Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed

by Anna Campbell

  She was such a savage. She meant to carve her name on his heart in bloody letters that scarred him more deeply than the wounds on his face. She meant to be unforgettable.

  At least that was the plan.

  “Devil take you, Sidonie.” The aching despair in his low baritone made her heart cramp with anguish. She waited for him to say more but he remained silent. He glowered at her as if he hated her. Right now he probably did. Even sitting taut and naked with one hand fastened to the bedpost, he looked formidable enough to make her quail if she wasn’t quite so determined.

  “Don’t refuse me, Jonas,” she said softly, laying her hand over his racing heart. His hunted expression told her he felt under attack.

  He raised his free hand to his face before he realized how the gesture betrayed him. Dear God, she’d seen that gesture before. What a slow-top she was, not to realize its significance. A world of pain lay buried inside this man. She’d always known it. But sometimes, like now, his suffering made her so furious, she wanted to squall like a banshee.

  He tugged at the cord. “You breach our arrangement, madam.”

  Not bella, not tesoro, not amore mio, or any other extravagant Italian endearment. Madam.

  If she’d needed proof how her siege angered him, she had it. Still she stood her ground, trying to ignore the apprehension kicking in her stomach. “You released me from that arrangement,” she said through stiff lips.

  Restlessly he rolled over to concentrate on undoing the cord. “I’ve had enough.”

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice choked.

  His fingers paused in their work and he shot her a coruscating glare. Astounding how those silvery eyes incinerated bravery to ashes. If she faltered now, she’d never have another chance to challenge him.

  Of course you won’t. Tomorrow you’re heading back to Barstowe Hall.

  She strove to ignore the taunting voice in her head. Tears stung her eyes. “It’s my turn to ask you to trust me.”

  Like his voice, his smile held more regret than rage. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, bella.”

  To her astonishment, after a tense silence, he lay flat on his back and extended his free hand above his head. Compassion scored her heart as she recognized what the concession cost him.

  His attention didn’t waver as she tied his wrist to the other bedpost. Quickly she circled the bed to tighten the first bond. Deliberately she didn’t look at the magnificent body arrayed against the sheets. Her hands were unsteady enough.

  She moved to secure his feet. She felt vibrating tension as she lifted lean ankles. He was far from easy with what she did. That still he submitted made her belly clench with gratitude.

  “Will you blindfold me?” She heard how he struggled for an offhand tone. His strained expression made the scars stand out white and shocking against his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He was naturally a dominant male. Even if she hadn’t long ago guessed that most of his games stemmed from self-consciousness about his injuries, she knew he’d hate the way she seized control.

  Although there were definite benefits in what she did. She couldn’t help the way her gaze lingered as it traveled up his body to his face. “Do you want me to blindfold you?”

  “What I want doesn’t count.”

  Her lips twitched. “You sound like you’re five years old.”

  To her relief, he laughed, the sound reluctant and rusty. “Easy to mock when you have me where you want.”

  This time, her eyes swept him with deliberate languor, lingering on the virility that rose hard and demanding between his thighs. “I definitely want you.”

  His eyes narrowed until silver glinted between sooty lashes. “Show me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jonas stretched on an excruciating rack of desire and shame. Stoically he stared into the mirror above, but the view offered no reassurance. A big ugly man lay naked and spread-eagled on a wide bed. His cock stood at attention and his eyes glittered with panic.

  He was hers to do with as she willed. The thought was loathsome, even as his rational mind reminded him this was Sidonie who had never treated him as less than a man. But old wounds of mockery and disgust barely healed. He just had to look at his scars to know that some old wounds didn’t heal at all. This vulnerability was why he never surrendered control when he took a woman.

  When Sidonie placed her hand flat on his abdomen, he jerked at the radiating heat. His belly tautened until it was hard as stone. His cock throbbed like the very devil. And she hadn’t even started her seduction.

