by Sasha Gold
I want to hold you and care for you…
“You doubt me?” Nick asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead she returned her attention to her drawing. No one had ever defended her. While her father never beat her, he threatened ugly things. Yes, she doubted Nick, but she would never tell him. What would be the use?
When she glanced up she found him smiling at her.
“You do doubt me. You call me wicked but you are the wicked one. I don’t know of any man who has had to suffer with such a cruel woman as I must, day after day. And for that I’m not going to tell you what else I received in the mail this morning.”
Her feelings of gloom and despair fell away. His smile was sunlight breaking through the clouds. She couldn’t help but be happy when he teased her. She suppressed a smile and started sketching another leaf. He was quiet, baiting her until she could stand it no longer.
“I’ve set my doubt aside,” she murmured, gazing at him through her lashes.
“You believe me when I say I’ll protect you against your Uncle.”
His eyes shone with warmth, melting the cold hardness she always carried inside.
“I’m trying,” she replied.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “All right. That’s a start. I received a response this morning from an inquiry I sent last month. I sent a few of the oil paintings you did last month, the ones of the children, to a gallery in Fort Worth. They want to show several of them in the spring.”
She stared at him in shock. He’d sent her paintings to a gallery? Her heart thudded painfully against her breast. Someone, a complete stranger, had viewed her paintings and approved of them? She was both thrilled and mortified.
“I never show people my paintings. They’re not very good.” She gave a breathless laugh, trying to imagine someone looking at her work. “Oil is so difficult for me.”
“The gallery sent a letter requesting six more. If you don’t want this, I’ll ask them to return the three that I sent.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s an honor of course. I might add it was wrong of you to send my work without asking.”
He flashed a smile, clearly without a shred of remorse. His eyes shone with satisfaction as he held her gaze. His expression was warm, roguish and utterly endearing.
“Nick…” she said softly
“Elizabeth.”
“You’re a beast.”
He nodded in agreement. “I am. But I’m the beast you chose.”
Chapter Four
Over dinner he told her he would let her read the next chapter but she would need to do it in his room. She picked at her dessert and regarded him warily.
“We still have an agreement don’t we?” she asked.
“We do. Unless you’ve changed you mind.”
She flushed and imagined her cheeks colored with embarrassment. At times he spoke to her in a way that was unseemly, not the words so much, but the tone. She was certain he knew.
He watched her, a slow smile curving his lips. “We’re sending twelve hundred head of cattle to the auction next month.”
“That’s double what we usually send.”
“Your herd is doing very well. Rotating grazing pastures was one of your best ideas.”
He was always that way, treating her as an equal when it came to running the ranch or the auction house. If he asked for advice, he took it. Always. It pleased her that he still included her in the business dealings, still wrote reports and left them on her writing table.
After dinner, she took a bath and dressed in her gown. She brushed and plaited her hair and thought about the story he wrote for her. Last night she’d fallen asleep while he’d worked on the next chapter.
She could hardly keep from smiling as she padded to his room, carrying a candle.
He sat in bed propped up by cushions, writing. His brow was furrowed. “Almost done.”
She stood by the edge of the bed, waiting for him to lookup up. He didn’t. He had all the pillows, leaning against them as he continued writing, making no move to give her one.
“Sit down, Elizabeth,” he said absent-mindedly.
She did as told and waited, sitting on the edge of the bed. His handsome profile held her attention and while he was engrossed in his writing she could admire him to her heart’s content. He was handsome, just as the house servants had said.
Nick set his pen aside. “Come to me.”
When she crawled across the bed he pulled her against him and offered her the papers.
The intimacy of his hold was too much and she protested, tried to wriggle away but he held her and soothed her.
“I’m almost twice your size, Elizabeth. If I wanted to ravish you, I would have by now.”
She sank back against him and let him wrap his arms around her. He kissed her hair and whispered, “Read.”
Sighing softly she started the story. To her surprise the story started with the hero and the heroine exchanging vows in a cathedral. The wedding was huge, lavish and attended by thousands. Elizabeth smiled to see how some words were scratched out. The bride’s dress had been merely “white” but he’d crossed that out and written that her dress was, “as white as freshly fallen snow”.
After the wedding feast the bride sat down on her groom’s lap and begged him to take her to bed.
“That can’t be right,” Elizabeth said. “What happened to the courtship?”
“I wanted to get to the wedding night. The good part.”
His voice rumbled in his chest and against her back. He caressed her arm and kissed the shell of her ear. Warm breath fanned over her skin and rather than read, she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hold. His body felt hard, and his arousal pressed into her lower back. She should spring from the bed and escape. Surely he only wanted to use her and discard her, but she couldn’t summon the will to flee.
Her body was responding to his in a way it always did. Her breasts were heavy and had that strange ache he caused. Her nipples tightened into painful peaks. She squeezed her thighs together to ease some of the torment.
“Skip the next page,” he said softly. “It’s not very good.”
She smiled. “I think you’re saying that because you want me to read it. I think you’re a bit of a tease.”
