Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  She nodded, and he slammed into her.

  When she cried out, he didn’t chide her.

  He pounded her, as relentless as a piece of machinery, pumping her harder with each thrust, until she felt like she would split in two.

  But she wanted him deeper, wanted to give him more.

  “Yes, just like that.” His words made her realize that she was canting her hips and pushing against him.

  He laid a big hand in the middle of her back and pushed her lower, the action bringing him deeper.

  Alicia began to come apart, her consciousness narrowing to the place where they were joined: she gathered the last of her wits and tightened her inner muscles.

  “Ah, God, yes,” he shouted.

  But then—once again—he stopped.

  “Not so fast,” he snarled. “Not so goddamned fast.”

  The harsh sounds of their breathing filled the room and she squirmed against him, desperate for release.

  He gave her buttock a stinging slap. “You will not climax, Mrs. Smith. Not until I allow you to do so.” He grabbed her hips and pushed so deeply it hurt, making her gasp. Also making her realize she’d failed to answer.

  The instant she nodded; he began to move, possessing her with slow, thorough thrusts.

  How could she not climax when he was doing this to her?

  He had never denied her pleasure before—always seeing to her satisfaction first.

  Why did her body respond so intensely to deprivation—like a dog groveling to be stroked?

  He began to move slower, more rhythmically, but pushing just a fraction deeper each time, his guttural grunts beyond arousing.

  “Clench,” he ordered.

  Without thinking, Alicia obeyed.

  “Yes. Again. Squeeze me—squeeze me as tightly as you can.”

  This time, when she tried to obey, nothing happened.

  He rammed her hard. “Clench.”

  Her body responded without her mind ordering it.

  “Good. Don’t stop.”

  Each thrust brought her closer, until she was gritting her teeth to hold back her climax, her head aching from the effort of restraining herself.

  And still he continued to pound her and pound her and pound her. Until—

  He shouted something incomprehensible and then hilted himself, his shaft jerking and thickening as he spent deep inside her.

  Gradually, his spasms grew weaker and weaker, until they were mere shudders.

  Primed, wanting, and shaking from the effort of restraining herself, Alicia waited for him to see to her pleasure.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  He gave a low grunt of satisfaction, pulled out of her, and then rolled onto his back, his eyes glinting up at her from behind his mask.

  “Did I say you could look at me, Mrs. Smith?”

  Alicia startled at his cold tone and jerked her head up.

  Beside her, he shifted once and then continued to breathe heavily, until finally she couldn’t hear him.

  Alicia frowned. Was it possible. . . could he have gone to sleep?

  She whipped around and found him lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand. His eyebrow cocked.

  Alicia realized she was still on all fours like some barbaric supplicant and pushed onto her knees, shaking with anger.

  His lips twisted into a mean, mocking smile.

  “What’s the matter, Alicia? Didn’t you get your money’s worth?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Joss couldn’t see her face but he could feel the rage rolling off her deliciously sweaty and wanting body.

  “You knew?”

  He snorted and pushed off the bed, watching in amusement as she yanked off her hat and veil and clumsily spun around, still on her knees.

  “You really do think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” he asked, not waiting for an answer.

  Instead, he snatched his half-full glass of cognac off the nightstand, throwing it back in one gulp before tossing angry words over his shoulder, “Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize your body? Did you not recognize mine?”

  A sound of choked fury came from behind him and something hit him in the back of the head.

  He turned to find it had been her hat. She was standing beside the bed, her hair sticking out at all angles, her hands fisted on her hips, her impressive bosom rising and falling rapidly.

  “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  “I only do what the client asks for.” He spun on his heel, heading for the brandy. He ripped the stopper from the decanter and dumped more liquor into his glass, too angry to look at her.

  “I don’t understand,” she said behind him. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I’m sorry—I suppose those very explicit instructions were for Hugo—anyone but me, actually.”

  “What are you talking about.”

  He swallowed another mouthful and grimaced, suddenly feeling a bit bilious.

  Just what bloody game was she playing now? Just who—

  She snatched the glass from his unresisting fingers and slammed it down on the table, the contents sloshing over the side.

  “What is wrong with you?” she repeated, glaring up at him. “I only wanted to talk.”

  “Ha! Is that what they call it in America?” He strode over to where he’d left his coat draped across the back of one of the chairs and fumbled in his pocket to grab the note. “You mean why did I follow your orders—the orders you wrote out to the very letter?” He thrust the crumpled piece of paper at her and snatched up his glass again before striding back to the chair and lowering himself into it so hard he jammed his tailbone.

  “Christ,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably, his eyes sliding to look at her.

  She held the letter close to her face, her lips moving slightly, her expression that of a person who’d never seen it before.

  The truth hit him like a cold, wet smack in the face: Melissa.

  “Goddammit!” he yelled.

  She jolted at his yell and looked up. “I didn’t write this.”

  “How did you get in here?” He knew the answer before she said it.

  “Mrs.Griffin invited me.”