  She moved her hand in tantalizing circles. His heart thumped fit to burst and his breath kept jamming in his throat. “You didn’t need to bind me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Yes, she probably did. They both knew he liked to command. That was one of the rewards of his games with blindfolds and mirrors. He had a grim feeling his ascendancy ended tonight.

  “Where did you get the cords?” Not that he cared. All he cared about was that she moved her hand and touched him where he burned. Arousal built to such a pitch, it almost swamped shame.

  “The curtains.” She perched on the bed and the soft curve of her hip warmed his flank through her skirts. His heart thundered as he recalled she wore nothing underneath the dress. As if he touched her, his hands opened and closed in their bonds.

  “You’ve cheated me,” she said thoughtfully.

  In its erratic travels, her hand swept lower and for one flaring moment she skimmed the hair at the base of his erection. He groaned with frustration and felt himself thicken. “How?” he croaked.

  She leaned down and her hair fell forward, catching the glow of candlelight, brushing the over-sensitized skin of his belly. He sucked in a painful breath as hunger blazed through him. Automatically he reached to touch her hair, only to come up short against the cord. Damn it.

  She ran her hands along his ribs. He thought she’d forgotten his question. Hell, he was close to forgetting his name. He couldn’t condemn her distraction. She pressed her mouth to the center of his chest.

  “You’ve been hiding your magnificence.” She nipped at one pectoral even as he jerked in protest.

  “Don’t ridicule me.”

  He regretted his response when compassion darkened her eyes, deepening them to velvet. She cupped his face. He tried to evade her but she had him trapped. “Oh, Jonas…”

  The murmur echoed in the heart he struggled to barricade against her. It felt like she held his brittle soul in the palm of her hand. Would she crush it to dust? His experience of the world said yes. His experience of Sidonie made him long to entrust her with everything he was.

  “I love your body,” she said softly. “It’s so beautiful.”

  He felt as though a knot of tarred rope stuck in his gullet. He couldn’t have spoken even if he could think of something to say. Nobody ever called him beautiful.

  “You’re breathtakingly exciting. You’ve turned my nights to fire. You’ve lit my whole world with flame.”

  “Sidonie…” No other woman struck him dumb. Blast her, she did it all the time without trying.

  “Hush.” Her fingers traced the marks on his face.

  Hell. He didn’t want her dwelling on his hideous face. He tried to wrench away. If he wasn’t tied down, he’d run from the room like the coward he was.

  Damn her. Damn her to Hades. Why did she do this?

  “Don’t,” he forced out.

  “Hush,” she said again and placed her lips on the thick scar bisecting his eyebrow.

  “No,” he choked, but she didn’t seem to hear. Instead she shifted her attentions to the long slash dividing his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished she’d tied the blindfold over his face.

  He hated this. Hated it.

  “You’re shaking.” She spoke against his temple, her breath feathering his hair.

  “Stop it.” His hands fisted in their bonds.

  “Oh, my love,” she murmured with gentle cha
stisement.

  The endearment cut straight through him. Even as he loathed her pity, he yearned for her tenderness. No woman had shared this sweet softness with him. It made him feel weak, needy, but he couldn’t prevent his heart opening to her. When she kissed his broken nose, tears burned behind his eyes. Hell, no. He refused to weep like some puling milksop. But the angry words demanding she desist died unspoken when she pressed her mouth to his.

  Jonas was so proud. Too proud.

  Even now when Sidonie offered comfort for his sufferings, he fought to rise above human weaknesses like pain and loneliness. He was so used to battling the world alone, he didn’t realize she was on his side.

  He shook violently, as though he were trapped naked in an ice cave. She wanted to warm him, bring him next to the fire so he wouldn’t be cold anymore.

  His lips parted and she tasted a tenderness that made her heart constrict with longing. The kiss exploded into fierceness. He ravaged her mouth as if to punish her for pushing past desire into the dangerous world of emotion.

  Breathlessly Sidonie raised her head and stared at him. He focused on her face, then lower to where her bodice gaped. Heat surged, left her giddy. Blind instinct made her kneel over him. Discovering with her lips the sinewy shoulders. The hard line of his collarbone. The racing pulse in his throat. She heard excitement in his groan when she nipped his neck.

