His effusiveness made Ros uncomfortable, mostly because she’d only learned how to whip someone so she could help Flint. She was not cut from the same cloth as Mistress Lash. “You’re quite welcome,” she mumbled as his companions led him from the room.
Confusion still reigned supreme for Flint. “Ros?”
With the relative privacy of just the four of them—Flint, Lucifer, a footman, and herself—she decided to remove her mask. She wanted Flint to have no room for denial. “Yes, it’s me.”
Flint sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you do. Just stop and take a moment to consider what you’ve seen.” Ros stood there, holding her mask in one hand and her whip in the other.
Flint glanced around the space, his gaze hardening. “How long has this been going on? Why don’t I know this about you?”
“I’ve been working with Mistress Lash for a few months now. She agreed to train me at my request. Tonight was the second time I have whipped one of the guests of The Market. Up to then, I have used stuffed shirts and some of the ladies of the house who appreciate such activities.” She drew a breath. “As for why you don’t know this about me, well, in large part, it is because you have hidden this side of yourself from me. Was I to invite you over for tea and then announce mid-sip that I have taken up the hobby of whipping people for pleasure?”
Lucifer chuckled as a strangled sound escaped from Flint. “I- I- I suppose you are correct. That would be awkward.”
“Indeed. Almost as awkward as the evening I did, in fact, try to discuss your needs with you, and you shut me out. You refused to hear what I had to say. You left me no choice but to show you the truth.”
Flint remained nonplussed. “But I do not want this from you. For you. Have you done this all because of me?”
Ros’s heart pounded in her chest, seeming to cause her ribs to ache with each beat. “Of course, I did this for you. I love you. And I refuse to allow you to have any needs fulfilled by someone else. If you need pain to become aroused, then I shall be the one to deliver it.”
“No. I cannot ask that of you. Cannot expect someone gentle and kind to deliver pain in pursuit of pleasure. It is wrong. I am wrong.” Flint stepped backward, pulling away from where she stood. The divide between them seemed to yawn and grow wider.
“It would be wrong for you to deny this part of yourself. It would be wrong for you to seek out someone else to provide you the pain you need. You are not wrong.”
Pain and panic surged through his dark eyes. “A woman of quality, a wife, should never be asked to debase herself in such a way. To fulfill such dark needs. I cannot…”
Ros’s gut twisted. She’d hoped it would not come to this, but clearly, she had no other choice. She turned her gaze to Lucifer, who had stood quietly by. “He leaves me no choice.”
With that remark, Lucifer and the footman each grabbed one of Flint’s arms. Like a desperate animal, Flint roared as he thrashed about trying to dislodge the pair. The footman lost his grip and stumbled backward until he landed on his backside. With his left arm free, Flint swung at Lucifer, who ducked in the nick of time.
Coming up behind Flint, Lucifer bent his brother’s arm back and up. Bent over by the move, Flint could do nothing to free himself without risking a break to his arm. “Come on, little brother, stop fighting the pretty lady.”
“No. I can’t do this to her. Please, don’t allow this to happen.” Flint sounded pained as Lucifer nudged him toward the manacles that hung from the wall.
Pulling the metal bands down, the footman quickly slipped them over Flint’s wrists. Then Lucifer moved over by the pulley system to draw his brother’s arms up.
Ros had dreaded this possibility, but she believed she could show him how things could be between them. It seemed strange to her that she had come to accept his need for pain, yet Flint had not. He obviously still struggled with his own needs.
“Lucifer, could you please cut his coat and shirt off? This will be more effective if I have access to his skin.”
“Don’t Lucifer. If you have any hope of us being brothers, you must stop this madness,” Flint pleaded.
Lucifer grunted and leaned in close to Flint. Ros could not hear what he said from across the room as he cut the clothing from Flint’s back. But as Lucifer drew away, Flint lunged toward him cursing wildly.