  “That meddling, interfering—”

  “Joss!” She waved the letter around. “Why would she do this?”

  “Because she likes to meddle.”

  Her face was crimson. “What did you tell her about me that would have led her to write such things?”

  He snorted. “You mean why is it such an accurate assessment of your desires?”

  Her jaw dropped. But Joss knew she couldn’t deny it.

  Her eyes narrowed to shards of blue ice.

  “I told her nothing about what you like in the bedroom, Alicia. Believe me, Melissa needs no help when it comes to such matters—human sexuality is her area of expertise.” He thought it would not be prudent to tell her that Melissa had personal knowledge of Joss’s own sexual proclivities.

  Joss wondered if she had any idea how erotic she looked: flushed, angry, and dressed like Salome. He doubted it.

  He swallowed the rest of his drink and set down the glass. “I’m guessing she thought such a letter would give us something to talk about. And it has.” He hesitated and added, “And I suppose she contacted you because she thought I wished to see you.”

  “You told her that?”

  “No.”

  She recoiled and he sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Won’t you sit?” His eyes couldn’t resist another trip up and down her body. “I, er, well, it’s difficult to talk when you look—” He waved a hand to encompass her person, which was bloody delicious but not conducive to rational speech.

  Joss stood, grabbed the throw rug from the back of his chair, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “There,” he said. “Now, sit.”

  She sat. “Tell me what you told Mrs. Griffin.”

  He sighed. Clearly, she was not going
to let go of the topic. “I just told her about us. About how things ended.” He felt his face heat. “Normally I wouldn’t have said anything but she kept at me.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because I was miserable.” He scowled. “There, I said it.”

  “You’re miserable? Because of me?” Her full lips were curved into a tremulous smile and her eyes were wide.

  “Yes, because of you—are you happy to hear that? You certainly look bloody happy.”

  Rather than appear chastened, her smile grew. “Yes, I am happy to hear it. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “Probably.”

  She laughed and his lips twitched.

  She stood and came toward him, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. Joss groaned. “Oh god.”

  She sank to her knees beside his chair, her hands taking his, which he’d been using to cover his erection.

  Her smile grew. “Is that for me?”

  “No.” He grabbed her hands and jerked her up onto his lap, growling when her fleshy bottom settled over his aching groin.

  Her arms slid around his neck and she nuzzled him. “I’m probably crushing you,” she murmured into his neck.

  “Mmm hmm, you are.”

  Her body shook with laughter. “I’ve missed you so much, Joss. So much. I’ve been completely miserable without you.”

  He grunted; he hadn’t forgiven her yet—no matter how thrilled he was to be touching her, holding her.

  She looked up, her brow wrinkled. “Why did you make that sound?”

  “Why did you send me away?” he countered.

  Her face lost all its humor and she bit her lip, her expression suddenly closed.

  Joss shook his head, his anger flooding back. He stood, lifting her up with him and placing her at arm’s length once they were both on their feet.

  He turned away but her hand on his arm stopped him.

  He whipped around. “What, Alicia? Why are you here? Just for a fuck? I know you might not have written that note, but you’re here—in this place. What do you want?”

  She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide and hurt. “I just wanted—I need—” her shoulders slumped and he saw diamonds squeeze from the corners of her eyes.

  “Oh bloody hell.” He grabbed her and yanked her close, holding her like he would never let her go.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They sat in the small sitting area, both of them wrapped in the luxurious black silk robes they’d slipped into, a generous tea tray between them on a low table.

  Alicia had thought he’d make her leave, but instead, he’d pulled the bell and ordered tea.

  She looked up from the steaming cup in her hand to find him examining her, waiting.

  Something about his very stillness told her that he’d not speak again if she did not say what he needed to hear. But if she told him what she needed? If she told him what she wanted to do? Would he leave everything behind, become a criminal, and come with her?

  You have to tell him, Allie.

  She put her cup down. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t pleasant, Joss. Before I say anything, I want you to promise me something—two things, actually.”

  “What do you want me to promise?”

  “Promise you won’t hate me for what I’ve done.”

  His eyes closed briefly and he gave a helpless sounding laugh that made her shiver.

  “What? Why are you laughing?”

  But he just shook his head, an odd, sad smile on his face. “I promise I won’t hate you. For any reason.”

  His words were not as reassuring as she’d hoped. Of course, extracting a promise from somebody before telling them what they were promising was not exactly playing fair.

  “What’s the second thing?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment.” Alicia chewed her lip, struggling to gather her thoughts.

  It was difficult to look at him—thoughts of what he’d just done to her, and how much she’d loved it, ricocheting around in her head and making rational speech difficult. Especially about this subject.

  She dropped her gaze to his hands, which rested loosely on the arms of the bottle-green leather armchair. He had the biggest hands she’d ever seen. She loved his hands. She—

  “Alicia?”