  She licked her lips. His salty taste lingered. She wanted more.

  He tugged at the cords. “I have to touch you.”

  She shook her head.

  His voice lowered to persuasion. “Sidonie, untie me.”

  “No.” If she released him, he’d take over. All she’d prove was that she couldn’t resist him. He already knew that. Her hand curled around his rod. Tonight was her last chance to touch, taste, torment him as she willed. Fair revenge after he’d tormented her so often. Watching his reaction to her caresses conjured new magic.

  She slid lower. Paused. Then gathered courage to proceed. Delicately she licked the flushed head. His taste overwhelmed her senses, more pungent than his skin. Even as he growled protest, she drew him into her mouth.

  Jonas released pent-up breath as Sidonie’s mouth closed over his cock. He hardly believed she did this. His skin felt so hot, smoke should rise from his body. He struggled not to thrust upward. He didn’t want to scare her into withdrawing. Not now. Not when she promised to transport him to paradise.

  He needed to bury his hands in that mane of hair. Only when he tried to lower his arms did he remember she’d bound him. The sensation of her soft, wet mouth on him banished everything else from his mind.

  Her tongue flickered, then she lifted away and stared at him with a question in her eyes. He had no right to beg her to continue. To do… more. Still the plea trembled on his lips. Only with the greatest difficulty did he bite the words back.

  Then incredibly she tightened her hold and took him into her mouth once more. Tentatively she sucked. He bucked against the cords around his ankles and released a strangled curse.

  On a shocked gasp, she withdrew.

  Dear God, Sidonie, don’t stop. Don’t stop now.

  “Don’t you like it?” she asked unsteadily.

  He fought to clear his vision. Even her tentative experiments left him reeling, as if she flung him into an abyss from a mountaintop. “Of course I like it,” he snarled.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were damp and red. He wanted that mouth on him more than he wanted to live. A troubled frown crossed her face. “You don’t sound very comfortable. Am I not doing it right?”

  “You don’t have to do this.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it. Where the hell had this sodding knight in shining armor come from?

  “I want to.” She licked her lips as though she relished his taste.

  His balls tightened until he feared they’d explode. He stared at her, vainly seeking some sign of disgust or hesitation. “Dear Lord, Sidonie, you shouldn’t have even thought of this.”

  To his surprise, her lips quirked. “I have an active imagination.”

  His brain started to work despite the fog of thwarted desire. He was such a fool. This was no milk-and-water miss. This was the shameless hussy who had tied him to his bed. This was the gallant woman who never quailed from his scarred face. “Good God, you really do want this.”

  “Yes.”

  He glared at the bonds. “Untie me and I’ll show you what to do.”

  “Don’t spoil my fun. I’d rather discover on my own.”

  “I mightn’t survive the experience.”

  “Big, brave Jonas Merrick?”

  “I’m only flesh and blood.”

  Her smile became pure seduction. “Yes, you’re that.”

  Any response evaporated in a searing burst as she firmed her grip and moved her hand up and down. Every muscle cramped with sensation. A drop of pearly liquid leaked onto the tip. He gritted his teeth and told himself he wouldn’t spill into her hand.

  A strange expression crossed Sidonie’s face.

  Please don’t let it be revulsion.

  Before Jonas could muster protest or plea, she bent and deliberately licked away the evidence of excitement. The abrasion of her tongue made him clench his hands. Much more and he’d incinerate the damned cords. Then at least he’d be free to show her what he wanted.

  She raised her head. His heart slammed against his chest as her slender throat moved. He sucked in a ragged breath. She had him in such a fever, he kept forgetting to breathe. He knew it would never happen, not with a woman like Sidonie, but the prospect of flooding her mouth with his seed then watching her swallow made him insane with yearning. Time slowed. Through narrowed eyes, he watched her lower her head.

  If she stopped, she’d kill him.

  Surely she’d stop.

