Bad Kitty

by Debra Glass

  Bram scoffed.

  Montgomery cleared his throat. “Sir, your father is dying.”

  * * * * *

  Kitty sat in bed and devoured her breakfast of rolls with butter and jam, a rasher of bacon and tea with lemon. Even a tray of fruit had been provided.

  She had not realized until now just how ravenous she was.

  After she finished, she placed the napkin embroidered with Bram’s initials over the remains on her plate and crawled out of bed. It felt odd to be completely naked during the day. Liberating.

  Bram had told her to set his room to rights and the idea of doing it without clothes on seemed strangely exciting.

  A little thrill trickled through her as she began making the bed. Cool air brushed her legs and her bottom, reminding her of the sting of Bram’s palm on her backside and the radiating heat that settled between her legs, enticing her to cream.

  As she drew up the covers and arranged the pillows the way they had been before she had gotten into bed, Kitty debated slipping back under the sheets to pleasure herself the way she had yesterday but a part of her wanted to wait for Bram.

  She hoped he would be pleased when he saw how nicely she had straightened his room.

  Kitty bit her bottom lip as a disconcerting thought occurred to her. If she pleased him, he would not…punish her. She squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to assuage her desire but it only made it worse.

  Shocked, she realized she wanted him to bend her over and paddle her bottom again. She wanted his mouth on her and more. Her blood warmed and thickened in her veins. What could she do to incite him?

  A slow smile pulled at her lips and she jerked the covers back down before she pranced through his rooms, pulling open drawers, scattering his neatly folded clothes, throwing shoes to and fro, pushing paintings off-center and making it look as if a tempest had swept through the room.

  * * * * *

  They were the words Bram had longed to hear all his life. Your father is dying. But now that he had heard them, now that it was a reality, the satisfaction he had thought he would feel at the knowledge his father was dying was not there.

  The truth of the matter was that he could not identify what he was feeling. There was some strange hollowness inside him, something he wanted to chase away in the arms of a woman.

  Kitty.

  He inhaled sharply and walked with purpose toward his rooms, ignoring the accounts, the books, the matters of running a vast estate. All that mattered was losing himself—with her.

  A stranger.

  The door banged against the wall when he opened it and he heard her gasp.

  Relief flooded him at the sight of her. She stood, completely nude, in the center of his room with his empty brandy decanter in her hand.

  At once, his gaze took in the disarray of his room. Realization struck. She had done this on purpose, specifically to defy him.

  His cock surged as his gaze connected with hers.

  All he wanted to do was shuck off his clothes, take her in his arms and fuck the daylights out of her but she, on the other hand, wanted to play his game.

  Kitty’s chin lifted defiantly.

  “What have you been doing all this time?” Bram asked. Warmth rushed through his limbs, chasing away the unfeeling numbness of the news he had recently received.

  Her breasts heaved with her deep breaths. “Not much.”

  Bram’s gaze slid down her body to her slender waist, her shapely hips, that beautiful golden thatch and those long legs that had been spread wide for him just the night before.

  He moved toward his chair and took a seat. “Come here,” he commanded.

  Her dark eyes flashed and he knew at that moment that everything had just changed. She was his.

  Her throat constricted as she swallowed but she came toward him.

  “You’ve turned my rooms into a shambles,” he said, allowing his gaze to rove over her creamy skin and lift to her eyes again. “You should never be higher than I am. On your knees.”

  She dropped.

  “You’ve been a very naughty servant, Kitty,” he said, teasing her with his voice. “I think perhaps you know this, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. So smooth and soft. Why had he not yet kissed those luscious lips of hers? “Since you are aware of your behavior, I think you should choose your punishment.”

  Her eyes widened but the irises grew large. Black. She wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue. “I have been rather naughty.”

  Letting her choose was a terrible mistake and he knew it. What if she chose for him to fuck her? Now who was the one in control?

  “I think…I deserve to be…spanked,” she whispered.

  Bram’s cock hardened even more but he scooted to the edge of his chair and gestured for her to bend over his lap, which she did readily. Her hair curtained her pretty face and her body trembled with anticipation. Bram thought he would erupt on the spot when she raised her rump to give him complete access.

  He had never seen anyone so beautiful, so perfect. He cupped one of her breasts and she moaned, arching to press her soft flesh more fully into his hand. With the fingertips of his other hand, he traced her spine down to the cleft between her cheeks.

  Instantly she spread her legs.

  Normally he would have laid waste to such an inviting, turned-up arse. Instead, he wanted to turn her over, to kiss his fill of her mouth and lose himself in her body.

  Bram breathed a sigh and fingered one of the blonde curls that rested on her back. His fingers loosened on her nipple and instead of squeezing, he caressed.

  She twisted and looked up at him. “Master?”

  He swallowed. Hard. “Say my name.”

  Her forehead furrowed and then a knowing smile claimed her lips.

  Impatience surged and a rogue need arose in him with an intensity that shook him to the core. He did not want to play games with her. Not now. He did not want to be in control. He wanted to be a part of this moment, of her. “Say my name, goddammit,” he said, sliding to the floor and taking her with him.

