The Devil's Submission (Fallen series)

by Nicola Davidson

  Gasping, he nuzzled into the side of her neck, his lips hard and smooth, his jaw slightly scratchy. “What do you want to know, Eliza? The friends I didn’t make because I hated the usual lordly pursuits of hunting and shooting? The rumors that started about me because I didn’t go into the village and fuck every woman I saw or leave a trail of bastards in my wake?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” she crooned, holding him close as the words spilled out. “Very good. What else?”

  “I tried. Fuck, I tried. But the women were so…so deferential. They were in awe of my father’s title, and mine, even though it is just a courtesy one. They wanted to serve and be owned and ordered about by me.”

  “And you didn’t want that at all,” she said, squeezing the base of his erection in reward.

  He panted, arching his back slightly so his cock pressed harder against her fingers. “No. Then one day I met Charlie. She hosted parties you see, for men, ah, exploring. Some enjoyed both male and female lovers, some just male. But a few of us were gifted the opportunity to learn about submission.”

  Ignoring the sharp twinge at the mention of Charlotte, too proud and relieved that Grayson was finally sharing these deeply personal memories, Eliza shifted so the head of his cock rubbed against her swollen, wet labia. “I am very pleased with you. I know it is hard to share the times you don’t wish to speak of, but it makes me admire you more, my brave darling. Now you are going to make me scream and fill my pussy with come. I want every drop you have.”

  He kissed her cheek, then in one lightning fast movement, he fitted his cock to her sheath and drove deep. They both moaned at the friction, the sheer bliss as her inner walls clamped around his length, holding him inside her. Grayson’s mouth trailed down her neck and across the tops of her breasts as he thrust and withdrew, grinding his hips against her, the wall ensuring she didn’t have to do anything but wrap her legs tighter around his waist to bring him even closer.

  “Lizzie,” he groaned, reaching down to tease her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet and hot. Fucking heaven. So smart and fiery and beautiful…”

  The orgasm exploded and she screamed his name, her fingernails shredding his linen shirt as she bucked and writhed. Seconds later Grayson rammed deep inside her and came with a guttural cry, every long, hot spurt of his seed like a sensual lash inside her.

  “Oh dear,” she said dreamily, as he stepped back from the wall and walked unsteadily across the room toward the huge, padded desk chair, every step pushing and pulling his cock against her tender channel until she quivered.

  “What’s wrong?” he said as he carefully sat down in the chair and held her close.

  “I’ve already sent four chemises to the rag bag this week, you rogue, and I do believe I’ll be sending a fifth after today.”

  He grinned. “Hardly my fault they don’t make chemises like they used to. But when you decide to let me up, we’ll make our way to Mayfair. Actually, you’re not the only one who’ll be sending something to the rag bag today. My shirt has gone to that great dressing room in the sky, but it would like you to know it accepted its demise with a merry heart…ow. Eliza Jean Brimley Deveraux, did you just pinch your poor, innocent husband…ow. Seriously, my dear, if you keep that up I’m going to get hard again.”

  Eliza’s tongue darted out and licked his lips. “Exactly how is that a problem?”

  “I don’t know. What were we talking about again?”

  “An urgent need for Mayfair.”

  “The shops can wait,” said Grayson, rocking her on his lap and making her whimper.

  “Yes,” she agreed, cupping his face in her hands for a long, carnal kiss, “they can.”

  …

  “Grayson, you are staring at me.”

  “Not exactly,” Devil murmured several hours later, as his luxurious carriage glided around a corner and sped toward Mayfair. “I’m imagining you as Queen of the Fairies. Gold and diamond tiara, watered green silk tunic, and some roses. Definitely no chemise or stays.”

  “So the three of you have decided on the Midsummer Night ball theme, then?”

  “I believe so. Madame Alice will visit to measure you for your costume and show you a range of fabrics, but with that glorious hair, I would humbly beg you to choose a shade of green.”

  “Humbly?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  He widened his eyes, innocent as a choirboy. “I am more than willing to get on my knees.”