  He bit back a long groan as she took him deeper. His sight faded to black.

  Her shyness melted away. Instead there was hot, wet suction as she drew hard. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined she’d do this. Not of her free will. She was a little clumsy. Strangely her lack of familiarity with the act reinforced pleasure. And touched his heart, much as he cursed his heart’s involvement.

  She bobbed her head until she took most of him. He groaned again and his hips surged. “Sidonie, bella…”

  She increased the pressure and he squeezed his eyes shut, battling to hold back. Devil take these ties. He couldn’t roll her onto her back and plunge into her as he longed to do. Not that he’d last more than a few seconds.

  “Sidonie, stop.” His voice sounded raw.

  Slowly she lifted her mouth, the slide excruciating. Hell, she’d have him whimpering like a baby.

  “I want to keep going.” Her voice was deep and husky as he’d never heard it. The woman who licked her lips savoring his taste knew she possessed him.

  Of course she did.

  “I want to be inside you.” Faint vestiges of the man he’d once been winced to hear him beg. “Untie me.”

  “Oh, no.” Her smile was provoking. Where had she learned to smile like that? The woman who arrived at his castle wouldn’t smile like that. She’d been a furled rosebud, fragrant with potential. This Sidonie was a full-blown flower, sweet-scented and luscious. “Not now I have you where I want.”

  “Have pity, anima mia.” He’d never called her that before, although it was true. She was his soul. When she left tomorrow, she’d carry his soul with her. God help him.

  Straddling him, she hovered over where he needed her. She hitched her skirts around her hips, giving him a breathtaking glimpse of dark curls hiding her sex. The knowledge of what she was about to do–surely she meant to ride him, although it was a position she hadn’t yet tried—crashed through him like an ax. All moisture dried from his mouth. His head swam.

  No wonder. Every drop of blood had rushed to his cock.

  Her musky scent goaded him. Although he hadn’t touched her, she was aroused. She placed one hand on his chest then slowly, o
h, so slowly, lowered her hips, using her other hand to guide him into her body. Delicately she took the tip and he groaned long and hard when she stopped there. He waited for her to cover him. Instead she rose, her sleek cleft teasing the swollen head.

  The witch had teased him all night. He couldn’t endure much more. She was inhuman. He feared he was far too human. The humiliating likelihood of losing himself on the sheets loomed.

  “Sidonie.” Her name was a strangled protest. He writhed against his bonds, clumsily lifting his hips. He was past finesse. Good God, he was past thought. Perhaps it was a good thing that she still wore the red dress. If she was naked, he’d have lost his mind hours ago.

  Still she held herself apart, the wicked girl. Once, twice, he lurched upward and each time she poised far enough away for him to feel her heat. She laughed, a low sound of excitement. Her eyes were opaque and dilated. These games had an incendiary effect on her, too.

  “Damn you, Sidonie,” he choked out. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “Oh, yes.” She dropped perilously close.

  This time she luxuriantly moved her hips, bathing him in liquid heat. Over his galloping heart, he heard her whimper. Her hand curled in his chest hair. Her grip tightened and she sank over him more fully. In shaking suspense, he waited for her to pull away.

  On a deep breath, she slid down. A long keening sound of pleasure escaped her.

  “Jove and all his angels,” he grated as glorious warmth enclosed him.

  The sensation exceeded all experience. The delay had built him to a pitch that he no longer felt connected to earth. She claimed his whole body. This act pleasured him from the soles of his feet to the tips of his hair. She’d marked him forever. More deeply than the scars disfiguring his face. Every cell sang her name.

  Just as he reached the limits of restraint, so did she. She rippled around him, shooting wild shocks through him with each exquisite fraction of withdrawal. She lowered once more and clasped his length. He gasped and the slight shift set off new quakes. She sighed with voluptuous enjoyment. His vision cleared. The beautiful face, the abandoned expression, the flushed lips and cheeks. His fear had deprived him of so much. The blindfold had denied him this. He hadn’t known what he’d been missing.