“You could have asked me for the money at any time, Eliza. Instead you forced your way back into my life, working with me, dining with me, sharing my bed. You fucked me, owned me, stripped me bare and made me believe…and all the time it was about duty.”
“Grayson, no. I’ve never been so happy. Never felt so…so confident and beautiful as I have in the last few days. I love instructing you…controlling your pleasure…” she said frantically, but he tugged his hand away from her hold, again staring blankly out the window.
And her heart shattered.
…
Fifteen thousand pounds.
Signing his name on a bank draft, Devil blew on the ink to help it dry a little faster. He’d added the extra five to cover any interest, but also to allow the Brimleys some breathing room until their next quarterly payments arrived from their various tenants and holdings.
As it turned out, while Lord Brimley had made a series of catastrophic investment decisions, he wasn’t altogether clueless when it came to land improvements and crops. With proper drainage, some new equipment, and a decent steward overseeing the books, it was possible they could turn a small profit next year, and a healthy one the year after. Lady Brimley he still couldn’t stomach, especially her complete lack of remorse at stealing the money from her own school, but at least she hadn’t done anything like it before.
Actually, the only clueless person in this whole fucking mess was him. Duped not once but twice, by the woman he’d chosen to marry.
Fuck, it stung.
Especially after the way he’d carried on in the last few days, all happy and smug at his good fortune. No wonder Vice had wanted to punch him in the nose. At least his friend wouldn’t have to now, since the fates had done the job instead. It seemed he was indeed destined for the solitary life, which was fine. He’d done it before, he could do it again. The scraped-raw, hollow feeling would lessen over time, and soon it would be gone entirely as one day of blessed numbness blended into the next.
A knock sounded on the office door.
“Come in,” he called, not looking up as the door swung open. The harem had actually been very solicitous after he and Eliza returned home, somehow sensing that something had gone terribly wrong; when he’d ordered an early dinner so he might make headway on Fallen’s income and expenditure for the month, a tray had been promised at once.
“Good evening, Grayson.”
Very carefully, he put his pen down. “What are you doing here, Eliza?”
“Bringing you supper. I hoped…I want very much to talk to you.”
Devil rubbed a hand over his face, hating the fact that his body responded to her even now. Hating the width and breadth of such a pathetic need, that he still craved time and conversation with a woman who only did things for money. “I am a little hungry. What have the kitchens sent?”
Eliza set the tray down on his desk and lifted the lid. “Roasted beef, potatoes with butter and parsley, green beans…oh Grayson, your face! You look like you’ve been bathing in ink.”
A glance at his right hand revealed a thick smear of blue. Hell and damnation. He really needed to purchase a new pen and inkpot set. “Ah well, you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”
She stilled. “Won’t I?”
“Surely you’ll be returning to Lincolnshire shortly?”
“I have no plans to. In fact, I fear you may find me a very difficult guest to get rid of.”
Devil swallowed a forkful of green beans as if savoring the fresh, delicate flavor, when instead he was stalling for time. “This is quite unnecessary, Eliza. The draft is right here. I’ve added an extra five thousand to last them until next quarter. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I am not pretending. The last few days have been the best of my life. Working with you again, living here at Fallen…I feel useful, not drifting along. And the lovemaking, good heavens, Grayson, do you think I could fake those responses? Anyone can scream or moan or gasp, I grant you that. But what about my skin, glistening and flushed pink? My swollen, rock hard nipples?”
“Don’t, Eliza,” he said gruffly, concentrating on not squirming in his chair.
But she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Not to mention my pussy. You saw and felt how wet I was. You licked that moisture up, put your tongue inside me to gather more. And when I came, I gripped your cock so tight, you always felt the pulses. I know you did, because then you filled me up with your seed. By the by, do you think we might have made a baby, Grayson? I’ve been thinking about it a lot. How much I would love to watch my belly grow big with your child. To hold our son or daughter in my arms.”
