He pulled her up. “There, it is all over, love, and you did beautifully.”
At his gentle tone, all the sobs tore up through her stomach in convulsive waves. He pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face to his shoulder, helpless as tears claimed her.
“Good girl, my beautiful, good girl.” His gently spoken words surrounded her and drove her nearly insane with guilt. She didn’t deserve them.
She pushed away from him. He made a sibilant sound and tried to press her head back to his shoulder.
“You don’t know how very bad I am,” she said, her voice stricken. “I killed William.”
“No, you didn’t.” He didn’t sound at all shocked, as if he’d been expecting her to say this.
“No, no, you don’t understand. He had come to Whitecross Hall and he demanded that I must from then on make my home in Mayfair, with him. He was determined for an heir. He told me this and then he took me to my bed. And it was different that time, than the times before. I almost… I almost… But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t give him that kind of power over me and it made him so angry. He-he called me a cold-hearted vixen and he insisted we would leave for Mayfair immediately, even though the baggage carts and our entourage were not ready.”
She drew several shuddering breaths. “We went ahead, even though it was storming. The rain came down too hard, it made it hard to see ahead on the road and water pooled everywhere, too much coming down to run off.”
“He was Cranfield and your husband. He bore a responsibility to behave in a controlled manner and keep you safe,” Ruel said. “It’s not your fault he didn’t.”
“But there’s something else far worse. It’s my fault we didn’t have an heir. I used Greek sponges. He never knew. It was wrong, worse than lying, but I didn’t want to bear the child of a man who had closed his heart off to me.”
“Of course you didn’t. It’s in the past, Nan. You must forgive yourself and put it behind you.” He stroked her hair, kissed her hands and murmured senseless endearments.
A tremendous weight lifted from her. Now someone else knew how bad, how evil she had been. No—not just anyone, but Ruel. In addition, he didn’t hold it against her. Eventually her sobs died away.
“Let’s go to bed now,” he said.
She nodded and slipped from his lap, unable to speak. He stood, then picked her up. She lay limp and drained in his arms as he carried her to the bed. She allowed him to remove her dress and chemise, then remained passive as he rolled her over. He stretched out over her. He’d removed his banyan, for his bare cock touched her, smooth and cool against her burning buttock and fully erect. Even after what had just occurred between them, it shocked her. But any further thoughts were wiped away by unbearable lust tearing through her core. Her nub grew painfully firm. She moaned aloud with no thought of what he would think.
“Lift up,” he whispered, deep and strangely tender against her ear. He brushed her hair away and kissed her nape.
She complied and he slipped his hand under her, unerringly finding the pulse of her aching need. He stroked her in soft but firm strokes, increasing the speed, bringing her to completion with breath-taking efficiency. Pleasure pulsed through her and left her ticking. Almost instantly, a deeper, more unbearable ache swelled within her. The hunger to feel him thrust deep inside. She moaned with it, arching her hips backwards against him, uncaring of the pain it caused her stinging bottom.
He nipped at her neck and sank two fingers into her. “God, you’re so wet. Shall I fuck you?”
“Yes, yes, oh God, yes.”
“What do I need to hear, Nan?”
“Please, please…”
He laughed softly. “Please what?”
“Please…fuck me, Jon.” She writhed against him, wild with need.
“You’ve got to hold still.” He growled the words.
She held her hips still, fisting handfuls of the coverlet with the effort. He pushed into her with one forceful thrust. Stretched to her limits by his size, she spasmed over and over and over, hugging tight to get the most of the wonderful fullness.
“Christ, you have a hungry little cunt.”
She could only moan and rock her hips.
He grasped them firmly. “I am the one who fucks; you are the one who holds herself still for it.” He took her with savage determination.
Her orgasm bore down on her hard, carried her aloft, and she screamed with the pleasure.
He pulled out then pumped against her stomach. The first jet of his seed hit her, warm and wet.
“God, God, God.” The fierce jetting of his seed onto her belly punctuated every rasping word. He groaned and fell silent, yet still he kept coming.
Then he collapsed on her, his breath panting in her ear. “You are simply amazing, love.”
”I don’t understand…you were so angry. You punished me.”
He laughed, the sound breathless and harsh. “It’ll be that way every time I punish you.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“It’s not something to be understood, only felt and experienced.” He nipped her neck again.
Feeling oddly safe, she let her eyes drift closed.
* * * *
Jon sat drinking tea, looking up as Anne came to the table. Soft-eyed and quiet, she offered him a shy smile but he wanted her completely submissive this morning. Therefore he merely nodded to her and continued sipping his tea. She winced as she sat down.
Damn. She was so delicate. He remembered how easily her bottom had turned red under his punishment. There was a very pleasurable way to ensure she stayed in a deeply submissive mood. His cock turned to iron and his hands were on his breeches buttons even as he spoke, “Stand and put your hands on the table.”
Her forehead wrinkled and her teacup dropped to her saucer with a clatter. “But what—have I displeased you?”
“I am not going to punish you, I am going to fuck you.” He took her hand. “Come now, you’re mine and I want you without delay.”