  “Hmmm. Agreeable things do occur when you are there. I’ll consider your request, although I’m not sure about the ‘no stays’ idea. My breasts are too big to run amok.”

  Devil sighed in delicious remembrance. “Indeed.”

  “Oh good grief. You’re thinking of them running amok, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all, my dear. Ledgers. I am definitely thinking about ledgers right now.”

  “What you should be thinking of is your own costume,” said Eliza, sitting forward on the leather carriage squab. “If I am to be queen, will you be king?”

  “Vice would shoot me on the spot if I attempted to usurp his throne. I’ll wear whatever costume you think best. Although please don’t make me be a bloody tree. Or part of a Stonehenge display. It’s not my fault my genius manifests itself in ways other than waltzing. Or penmanship. Or carrying drinks.”

  “Oh, I think you have the odd talent to make up for it. And you really do make ink spots look dashing.”

  Devil laughed, his head falling back on the squab in a movement of utter relaxation. It was an odd feeling. His body probably didn’t know which way was up, as he slept and ate and worked and made love to his spouse like a normal person. But this morning had been another significant step forward, when he’d spoken for the first time of his Cambridge days and Charlotte’s parties.

  The confession had been easier than expected, and that was entirely because of the way Eliza had coaxed and praised and gently ordered him. But hell, it already felt like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. She hadn’t run or gotten angry or frightened, just led him into several exquisitely powerful climaxes. Again, but far stronger than before, hope rose. Hope that in time he could tell her everything, even his darkest secrets.

  When the carriage eventually came to a halt in Cavendish Square, he and Eliza stepped out onto the footpath. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, clear and warm, as they began to stroll arm in arm through the heart of Mayfair.

  Eliza tilted her head back so the sun could reach under her bonnet brim. “This is lovely.”

  “Where do you want to go? Do you have shops you prefer? I’m afraid I have no bloody idea when it comes to ladies’ attire.”

  “Clark and Debenham, on Wigmore Street,” she replied. “I haven’t been there in an age, but the quality is excellent.”

  “Even better. We’re practically there. In the work of a moment, you shall have chemises to last at least a few weeks.”

  As it seemed like half of London had also ventured out to enjoy the sunshine, it actually took far longer to walk to the grand building than he’d estimated. He’d never been in the place himself, but the harem certainly spent a great deal of time and money there.

  Walking up the steps and into the building was like stepping into a gigantic henhouse. It was noisy as hell and there were people everywhere, mostly women and children, but also the odd gentleman and plenty of footmen lugging hat and garment boxes. The salesmen were easy to spot, dressed in black trousers, shirts, and waistcoats, and hurrying from one corner of the enormous shop to the other. Some carried ready-made gowns and pelisses, but most held oversized bolts of fabric in satin and twill.

  Eliza’s gaze darted from one side to the other, her smile bright with anticipation. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start with the chemise and work your way out to gloves,” he replied, propping himself up against a pillar as Eliza bustled around him, pointing out bombazines and sarsnets, near-swooning over some Parisian fashion plates, and examining a bolt of satin the c
olor of new leaves. The service had been adequate enough to start, but when he slipped two attendants a guinea apiece, it became positively fawning as they attempted to outsprint each other in collecting and presenting anything that took Eliza’s fancy.

  Unfortunately his generosity drew the attention of several well-dressed ladies, who immediately began gossiping behind their fans, their pointed gazes and knowing looks reminding him why he never ventured into town.

  “Grayson! What do you think of this fabric?” said Eliza merrily, her eyes sparkling. Suddenly the old bats and boredom were worth it as she twirled around him with a bolt of sky blue-striped muslin, one hand discreetly cupping his cock as she swished past.

  “Delightful. Couldn’t adore it more.”

  She laughed, her wicked smile promising a wealth of future delights. Until the smile slipped from her face and she paled.

  Devil frowned. “What’s the matter? Eliza?”

  “Can we leave?”

