“Breakfast,” Mrs. Garrity called out from the hallway.
William grunted and rolled back off Clarissa, then laid at her side like a gentleman—well, not that, really—but like a man being respectful would do.
“Enter,” he replied loud enough his housekeeper would hear.
She stepped inside, keeping her head down, and Clarissa disappeared under the thick quilting.
He grabbed her arm underneath to still her.
“Did you bring Miss Stone some coffee as well?” he asked Garrity.
“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Garrity curtsied with her eyes still cast down to avoid embarrassing Clarissa and then she took her leave.
“You see? There is nothing to fear. She knows how to handle such things,” William told his cherry girl.
When he reached for her, she was up and out of the bed, pacing before him, covering her breasts with one arm and her other hand was over her puss.
He smirked. Damnation, she was adorable.
“She knows how to handle such things because she thinks I am like all the other women you have brought here and bedded!” Her hands flung in the air, and then she leaned over, scrounged up his clothing and shrugged into his shirt.
“Those will not fit you, and just so you’re aware—I never fucked any of them in my bed. Always outside on the grounds, in my motorcar or in their bed or a hotel somewhere.”
“Oh, yes, that makes it so much more palatable. You may find this amusing, but I, sir, do not!” Her jaw tensed.
She slipped his pants on and fastened them, but they fell right off her.
He stifled a rolling laugh.
She bent over, pulled them back up and held them in place with her hands as she went in search of some suspenders.
A moment later as she rummaged through his bureau and ignored the wonderful, tantalizing food right before her face sitting on top, she pulled out a whip and froze.
“Want to try it out? I’m very good with it. Feels amazing,” he said.
She dropped it and turned as if on a hinge, glaring at him. “You would whip me for fun?”
“For your fun, too. It’s erotic—it’s pleasurable—like me.” His eyebrows bounced.
“I hate this!” She picked up the whip and threw it at him.
It landed with a thud right in front of him, near the foot of the mattress.
He got out of bed, picked it up and stalked over to her as she continued to ransack his drawers.
She pulled out some suspenders and tried to fit them onto his trousers she was drowning in.
“Come here.” He circled the whip around her waist and then nuzzled his nose into her hair. Gad—she still smelled like that horrid man. “Let me feel you for a moment before we go wash.”
“I will not wash with you!”
“You will, and you will enjoy it. I shall wash you like I promised last night when you said how much you loved smelling like me for days on end.”
She gasped and went rigid in his arms. He took that opportunity to run the tip of his nose and lips down her hairline. He nipped at her jaw.
“I did not say that,” she whimpered.
“You did, ma chérie. I loved hearing it. You have no idea what it did to me.” He rubbed his erection on her hip and ground into her as he took her in his arms and turned her toward him.
Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers.
A flood of heat ran rampant through him and he lost all sense as he turned her once more, still in his arms and backed her over to the bed.
“Ne vous battez pas contre moi,” he whispered, his lips brushing across hers once more. “J’ai besoin de vous. Ne voyez-vous pas à quel point je meurs pour vous? Prenez ce qui vous appartient. Je vous donne tout ce que j’ai—tout ce que je suis. S’il vous plait, juste laisser moi vous toucher encore une fois.”
With a languid kiss and a reverberating moan emanating out of his belly, he lowered her to the bed and dragged his body over hers.
“Puuuu-leeeez,” she said with a tight, vibrating moan, her head tipping back.
He sucked at her throat, marking her harder than he had last time at her nape.
Her legs wrapped around him, and he growled at the feel of his trousers she was wearing rubbing on his legs.
“Damned woman—putting on clothes. You infuriate me.” He spread her arms out wide, told her to keep them there and then he proceeded to rip the shirt off her—buttons flying around the room.
He tossed it aside and did the same to his trousers she wore.
“Those were . . . Did they cost a lot?” she asked with a soft voice. Did she feel bad that money was being wasted?
He almost laughed, but then he remembered what her old home had looked like when he’d barreled into Leo’s apartment to save her from Miller. It was sparsely furnished, tiny and the walls looked like they were about to fall apart.
“I don’t give a damn if I have to take you to Paris to replace them.” He stared in her eyes.
“P-p-paris?” Her voice trembled, and her legs automatically bent. Her feet pushed flat with her heels up against her ass as he settled between her legs.
“Yes, fucking Paris. I will take you there as soon as you quit balking about how much everything costs and quit fucking running away from me. I can’t take it anymore. You belong here with me.”
“As your French whore?” She dropped her head and looked at him with that defiant glower.
He surged forward, filling her up with his girth. “No—not that. You are the woman that I will do anything for. Stop with all the self-deprecating comments. I hate it when you do that. And I will no longer allow it. No more talk like that.”
He pumped inside her gently at first. She wrapped her arms around him.
“Why should I stop being honest? It is all I have now. I have no employ, no place to live, no family, except Leo, if he’ll even see me now after what we did to Miller.”
“What I did to Miller. I’m the one that smashed his fucking face in.” He gripped her jaw, forcing her to look straight in his eyes. “I take full responsibility for all of it.” He kissed her roughly. She opened her mouth to his, sighing like she was relieved to finally have this connection again. “I am the one that had you evicted.”
