“Bend.” He placed his hand in the middle of her back to hold her in place once she had done so. “Night rail up.”
Bella squirmed with mortification at the thought of being in so vulnerable a position. “I cannot— Dante, please do not make me…” She broke off with a gasp as Dante gripped her night rail and ripped the back of the garment until she felt the coolness of the air on her bared back, bottom, and the backs of her thighs. “Daffodil,” she choked. “Daffodil, Dante.” She turned to look at him with tear-filled eyes.
He shook his head. “That is only to be used during lovemaking. What I am about to do to you is not lovemaking. Not yet, at least,” he added gruffly. “If you will not take care with your own welfare, then someone else must make you do it.”
She sniffed inelegantly as she turned away from him, very close to tears. Of humiliation. “You are the one who intends to hurt me now.”
His breath was a warm caress against the side of her throat as he bent over her bared back. “And afterwards, I shall kiss it better. But the punishment must come before the pleasure, Bella, so that in future you remember not to challenge my concern for your welfare in this way again.”
She buried her burning face in the bedcovers, fingers tightly gripping the damask cover as she anticipated the first punishing blow.
Dante was breathing hard as he gazed down at the length of Bella’s bared spine and the full swell of her bottom. Her delicious bottom. God, how he longed to forgo the punishment and kiss her there, lick her, taste her. Would she be shocked if—when, he did so? Would she cry “daffodil” again? Or would she surrender to his demands, to the pleasure he would give her after the pain?
The darkness of her hair was loose about her shoulders and looked beautiful against the pale gold of her skin, her back slender and unblemished. The globes of her ass were equally as unmarked.
But not for long.
Very shortly, they would show the imprint of Dante’s hand as he administered red welts on that unblemished gold. The backs of her thighs too. He intended for Bella to remember this punishment every time she attempted to sit down for the next few days at least. To remember and know never to ignore his instruction again.
But she would remember the pleasure that followed too. He would make sure of that.
But first…
Bella quivered, her breathing becoming ragged as she felt the light caress of Dante’s fingertips run lightly over her bared flesh. Her shoulders. The length of her spine. The indentations at the top of her bottom. The twin globes he had bared for him to punish.
Should she be aroused by those caresses? Her body sensitized to his every touch when he had announced it was his intention to spank her?
Whether she should be or not, she most certainly was. Her breasts ached as she pressed them into the bedcovers, between her thighs feeling hot and swollen. When she drew in a ragged breath, her nostrils were filled with the revealing musk of her own arousal.
Her embarrassment was acute as she knew Dante must also be aware of that heady musk. That he would know— Oh God!
The breath whooshed from her lungs, her back arching as the first smack landed on the left globe of her bottom. She was initially more shocked by the blow than pained, but as the force of the smack radiated out from her bottom, she felt the force of it vibrating through the rest of her body.
Before she even had time to regather her breath or thoughts, another blow landed, this time on the other cheek of her bottom.
After that, she lost count of the amount of smacks her bottom received, always first one cheek, then the other, until finally Dante’s hand landed on the backs of her thighs. Again, first one and then the other.
By which time Bella’s breaths were sobs and her body was raging with conflicting emotions. Pain. Humiliation. But also heat. Arousal. Pleasure as Dante began to alternate those spanks with the warm caress of his hand against the heat of her flesh.
How could she possibly feel pleasure in those caresses, which caused her sensitive flesh to tremble and shake, before the next blow fell?
Bella had no answer to that question, only the knowledge that her engorged nipples now ached to be touched, and between her thighs was now so swollen and wet, she could feel the slickness of her juices sliding down the inside of her legs.
Such a reaction was perverse—perverted—and surely wicked, and yet her response was undeniable. She wanted, needed, her body throbbing and aching for the same release Dante had given her the previous night.
Her breath drew in as a hiss, her back straightening as, instead of another blow landing on her hot and aching body, she instead felt the moist sweep of Dante’s tongue against that abused flesh, and realized he was now kneeling behind her.
“Head down,” Dante instructed gruffly, waiting until Bella had complied before grasping hold of her hips and holding her in place as he continued to lavish the attention of his moist tongue across the red and burning-hot cheeks of her bottom.
Her sobs quickly turned to groans as she pushed back against the explorations of his tongue. Dante made several throaty sounds of his own, of satisfaction and pleasure, after pushing Bella higher onto the bed so that he had access to and could lap up and drink down the juices slicking the swollen entrance to her pussy.
Her legs parted of their own volition, allowing him to plunge the stiffness of his tongue inside her. “More,” she groaned. “Oh please, Dante, more…”
One of his hands released its tight grip on her hip to move between her thighs as Dante sought and began to stroke the swollen nubbin of her clit. He could feel how it throbbed beneath that manipulation and knew Bella was very close to release. “Come for me, Bella,” he encouraged before thrusting his tongue deeper, harder, inside her, finger and thumb now pinching the throb of her clit.
True to her word, Bella had not screamed once as Dante spanked her, but she screamed now in ecstasy as her release claimed her.