Ros felt her face drain of blood, her doubts rising on a fierce tide. Was she doing the right thing? What if he hated Lucifer for this? What if he hated her for this? For making him face his own desires?
Lucifer walked toward her as the footman stepped out of the dungeon. “We shall remain just outside the door. When he’s had enough, let us know, and we shall help you get him to a room.” Lucifer turned to leave.
“Wait.” Apprehension made her limbs heavy as she continued to struggle internally. “What did you say to him to make him so angry?”
Lucifer smiled with a debonair, positively seductive upturn of his lips. “I told him that if a woman as sensual and arousing as you wanted to whip me, I’d happily strip naked and submit. So if he didn’t want you, didn’t want to take what he needed from you. I would be more than happy to step in and oblige you here and in bed.”
Ros inhaled sharply.
“He threatened to geld me if I laid one finger on you, so I have to assume the man is head over heels in love with you, even if he is living in denial about his need for pain. Once you help him see the truth, all will be right between you. Do not doubt that your course is true.”
Her heartbeat slowed, and her doubts receded. Love would see them through this trial.
As the door of the dungeon closed, Ros gathered her courage and her determination. She would see this through. She loved Flint too much not to fight for him, even if he was the one she had to best.
Chapter 28
Flint struggled against the iron manacles around his wrists. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn’t stop trying. He had to prevent Ros from doing something she would regret. Prevent her from doing something that would fundamentally change who she was. He refused to be responsible for that. Couldn’t live with that on his conscience; there wasn’t room for both his twin brother and Ros to live there.
So, he yanked on the chains that had him stretched out, though both his feet were firmly planted on the floor. Behind him, he heard Lucifer speaking to Ros, and it made him crazy to think the man might be low enough to offer himself up to her. Flint knew Ros would never take him up on it, but it still rankled. It still made him want to rage at the thought.
Ros couldn’t be permitted to do this. His future wife should not be tainted by his dark needs. His deepest shame. It wasn’t right. Loathing surged to the fore. Loathing for himself and for the fact he did not have enough self-control to cease needing the pain.
It was laughable, really. He was known for his self-control. For the cool façade he seemed to always possess, even in the face of the greatest provocation. And yet, despite all of that, he could not stop the need from curling up his spine and wrapping around his heart. He couldn’t stop his darkness from contaminating the one true and pure thing in his life—Ros.
Despair opened beneath him like a gaping maw waiting to swallow him whole. Had he not been chained to the wall, he might have dove in headfirst, but instead, he stood there dangling above it. Waiting. Waiting.
The dungeon door closed with a dull, unremarkable thud.
Leather creaked behind him as he stared at the stone wall in front of him.
“There are a few things you should know before we begin.” Ros’s voice cut through the silence. “First, I love you. This all begins and ends with that. Second, this may have started out because I wanted to do this for you, but somewhere along the way, I found that I enjoy wielding the whip. I don’t want to do this with anyone else, but you should know I also never want to cease doing it. This is now as much for me as it is for you. And finally, if you need pain to feel whole, to become aroused, or for a
ny other reason, I am the one you will come to. I shall not tolerate you seeking out anyone else.”
Flint’s body trembled with the need to take action, to stop her. Yet he remained at her mercy. “Ros—”
“Silence. You will not speak unless you are asking for more or less, harder or softer, or for me to stop. If you need this all to end, then say pineapple. Otherwise, I shall continue until I am sure your needs have been met. Are we clear?”
A shiver raced down his spine. To his great dismay, it was a shiver of need laced with desire. Ros had trotted out her field marshal voice, and it did things to him. Made him want her, want to tame her, to dominate her, and make her submit to him. But first, he would have to submit to her. Submit to his own needs.
Fear and anxiety surged. Good or bad, everything would be different after this.
The fall of the whip sketched across the stone floor, and goosebumps broke out over his skin. Anxiety shifted to anticipation, and fear morphed into hope.