Her eyes flashed with fear for a second. “Why?”
“Jealous—possessive. I could not abide you living with any other man but me. I ensured you couldn’t. I thought you would run to me, but you didn’t. Instead you . . . God, why did you go to that place on Twenty-Fourth Street when you knew I wanted you here with me? You could have died in that fire.”
He thrust harder, forcing his body to memorize the feel of her.
She’s here with me now. She’s here. She’s alive, and she will not go.
He kissed her cheeks, her eyes and her forehead.
Her arms went lax and fell off him.
“William, that man that threw the bomb—he thought I was a prostitute because I smelled of you that day when I arrived on Elizabeth’s doorstep. He was already enraged that one of my roommates walked the streets and had her hooks in his son. I promised I would talk to Suzie and try to smooth things over, but I didn’t. I was too engrossed in my own problems. So, he . . . He took matters in his own hands to eradicate the whores that resided in the building next to his store. He k-killed his son in the process.”
“Shhh . . . No, no, no. It’s not your fault.” He curled around her, pulling out and kissing her with velvet affirmations of her worth. “You are so kindhearted—soooo good. Not like me.”
She cried as he kissed and caressed her shoulders, her belly and her hips.
His fingers splayed out and stroked softer than he ever thought possible.
“I’m sorry I pushed you into that place,” he said, pulling her arms around him. “Can you ever forgive me?” He nudged her chin with his nose, then kissed her jaw. “It was stupid of me to assume you would turn to me.”
“I did not think . . . I did not want to be a whore. I want to be valued as
a decent human being.”
“You are, my love. You are—so much.” His voice broke and went hoarse. “Kiss me. Tell me you forgive me, or I shall never survive this day.”
“I do not blame you for anything. I forgive freely, and I am sorry as well that you felt you needed to go to such extreme measures. Why you would do all that I cannot fathom. I am not worth it.”
He growled and lunged forward, pinning her down with his body weight. “You. Are. Fucking. Worth. Every. Damn. Thing. I. Own.” He dipped his head down and kissed her, pressing his tongue at the seam of her lips.
She allowed him inside with a heavy, pained-sounding groan.
He took one of her legs, placed it to the side and stroked her inner thigh until she squirmed.
“Please—I have to,” he said, drifting his hand over to her pussy.
“Will—I . . . Do you . . . Do you love me?” She blushed and averted her gaze.
“I do, sweetheart. Only a man completely besotted would do the things I have.” He circled her clit with his thumb.
Her breath hitched. “You do love me?”
“Yes, darling Cherry, I do.”
“Do you . . . Will you forsake all others for me? I cannot share you,” she said, her hips bucking up and gasping again as he rubbed her sensitive spot a little harder.
“I will do any damned thing you require to make you happy.”
“Oh . . . Ohhhhhh please.” Her hips pressed forward, searching.
“This is what you want, is it not?” He ended his teasing and pressed his cock back inside her. “Uuuunnnnnhhhhh, so good. You squeeze me with each breath like you want to make sure this is real, too.” He exhaled with a grunt. “It is real—it is. I am not dreaming.”
“Is it real? Nothing could possibly feel this unearthly good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers.
Within moments she was crying out as he sucked and bit at her right nipple and made love to her as sweetly as he could.
She had to feel that he loved her, not just hear the words.
“Oh, Will . . . I . . . I . . . You do this to me!” She fell apart, arching her breasts up and clutching at his arms for support as she climaxed, her pussy hugging his cock tight.
He almost spilled inside her, but pulled out just in time, layering his milky seed all over her puss hairs.
He grunted and wanted to collapse on top of her as his body gave out after emptying, but she looked embarrassed.
“What? Did I harm you?” He kneeled up and took stock of her body.
“No—y-you . . . You stole my breath away, and I cannot feel my toes.”
He chuckled and then dropped down, rubbing what was left of his erection into the puddle he’d created on her. “I love you, ma petite. You scare me with how much you rule me.”
She sighed with a grating sound, and he rolled off her. The woman probably needed to breathe.
He felt her forehead for fever or chills, and she felt okay.
“You were sick last night,” he told her.
“I was? Oh.” She rubbed her forehead as if forcing some thought inside her head.
“You were throwing up a lot. I was able to get some water in you finally, and you kept it down. You must be starving. Have some food with me.” He got up and grabbed the two trays, balancing both well.
She scooted up to sitting and rubbed her belly. “I do not know if I can handle it. I think my gut has shrunken significantly.”
“Why would it do that?”
“Sweet man, I have not eaten in four days,” she confessed.
“You what?” He placed both trays on her legs. “You are to eat all of this!”
“I cannot.” She shook her head, smirking. “Even if I could, why would I want to make such a glutton of myself?”
“Because I demand it.” He sat down next to her and scooped up some cold hash browns, placing it at her lips.
She took a bite and her eyes sparkled with gratitude at him.
“So beautiful. You are breathtaking, lovely one.”
“Thank you.” She inhaled deeply, and he placed another bite at her lips.