A yearning so fierce, so powerful, he couldn’t sit down a moment longer overwhelmed him, and he shoved back his chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with hundreds of leather-bound books. “I don’t know,” he bit out.
“Maybe earlier today we did. I don’t think you have ever taken me so hard and deep as up against that wall over there. And in the chair, oh my. Now that I know you like it when I speak forcefully, when I hold you and guide your pleasure, I will give you what you need.”
“You won’t,” he said hoarsely, the two words tumbling out before he could halt them.
She stepped forward to grip the back of the chaise. “How…how so?”
“What we have done so far, it has been very, very good, but it is only part of what I truly need.”
“Then tell me. Tell me the rest. How can I know unless you do?”
Bracing one hand on the bookshelf, he stared at Eliza, feeling like he walked a carnival tightrope. She said she wanted to know, but the truth had already destroyed him once.
“It is worse than you think,” he said quietly.
“Grayson, now you are scaring me.”
Rage bubbled. “Good. The sooner you realize exactly how twisted I am, the sooner you’ll leave.”
“Twisted? What on earth are you talking about?”
“I like pain, Eliza. In sexual play.”
“Well, I know that. You certainly liked me tugging your hair and scratching you with my nails this morning,” she said soothingly, a relieved smile playing about her lips. “And that is quite, quite fine.”
“You know nothing,” he snarled, angry at her calm acceptance when she didn’t understand at all. “When I say I like pain, I mean I like it rough and harsh and hurting. In my last year at Eton, I used to misbehave to get the cane. The more strokes the better. And then I’d go to my room and come in my hand because I was so hard. Reyburn found out and was so furious he threatened to cut me off. I stopped for a while, but when I started Cambridge, the need returned, stronger than ever.”
“And you met Charlotte.”
“I did. And everything was a splendid whirl of discovery. I could be my true self. The others didn’t judge me, didn’t care that I liked canes and crops and clamps and cock rings. It was a happy time, until Reyburn’s spies discovered why I chose to remain in the village rather than leave in the term breaks. When I finally did go home for Christmas in 1803, Reyburn and his valet were waiting.”
Eliza gasped. “What did they do?”
“Beat me. But as the bard said, therein lies the rub. I didn’t cower or scream or beg for mercy. I laughed. And after one particularly good strike with a buckled belt, I came in my trousers. Reyburn used his fists after that, until his hands became too sore and his valet stepped in. When I stopped moving, he threw me out onto the footpath in the ice and snow. The cold was enough to wake me up, and I staggered and crawled to Charlotte’s townhouse. She took me in. End of story.”
Deafening silence filled the office. Eliza ran across the room, but her touch on his shoulder was too much, threatening to break his fragile composure. “Grayson…”
He shook her off. “Don’t. Just leave. If you care at all, leave me be.”
His wife hesitated for an achingly long moment then fled, slamming the office door behind her.
Slowly, Devil slid down the bookshelf front
, until he sprawled on the ground. Finally, no more pretense or lies or secrets. Now that Eliza knew the whole disgusting truth, she would leave for good. His eyes burned, his head throbbed, and his gut churned with nausea at the thought of his bleak, empty future, but he wouldn’t succumb. It was far better like this.
Or at least, it would be.
…
Near-blinded by her tears, Eliza ran and ran, having no idea where she was going as she sprinted down several hallways, until her feet came to a sudden halt outside Charlotte’s chamber.
Without hesitating, she pounded on the door, and a minute later it opened to reveal Grayson’s savior in a gold satin dressing gown, a very perplexed expression on her face.
“Charlotte,” she choked out on a sob, knowing she probably looked like a complete fright. “May I come in?”
“Why?” said Charlotte in a blunt but not unfriendly tone.
“I n-need to speak with you about Grayson. He…he just told me about that night with his father. Actually he told me everything. Cambridge, the parties…”
The door swung wide. “Come in. I apologize for the mess, but I’m just getting ready for a performance.”