  Kitty’s breath left her lungs in a rush as she was twisted onto her back. He moved over her, pinning her to the thick Aubusson rug, his legs between hers. His body pressed into hers and her eyes widened with the realization only the barrier of his clothes prevented him from taking her.

  His eyes searched hers. “Say my name, Kitty. Say it. I want to hear it on your lips,” he murmured.

  “Bram,” she uttered just before his mouth found hers.

  Kitty had never been kissed before but instinctively, she opened her lips to admit Bram’s tongue. Stunned, she hardly knew how to respond to the passion, the desperate need with which his mouth claimed hers, and yet something inside her fused a link between her mouth and her sex. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she clung as his hand slipped under her head so he could hold her at his mercy.

  His body urged against hers and she moaned when his length hardened. She had long since bypassed adhering to any sense of decorum or propriety. She was naked and underneath a man who was kissing his fill of her mouth and grinding his phallus into her and all she could think was she wanted him inside her. Kitty rocked against him, hooking a leg around his hard calf to draw him closer.

  A growl tore from his throat and a wild thrill spiraled through Kitty when she felt his hand wrangle between their bodies so that he could unfasten his trousers.

  She tensed when she felt his flesh against her opening. When he prodded, she whimpered and he dragged his mouth from hers.

  He stared as if he could not believe what was happening and then he shifted to get off her—but Kitty seized his shoulders and pulled him back down. Opening wide her thighs, she reached between their bodies and took his shaft in her hand, guiding it back to her cleft.

  His eyes flashed silver and his breathing grew harsh as he gripped one of her shoulders and one of her hips—and drove with one powerful t
hrust through her maidenhead.

  Kitty cried out but the pain was short-lived. It was done. There was no turning back. Wrapping her arms around his broad back, she felt him trembling as she pulled him down to her. While this experience was new to Kitty, she could not help but wonder what it would feel like to take him from behind the way the duchess had, or to have his palm swatting her backside while he claimed her like a stallion covered a brood mare.

  Possibilities ran wild in her head and Bram’s mouth moved to her ear. As he plunged into her over and over, he told her how wonderfully good she felt. Although the floor was hard beneath her backside, Kitty spread for him, meeting his forceful, quick thrusts, taking as much pleasure in his brute physical power as she did in the connection between their bodies.

  And as suddenly as he had claimed her, his body convulsed once, twice, again…and then he was still.

  Instinctively Kitty threaded her fingers into his hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Something had just changed between them, and now she knew she could never hate him as she had previously intended. Instead, there was some other emotion welling within her—one she could not dare identify.

  Her passage clenched around him and a shudder tore through his body. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her and instead of passion clouding his stormy eyes, Kitty saw ice. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his gaze moved from her eyes, down their bodies to where they were still connected.

  Kitty nearly blurted that it did not matter that he had taken her maidenhead, that she never intended to marry, but Bram lifted himself off her and gaped at the blood tingeing his member.

  “Bram,” she said, as something foreboding washed over her.

  His gaze collided with hers. “I—” His voice stopped short and then, as he did up his breeches, he stepped over her and marched out of the room.

  Kitty’s insides hollowed as she stared at the closed door. Just when she’d thought he had grown a gentleman’s heart, he left her cold.

  And ruined.

  All in a matter of minutes.

  She swallowed hard and pushed herself off the floor. Fluid oozed down her thigh and when she raked her fingers through it, she realized the liquid was a mixture of her blood and his semen.

  Good God, what had she done?

  Kitty trembled as the ramifications struck with brutal force. She had lain with him. With Bram Barclay.

  Staggering against the chair, she fought to keep her head from swimming. Anger flamed against Bram but Kitty knew there was no one but herself to blame. Hot shame flooded her cheeks when she recalled how wantonly she had curled her fingers around his phallus and guided him into her body.

  Her insides clenched violently at the memory of his determined thrusts. Kitty shuddered. She had been utterly foolish. What if she were now with child? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  And even if he had not gotten a child on her, her life would never—could never—be the same after this.

  How had he enticed her to behave so shamelessly? She had sought only to find the inner quiet she had discovered at the way he stripped her will away. She had not ventured to lose her virginity to him. Not really.

  An image of him rearing above her crested in her mind and Kitty squeezed her eyes shut as if she could drive away both the image and the response it evoked in her body.

  It was a useless gesture.

  He had fucked her and left her without so much as a word and now, she felt stupid and alone and used.

  Naked.

  She clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. The hateful bastard!

  Eyeing the bed, she stormed toward it, snatched off the sheet and wiped her crotch clean with it.

  The doorhandle rattled and Kitty gasped, whirling, clutching the stained sheet to her chest.

  Mrs. Bush entered Bram’s suite of rooms, her face set and grim—but Kitty’s gaze riveted to the neatly folded clothes in the housekeeper’s arms. Panic surged.

  “You have been dismissed. Clothe yourself and leave immediately.”

  * * * * *

  When she finally closed the door to her own bedroom in her uncle’s house, only then did Kitty shed the first tear. “Fool!” she called herself, swatting the tears away.