The crack of the whip broke the silence a split second before the bite of the lash came down over his right shoulder. Fire licked up and down his body, searing everything in its wake. A second crack and bite of pain on his left shoulder. The fire settled into a muted heat that coiled low in his belly.
Another lick of pain, the hum of pleasure in his ears drowned out the crack of the whip. His upper back sizzled, and the coil of heat slid lower to settle in his balls. Two more lashes landed, and his body vibrated with pleasure and heat. Behind him, Ros paused in applying the whip. The scuff of her shoe on stone alerted him to her proximity. Then he felt the gentle caress of her fingertips as she traced down one stripe on his back, causing a tingle to ripple across his skin.
She leaned into him until her breath whispered past his ear. “You may fight me all you wish, Flint. But, I shall break your resistance.” She reached down and stroked his hardening cock. “Already, your body is responding to me. To this.”
It seemed to take forever for her to return to where she’d been standing. And then nothing. No movement. No sound. Not even a breath.
Was he too stubborn? Had she given up on him?
And then the crack of leather and the bite of pain came once again. Relief soared through him. The pure joy of knowing she was near.
His cock swelled as he relaxed and ceased to fight the inevitable.
“More,” his voice cracked as he asked for what he knew he needed.
He heard her inhale sharply, and then the lash came fast and furious. She unleashed a hailstorm of blows across his back and shoulders that brought him to an intense state of arousal. His breath caught in his chest as bliss pummeled him. For a moment, panic set in as he realized he was a hair’s breadth from releasing in his trousers. But then the barrage eased up, slowing to a rhythmic cadence that lulled him into that place he always sought when he needed pain.
The walls around him fell away, and he seemed to float.
It may have been mere moments, or he could have been there for an hour. He wasn’t sure. Honestly wouldn’t have cared, except he wanted to feel Ros’s arms around him. Wanted to know she was near.
When male hands—he assumed they were male since they were not delicate enough to be Ros’s—eased him down from the shackles and stretched each of his arms over broad shoulders, a low moan escaped. Ros, he wanted Ros.
The stretch of his skin reignited the fire across his back, but only in the best way.
By the time he was eased onto his stomach on a bed, he was finding some level of coherence. Lifting up, he sought Ros out, but she was not where he could see her.
Then a hand was placed on his upper back, and he was pushed back down. “Lie still.”
He reached back for her. “Come here, Ros.”
“Do as you’re told. You may hold me when I’m certain your back is cared for.”
He lay there, feeling chilled as she rubbed a salve on his skin. Then she helped him sit up and drew a soft linen shirt over his head. He pushed his arms through the holes and then looped them around her waist before she could escape him once again. With his head pressed against her breasts, he felt as much as heard her chuckle. “Impatient man.”
“Bloody right. I’ve waited far too long to have you in my arms again.”
With a strength born of need and an incredible amount of gratitude, he hauled her into the bed alongside of him. He lay back, easing his weight down. His back ached, but it was the pleasurable ache that drove his desire higher. And he’d received that pleasure at the hands of the woman he loved. He looked over at her, let his gaze snare hers, and studied the bright green depths.
As hard as he peered, he could see no darkness. No taint, as he had feared.
“You’ll not find what you are looking for. I’m whole and happy, the very same woman I was an hour earlier,” Ros protested his search for some hideous blackening of her soul. And that is what he had been seeking. He needed to know, to believe what she’d said, that by meeting his needs, she was not damaging herself in some hidden manner. He cared too much, not to be certain.
“You are sure that you won’t come to despise me? Despise what it is that I need from you?” Fear and doubt danced around the burgeoning hope that fought to banish them.
“How could I despise the very thing in you that answers to my own dark needs? It would be like hating myself, and I gave up on such useless emotions years ago. I love you, Flint. You. Exactly as you are.”
As he heard the clarity of her conviction in her words, hope and love shined bright, chasing all other emotions away. No shadows were left, and it felt wonderful.
“I love you, too, you brash wonderful woman.” And then he captured her mouth with his, delved past her lips to explore deeper.