Her clit was so swollen and erect, Dante had no problem pinching and pumping it in a similar way to how she had stroked his own cock the night before. The walls of her channel contracted about the thrusting of his tongue as she exploded in a second release. The juices now gushed into his waiting mouth before being swallowed down greedily.
He could wait no longer to claim this woman, his woman, quickly unfastening the folds of his pantaloons and releasing his cock before breaching her entrance and then plunging deeply inside the still-contracting walls of her pussy.
“So fucking tight.” He groaned his satisfaction, his cock feeling as if were locked in the heat of a vise. His hands moved beneath her night rail, forcing Bella to straighten up as he cupped her breasts to pinch and squeeze her nipples, withdrawing and thrusting his cock inside her in the same rhythm. Those thrusts became deeper still as his cockhead hit the opening to her womb, driving Dante with the primal need to fill her with his seed when she came again.
His balls drew up tight beneath his straining cock, warning of his own imminent release, and he lowered his head to bite down on the tender flesh of her shoulder as that release coursed hotly down the length of his cock and exploded inside Bella.
Pulse after pulse of hot, molten cum, until her pussy was so full, it began to drip down her thighs.
“Take it,” Dante bit out fiercely between gritted teeth, too far gone in his own rapture, too lost to his pleasure, to heed the voice that told him he should have withdrawn before ejaculation. “Take it all.” He continued to thrust long after his balls were drained dry as he felt her reach yet another climax.
His own pleasure was still too intense for him to want to stop despite the fact he had nothing left inside him, the lubrication of his own cum continuing to ease the way of his still-hard and demanding cock.
His second climax hit with almost painful intensity, his seed seeming to be drawn up from deep inside him as he continued to pump his cum inside her for several more long seconds.
When he finally came back to awareness of his surroundings, it was to rea
lize he was slumped over Bella’s back. His hands were squeezing her breasts as she sobbed beneath him, and she was continuing to reach climax after climax. Her pussy walls contracted and held fast, refusing to release or allow his cock to deflate from its rock-hard state.
“It will not stop, Dante,” she choked. “It will not stop!” she repeated brokenly.
His fingers moved to her hips and he held her firmly as he withdrew carefully but determinedly. Even so, that withdrawal scraped across those sensitive nerves inside Bella and sent her into another paroxysm of pleasure even as she slowly tumbled over sideways onto the carpet. Her whole body was shaking as she curled herself up into a ball.
Dante lay down beside her to take her trembling body into his arms and hold her tightly, her back against his chest.
He had never experienced anything like making love to Bella. It was as if their bodies, denied each other for so long, had decided to take every measure of pleasure they had missed out on for so many years.
Whatever the reason, their lovemaking had been more erotic, more satisfying, than anything else Dante had ever experienced in his five and thirty years. He wanted that again. And again.
Like a drug.
Or an addiction.
Chapter 11
Bella was alone in bed when she finally woke to the bright sun shining in through the window the following morning, although she had no idea how she came to be there. The last thing she remembered was—
Oh God.
Dante had spanked her. It had hurt at first, but then her body had been suffused with warmth and—
Oh God.
Dante had indeed kissed her better once he finished spanking her. Not merely kissed her, but thrust his tongue inside her channel and squeezed and pinched her nipples at the same time, until the wild clamoring inside her body brought her to release.
His cock had felt enormous as it breached the entrance to her channel from behind before he had thrust deeper, harder. He had claimed every part of her, until it seemed as if he became a part of her.
Climax after climax had followed, until they all melded into one continuous high of pleasure that refused to give her respite or to cease.
Bella now buried her face in her hands as she recalled the shaking and trembling of her body as that hot pleasure took her higher, and then higher still. Until she could no longer think but only feel, all her senses centered on that never-ending climax until Dante finally withdrew and she tumbled, boneless, onto the carpet before knowing no more.
Had her response even been normal?
She had never experienced anything even remotely like that with Jeremy. Had never come even close to doing so.
Nor had she known it was possible for a man to release in a second climax so soon after the first one. She had been so sure after he had released inside her so copiously for several long minutes that Dante had no more to give. Then, mere minutes later, his hands had gripped her tightly, his breathing became ragged, as he released and pumped inside her again until he collapsed against her back. Even then, his cock had remained hard and pulsing, setting off climax after climax inside her until she thought she might faint from such an abundance of pleasure.
She had fainted.
Dante must have picked her up and carried her to the bed.
Every part of Bella ached as she now attempted to move. Her bottom and the back of her thighs felt stinging and hot from the force of Dante’s hand. Her nipples were sore from the ministrations of his fingers. Between her thighs felt as if—as if—
As if something large had been thrust inside her for a great length of time, stretching her to her limits both in girth and length.
As it had.
Throwing back the bedcovers had also revealed she was completely naked, her ripped and ruined night rail draped over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. Placed there by Dante? Before or after he had carried her to the bed.
After doing so, had he undressed himself and spent the rest of the night with her in this bed?
The indent on the pillow beside her own would indicate he had.
Then where was he now?
More importantly, how was she to face him again after the intensity of lovemaking they had shared the previous night?