On the next page the newlyweds kissed. They kissed in the hall where the wedding feast was held, on the stairwell and again in the bedroom.
“The kissing’s nice,” she said.
“Go on to the next part. It gets better.”
She looked at the next part and gasped. “I want you to take me. Make me yours. I’m wet and needy…?”
He drew a sharp breath, the air hissing between his teeth. “Poor thing. Some brides are like that on their wedding night.”
She set the papers aside and turned to face him. “No woman would say that. The wedding night is for the groom’s needs. Not the bride’s.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong. Women want marital relations.”
“You’re wrong. It’s humiliation. Pain. Torment. Like getting poked with a broom handle. No respectable woman would want that.”
“You’re wet, Elizabeth. You’re the most chaste and respectable woman I know and you’re wet.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she wished she could undo the foolish decision to let him hold her like this. His posture was casual, relaxed even, but if she made any move to escape, he’d have her, perhaps even punish her. The thought made her draw a shuddering breath.
“I’m not,” she breathed.
“You want me. Not as much as I want you, but you want me.”
She shook her head and whimpered as he tugged the hem of her gown up over her calves.
“It will go better for you if you confess, Elizabeth.”
“I have nothing to confess.”
He drew the gown over her knees and she tried to snatch it, to keep it down but he snared her wrists in his hand.
“Last chance,” he murmured,
kissing her.
“Nick…” she pleaded.
The lace of her gown skimmed higher as he traced his fingertips across her thighs. She wanted to clamp her knees together but her wanton body refused to obey. Instead she let him nudge her thighs apart.
“What do we have here,” he said. “I think my lovely wife is…” his words trailed off as his fingertips dipped beneath her pantalets and down to her sex. His fingers slipped between her wet and swollen folds.
“Very wet,” he whispered.
She shook her head.
“Ten spanks on your bottom for lying and an extra for being wet.”
When she didn’t move he nudged her gently. He coaxed her off the bed and to the edge of the mattress.
“Bend over the bed.”
His words made her sex slick. He coaxed her down, hiked her gown up and pushed her pantalets down to her ankles. Without waiting he brought his hand down on her bare bottom with a stinging smack. One after the other he gave her, each spank making her bottom sting and burn. She whimpered but it bought her no mercy.
Finally he gave her the final spank but he didn’t let her up. He eased her down to the mattress and held her there. His fingers trailed down her sore bottom to the juncture of her thighs.
“Be still, Elizabeth.”
She wanted to ask him what he intended but she couldn’t find the words. He skimmed his lips down her lower back, over her abused bottom and when he reached her sex he paused.
“You can’t…” her words died away.
He licked her, gently at first and then more vigorously, teasing her with his tongue. He pressed his face against her sex and she lifted on her tiptoes. She yearned to spread her legs, but her ankles were bound by her pantalets. She gasped and twisted beneath his hold.
Pulling away from her with a growl he lifted her to her feet. He tugged her panties from her ankles and stripped her gown. He coaxed her onto her back, gripping the back of her thighs and pushing them up and apart. She jerked and cried out when he licked her. His fierce snarl halted her struggle and protest. He pushed his finger into her and sucked the small nub of nerves. She arched and clawed the bedding beneath her.
“Nick,” she cried.
He growled, licking her as her pleasure climaxed. Writhing on the bed she felt her senses explode as her climax took her. Her body was not her own. It was all she could do to take in deep draughts of air as she shuddered. She lay panting on the bed. He rose up like some sort of beast, his eyes burning with savage satisfaction.
“Sit up,” he commanded. He held out his hand and helped her come to a seated position. “Now you’re going to please me.”
He tugged his cock free of his pants and brought her hand forward to touch it. He was enormous and all she could think was it would be impossible to accommodate his tremendous size. He clasped her hand around his length and groaned.
“Good girl,” he ground out. “I’m going to show you how to suck me. Not tonight, but soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
She shook her head in shock but she couldn’t help feeling excited by the idea. It almost sounded like he wanted her to take him in her mouth. Absurd. She still felt waves of pleasure tingling along every nerve. She had to be mixed up. Surely he wouldn’t want her to do something that filthy.
A few drops of liquid spilled from him and she watched in fascination as he stroked her hands up and down his length. Soon her palms were moistened.
“Hold me tighter. Grip me,” he said.
She watched as his lips twisted and he snarled. His cock hardened even more and jerked. Seed spilled from him and landed on her thighs, her breasts and stomach. She watched with amazement. Even though his seed covered her, she felt nothing but wonder that she’d shown him pleasure. The look of satisfaction on his face sent a thrill through her.
He cleaned her and dressed her in her gown, then ordered her into the bed. She didn’t want to obey, but she did.
Crawling to the middle of the bed, she pouted, “Are you going to write more of that story?”
He got in after her, sliding closer than she expected. She yelped and tried to escape but he’d snared her.
He tucked her next to him. “My cock likes it when you squirm.”
