Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  “I hope you will not make it a habit to disagree with me?”

  She whirled around to find Alastair standing inches from her. His nearness ruffled her more than she liked.

  “Perhaps I would not if you were not so overbearing,” she replied after she had regained her balance. “I was not aware that our arrangement last night allowed you to order me about at all times.”

  He took a step closer, and she would have retreated if the bookcase behind her did not block her.

  “It most certainly did. Perhaps next time you will be more careful with what you request.”

  She bristled, though he had a point. “And do you approach me now to order me about some more?”

  “I do indeed.”

  Her pulse surged. She glanced past him to see that they were alone.

  “I do not think we shall be discovered, but let that be an incentive for you to comply as swiftly as possible.”

  She embraced the book she held as if it were a shield that could protect her. She looked up at him. “What is it you wish?”

  Instead of answering, he closed the distance between them, bumping her into the bookshelf. He curled his fingers about the back of her neck and pressed her chin up with his thumb. She quivered inside as her breath grew uneven. He gazed down at her, and she saw his pupils dilate. Did he mean to kiss her? She very much hoped he would.

  When he lowered his head, she closed her eyes so that all her senses could focus on the touch of his lips upon hers. The kiss was soft and gentle but set off a riot inside her body. Desire flamed anew.

  With his hand still wrapped about her neck, he pulled her even closer so that his mouth pressed hard against hers. He parted her lips with his and took mouthfuls of her, sweeping her breath away. The book slid from her grasp, and he grunted when it landed upon his boot.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He slammed his body into hers, pinning her to the shelves, before resuming his assault upon her mouth.

  As much as his kisses thrilled her, she murmured, “Alastair, we must not.”

  She made a feeble attempt to push him away with a hand, but he pinioned the offending hand to the bookcase. She was trapped. And the possibility that they might be discovered in a compromising way toyed with her ardor.

  “Someone might come upon us.” She gasped as his mouth trailed to her neck. When his lips caressed her throat, the last of her resistance melted. She wrapped her free arm about him and threaded her fingers through his soft dark locks. She tilted her hips toward him, and she thought she could feel the hardness at his crotch.

  He pressed his pelvis into her, making her head whirl. Lust overcame discretion, and she moaned as he kissed whole patches up and down her neck. His hand slid from her neck to cup a breast. She wished she did not have to wear stays so that she could better feel his hand upon her. Nonetheless, she thrilled to his every touch. When he moved his hand to her back, she relished being in his embrace. Truly, there was nothing this man could do that did not excite a response from her body.

  Their lips joined once more, and she kissed him back. There was no consideration of what the end would be, for perhaps their actions would only stoke an aggravation that could not be satisfied till later that night. It might even be his intention to set her up for torment, for surely he did not intend to take her here in the library. Yet, knowing this, she could not stay herself from the present temptation. If they were to cease, he would have to initiate it.

  He withdrew to give her a chance to catch her breath, and, pressing his forehead to hers, he asked, his own breath a little haggard, “Are you wet?”

  “I am not certain. Perhaps.”

  He took a step back and began unbuttoning his fall. Her eyes widened.

  “On your knees, my dear.”

  “Not here. Alastair!”

  But his member sprang free. She could not help but stop and admire the stiff and ready pole, but her senses appealed once more. “This is your aunt's home!”

  “Katherine would be the least astonished.”

  She looked to the door.

  “If you are worried, I suggest you act quickly.”

  She was still flustered but sank to the ground. She clasped her hand about his delightful member. A sound in the corridor made her scramble back up to her feet, but the doors to the library remained closed. She looked to Alastair to see if he had changed his mind, but he only waited. Relenting, she settled herself back on her knees, took him in hand, and fitted her mouth over its tip.

  Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?

  Taking her by the back of her head, he guided her mouth farther down his shaft. She licked and sucked, hoping he would not expect a long session. He emitted a low groan. She tried to take all of him, but she could not relax enough to do so. He shifted his hand to the back of her neck so that he would not muss her hair and guided her up and down his shaft.

  Surely he did not intend to make her apply herself till he spent? But fearing that he would, she attended to him with as much vigor as she could.

  Heat swirled in her loins, for she wished such easy attention could be had for her own body. She enjoyed his shaft, even tasting the saltiness of his seed. She liked knowing that she could arouse him to such hardness. She could sense his desperation in the way he bucked his hips at her.

  With a muffled roar, he dispensed his seed.

  She had nowhere to turn, for he held the base of her head still. The hairs at his groin nearly tickled her nose. A tangy flavor filled her mouth as she tried not to balk at the load. She swallowed as best she could, gagging a little until he withdrew. Nothing could surpass the wantonness of what she had just done. And she had done it in Lady Katherine’s library. It was more than fortunate that no one had come upon them, but there was no denying that the fear of being caught added to the titillation.

  “My God,” Alastair breathed.

  When he fixed a starry gaze upon her face, she returned an impish smile.

