my head so I could nibble on his jaw. “You always make me happy, when I don’t want to throttle you for being pigheaded and stubborn, that is, and honestly, Max, I haven’t wanted to throttle you for days now. Maybe even a whole week.”

  “We must take advantage of such generous feelings,” he said, his lips finding my shivery spot.

  “Oh, heavens yes, take advantage of them. Take advantage of me! I insist, really, I do!”

  “Hmm,” Max said as I turned in his arms, his eyes alight with passion and desire and something utterly wicked that set my blood on fire. “Do I hear begging? Are you pleading with me? Does someone wish to play games?”

  He kissed me hard, his lips and tongue all pushy and demanding, shoving their way around my mouth like a bully in a school yard. I was just about to pin his tongue by the swings and teach it a few manners when he retrieved it, scooping me up into his arms with a very male smile.

  I socked him in the shoulder. “You grunted on purpose! I’ve been dieting, not that I’ve had any choice in the matter—there’s no way you can eat enough to stay alive when you’re wearing a corset—but still, that’s a diet of sorts. I can’t possibly weigh as much as I did the first time you picked me up. You take that grunt back!”

  He grinned. “I’ll take it back if you beg me to take advantage of you again.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” I said as he stopped next to the bed. “Does this mean you want to play the Victorian Rake and the Shy, But Sensual if Somewhat Fleshy Albeit Delectable Duchess?”

  “Yes,” he said, with a rakish Victorian leer.

  “OK, but this time I get to be the duchess.”

  He dropped me onto the bed. “Saucy wench! You dare impugn my manhood?”

  I gave his manhood, which had been poking me in the thigh while he held me, a little tap.

  Max’s whole body stiffened for a moment, then suddenly I was flat on my back with him covering me. “You will commence begging now, duchess.”

  I opened my legs just enough to trap his arousal between my thighs, then closed them tightly around it. Max’s eyes crossed for a second.

  “Now, my dear lascivious rake, we’ll see who does the begging.”

  Max groaned as his hips moved. I smiled with the ease of my victory, thinking to myself that men were such easy creatures to deal with. That was the last coherent thought I had, because just then Max lowered his head and started laving my breasts with heat and fire and sharp teeth that nipped very gently along my flesh. My whole body went up in flames, and I’m sorry to admit that within seconds it was me who was writhing on the bed, begging him to put me out of my sweet, delicious misery.

  “Here, right here, here is where I want you, put your manhood right here,” I said as I parted my legs, wrapping my fingers around him as I tried to guide him home.

  “Manhood? What happened to arousal?” he asked, trying to brush my hand off his long, hard length.

  “I thought it sounded more manly. Max, right there. Stop pulling away from me—you need to go right there. All the way in, hard and fast. No holding back, got that?”

  He laughed then, an evil laugh, a laugh of a man who has been begged to plant his manly parts deep within a woman. “Oh, no, my fair little temptress. It’s not going to be that easy for you. I haven’t forgotten last night when you did things to me with that delicious hot mouth, things that no mortal man could survive. No, my sweet, you want to play games with a hardened rake, now you will pay that price.”

  “Oh, god, I love it when you role-play!”

  He leaned down, scraping his teeth along one nipple. I arched my back and thrust my breasts up to his mouth, grabbing his hair and tugging on it. “No, wait, you’re not letting me be shy! I’m supposed to be shy! I can’t be shy if you do that to me, Max! Do it again!”

  He did it again, and to the other breast, too, until I was nothing but a big old blob of quivering putty in his hands.

  “Max, I want you inside me, filling me, making me feel wicked and wild and all the other things you make me feel that I can’t think of now because my brain has shut down and is running on autopilot and dammit, man, take me now!”

  “Oh, I will take you now,” he said, then suddenly he was gone and I was flipped over onto my stomach, the bedspread cold and rough on my sensitive breasts. “I will make you feel everything you want to feel, my shy little vixen. That’s it, struggle; your feeble attempts to escape my wicked rakish attentions arouse the passion in me.”

  “You are reading way too many smutty Victorian books,” I told the pillow, then shrieked as he parted my legs, grabbed my hips, and hoisted me upward. “Max! You can’t do that! Stop! Stop!”

  He stopped, his fingers holding my hips. “Why can’t I?”

  I looked over my shoulder at him. He was positioned between my legs, my butt looming large before him. “Because it’s a singularly unflattering position, that’s why. You can see my butt, all of it when you’re standing there, cheeks spread and all and—STOP LOOKING AT IT!”

  He didn’t, the rotter; he looked down at my butt again, then back up to me with a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s unflattering about it? You have a lovely derriere.”

  “Derriere schmerriere. Go on, say it—it’s an ass and it’s big and not lovely in the least sense of the word. Max, please, you can’t possibly like the scenery. Can’t we just do this face-to-face?”

  “No,” he said, then to crown my embarrassment, he move backward enough to press a kiss to each mortified cheek. “I do like the scenery, and you do have a lovely ass, so we’ll stay like this. I find it very arousing to have you like this.”

  I blinked. “You do?”

