Emily's Seduction

by Natasha Blackthorne

  When he returned, he held a book. As he sat, the bed rocked with his weight. He ran a fingertip over the expensive leather, traced the gilded edging. “This is a rare book. They are given to brides in the Orient on their wedding night, usually by their mother or another family female.” He propped back on the pillows next to her and opened the book.

  A faint scent of musk and jasmine filled the air, a tad stale as if with age. She glanced at the book, and vivid, jewel-toned colours popped from the page. The illustrations were so intricately done, the people almost seemed alive. She gasped and sat up to get a better look. An olive-skinned couple reclined on a crimson and gold divan. The man wore an elaborate turban-like headdress. The woman lay back and the man had his head between her legs, his tongue quite clearly stroking her quim, the lips of which were a bit over exaggerated.

  He turned the pages slowly and each illustration made her catch her breath anew. Some of the pages included play with toys, mostly a phallus.

  “These books can be custom-made to cater to the tastes of the bridegroom. So he can show his innocent wife the things that he wants from her.”

  She understood. She was the innocent wife. Innocent compared to him. “You commissioned this?”

  “Yes, it’s mine. I like to collect exotic things.”

  “And there is something here you want to try with me?”

  “This one,” he said, running his fingertips lightly down her arm as he turned the page.

  The woman was on her knees and a false phallus protruded from between her nether lips. The man knelt behind her, his—good Lord, was any man really that huge?—cock pressing at her anus.

  Emily sucked in her breath. Heavens, just a few short months ago she would have run screaming from such an image. Now it sent a wave of heat through her loins. She flashed a look at Alex. “This is what you want?”

  “Not exactly like that the first time. The first time, I’ll just enter you there without the phallus but I want to accustom you to it.” He caressed her arm. “But only if you want it too.”

  The memory of the day before, when he had put his fingers into her there and fucked her at the same time… The fullness, the sense of being taken completely had driven her insane with pleasure. She wanted to feel that again, yes, but with his cock there this time—dear heaven, the intimacy of that. The forbidden nature of it… Her inner muscles contracted and lubrication flowed from her core. A delicate shudder chased along her spine and she closed her eyes.

  He touched her hand. “If you don’t like it, we won’t do it again.”

  At the slight edge in his voice, misgivings arose in her. She opened her eyes and glanced at the page. “Will it hurt me?”

  “It might, at first, but if you allow this we’ll go slow.” He put the book down. “I mainly have that as a novelty, something exotic to collect. The pictures are a little comedic and not particularly arousing.”

  She agreed and was glad he’d closed the book. But it was a work of art. She was going to examine it privately. Later.

  He picked up the dildo and warmed it between his hands. Her stomach went all fluttery. She wasn’t at all convinced she’d like to have that thing inserted into her. But she trusted him and was willing to go along with his experiment once before closing her mind.

  He bent down and kissed her. The touch of his tongue tracing her lips, sweeping into her mouth and caressing hers, heated her blood. His large hand brushed over her breasts, exciting her nipples into stiff peaks. He pulled his mouth away from hers and kissed his way down her breasts, to her belly and lower.

  She was trembling with desire.

  He plunged his tongue into her slick depths several times then worked his way forward, licking her swollen inner lips until he reached her erect nub.

  She was close, so close. Just a few more strokes of his deft tongue and she would come undone. She clutched his hair and arched her pelvis upwards.

  He stopped. The head of that phallic object touched her. Smooth, cool, sliding along her swollen nub and then down between her inner folds to her entrance. He pressed and it entered her a little way. She contracted around it, aching to be filled and stretched, and she arched upwards again. It felt good and yet…it wasn’t a real cock. He bent and applied his tongue to her most sensitive spot again whilst the glass phallus into her with slow, incremental strokes.

  Realising it was in her completely, she gasped. With his tongue on her and her quim filled with the dildo, she was forced to reconsider her earlier expectations. He moved the glass object back and forth in a steady rhythm as if he were actually fucking her.

  “Do you like that, my darling?”

  She moaned.

  He touched her anus, his finger circling and circling, slathering her with oil. He worked first one then two fingers inside. She was so tight, so filled. His tongue on her, the glass dildo, his fingers inside her. It was all too much. Her womb, her internal muscles spasmed in release and she cried out.

  He moved up her body and held her a moment. She lay in his arms, stunned that she’d actually come from being fucked with a glass phallus. She’d never imagined such a thing.

  “Now roll over and kneel for me.”

  She complied. He slapped his hand on her buttock “Spread your legs wide for me.”

  She did. He was behind her in an instant. He withdrew the dildo from her cunt.

  “My God, you’re gorgeous like this.” He grasped her hips.

  Her heart rate jumped up. Oh, God, was she ready for this? Her throat went dry and she swallowed tensely. His crown slid over her rosette, igniting sensations that took her mind away from her misgivings. She wanted him to take her, to fill her, to claim her. The sensation of utter submission to him mingled with her anxiety only served to heighten her excitement. Her breath hitched and lubrication flowed like honey from her core.

  He pressed, gently but firmly.