“I think I got sick last night because Leo’s food—well, it had spoiled. But they did not seem the worse for ingesting it.” She shook her head once more. “Wait! They had a full pot. They did not eat any of it—they couldn’t have. They took mercy on me, and I ate almost all of it, and then my stomach rejected it almost at once.”
“You may have aftereffects for a few days because of it,” he warned.
Her stomach seemed settled right now. She kept eating until she insisted she could fit no more.
She lay back, placing the back of her forearm over her forehead. “I do not deserve to be here with you in your mansion.”
“Call me Will again, kiss me and ‘twill all make sense, I promise.” He smiled, then puckered, looming over her.
She placed her palms on both his cheeks and took that kiss—hard.
He pushed the trays aside without having eaten any of it, then pulled her into his arms.
His chest about exploded when she whispered in his ear, “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
“God, Clarissa!” He hugged her so tight, he was worried he would bruise her, but he could not help himself.
Nothing felt so worthy of his attentions as she did.
When his arms grew tired and she dropped her head back, he cradled it, kissed her neck and then said, “Come—we bathe together now. No protests from you, Cherry.”
“Yes, knicker boy.” She laughed.
“I’ll show you knickers soon. Wait until you see the shipments I’ve received full of lacy, silky knickers, brassieres, corsets, garters, stockings and other items you will wear for me.”
“What on earth is a brashhheeer?”
He chuckled and pinched her bottom. “Brassiere. It’s to replace a corset. You will see—someday all women will want one. It’s better than a health corset. You can breathe better since it does not constrict the ribs, and it gives your luscious breasts support.” He leaned over and kissed atop her pert bosom.
“Did you invent it?”
His cheeks heated somewhat. “I did. I had a hand in all of these pieces. I . . . I do create things, too. You are not the only one to make saucy things.”
“What do I create that’s saucy?” Her eyes slanted toward each other, and her lips pursed.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Sing for me, oh my little slut, and share the sultry lyrics that come flooding into your mind without your permission.”
“Slut?”
“My slut. My slut I beg for and then bed. I want you that way, so it’s a compliment. Any man that’s not touched in the head wants his woman slutty and wrapped in his come and tangled in his bedsheets.”
She flushed a lovely coral color. “Better be a compliment. I do not want to be a—”
“Whore—yes, I know. But when I say you’re my whore or slut, I mean that because it’s what I want from you more than anything. You’ll see what I mean when I put those underthings on you.” He kissed her and led her to his bathroom that was attached to his bedroom.
“Oh my Lord!” she cried out, then cupped one hand over her oval-shaped mouth.
“Ready to wash with me?” He smiled, and his chest warmed as his heart pounded over her honest reaction.
“I do . . . not know. What is this thing?”
“You don’t have to know—because I do. You are ready.”
He turned the shower on, and held her as it heated up. She was shivering in his arms.
He was shaking, too, but it was due to her—not the temperature of the room.
Chapter 10
“This, ma petite, is a shower.” William pulled Clarissa inside.
She tugged back on her arm, trying to get away—her blood turning to ice.
“It’s warm water. It feels nice. See?” He bent his head back and got it wet, then shook it out, laughing as the sprinkles hit her pale skin. “There is no rea
son to be petrified.”
She broke out in gooseflesh. “Warm water? But how?”
“There is a heater on the other side of the wall you cannot see from here.” He beckoned her forward.
Once under the pelting spray, she released a fluttering moan from the pit of her stomach.
When would her body behave and stop vibrating with these lusty animalistic sounds?
Her cheeks and ears heated as blood rushed to them—all because he was leering at her.
She wanted to cover up, but what was the point? Hadn’t he already forewarned he would wash her himself?
“I love the way you let yourself be unfettered, dearest girl.” He stepped into her and pinned her to the tiled wall.
She squeaked at the coolness of it. Her palms were flush against it, and her fingers splayed out. “This wall is the temperature of the waters I usually bathe in.”
He scowled. “No more. No more of that shit. You shower with me here in the warmth like a civilized lady.”
“Oh, so because I am poor, I am uncivilized? Will—listen to yourself. You just browbeat me for having one whole dollar to my name.”
He stopped breathing—stopped moving. “One dollar?”
“Yes. I gave one of my two over to Leo last night. I wanted him to have it for feeding me and sheltering me against Billing’s—well, your wishes.”
She tried to shrug, but his forearms were holding her arms motionless and pulling her shoulders down.
Her stomach knotted at that heated gaze he gave her.
“One measly dollar.”
“Yes, sir.” She dropped her head. Shame filtered through her and made her limbs go heavy. “It is all I have.”
“No—you have me, so you have everything you need.”
“I will not take what does not belong to me.”
He placed his lips at her ear. “It is yours. All of it. Take it.”
“No,” she whispered. “It would be improper. I must earn it.”
“Very well—earn it then by pleasing me daily.”
He pushed her by the shoulders down to her knees.
“Don’t you dare say you are a prostitute—for you know I do not think of you that way. But right now, I have an ache you are going to tend to. Open.” He brushed his fingers over her jaw and massaged at the joint.
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