She complied, all sweet and quiet. He pulled her nightdress up and she trembled.
“I am going to fuck you very hard and swift.” He caressed her neck. “You’re not to move. You’re not to make a sound. Do you understand?”
He thrust into her. Her walls hugged him and he tightened his hands on her hips. “Stay still.”
She went completely limp beneath him. Her instant and total submission was gratifying beyond anything he’d known before. He took her fierce and fast with an almost shaking excitement that built all too quickly.
He pulled out and stroked up and down on his shaft, milking every last ounce of sensation out of his orgasm as he spilled his seed on her arse. The violent spasms passed, leaving behind a profound satisfaction. He exhaled loudly. He hadn’t come like that since age twenty, when he’d dominated his first woman.
He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her clean of his seed then tossed the cloth aside.
“Good girl,” he said caressing her nape through her wild, curling hair. He readjusted his clothing then pulled her skirts down. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Come here, Nan, I want to talk a while.”
She was quiet as she let him lead her. He sat in his chair then he tugged on her hand. “Kneel here.”
Without a word, she obeyed him, keeping her eyes on the floor. The ink black colour of her hair fascinated him. She put her cheek to his nankeen-covered leg and then she sighed.
He smiled to himself. “What did I tell you, Nan? I said you would kneel at my feet and count yourself the luckiest woman alive.”
She said nothing but instead pressed her cheek closer. He caressed her hair, enjoying the silken texture. Then he slipped his hand down to her back. “Are you ready to go and ride the horse today, Nan?”
She nodded.
He felt her increased breathing. “It’s going to be all right. You can do this. The first time will be the worst and after this, it will easier and easier. You’ll see.”
*
* * *
Later in the courtyard, Anne waited for the numb, crawling sensations and too-quick breathing to begin while Ruel settled her in front of him on Sally. Her buttocks were still slightly sore. The sensation made her feel deeply connected to Ruel. It was strange. But she didn’t reflect on it. When he wrapped his strong arm tight about her waist, she knew nothing could hurt her. The horse moved and Anne stared down at the ground passing by. And the sick sensations of fear didn’t come. Just a certain cautious watchfulness. Nothing she couldn’t live with. She looked up and saw that they were coming around the courtyard, almost back to the cottage.
“Are you doing all right?” he asked.
She turned to him, looked into his hard-boned face, and smiled, feeling her whole heart radiating out to him. He had made this possible. He had coaxed and pushed her until she could do this. She owed him everything.
She heard herself vocalising this to him.
His brows pinched together, a flash of pained expression. “That’s simply not true. You turned control over to me but it was your decision to do so, your courage to trust that allowed this.” He smiled at her and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “I merely provided a safe place for you to experience being vulnerable and to find your own centre of courage again. But I could never have made you do anything you didn’t want to or weren’t capable of from your own strength.”
He leaned closer and put his lips to hers. Her mouth opened under his.
He cupped her breast and he raised his head. “Nan…”
The horse stopped and he pulled her from the saddle into his arms. The hunger in his voice resonated in her cunt and she moaned, long and lingering.
He carried her into the cottage and took her to the bed. His lips were gentle on hers as he peeled her clothes off. Then he left her and she watched as he shed his own clothing. As he had done that first night, he kissed and caressed every inch of her. The feel of his lips upon her body drove her desire to unbearable levels.
He suddenly moved off her and laid on his back. He motioned to her. “Come here, love.”
She came near his side and he grasped her about the hips and pulled her over onto of him.
“Like this,” he said, arranging her legs over his hips. He positioned his cock at her entrance then gripped her buttocks. “Like this.”
With one quick upward jerk of his hips, he had impaled her. The sudden expansion and stretching of her cunt made her cry out. Her inner walls clenched about him tight in grateful welcome. Instinctively, she rocked herself on him.
“That’s it, my beautiful girl. Take what you need from me.” He cupped her breasts with both of his large, long fingered hands.
She leant forward a bit and her pulsing, erect nub made contact with his pelvic bone. She sucked in her breath at the sensation. He throbbed within her and her internal muscles spasmed in answer. Need shuddered through her. She moved her body up then back down upon him. Her slick quim massaged his thick length. With groan, he tightened his hands upon her. His sound of appreciation emboldened her. She moved upon him again and again.
God, she had never thought of his. Of being in control of her pleasure. And his. The gift of experience that he gave her never ended. This was just one more but a very special one. She pressed forward, causing her nub and inner frontal wall to make maximal contact with him. He took her hips firmly, and upon each of her downward thrusts, he arched his pelvis upwards, jamming his crown against the entrance to her womb.
The combined effect resulted in a shimmering climax of sensations. Everything inside her drew tight and exploded in spasms, her cunt rippling again and again on his cock. She seemed to come and come and come. Or maybe she had come more than once. She couldn’t be sure. Didn’t care as she lay against him, gasping in the aftermath.
Limp, she allowed him to roll them until she was underneath him. He moved within her slowly, prolonging their time, nipping at her neck and telling her things with his hands and body that would have frightened her into her shell if he had spoken them aloud.