  It hurt. She wanted to do this with him. To give him what he wanted and to be this close to him. But it hurt like fire. He stopped pushing forward and caressed her back. “Relax.”

  She breathed slow and deep, trying to ignore it, but it hurt. Losing her virginity had hurt and continued hurting and she’d ended by crying into his shoulder after. Would this be the same? Would she disgrace herself the same way this time?

  He reached beneath her and touched her nub. She closed her eyes and moaned, while straining to his fingers. He knew how to touch her in just the right ways. He was capable of bringing her climax quickly, as he did this time. Intense pleasure surged, followed by relaxation.

  The head of his cock pushed against her anus again, applying steady, firm pressure. Pain blossomed and she gasped.

  “Bear down, love.” His voice was hoarse, telling her how much he wanted this from her.

  She bore down and his thickness breached the tight ring of flesh. The pain intensified.

  He paused, caressed her back. “That was the worst of it. Just relax yourself and let your body accept me.”

  He sounded so confident about that. He must have done this with other women. Of course he had. Everything they did was new and unique for her. But he had all those memories to compare her to. How did she fare against them? What good did it do for her to fret over it? She had to believe he loved her and that his feelings would make this unique for him too. But, without knowing his past, it was hard to have confidence in that.

  “Are you ready for more?” His tender, husky tone broke through her anxiety.

  “Yes,” she said, without much confidence.

  Alex considered the slender lines of her body and hunger raged through him. She was being so submissive, so brave. He inched forward slowly. She was so tight, so hot. He fought the urge to thrust harder. He had to take care with her. He didn’t want to frighten her or hurt her more than was absolutely necessary. He particularly enjoyed fucking a woman in the arse and he’d never experienced someone so utterly snug. He wanted her to like this. He wanted her to be compliant for it again.

  Bu
t his body trembled with the effort it took to hold back. He leaned forward and caressed her neck and shoulders. “You’re doing beautifully, my love. Just relax.”

  He continued to inch forward into her body. She was relaxing now, her body opening to him. He reached to touch her nub. It was erect and slick with her juices. He smiled in relief. He had expected she might not enjoy it this time but maybe she could. She moaned and her internal muscles squeezed his erection, sending shafts of fire up his cock and into his stomach and down his thighs. He closed his eyes. This forbidden act was always so delicious but this time it was making his head spin.

  He forced himself to wait, touching her and feeling her arse constrict once more upon him. She moaned and writhed her hips, her wetness flowing onto his hand, her inner muscles tightening and tightening as he brought her up close to her orgasm. He drew his hips back then pressed down slowly into her again. There would be other times he could plunge into her and experience the sensation of tunnelling hard and fast into those cock-hugging depths. This time he had to remember her inexperience.

  As he sheathed himself to the hilt, her hips arched up to his pelvis and she moaned. He drew back and pushed forward again, slightly faster this time, while continuing to stimulate her quim. She cried out. Her body trembled in the way he recognised.

  “That’s it, my love, let yourself go. Come for me now.”

  Her breath hitched several times and she shook all over, rocking him all the way to his balls. His whole body tensed in anticipation of her orgasm and he groaned. Her cunt began to contract spasmodically, the tight ring of her arse squeezed his cock and her body quaked like he’d never felt before. The surging began deep in his cock and his seed rushed up and released itself in an explosive series of jets, pleasure so all-consuming that he shouted with it.

  * * * *

  Emily considered how strange it was to be in the kitchen alone with Alex, especially to be naked, together in the huge brass bathtub.

  “I think we should simply have no servants all the time,” she said.

  “And what would they do for their living then, my love? Cato is old and Mrs Webbs isn’t too far behind.”

  “Oh dear, I hadn’t looked at it like that.” Guilt rent her and she stared down at the suds floating around his midsection and bit her lip. How could she have even jested about such a callous thing as dismissing the loyal servants?

  “Oh, you’re so soft-hearted.” He laughed quietly. He smudged a fingertip of suds on her nose. “I was teasing you. I have a house in the country. We will go there sometimes with no servants and have each other all to ourselves. We’ll even be so selfish as to leave our children here with the servants.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She took the soap into her hands and made lather and smeared it on the inner wall of the tub above the water line.

  “When the time comes, you’ll be ready for a break, believe me.”

  She wasn’t sure so she kept quiet. Because even though they were sitting here in the tub, physically close as could be, and they were teasing each other, something had shifted between them. Every time they made love, he showed her something different, took her higher and revealed parts of herself she hadn’t known existed. And yet, this time, it was different. He looked at her differently…no, he avoided looking her in the eye. At least, it seemed that way. Very odd. She drew her eyebrows together. What was going on inside of him?

  “You didn’t like it.”

  His words startled her. Heavens, what to say? She traced her initials into the lather.

  “Emily, I asked you a question.”

  What else could she be but honest? “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why?” He caressed her shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not after the first but…” She shrugged him off then erased her initials with a swipe of her hand.

  “But what?”

  She glanced up at him. “I enjoyed it vastly when we did it but now, in retrospect, I don’t like it.”