“No need to apologize,” Eliza said quickly. “I am the one who is sorry. I had no idea what you did. How you saved his life, gave him a home after Lord Reyburn…my God, that man better hope he never meets me in the street.”
“The marquess is a bastard of the highest order. Dev loses nothing being estranged from him, and we’ll jostle for grave-spitting position when the man finally does everyone a favor and cocks up his toes.”
“What about Grayson’s mother and brother?”
“His mother doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. I believe the two boys were mostly raised by governesses and tutors. But his brother, well that is a damned shame. Lord Upton is a decent fellow by all accounts.”
Eliza nodded. “And you are a very decent woman. I treated you shamefully, especially at the chapel. Jealousy is a terrible thing, especially knowing you and Grayson…”
“Me and Grayson, what exactly?”
“You know,” she mumbled uncomfortably, wanting to discuss her husband’s previous liaisons like she wanted to be crushed by a runaway cart. “The two of you…together.”
Charlotte burst out laughing. “Together? As in Dev and I in bed? Good God, no. Not ever. That would be like fucking a brother…ugh, I’ll need plenty of brandy to wash away that thought.”
“But…but you, ah, lived with each other for years,” said Eliza, disbelief warring with desperate joy. Grayson and Charlotte weren’t lovers and never had been?
“We did. No offense, Lady Eliza, but he just isn’t my preference. I like very tall, very broad men with a rougher edge. Dev is too aristocratic. Too bookish. Unfortunately, finding a large, strapping submissive man is about as easy as finding an honest politician. So I spend my evenings wielding crops and whips downstairs instead. Which is where I should be right now.”
An idea sprang into her head, one so outrageous, she almost tumbled over. “Do you…do you think I could watch?”
Charlotte tilted her head and gave her a thoughtful look. “To enjoy, or something else? I hear you administer a perfect slap.”
Her cheeks burned. “I know Grayson has certain, ah, needs. I want to see how it is done. Then I’ll know if maybe I could do it for him, or not ever.”
“You’re serious, then? Lady or no, I will never consent to assisting you if your damned sensibilities are going to take over again and you hurt him by pulling right back. Because this time would be so much worse, when Dev has seen what happiness could be like.”
Eliza let out a slow breath. It was time to lay all her cards out on the table, and that meant her past regrets as well. Everyone, including herself, deserved the truth even if it was uncomfortable. “I was such a fool. Pulling back hurt me as well as him. I’m not delicate and ladylike, I’m bold and bossy. I love instructing him. I love being in control, and I’m so blasted tired of hiding it.”
Charlotte grinned. “Very well. Come with me.”
After fetching her mask, Eliza followed Charlotte downstairs and through a discreet back door into the club proper. Soon they were walking around a familiar corner, and her steps faltered slightly as she looked at the same room Grayson had been in with all the couples. Fortunately, Charlotte kept walking and pushed open the door to the room next to it. This one was a little smaller and had a wide padded bench, a tray of whips, crops and toys, and a curtained off square in the far right corner. “Can I sit in there?”
“Make yourself comfortable,” said Charlotte with a wave. “My first gentleman friend will be here very shortly.”
Eliza barely had time to sit down and pull the curtain mostly closed, when a naked man appeared in the doorway, his head bowed. He wore a numbered mask, his brown hair touched with silver, as were the curls dusting his chest. An older gentleman but with the strong thighs and thick wrists of an expert rider, a short but very thick cock dangling between his legs.
“Charlotte, ma’am, may I enter your domain?”
“You may,” said Charlotte crisply, and Eliza could only watch in amazement as the woman discarded her robe to reveal a very seductive Amazonian warrior costume: black leather corset, shoulder plates, gold forearm cuffs, and flat sandals with straps that wound around her legs from ankle to knee. She looked magnificent, so confident and powerful. “Are you well, pet?”
“I am indeed. And honored that you agreed to see me.”
“Good,” purred Charlotte, briefly cupping the man’s cheek as he stood in the center of the room. “Before we begin, I must tell you I have a colleague who wants to watch and learn. Do you consent or wish her to leave? In this instance, neither decision is wrong.”