  “Are you feeling unwell?”

  “I’m fine,” she said briskly. “Can we just leave at once, please? I’ll find some fabric elsewhere for chemises and such.”

  Thoroughly confused at the complete change in her mood, he tucked her arm through his. “All right then, I—”

  “Yoo-hoo! Lord Grayson! Eliza!” called Lady Brimley, barreling through a small crowd of people to reach them. “I didn’t even believe the whispers when I heard you two were in here shopping your hearts out, but what a happy surprise. You are just the couple I wanted to find.”

  Eliza almost folded in on herself as her mother descended. Sure they had an uneasy relationship most of the time, and the countess could be arrogant, selfish, and a rather foolish slave to the ton, but his wife’s reaction seemed rather excessive.

  “Lady Brimley,” he said politely, bowing over his mother-in-law’s hand. “How may I assist?”

  “Dear boy. Has Eliza spoken to you? She swore to me she would.”

  He glanced at his wife, who appeared to have lost even more color from her cheeks. “About what in particular?”

  “Nothing,” said Eliza through bloodless lips. “Mother, not now. You’ll ruin everything.”

  Devil’s gaze narrowed at the silent war of looks shooting between his wife and her mother. What the hell was going on? “Eliza?”

  Lady Brimley suddenly encircled his arm with her hand, the cloying touch both annoying and unwelcome. “My daughter might care nothing for the wellbeing of others, but I’m certain you do not feel the same, Lord Grayson. You’ve always been so generous and giving toward her, and that is why I feel confident approaching you for the smallest of favors.”

  Uneasiness settled like a wet overcoat. “I see. Perhaps we might continue this conversation in a more private setting?”

  Eliza frantically shook her head, but his mother-in-law beamed. “Excellent idea. A tea shop it is.”

  Chapter Five

  The tea was hot and sweet, and a tiered selection of tarts and cream cakes and pastries sat within arm’s reach, but even a nibble would have her casting up her accounts. A carriage wreck was about to occur right before her eyes, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

  Eliza watched in utter misery as her mother finished a jam tart and dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin.

  “Lord Grayson,” said Lady Brimley, fluttering her lashes. “While I never expected a son-in-law quite so mired in, er, trade, your social connections prove that nasty stain can be overcome. And as I said earlier, I have always admired your generosity toward my daughter. But now that generosity and giving, that caring concern, must go wider.”

  Grayson’s expression eased. “Are you raising funds for a charity, Lady Brimley? A church or hospital or orphanage perhaps? I’d be pleased to donate if that is the case.”

  “Something like that, dear boy. A most worthy cause.”

  “Which is?” her husband said a trifle impatiently, and Eliza wanted to slide under the table.

  “The Brimley Finishing Academy!”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. I thought your school was well-placed financially, all those grateful families regularly contributing after a successful match, alongside all the term fees from current students.”

  Lady Brimley’s smile thinned. “That was the case. Until my own daughter and her husband decided to live apart in a very public fashion after just a few months of marriage.”

  “Ah,” said Grayson, clearing his throat. “I see. But surely the school’s coffers could survive that? And as we are currently reconciling, that shouldn’t affect the school’s reputation in the future?”

  “Well, yes. And I applaud every sacrifice my daughter has made to achieve that reconciliation.”

  Eliza clenched her fists. “I haven’t made any sacrifices, Mother.”

  “Yes you have! Behaving like a strumpet in public just to please your husband. Oh, my dear, I saw what you did while looking at fabrics, and my heart broke for you. But rest assured that I forgive you, for it is a woman’s lot to endure distasteful things. Do you think I wanted to tak…er, borrow the money? No, I did not. But I must tolerate Brimley’s gross weaknesses as any good wife should.”

  Grayson didn’t look at her, but she felt his shock and shame like a physical blow. The death knell to her fledgling happiness, delivered in a few sharp words.