  He frowned. “What changed your mind?”

  “I don’t like it now because you think it is wrong.”

  Chapter Five

  Alex’s heart rate kicked up. What the devil did she mean by that? “I think it is wrong?”

  “Yes, you do. At least you think it is wrong to do with me…” She shrugged her bare, water-slicked shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Ah, here it was. The pain of being this close to someone else. He could lie to himself. He could lie to her. But she would always know. Coldness rippled through his belly, and in his mind he could see Nicolo nodding with that damnable sympathy. Anger burned through him.

  A sudden urge to escape to his study and get half-seas over seized him. He stood, water and suds sloshing down.

  She looked up at him. Her eyes accused him. “You did it to degrade me.”

  Shock paralysed his brain and his mouth dropped open. “Degrade you?”

  She nodded calmly. It was her calm that undid him the most.

  He shook with anger. Not trusting himself to speak, he picked up a towel and briskly rubbed his body dry. Then he pulled on his banyan.

  “Alex, you asked me. I told you. Why are you—?”

  Women never knew when to let something drop. He hurriedly finished tying his belt then rounded on her. “Degrade you? How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

  “Should I have lied?”

  Gentlemanly manners forced him to offer her a hand out of the tub and also to turn his back while she dried herself. However, when she had done so and was dressed in her nightgown, he reopened the discussion.

  “Emily, how can you believe I would ever willingly do anything to—God, what was that word—degrade you?”

  “I don’t know… I just know that it is true. I don’t know why you’d wish to do that. Won’t you explain?” Her eyes implored him.

  His heart began to hammer in earnest now. She’d trapped him, pinned him to the wall and he sought escape. “There’s nothing to explain. It was a type of closeness I wanted to share with you and you didn’t favour it. We shan’t do it again—nor need we discuss the matter.”

  He pulled away from her, strode through the mudroom and threw open the door. He opened it and frigid air rushed in, clearing his churning emotions. Had he wanted to degrade her? No, he had not. He had simply wanted her to be a shade less pure. But wasn’t that degrading her? Damn it, he didn’t know.

  The light suddenly dimmed. She had blown out the lamp and the only light remaining was the fire. He turned and saw her, a ghostly glow of white flannel and pale ivory skin as she huddled in the kitchen doorway.

  Oh, damn it. What had he done? He had enjoyed their sharing and she had too. She had had strong misgivings. He had plainly seen that. It had made her trusting submission all the more a most precious gift. The most precious he’d been given. But he had infected it, ruined it with his darkness. Now he had made her feel degraded by the experience.

  “If you must freeze, I shall leave you to it.” Her voice was brittle.

  He’d hurt her. Deeply. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, ruffling his queued hair. Christ, he had never meant to hurt her. What the devil was the matter with him?

  He closed the door then turned back to her. “Go upstairs and get into bed.”

  He banked the kitchen hearth then followed the spill of moonlight from the windows upstairs. He entered his own chamber, expecting to lie in a cold bed. But no, there she was huddled under the heap of quilts she favoured. She got cold so easily. She was so delicately boned, so slender. The need to protect her rose in him like fire in his blood.

  Protect her against himself.

  He took off his banyan, got into bed and pulled her close. She remained stiff in his arms.

  “For God’s sake, Emily, don’t be this way. It was a mistake. Let it pass.”

  “Something stands between us. Not what we’ve done this night but something within you and you refuse to share it with me, yet it darkens and taints everything.�
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  He stared at her, his heart contracting with pain and contrition. Yet he didn’t know how to fix this.

  How might he tell his young and yet innocent intended the horrors he’d known as a boy? Could he deal with it if afterward she saw him as less than a man? If pity—or worse—scorn replaced the love that shone in her eyes now?

  No, what had been wounded at his core lay scarred over thoroughly all these years and must remain so. If he moved through life stiffly as a result of the scarring then that was his burden to bear. At least in bearing it he would still be a man, not a crawling, weak creature as life had once reduced him to. He’d promised himself that no one would ever know his shame and no one ever would.

  “Nothing stands between us… Nothing that truly matters,” he said. “Now let us get some sleep.”

  * * * *

  The pungent odour of ginger tea from the steaming cup was most disagreeable. Emily pretended to take a sip and then placed the exquisite china cup back in the saucer. She let her gaze flicker around Cornelia Hazelwood’s parlour. The women crowded about were all staring at her in the way one stares at any girl rumoured to have met her benefactor in a disorderly tavern. With equal parts curiosity and disapproval.

  A touch on her hand startled her. She turned and looked into sharp sky blue eyes. Mrs Hazelwood standing at her side, her tiny, birdlike frame dressed in a robin’s egg blue muslin gown and her hair covered by a simple, lace-trimmed cap.

  Nervous about what the woman might want, Emily smiled, trying to hold her trembling lips steady.

  “Girl, take a walk with me in the garden.” Mrs Hazelwood said.

  People didn’t refuse the old dragon. Emily had enough social sense to know that. With no other choice but to accept, she stood and followed her outside. They walked along the roses.