  He smiled then, and his fingers moved in a gentle caress on my (big, no matter what he says) behind.

  “Very much so. It’s not just this part of you,” he said, giving me a little pat, “but other vistas beckon to me as well. I’ve always found the small of a woman’s back a particularly erotic sight. It’s the curve, I think, the lovely line and swell of her hips, the gentle sweep down to her bottom that makes my mouth water.”

  His hands moved as he spoke, stroking a path up my sides, down my spine, around to my hips.

  “Ooooh,” I shivered.

  “And your back, Tessa, is the most beautiful back I’ve ever seen. It is the back of a goddess, meant to tempt men into giving you their soul to touch it. You have beautiful soft curves made to fit my hands, curves that make me want to . . .”

  “What?” I asked, a tad desperate, so aroused was he making me just by touching my back.

  His fingers bit down into my hips as he suddenly plunged into me. “Possess you!” he cried, my wordless shout of ecstasy in my ears as I clutched the blankets beneath me, Max’s thrusts pushing my breasts against the cool material.

  I forgot my ignominious position, forgot the nagging worry that Max would suddenly find me too fat and too old for him, forgot the fact that he thought my back was beautiful. Every thought went flying out of my mind except one—he made me complete. And when I yelled into the pillow, he was right with me, thrusting hard into my body, trembling within me as my newly discovered muscles tightened around him.

  We collapsed on the bed,
Max panting heavily into my shoulder, his body strong and warm behind me.

  “Now,” he gasped, pressing hot kisses to the back of my neck. “Tell me I didn’t like the scenery.”

  I lay there boneless, too exhausted to even think until he rolled to his side, taking me with him. Even then I didn’t say anything for a long time. There was just too much pleasure in knowing that I had given him my trust and he had returned it with love.

  A long time later I gathered up enough wits to speak.

  “Tomorrow’s our last day to go riding,” I said, lying relaxed and near sleep, Max curled up behind me, his even breath ruffling the hair next to my ear. He’d blown out the candles and we lay cuddled together under just a cool linen sheet. “I’m sure Melody is going to want to come, but maybe we can find time later in the day to go for a good long gallop, just you and me?”

  “I can’t go riding tomorrow,” he said, the intimate sound of his sleepy voice rumbling next to my ear warming me as much as his body spooned against mine. “I meant to tell you, but your wanton demands on my poor man’s body drove every thought from my mind but satisfying your carnal desires.”

  “You love my carnal desires.” I smiled into the darkness and snuggled back into him. He bit my earlobe. “Why can’t you go riding?”

  “It’s the last day. I have to visit the tenants one final time and accept some sort of award. ‘S Roger’s idea.”

  “Drat. Well, I guess it will be just Melody and me, then.”

  The soft, warm, sleepy Max turned into a hard, stiffened Max of steel.

  I turned in his arms and kissed his chin. “Max, I swear to you, I won’t let her get hurt.”

  “She doesn’t need to go riding—”

  “No, she doesn’t, but she’ll want to. You yourself admitted how good the riding lessons have been for her. She’s much happier now, not just because tomorrow is the last day, but because she’s enjoyed showing you that she can ride. Aw, Max, she’s come so far—she hasn’t had a temper tantrum in almost ten days. She calls me by my name. She talks to me, really talks, not just snarls and tells me she hates it here. I like that. I like her! You can’t snatch this one last prize from her, not when she’s worked so hard to earn it.”

  Max didn’t say anything for a moment. I couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but I knew they would be icy and cold, as they always were when he fell back onto his need to shelter and protect.

  “Tell me you trust me, Max,” I said against the pulse in his neck. It was beating fast; the muscles of his arm lying beneath my hand were tense and tight. I knew he must be going through horrible agonies of doubt and worry, but I also knew that for Max, familiarity would not breed contentment. I had to push him now, had to test his faith in me. “Tell me that you trust me with your daughter. Tell me that you know I will protect her and keep her safe, just as you would. Tell me that I’m a part of your family now.”

  A long time passed, probably only a handful of seconds, but to me each one was an eternity.

  “I trust you,” he finally said, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. “You are a part of me, Tessa. I trust you.”

  “I promise you, I swear by all that’s holy, I will not let her come to any harm.”

  “I know.” He pulled me tighter, his arms hard around me, his body taut despite his words.

  I smiled into his neck even through the tears that swam in my eyes, my love for him a sweet, sharp pain that filled my soul. We fell asleep like that, not in the sprawling, sated tangle of arms and legs as was usual, but holding on to each other, our hearts pressed together as if they would fail us should we be separated.

  It took Max a long time before he relaxed into sleep. I lay awake, heavy with worry about the next twenty-four hours. What if something happened to Melody while we were riding? It would destroy Max’s trust in me, destroy our relationship. What was Mrs. Peters planning? Was she mad enough to give her spirits a helping hand should they prove reticent to fulfill her prophesy of destruction? What about Barbara? She’d been very quiet lately, almost avoiding me, not speaking to me at meals, not even the nasty little barbs she’d been letting fly since the garden party. Was she up to something, or merely too involved with keeping tabs on Henry? His lady love, Dorie, and Charles were invited to the ball, as was Cynthia. A little spike of jealousy reared up at the thought of her, but I pushed it down as being unworthy of Max. He loves me, not her.