  She sighed. “Very well. My marriage to the late earl was not ideal.” She snorted rudely at the horrific understatement. “He needed money. I knew that before we married and I believe the civilized settlements we negotiated prior to our marriage were all he wanted.” She cleared her throat, which seemed to have gotten smaller, tighter. “I only learned that he wanted something else after.” She looked down at the rich carpet beneath their feet. It was jewel-toned and luxurious, as fine as anything in a lord’s house. “He also wanted was a son.”

  He cocked his head. “But he already has one.”

  “He didn’t want a son for himself.”

  She could almost hear the machinery churning as he struggled through the various possibilities, discarding them, one after another, until he reached the last one. The most unthinkable one. She knew when the realization dawned on him because he blanched.

  “My God.”

  Now he would know her for what she was. Oddly, what she felt most was relief: there would be no more hiding from him.

  “Edward was the consummate gentleman right up to the wedding night. That evening, he called me into the library after dinner. David was there with him. Edward told me I could submit like a good wife, or he could make things very unpleasant for me. He rationalized it—saying he wasn’t physically able to bed me, so it was only fair that at least one Selwood could.” Her voice had become louder and she swallowed down her rage.

  “They were both terrified that David’s wife wouldn’t produce a son. The poor woman had had miscarriage after miscarriage and the only child to survive was the one girl. If David didn’t have a son, everything would pass to a cousin—and they both refused to accept that possibility. So, if David couldn’t have a son by his own wife, they’d both agreed that I was the next best thing.” Alicia paused her gruesome tale.

  Joss said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.

  “He pointed out how handsome his son was, how refined, what excellent bloodlines. In essence, he told me that I should be grateful to be bred by such a fine specimen.”

  Joss flinched, his hands flexing. “How long did this go on?”

  “Until my dear husband shuffled off his mortal coil. And then again when David came back to town this year.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Oh, not for a child anymore—lord, but that would be inconvenient to explain, wouldn’t it?” Her laughter sounded hollow. “But that didn’t mean he couldn’t amuse himself with me in other ways. He didn’t even want me, er, sexually most of the time.” She swallowed convulsively and turned away. “You see,” she said, not altogether successful at keeping her tone level and normal. “What he really enjoys is inflicting pain. Sometimes, I think he prefers beating me to. . . to . . .”

  Joss shot to his feet and came toward her, but she couldn’t stop the flow of awful words.

  “Somebody found out about us, Joss—about what you and I did in your quarters and told him. He did not appreciate sharing me with a mere servant.”

  Joss dropped to his haunches beside her chair, taking her hand. “He made you discharge me.”

  “He said he’d find a way to have you thrown in jail if I didn’t. He also said he wouldn’t take Lizzy away from me if I showed him that I was respectable and could be trusted.” She closed her eyes. “But he took her, anyway, Joss. He took her.”

  Joss reached out to take her in his arms but she shook her head.

  “I won’t be able to control myself if you do, Joss.”

  “Shhh, sweetheart. You don’t need to control yourself around me.” He enfolded her in his gentle, powerful embrace and she gave up the struggle and just sobbed.

  ∞∞∞

&n
bsp; Joss held her shaking body, struggling to contain his fury as he stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words into the fragrant abundance of it.

  She’d been systematically raped by her stepson with the aid and acquiescence of her husband.

  Joss simply could not wrap his mind around it. What kind of people did such a thing?

  He slid his arm beneath her knees and picked her up, cradling her against his chest as she sobbed and carrying her to the sofa in front of the fire where he sat and held her, letting her cry as long as she needed. Just holding her. Holding her and thinking about Selwood’s smug, hateful face and what he was going to do to it.

  “Joss?”

  Her voice pulled him away from his murderous musings. “Yes, love?”

  She gave a watery chuckle and pressed her face into his chest. “Oh, that sounds very nice. Am I your love?”

  He hugged her tight. “I’m sorry about tonight, Alicia. I never meant to hurt you or force you to do anything you didn’t—” God, he was so mortified by his behavior tonight after what she’d told him that he simply could not find the right words.

  “No, Joss.” Her sharp tone startled him. “How can you think that what we do together is anything like what David did to me?” She struggled into a seated position, cupping his jaw. “You didn’t hurt or force me like he did. I wanted you to do all of that—and more.” She kissed him, her mouth hot, eager, and salty on his. “I loved it,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. “Does that make me depraved? I—I loved tonight.”

  Relief and lust washed over him in equal amounts and he said a small, silent prayer of thanks. But then he put her away from him, not finished with this conversation, no matter how much he wanted to take her again.

  “I want to know the rest. Please. He made you get rid of me or he’d take away Lady Elizabeth—and then he took her. Do you know where? To the house in the country?”

  “No, he’s sent her to a place where she can rest and recuperate,” her voice broke, and Joss stroked her hair until she could speak again. “I’m so sorry I sent you away, Joss. But I had to try and—”

  “Shhh, of course you had to try. I understand.” He tilted her chin toward him. “But you can’t lie to me again about this kind of thing.”

  She nodded, her nose and eyes were puffy and red, and yet she was still the most gorgeous woman in the world.