Bella instantly questioned as to why she was worrying about it at all. Dante had behaved like a barbarian. He had spanked her, for goodness’ sake, as if she were a naughty child. What had followed had been as a result of that spanking. Emotions and senses were running feverishly high after the receiving and administering of that punishment.
It had been Dante’s choice to make love to and with her afterwards.
As such, she would not cower and flinch from facing him again.
Dante had no idea what he had expected when he and Bella met again this morning after their wild and extremely satisfying lovemaking the previous night. Reproach, perhaps. Maybe a series of accusations regarding the demands he had made of her. Demands that had certainly heightened their pleasure, but which Bella might not appreciate in the full light of morning.
He had certainly not expected her to come waltzing into the kitchen, wearing a floral summer gown and a glowing smile that lit up the darkness of her eyes and gave color to her cheeks.
“I am starving,” she announced as she began to look through the kitchen cupboards.
Dante winced for her as she bent over to search through the lower cupboards, sure the stretching of the backs of her thighs and the clothing tightening against her bottom must be causing her discomfort. If it was, Bella gave no sign of it as she began to hum softly under her breath as she took eggs, butter, and milk from the larder.
“Do you even know how to cook?”
“As it happens, yes.” She gave him a bright and meaningless smile as she put some of the eggs, butter, and milk into a pan before placing it on top of the hot range and stirring it with a wooden spoon. “After my father died, my mother and I had to survive as best we could. His family had never really accepted his Spanish wife, and so we lived alone in our house outside Paris for almost a year after the servants ran off. Four men broke in and robbed us late one night. Thankfully, they took only the silver and jewelry, but my mother nevertheless decided we must return to the city and endeavor to take a boat to England for our own safety.”
A frown creased Dante’s brow. “I did not know that.” It seemed that Antonia Clairmont and her young daughter had been ostracized in both France and England, never quite fitting in with what either of those Societies demanded of them.
Bell gave him a dismissive glance as she continued to stir the eggs scrambling in the pan. “Considering your ridiculous accusation that I am a French spy, there are obviously many things you do not know about me.”
Dante accepted the rebuke without argument. “Will you tell me about your childhood in France while we eat breakfast?”
“If you will take out and slice the bread, yes.” There was a blush on her cheeks when she glanced across at him. “Will the marquis be joining us?”
He gave a shake of his head. “Devil has already left for London.” Poor devil, Dante commiserated inwardly, knowing his friend’s return to London, and Alys Newcomb, would not be a pleasant one. “The two of us will be traveling to Huntingdonshire later this morning so that I might begin the arrangements for the dowager’s funeral,” he added evenly.
Bella’s relief that she would not have to face Sebastian Trentham again after the sounds he could not have helped but overhear coming from her bedchamber the night before was now replaced with a frown. “Huntley Park holds no happy memories for me.” After her mother married Henry St. Just, they had all lived together in either London or Penscombe Manor in Cornwall.
Dante’s smile held no genuine humor. “For me either. But someone has to see that my aunt is suitably laid to rest. Personally, I cannot wait to see the old trout safely disposed of in the family crypt.”
“Dante!” Bella’s protest was somewhere between shock and humor.
He shrugged. “I cannot pretend, any more than you can, to feel an affection for her in death I never felt for her in life.”
“Perhaps she had her reasons for being the way that she was…” It cost Bella nothing to be charitable now that she did not have to face the formidable Agatha St. Just ever again.
“If so, I would be interested to know what they could have been.”
She sighed. “We will never know now.”
Sitting down at the kitchen table with Dante to eat a breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered bread was strangely…intimate. Not in the way last night had been intimate. This was an intimacy of sharing, almost of friendship.
Even so, Bella was, as usual, aware of everything about Dante. The dampness of his hair from where he had washed earlier. His neatly trimmed beard. The way his dark gray superfine was perfectly tailored to the width of his shoulders. His stomach taut beneath his buttoned waistcoat. Pale gray pantaloons clung to the slenderness of his hips and powerful thighs.
Powerful thighs that had pounded fiercely against the backs of her own the night before as Dante took her to a plateau of unimagined pleasure.
Her cheeks warmed, her hot gaze lowering to stare at the tabletop as she recalled he had not even bothered to undress, but had merely unfastened the fold of his pantaloons and released his cock before thrusting inside her from behind. And she had taken it, taken him deep inside her, squirming on his cock like a bitch in heat.
A knot formed in her throat at the memory of their bestiality, forcing her to give up the pretense of lightheartedness she had deliberately adopted for Dante’s benefit.
She placed her knife and fork on the plate beside the remains of her breakfast before standing up, her appetite having completely deserted her. “I will need to go upstairs and repack my things if we are to leave later— Please do not touch me, Dante!” She flinched away as he would have reached out and grasped her arm. “I cannot bear to—to be touched this morning.” Every part of her still felt too sensitized, too—too raw. Almost as if the top layer of her skin had been seared from her body during their lovemaking, leaving her bared and vulnerable despite being fully clothed.
Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners 2) Page 10