  He went to his knees and, clasping her head in both hands, crushed his mouth atop hers. The kiss reached into the depths of her mouth, as if he sought to taste himself in her. Heat swirled in her loins, and she knew for certain now that she was wet between the legs.

  “I have something for you,” he whispered into her ear.

  Her pulse quickened. Would he attend her somehow? Her body desperately desired it, but she did not wish to risk them further.

  He buttoned his fall first. From inside his coat, he drew out a small box and opened it. Inside, upon the silk cushioning, lay two silver balls, both of which could easily fit in the palm of her hand.

  “What are they?”

  “Chinese pleasure balls.”

  He had her sit upon the floor and lift her skirts.

  “I think we should—” she hesitated.

  “Do not delay, lest you wish to suffer the consequences later tonight.”

  Reluctantly, she inched her skirts over her bent knees.

  “Farther,” he commanded.

  She bunched the skirts at the tops of her thighs. He spread her knees apart, and the warmth of her body extended to her cheeks at the exposure. He picked up one of the balls between thumb and forefinger and rubbed it against her folds. Pressing deeper, he coated it with her nectar. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and allowed her head to fall against the books. Perhaps she would risk it. At present, he could put anything to her quim, and she would find it pleasurable.

  She gasped and sat up when he pushed the ball inside of her. The second ball soon followed. How odd. She had not guessed that this would be their purpose.

  He pulled her skirts back over her legs and assisted her to her feet.

  “Oh my,” she gasped as the balls moved. They even seemed to quiver, as if the tiniest hammer were striking her most intimate areas.

  “The balls have small weights inside them,” Alastair explained.

  “Ah.” She knit her brows till the balls settled in place.

  “They will stay till I
remove them.”

  She stared at him in stunned silence.

  “Do your best to keep them. You will not want to constantly replace them.”

  “I am to walk in these?”

  “Till I remove them.”

  He backed away from her to give her room. She took a small step and immediately felt the movement of the balls. Worried that they might fall out, she clenched her cunnie.

  “It is not possible,” she murmured.

  “I gave you the lightest pair I could find.”

  She tried another step. “No, no, this is too awkward.”

  If she were walking in private, she might enjoy these delightful balls. But to have them inside her as she went about the day was too much. And what if she should lose one?

  “How long am I to have these pleasure balls?”

  “As I said, till I have them removed.”

  “And when will that be?” She looked to the long case clock at the corner of the room. Would he make her wear these for ten minutes? Half an hour? One hour?

  “I have not yet decided. Perhaps all day.”

  “All day!” she cried.

  He bent down and picked up her book, handing it back to her before making his way to the doors.

  “Alastair!”

  “Be grateful, Millie. If we were at Château Follet, I could make you wear a chastity belt of iron.”

  He turned back to the doors and unlocked them.

  Her mouth fell open. “They were locked all this time?”

  He grinned. “They were.”

  She would have liked to have thrown Gulliver's Travels at him.

  “After you, my lady,” he said, opening a door.

  She trembled with anger but sauntered toward him. She moaned as the balls rolled and bumped each other, sending ripples throughout her nether region. Seeing his look of amusement, she suppressed the urge to glare at him. She would show him instead her poise, and that she was worthy of the experience she had requested of him.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said as she swept by him.

  “There you are,” exclaimed Kittredge. “Mrs. Cheswith asked if I was to join the hunt, and I thought of passing since Alastair and I have been at it for a few days already. She suggested a ride, and I think it a capital idea. Would you care to join us, Miss Abbott?”

  “Thank you, but I think I shall spend a quiet morning reading,” she answered. The last thing she wanted, with these balls inside of her, was to be bounced about on the back of a horse.

  “But we may never see such pleasant weather again till the spring,” said Alastair.

  She tried not to scowl at him. “I am a poor rider and would slow the party.”

  “I doubt Mrs. Cheswith will want to ride fast or break into gallop.”

  Millie frowned at the thought of the balls bouncing madly inside of her if she were to ride at full gallop.

  “I think I shall read, then assist with the picnic preparations.”

  “My aunt and the servants can attend to the picnic,” said Alastair. “You should ride, Millie.”

  He meant it as a command. What a treacherous man her cousin could be!

  “Then let it be a short ride.”

  Kittredge turned to Alastair. “And will you join us?

  “I think I shall.”

  Her heart plummeted. With Alastair along, there would be no relief for her. The faintest regret began to creep into her. Perhaps it had been unwise to submit her request to Alastair. She eyed him, wondering why he was being so vexing. Was this truly how men were at Château Follet? She thought of the Viscount Devon. Would he have made her carry Chinese pleasure balls inside her cunnie while horseback riding? Or was such cruelty unique to her cousin?

  She believed the latter.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THOUGH IT MIGHT not have been clear to the others, Alastair could tell when the jostling discomfited her and knew that the blush in her cheeks was not the result of the occasional breeze that blew their way. Nonetheless, Millie bore the riding well and even appeared to bond with Kittredge over their observations of him.

  “Alastair has more virtues than is credited to him,” Millie said. “For example, he is quite equal and fair in his treatment of compliments and criticism directed at him. He pays neither any heed.”