  “Mother,” she began, her temper barely leashed now. “Our situations are completely diff—”

  “No need to explain, Eliza,” said Grayson icily, making her shiver. “As your mother rightly points out, it is the wife who suffers when her husband is inadequate. Tell me, Lady Brimley, how much were you compelled to borrow from the academy?”

  “Ten thousand pounds. It made me feel ill inside, and I am ashamed to admit I felt scorn for Brimley when he confessed. Such abhorrent weakness, a man looking to a woman for guidance and salvation. But as I said, well-bred ladies like Eliza and I, we endure.”

  “Indeed. I’ll arrange a draft to pay the debt,” he replied in a voice so dead and flat her heart pounded in warning.

  “No!” she burst out. “Grayson—”

  “Be quiet!” her mother hissed.

  Grayson tilted his head, his eyes an emerald abyss. “I’m unsure why you protest, Eliza. I needed the reminder that for the ton, it is always about money. Money to pretend, money to extract from difficulty, money to risk anew. Of course you aren’t any different.”

  “Don’t, darling—”

  “My lady. Please, there is no need for this, the debt will be paid and the academy will survive. Actually, I must commend your performance. And your tactics of course, the timing of the request was impeccable. Enough to ensure I heard it in a very amiable frame of mind, but not so long you couldn’t stomach your unwanted duty for another minute. Now, who would like a cake or pastry? They certainly look delicious.”

  For the first time in her life, Lady Brimley hesitated, perhaps finally realizing all might not be well. “That is very, very kind, Lord Grayson, but I must rush to tell Brimley the good news. He’ll be so relieved. I know this has weighed heavily on his mind. The man has barely slept for the past few weeks.”

  And with a quick smile and pat on the hand, Lady Brimley scampered out of the tea shop in a flurry of cream skirts.

  The silence was agonizing, but Grayson didn’t meet her gaze, just methodically dissected a raisin pastry and sipped his lemon-infused tea.

  “I’m so sorry,” she choked out eventually.

  He stood, the scrape of the chair on the wooden floor an even more painful sound than usual. “Hate to break up this tea party, but I’ve just remembered an urgent appointment I must attend. Do you wish to stay here? I’ll send another carriage to fetch you later if you want to continue shopping.”

  Terror engulfed her. This was the Devil society whispered about: the man of ice for which money remained the only consideration, the only thing that didn’t let him down. She’d shoved him back into that lonely, broken hell because she coul
dn’t stand up to her blasted mother.

  “No,” Eliza said firmly, pushing back her own chair. “I’m coming with you.”

  Grayson ambled out of the tea shop, and when she hurried after him and curled her hand around his arm, he flinched away.

  “Ah, excellent,” he said, as though she was a distant acquaintance. “Coachman’s managed to pull up just over there. Thought for a moment the number of people might prevent him stopping and we’d be walking all the way back to Portman Square.”

  “Don’t be Devil and shut me out,” she whispered. “At least give me a chance to explain.”

  “Please get into the carriage, Eliza. We’ve had enough public discussion for one afternoon, don’t you think?”

  Scrambling into the conveyance, she bit her lip until he climbed in behind her and shut the door. As soon as they were moving, she leaned forward and took his hand. “Grayson, let me—”

  “There is not a single thing that needs explaining,” he said, staring out the window. “It is all very clear. You came to London ostensibly for Sin and Grace’s wedding, but what you really wanted was a substantial bank draft. To ensure the likelihood of this happening, you gritted your teeth and altered your personality to please your weak, pathetic husband, while performing acts of a sexual nature that you loathed and mocked and sought absolution for later.”

  “No,” she said fiercely. “Mother talked of a situation completely different to mine. And she is so very wrong.”

  “You didn’t come to London seeking ten thousand pounds from me, then?”

  “She charged me with that task. I didn’t want to, though, especially when I learned she’d stolen money from the academy. But they were facing ruin. Papa is terrible when it comes to finances. He didn’t follow your excellent investing advice and lost a great deal in stocks. But he is a good man who didn’t deserve to lose everything because of one mistake. What else could I do?”