Eventually, recovered from her orgasm, she wrapped her legs tightly about his waist and let them move up his body as high as they would go. He repositioned her. Pushed her knees to her shoulders then her ankles were draped over his broad, powerful shoulders. His cock pressed the very depths of her. He gripped her neck lightly, possessively and kissed her deeply, passionately. She clutched his shoulders. Emotion exploded within her, too strong for her to bear. Tears streamed from her closed eyes. Warm wetness touched her cheeks as he lapped them away.
The whole time he was driving in and out of her with an ever-increasing speed. He squeezed her left breast and underneath, her heart swelled and then melted over. Golden, sweet pleasure that spread through her down to her womb. A very different kind of climax. A melting sensation. Everything within her dissolved and became part of him. From a distance, she sensed his withdrawal. The heated wash of his seed against her thighs, upon her mons.
He cleansed her with a towel from the bedside table then he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. He brushed her mouth with his and then he held her. They lay like that a very long time.
* * * *
Jon lay in the bed, cradling Anne’s head on his chest. He couldn’t hold firm with her. He’d taken her up on the mare and Anne had finally trusted him enough to allow him to ride with her once around the courtyard. More than that, she’d been all right enough that when he’d asked her how she was doing during the last few yards, she had turned smiled. Not a forced, trembling smile, but a happy one, her eyes shining with triumph.
In addition, yes, there’d been relief there too. Because she’d known she’d soon be off the horse. He knew better than to think her fears were completely over. Maybe they never would be completely erased.
However, she had taken a very important step.
And he had been so elated that he’d carried her in here and made long and lingering love to her. He’d totally gone back on his intention of making her wait all day. And that was all either a sign that he’d grown too old for these domination games or that he was falling in love with her. Given the strength of his last three orgasms, he’d have to say it was not the former reason.
Then it was love. How odd. Love now, when he’d finally stopped longing for it. Stopped believing himself capable of it. And what the devil should he do about it?
* * * *
The next morning, woken early by thunder, Jon checked on the dog, which they had named Tiberia. He lifted up the bandage on the leg and drew his breath in at what he saw.
Anne knelt beside him. “That’s not good, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” He exhaled slowly. She would not take this well.
“What can we do?”
He rubbed the thick stubble on his unshaven jaw. “Kean’s father served as an army surgeon. We shall have to take her to him.”
“Can he really help her?”
“I don’t know, love.” He squeezed her hand. “It means a ride over to Eastwood Place. And we must take a carriage.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, too brightly, as she allowed him to help her up.
“You could stay here. I can send someone back to stay with you until I return.”
“Oh, no. I shall accompany you.” Her voice sounded steady but she had paled considerably and when he took her hand it was like ice.
He didn’t know if she was really ready but there would be no other way. Robert came at dawn for the laundry every few days and he was due today. Jon would instruct him to send a carriage from Eastwood for them. So now the world intruded on them already.
Chapter Sixteen
Thunder rumbled through the body of the carriage. Every vibration set Anne’s nerves even more on edge and she clutched the carriage seat. She shivered, frozen to the bones by the chilly, damp air and her own sinking spirits. Across from her on the other seat, the dog lay on a blanket, panting, its eyes half closed. Anne knew that Jon had administered whisky to the poor animal to
sedate it. Safely inside now, she removed the large, hideous bonnet that she’d used to conceal her face against the eyes of the coachman as she’d allowed Jon to guide her to the carriage. She hadn’t liked that part. She would have rather kept her sight clear and examined the driver and the horses for their fitness.
Finally, Jon had come inside and closed the door. She’d jumped at the sound. It was a hard, final noise, like a tomb being closed.
No—that kind of fanciful thinking was not going to help her today.
Jon reached for her hand and prised it off the seat, then set it on his thigh. His body heat radiated through the nankeen cloth, warming her. His muscles flexed beneath her hand as he settled back against the seat.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am fine.”
“Anne, it is all right to admit you are afraid. You must always be open with me.”
“Yes, I am afraid. I am even more afraid of being afraid. I don’t want to keep failing.”
His look turned tender and he pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and he cupped her cheek with his large hand. Then he rapped on the carriage wall and the vehicle began to move, rocking along on the rough ground of the long-neglected dirt drive. Each jolt seemed to jar her very bones, as if they would be shaken apart. She knew her perceptions were distorted, but knowing didn’t help a bit. She clung to him and closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was anywhere but travelling in a carriage in a storm. It would be at least an hour’s ride to Eastwood Place, if not longer because of the rain and mud.
“You’re being very brave,” he said.
She laughed shakily. “I don’t feel brave. It sounds like the carriage will tear itself in two.”
“You’ve simply forgotten what’s normal. It’s completely customary for the carriage to make a lot of noise under these circumstances. The road to Eastwood Place is not the best. Kean doesn’t invest enough in his own lands and the roads on them.” He caressed her cheek. “It sounds worse than it is. It hasn’t been raining that long. The roads are not affected much.”
A Measured Risk Page 19