  She would not cry. Not over a fiend like Bram Barclay.

  After all, she was the one who had gone to his estate to gather material for her article. Well, she had gotten information and more. Perhaps she could save some other poor creature the misfortune she had experienced at his hands.

  Kitty slid into her chair, the soreness between her legs a painful reminder of what had transpired earlier this morning. She sighed. There was no time to dwell on what she had lost. She had an article to write.

  She withdrew her paper, pen and ink and set to work. The words flowed as never before as she told the tale of the innocent servant and the dastardly duke’s son, even comparing him to the Marquis de Sade in his cruelty.

  Without another tear dropping, she detailed everything from the beginning of her service to Bram until she was dismissed by Mrs. Bush. Kitty felt as if she were outside herself, watching the events of her own life as she folded the finished article and slid it into an envelope.

  After sealing it, she stood and made her way down the stairs and to the post office. The sooner Alistair Allenby’s article was in print, the better. All of England would know the truth about Bram and his reputation would be blackened even further.

  Anger and hurt vied for prominence as she dropped the letter in the box and set off on foot back to her house.

  She had hoped to feel some sense of triumph upon penning the article but instead, she felt empty inside.

  His words echoed in her head. The feel of his palm landing time and again with only the thin barrier of her drawers preventing his skin from touching hers rolled through her in waves. She inhaled sharply when she recalled how it had felt to have him inside her, filling her, stretching her, his pounding thrusts nailing her to the floor with bruising force.

  The birds twittering in the trees faded from her hearing. The muddy lane blurred. Kitty’s heart twisted. Mrs. Bush had warned her not to harbor any hopes about Bram.

  But wait! That was ridiculous. Kitty refused to believe she had done anything other than gather fodder for her article. She did not care for him! He had proven himself deserving of the rotten reputation he held. Stripping down to her drawers and bending over, submitting to be spanked had only been done under the guise of research. Besides, there would have been little she could have done about him taking her virginity. Doubtless, he would have raped her if she had refused.

  But then the memory of how he had hesitated and of how she, herself, had taken him in her own hand to guide him to her channel flooded her thoughts. Heat rolled up spine as she turned onto the lane that led to her house.

  As she stepped through the front gate, she stopped short at the sight of a massive black destrier hitched to the post outside her house.

  Intuitively Kitty knew the horse belonged to none other than Bram Barclay.

  Chapter Six

  What could he possibly want here? Kitty’s first thought was to flee but then she decided she would slip in through the servants’ entrance and eavesdrop. Her plan was short-lived. As she neared the house, the door flung open and Kitty froze when she saw Bram’s hulking frame in the doorway.

  His eyes widened at the sight of her and she shook as her uncle appeared behind him. The top of Jasper’s head barely reached Bram’s shoulder. The old man waddled out of the house, his face reddening as he trotted toward her. He raised his fist threateningly.

  Kitty gasped as he rushed toward her. “Harlot! You fallen woman! How dare you defile my house while living under my roof!”

  Bram, riding crop in hand, was close on the old man’s heels. “You will not lay a hand on her! Do you hear me, old man?”

  Uncle Jasper gaped breathlessly.

  “I am to blame,” Bram told him, his voice stern.

 
Kitty was incredulous. He had known all along she was a lady and not a servant? Anger quickly replaced surprise. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Bram’s gaze slid to hers and her body’s reaction infuriated her. Everything inside her constricted with the unsolicited need to feel him connected to her again, with the memory of what had happened only hours earlier.

  “He’s come to make an honest woman of you, you…you strumpet!”

  Kitty’s gaze darted from her uncle’s to Bram’s. “What does he mean?”

  Bram’s lips parted to speak but Uncle Jasper interrupted. “He’s going to marry you before word gets out that you’ve fornicated with him.”

  Kitty felt her face grow scarlet. She stared, disbelievingly. Bram wanted to marry her?

  Her?

  But…

  She warred with the joyous knowledge the man who had awakened her body to physical pleasure wanted to marry her, and the fact that she was supposed to hate this man and everything for which he stood.

  “N-no,” she uttered.

  “No?” both Bram and Uncle Jasper asked in unison.

  By this time Kitty’s aunt had appeared in the doorway, holding a handkerchief over her nose and mouth.

  Kitty lifted her chin. “I do not wish to marry.”

  Now it was Bram’s turn to be angry. Clutching the crop, he marched toward her with long, purposeful strides, not stopping until he was toe to toe with her, her chest pressed against her breasts.

  Kitty swallowed thickly.

  “You have no choice in this matter.”

  The masculine scent of him wafted around her, reducing her to putty in his hands. She struggled to maintain her composure.

  “It has already been arranged,” he told her and then he spun on his heel, turning toward Uncle Jasper. He slapped the crop with such force on his thigh it made Kitty shudder. “See that she is before the vicar on the morrow.”

  Jasper nodded.

  “And if there is a mark on her, I will hold you to account,” Bram warned as he stalked toward his horse.

  Kitty stared as he unhitched the monstrous beast, swung himself into the saddle and galloped away.