She inhaled and met his tongue stroke for stroke, both of them twining and twisting as each tried to take control. The burn of his back melded with the joy from within as they kissed. Time stood still as their limbs became intertwined—their hearts beating as one.
Chapter 29
She had done it! She had finally whipped Flint, and he had responded. Even now, Flint was kissing her. Loving her. And all of her worry over the past weeks had disappeared like so much jetsam. Her shoulders felt lighter. Her heart fuller.
Sitting up, she drew back from the kiss and began unhooking the front of her corset. Picking up on her intentions, Flint’s wandering hands joined hers and made short work of the task. That left her boots and trousers as the next obstacle.
Needing to be naked so she could feel him skin to skin, she clambered off the bed and tugged her boots free of her feet. Next, she yanked her trousers down and took her drawers with them. With just her chemise remaining, she drew near the bed. Flint lay there with his trousers open and his cock standing at the ready as his half-lidded gaze swept over her. Goose flesh rippled over her sensitized skin as her nipples pebbled even tighter. Around her, the luxurious room shrouded in shades of blue faded away as she reached for his pants. Carefully drawing them down his legs, she drew the moment out, letting the tension stretch and grow between them.
“Ros.” Flint reached toward her but couldn’t make contact. “You’re killing me.”
“You’re stronger than that.” She chuckled. “I dealt you far more pain earlier than waiting a little longer for my touch could provide.”
He shook his head and sat up with a grunt. “You’ve no idea what it costs me to be near you and not touch you.”
Then he grabbed her chemise and tugged her until she fell on top of him. As her weight landed, he rolled her beneath him, giving her no time to regain the upper hand.
“Flint, your back!”
“Is fine. A few welts are a small price to pay for the pleasure you’ve already delivered. Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.” His voice grew husky with desire as he spoke, and then he kissed her.
As their tongues tangled once again, she reveled in the weight of him pressing her into the mattress, adored the heady sandalwood scent mixed with something uniq
uely masculine that was Flint. Lost in the moment, she slipped her hands up his sides and around to his back. When she stroked the soft linen over his back, he moaned and ground his cock against her aching pussy. Even with the linen pressed between them, the zing of pleasure shot from between her legs to each of her limbs. The promise of more had her meeting his kiss stroke for stroke, slide for slide.
Easing away from her lips, he dropped kisses along her jaw and then down her throat. As he neared the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he sank his teeth into her skin, sending shivers of delight along her spine. This was what had been missing from their lovemaking, this undeniable connection that made her feel beautiful, desired, and sexy.
While he moved lower, he tugged the neckline of her chemise below her breasts, granting himself access. As his lips captured one beaded tip, his fingers sought out the other. And in a synchronized move that had her arching up off the bed, he pulled and sucked. A full body spasm wracked her as Flint commanded her pleasure. Remaining where he was, he switched breasts and repeated what he’d done. Ros cried out, “Oh, God. Please, more!”
He looked up at her from where he crouched and grinned. “Oh, love, I’ve just gotten started.”
Then he shifted even lower and spread her thighs wide. Making room for his shoulders, he pressed his palms to her inner thighs and pushed them out and then up. Lying spread open to him, she knew she would let him do anything to her in that moment, give him anything he wanted. He already owned her heart and soul; her body was merely part and parcel to the package.
He hesitated as he stared down at her, then slowly reached down to draw a finger through her wetness. “The question I have is, what leeway will you grant me to your body?”
Confused, she was pulled from her blissed-out haze to find Flint staring at her intently. “What leeway? There is nothing I would deny you.”
Using two fingers, he plunged into her pussy, filling her suddenly and stealing her breath. With a ruthless sensuality she could not recall him possessing before, he worked his fingers in and out of her while he stroked her clit with his other hand. Swept away by the intense pleasure he elicited, she gasped and rode the wave until he stopped moving.
His Not-So-Sweet Marchioness: A Steamy Victorian Romance Page 21