He smiled shyly. “If it pleases you, I consent for the lady to stay.”
“All right. Come out, milady. A better view here.”
Eyes wide, and very grateful for the mask she wore, Eliza slipped out from behind the curtain. “Thank you both.”
Charlotte nodded and turned to the man. “Why are you here?”
“To see you.”
“No,” said Charlotte, picking up a riding crop and slapping it against her thigh. “Tell me why you are really here, pet. Only then can I give you what you crave.”
The gentleman quivered, then clasped his hands. “I’m so tired. Every day I give orders. Every day I must be…another. My wife, my children, my brothers and sisters, my mother…every day, they all want, so I must be that man. And I’m so damned tired.”
“You wish me to be in charge. To make decisions that will bring you great pleasure.”
“Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”
“Then get onto the bench, hands and knees, eyes down.”
Fascinated, Eliza watched as Charlotte strolled around the room like a queen while the gentleman settled himself on the bench. She was so sure of herself, her smile bright and her shoulders back, utterly unashamed of who she was…and in turn this man had been able to relax and share who he was, too.
“Can I…” said Eliza hesitantly. “Can I ask a question?”
“Certainly,” said Charlotte.
“Sir,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you like pain? I mean, does it bring you greater pleasure if you are whipped for example?”
The man turned his head, his smile gentle. “I like it very much, ma’am. It brings me astonishing clarity of mind, and I can let go of what troubles me. Then I can come. My only regret is not requesting time with Miss Charlotte earlier. Finding a lady who understands and is unafraid, no, not just unafraid but delights in her desires…is a miracle. I am most grateful.”
Eliza collapsed into a chair, her mind awhirl. But through that burst excitement. If she watched Charlotte carefully, she could learn how to proceed. How to revel in her own needs and desires, and in turn free Grayson to revel in his. To transform their marriage once and for all into a partnership where all sexual needs
were met, and in a way that was safe and loving.
“Then please, Charlotte…sir…do begin.”
Charlotte circled the bench, one hand caressing the gentleman’s back and bottom. “Such beautiful skin. I do enjoy marking it. This evening you will count to ten for me, but you may not move or come without my permission.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The first few blows of the riding crop were light, barely leaving an imprint on the man’s hair-dusted thighs. But on the third, a slap hard enough to pinken the fleshy part of his bottom, he shivered. Charlotte paused, stepping away.
Oh my. A form of punishment. Charlotte didn’t say a word, nor was she unkind, but the act was unmistakable. And yet the man wasn’t angry or sad, only more visibly excited at this evidence that he did not control the situation.
When Charlotte continued she was harsher, blows four through seven turning her guest’s bottom bright red. His panting breaths were audible, his voice as he counted increasingly scratchy and raw, but true to his oath, he did not move.
“Milady,” said Charlotte, pausing to rotate her wrist. “You’ll note how I do not hit the same spot twice. Nor do I aim for the tailbone or lower back. This is discipline, not abuse; I have no desire to cause injury.”
“You are very skilled,” Eliza replied softly, transfixed and more than a little aroused.
The eighth and ninth blows raised welts, and the gentleman sobbed as he counted. But his engorged cock bobbed against his stomach, the head glistening with pre-come, while the muscles in his forearms and thighs strained with the effort of remaining still.
Finally, Charlotte landed the last blow, a ferocious strike that broke the skin and brought a thin trail of blood to the surface. The man’s “ten” was a guttural cry of ecstasy, and when Charlotte raised him from the bench so he knelt, slid her hand around his cock and ordered him to come, he coated the bench with his seed, his head thrown back to reveal tearstained cheeks and a smile so joyful, so serene, it almost felt too personal and private to watch.
“That was perfect, my lovely,” murmured Charlotte, as she cuddled the man against her and stroked his hair. “Now, how do you show gratitude?”
The Devil's Submission (Fallen series) Page 7