She drew a sharp breath and he pressed against her to prove his point. His member was hard again and the feel of it made her want wriggle more, not less. She lay as quietly as she could and felt him exhale deeply.
“Good girl. I’m not writing tonight because I’m planning a scene where the hero puts the heroine over his knee.”
“No!”
“She’s behaved badly, somehow. I’m not sure how. I haven’t got that part worked out, but he punishes her in the next chapter.”
Elizabeth lay quietly and grew aware of his strong arms around her. His body was big and warm and she felt sheltered. She sank against him, relishing his hold and the way pleasure still hummed inside her. He’d treated her scandalously and she shouldn’t be happy about any part of it. She closed her eyes and thought about his story.
“Don’t let the hero spank her too hard, Nick.”
“Be a good girl and sleep in my arms all night and he might go easy on her.”
Relaxing in his embrace, she’d never felt so protected and secure. His hard chest was a warm and firm shelter against her back and it wasn’t long before sleep came for her.
Chapter Five
The next afternoon it stormed. Rain fell in torrents and thunder rumbled. There was a chill in the air and Elizabeth directed the servants to light the downstairs fireplaces.
She worked in the kitchen, polishing the silverware. She could have asked one of the servants to do it, but it was a task she found gratifying. The silver service had belonged to her grandmother Rose, something she’d received as a wedding present some fifty years ago.
While Elizabeth didn’t have many memories of her grandmother, she recalled sitting at the table and chatting as they polished. The pungent smell of the paste always took her back to that happy time. Her grandmother was the only person she recalled from her childhood who treated her with tenderness.
“Shall I help you with the last of it, Mrs. Helm?” the cook asked.
“No thank you Marion. I don’t have much more.”
She heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Nick must be home early. She thought he was meeting with a fellow rancher about some broodmares. The rain would have rendered the farmyard muddy, and she smiled, imagining him heading upstairs to wash. Maybe she could persuade him to allow her to read the next chapter in his story.
The door burst open, making her startle. She let out a small cry. The man in the doorway wasn’t her husband, but her cousin, the last person she wanted to see in her home.
Robert leered at her and leaned against the doorframe. “Hello E-li-li-lisabeth, I’m glad you polishing my s-s-silver.”
Cold dread washed over her. Her heart seized and she had to coax a breath into her lungs. He was heavier than she remembered. It had been several years since she’d seen him and he had the same paunch as his father, the same shining forehead and jowls.
“Sir,” the cook said, sharply, “Who are you?”
“Find Nick,” Elizabeth whispered to the woman. “Don’t come back without him.”
“Yes,” Robert said to the woman, “leave me with my darling cousin.”
Marion’s eyes were wide and she hurried out of the kitchen, departing though a side door. When she was gone, Robert’s grin widened.
“It pleases me to see how well the house and property look.” He rubbed his pudgy hands together. “I can hardly wait to move in. I’ll let you stay if you promise to be an obliging house guest.”
“You won’t get the estate, R-Robert.”
Wind gusted and the house creaked. Thunder shook the floor beneath them.
He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the kitchen. “You turn twenty-one next week. Do you plan on conjuring up a husband in the next five days?”
“I already
have one.” Her voice shook and she gritted her teeth, willing her foolish mind to form the proper words. Silently she prayed that for once her mouth and lips wouldn’t betray her terror.
Robert stretched his arms wide. “Where is he?”
“Working. In the barn.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Elizabeth, you still have an excellent imagination, don’t you? Do you still make those pathetic paintings? Do you still accuse men of desiring you and defiling you?”
Her throat was dry. No response came to her lips. How could she answer that? Any reply would only invite further ridicule.
She rose and faced him. “Get out of my house, Robert.”
For a short, heavyset man, he moved with surprising alacrity and she didn’t see the blow coming until it was too late. He struck her across the face. She staggered back and he advanced.
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way. Not in my home,” he shouted.
Panic clawed at her and she retreated, trying to keep some distance.
“It’s my home,” she said, backing away. “It belongs to me and my husband, Nick.” Blood trickled down her chin and she touched her mouth gingerly. Her lower lip was split, dripping blood, the front of her dress streaked with crimson.
Robert’s brow creased and he rubbed his hand over his face. “Nick?”
“We’ve been married two months.”
He sneered. “You’re lying.”
The side door opened and Nick appeared. His eyes were dark with rage and when he looked at her, his lips twisted into a snarl. Rain dripped off his hat and he threw it off, his coat too.
“You struck my wife?” He roared as he stalked across the room.
Robert scrambled to get away darting to the other side of the table. “So the little slut threw herself at you did she? I won’t let her take what’s mine. I’ll find a way.”
Nick lunged across the table, sending the silverware clattering to the floor. One instant he stood on one side and the next he was on top of Robert. Nick shoved Robert’s arm behind his back, twisting it and grabbed his hair.
He yanked Robert’s head back. “Apologize to my wife.”
“I’ll get lawyers,” Robert sputtered. He grimaced in pain. “You don’t know who my father is.”