  Right? Yes. Right. He loves me. I’m absolutely positive of that fact. He wouldn’t trust Melody to me if he didn’t love me. I’m being stupid. Of course he loves me.

  Why does everything look so damned awful at three in the morning?

  Melody. Oh, god, Melody. I hated to admit it, but I really liked the little snot. Underneath all that unhappiness was a very smart, witty girl who had her father’s charm, and I truly enjoyed spending time with her. It wasn’t just for Max’s sake that I was worried about her hurting herself; for the first time I started thinking that maybe Max had the right idea in keeping her protected and safe from the woes life dealt.

  Only the memory of my own recent rebirth to the human race kept me from running back into his bedroom and telling him he was right, that life was too short and too precious to take chances. That was no way to live, and well I knew it. It was better for Melody to fall down and pick herself up than live in limbo.

  That doesn’t mean I didn’t make a mental note to get some rope and tie Melody onto Penny so she couldn’t possibly fall off.

  Just another twenty-four hours. If I can just get everyone through the next twenty-four hours, we’ll be OK.

  Gah! I’m going back to bed.

  Thursday

  September 30

  3:41 P.M.

  Library, hiding from Max

  Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man. Oh. Man.

  I am in such deep trouble, I can’t even begin to explain it. Well, OK, I guess that’s a lie, because I’m going to explain it right now, I have nothing else to do with my time, nothing like lending a hand getting the house ready for the big masquerade ball that is taking place tonight—oh, no, not that.

  Gah.

  Melody and I went riding this morning, per my begging and pleading and pushing Max’s back to the wall. Melody, of course, was delighted with the news that we were going riding, even more so when I told her that Max couldn’t go.

  “Dad doesn’t let me have any fun riding,” she told me in a confidential tone of voice as she hooked the laces on her boots. “He never lets me go fast or do any of the fun stuff.”

  Needless to say, I was gravely aware of my responsibility to Melody. “Yeah? Well, I have news for you, squirt. You’re not going to get to go fast or do any fun stuff with me, either. Your dad is a bit touchy about you going out without him to keep an eye on you, so we have to show him that you’ll be just fine without him.”

  Her lower lip started forming into a mutinous pout. I shook my finger at the Lip. “This benefits you, too, missy. Just think—if he sees that we can go riding without you hurting yourself, he’ll be more inclined to loosen up on other things. So it behooves you to be on your best behavior.”

  “Oh.” Her old familiar scowl was present for a minute, then she sucked the lip back in and gave me a blinding smile. “OK.”

  I stepped back, shaking my head. “You look just like your father when you smile like that. God help him, you’re going to bring the boys to their knees. It’ll drive Max mad.”

  She grimaced and grabbed the short coat that went with her ruffled skirt. “I don’t care about that. I just want Dad to let me learn how to jump and do cross-country like he used to do.”

  I didn’t tell her that I seriously doubted if Max would ever let her do that, but I sure thought it.

  By the time we reached the stables, Melody was chatting merrily about what sort of a horse she wanted when she got back home. Just before we reached the horses, saddled and waiting for us, she stopped and half turned to me, giving me an odd sort of assessing glance out of the cor
ner of her eye. “Are you coming home with us?”

  “Um.” Max had told me he would tell Melody about us before we left the house. Since there was just today left, I assumed that he had either forgotten to do so or, what was more likely, put it off until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Max’s tendency to procrastinate over unpleasant tasks really irked me; I always face the ugly stuff right away, just to get it over with. “It’s interesting you ask that, Melody. As it happens, yes, I will. I love your father a whole lot, and he feels the same about me, so we were thinking about getting married. I don’t expect you’re going to like that, but much as I like you, I’m not willing to give up your father for your happiness.”

  Her brows pulled together. I braced myself for a hissy fit. “You like me?”

  Why fight it? I blinked in surprise. “Um. Yes, yes, I do.”

  “You called me a little snot.”

  “Did I?” I asked, tapping my lip as I thought. “Did I call you a little snot, or a little booger? Because if it was snot, then that’s OK; it means I secretly liked you but didn’t want to tell you. If it was booger, well, that’s a different matter. I could never like anyone who was a little booger.”

  Her frown relaxed. “It was snot, I remember.”

  “Ah. So we’re OK then, right?” A lot hinged on her answer. I wanted Max and I wasn’t prepared to give him up, but it would make our lives so much easier if she would accept me.

  She eyed me from my ears to my toes. “All right.”

  “You know, Melody,” I said as we started across the stable yard to where the horses waited, “one of these days you’re going to actually say something nice to me, and then where will we be? I’ll probably cry.”

  “I don’t like it when you cry,” she muttered into Penny’s neck as she hugged the horse.

  Rats, I was right. I sniffled back a couple of tears and turned away so she wouldn’t see how that grudging admission of affection hit me.