  “How true,” Kittredge acknowledged. “I had never considered that Alastair possessed any virtues.”

  “Beyond his wine cellar?”

  Kittredge laughed. “Yes, yes. Perhaps most of us do not see his virtues because they are dwarfed by his failings.”

  “We all have failings, Mr. Kittredge.”

  “And you are kind to grant your cousin an allowance for his.”

  Accustomed to Kittredge’s mockeries, Alastair said nothing. As he watched Millie stumble off her horse despite Kittredge assisting her, he reminded himself that she had requested her situation. Soon enough she would deem that the debauchery of Château Follet was too much for her.

  But he had thought the same before, and she had surprised him. Just as she had surprised him with how well she had taken his member in the library. He had not intended to spend, but she had gained in skill somehow. Her hot, wet mouth wrapped about his member had been absolutely divine, and he had approached his climax with stunning speed.

  “Are you well, Miss Abbott?” Kittredge asked, holding her arm to steady her. “If you will not mind my saying, you appear rather flushed.”

  “It is merely from the exercise. I am not much accustomed to riding,” she had answered.

  “The coloring in your cheeks becomes you.”

  Alastair, having just dismounted, raised his brows, for Kittredge spoke with uncharacteristic sincerity. He observed the two sharing a smile while he handed his horse to the stable hand.

  “Come, Millie,” Anne beckoned, “let us exchange these riding garments for more fitting attire for the picnic.”

  From Millie’s expression, Alastair gathered her “more fitting” attire differed little from what she currently wore, but she followed Anne into the house. The men had to change as well, and Alastair decided he would give Millie a reprieve from the Chinese pleasure balls. Stopping her before she entered her chambers, he handed her the box that the balls had come in.

  “You may remove them,” he told her.

  Relief flooded her countenance. “Thank you, my lord. They are wrongly named.”

  “They brought you no pleasure?”

  “Can you imagine being bounced about with two balls inside you? They were the worst possible distraction. I could hardly keep my mind off them.”

  “You seemed to do just fine, but if they did not arouse you, then they failed in their purpose.”

  The blush in her cheeks deepened, and he had to agree that the rosiness became her.

  “That is precisely the difficulty! I should not be put in such a state when in the company of others.”

  “Take heart. Perhaps you shall be rewarded for your sufferings.”

  He took pleasure in considering the many ways he could reward her, provided that she had followed his directive not to spend.

  *****

  “How long do you stay, Alastair? Alastair!”

  Louisa’s voice broke through his reverie. She had arrived with her husband and daughter a few hours ago. Caroline and her husband were also there.

  “Kittredge and I depart the morning after Michaelmas,” he answered.

  “Why such a short stay?”

  Alastair was tempted to quip that it was a longer stay than he had intended, but decided to make an attempt to be civil to his sister at his aunt’s table. “I had agreed to meet with Mr. Farnsworth regarding a bill he hopes I will support in the House of Lords.”

  This seemed to perk Millie’s interest. She asked, “What is it Mr. Farnsworth proposes?”

  He regretted his answer now, for he had no interest to bring about a discussion of a political nature. He returned to cutting the venison on his plate, but answered, “To raise the destructio
n of stocking frames to a capital felony.”

  “And punishable by death?” she exclaimed.

  He chewed his venison without looking at her, but she would not leave the subject alone.

  “That is unnecessarily excessive! Is the punishment of transportation not harsh enough?”

  “Alas, it seems not,” said Charles, Louisa’s husband. “I understand that more of our soldiers are fighting Luddites than are fighting Napoleon on the Iberian Peninsula.”

  “We cannot afford to war with our own citizens till the threat of Napoleon is eliminated,” added Mr. Abbott.

  “But surely there is a better solution than executing our own citizens, men who are merely fearing for their livelihoods,” Millie persisted.

  “Merely fearing?” Louisa asked. “I would hesitate to condone the willful destruction of property.”

  “I do not condone it, but how does the destruction of property merit the taking of a life?”

  Clearly not wanting a divisive discussion involving her daughter, Mrs. Abbott interjected, “Lady Katherine, I cannot compliment your chef enough. I have never tasted venison prepared with such rich flavors! You say you have a French chef?”

  “I do, but he does wonders with English puddings,” Katherine replied.

  Alastair could see that Millie was not satisfied with the end of the conversation, but she took her mother’s intimation and returned to eating her dinner. Later, Alastair overheard her ask Kittredge what he thought of the Farnsworth proposal.

  “Oh, I never have an opinion on political topics,” Kittredge returned. “It is an area that will win you many more enemies than friends.”

  “I thought perhaps it was the Lady Sophia who compels your return to London more than Farnsworth,” Louisa voiced.

  “Will you never cease to take an interest in my affairs?” Alastair returned. He knew Louisa favored a match between him and the Duke of Wakecastle.

  She huffed. “I am your sister.”

  “While that entitles you to have opinions of my affairs, I am under no obligation to heed them.”

  Her jaw dropped, though she was hardly new to his rudeness.