Dark Fancy

by York, Sabrina

  He hoped to God he wasn’t hurting her. But the tighter he pinched, the wilder she thrashed, the higher her cries.

  She came. And came and came.

  It was a glorious sight to behold.

  When she finished, he released her bonds and lapped at the red marks on her breasts. She sighed and whimpered and clutched at him, inside and out.

  “Did you like that, my sweet?” he whispered into her hair.

  “Yes Sir.” She cuddled against him.

  There was nothing in the world, he reflected, more perfect than this woman.

  That she was his warmed him, humbled him, thrilled him to the core.

  Chapter Eight

  After their outing to the meadow, she wanted another bath, and James was delighted to serve her. He carried countless buckets to the fire and filled the tub with glee. As the next round was warming, he made a quick trip to the house, asked Mrs. Miller to throw together a basket for dinner and hunted down some fragrant soap—and other items Eloise might require. His uncle, the previous earl, had had frequent female guests at Darlington. James found what he was looking for in their long-deserted chambers.

  He could tell, from the expressions on his servants’ faces, they thought him dotty. Why would an earl prefer to languish in a humble gardener’s cottage when he had every comfort right here in his mansion? But he didn’t relieve their curiosity.

  He knew his peaceful idyll with Eloise would be short and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it. He didn’t want to think about the future, when he’d have to hide her, split his time between his delightful mistress and a fish-faced wife.

  Once back at the cottage—and ah, how it felt like coming home when she met him at the door with a giggle and a kiss—he dropped his bounty on the table.

  “Ooh,” she cooed, sifting through the treasures. “A brush.” She ran it through her hair.

  James shook his head. “That’s for your bottom, my dear.” He loved how she went pink, right to the tips of her ears.

  He’d been so worried about how to draw her into the dark play he found so satisfying. She’d taken to it like a duck to water. Most of his playmates in the past had been game, especially when they saw how much he enjoyed bending a lithe body over his lap and paddling her bottom, but there had been one or two who had looked at him as though he were a fiend.

  He imagined his wife would be one of those. She was a lady, trained in the strictest boarding school from the age of four to conform to society’s rigid rules. James had no hope of finding succor in her bed. Not the succor he craved at any rate. But the thought didn’t disquiet him quite so much now.

  Now he had his Eloise.

  As much as he preferred living in the country, he’d probably spend most of his time in London once he took on the shackles of marriage—just so he could be near her. He’d only had her for two days and he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from her.

  “For my bottom?” Her eyes went wide.

  He took the brush from her and skated the stiff bristles over the tips of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled.

  “You are wicked, James,” she said on a sigh. When he lightly smacked her bottom with the flat of the brush, she jumped. “Oh my.”

  He chuckled and tossed the brush onto the bed. “That’s for later. I’m hungry now.”

  She put a palm on her belly. “I’m hungry too.”

  He stepped behind her and began unfastening her buttons.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Removing your clothing. I enjoyed watching you sit across the table from me absolutely naked this morning. I fancy enjoying it once more.”

  “Absolutely naked?”

  “Yes.” Damn. The buttons were tiny. Next time he raided the chests in the attic he’d be sure to look for something much easier to remove. In the end, he lost patience and just yanked the frock over her head. As her skin was revealed to the licking light of the fire, she trembled. She covered her breasts. Gently, firmly, he captured her wrists and held them at her side. “I want to see you, Eloise.”

  “A-are you also going to be absolutely naked?”

  “No.”

  Her lashes fluttered. Her lips parted.

  Damn. She was perfect.

  He couldn’t help himself—so he helped himself. He stroked her waist, her hip, the delightful curve of her ass. “Darling. Don’t quiver so. You sat naked before me at breakfast. You should be used to it by now.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  A bolt of lightning seared his loins. He could barely keep his balance as darling Eloise slipped so easily back into the game. Had he ever had a lover so intuitive? Who knew without words what he wanted, needed, ached for? She was, indeed, perfect. So perfect.

  The thought frightened him.

  “Sit down.”

  “What about my bath?”

  “After.”

  “It will get cold.”

  “I will warm it again. Sit.”

  She studied the chair and then, very slowly, sat. When her naked bottom kissed the rough wood, she flinched. “It’s cold.”

  “You’ll warm it.” He sat opposite her, uncorked the wine bottle and poured her a cup. Then he opened the basket and riffled around, pulling out one wrapped package after another. Her nose twitched.

  “Chicken and potatoes. Spiced apples. Bread.” He placed each item on the table. “Ah. Cream.” He did so love clotted cream. He spooned generous servings of each selection on both plates and set hers before her. When she reached for her fork, he forestalled her, capturing her tiny wrist in the cuff of his fingers. “No implements, I think.”

  She gaped at him. “You want me to eat with my hands?”

  “Yes. Better yet, feed me. I’ll do the same.” He scooted his chair around to her side of the table and sat close. He selected a slice of tender chicken in a creamy sauce and lifted it to her open mouth. It dripped—landing in a steaming splat on her breast—before she could take it all in. He licked up the spill.

  “I rather like this.” She fed him some potatoes mashed with onions and garlic. It was delicious, but she was even more delicious as he licked her clean.

  It was easily the most enjoyable meal he’d ever had.

  When they came to dessert, he decided to spice things up. So when he picked up a slippery apple slice baked to perfection and smothered in a buttery cinnamon sauce, he didn’t lift it to her mouth though she held it open, waiting for him like a baby bird. Instead, he dabbed the warm morsel on her nipple and then sucked it clean. He did it again, topped the treat off with cream and repeated his meticulous cleansing.

  By the time he was done, she was gasping for air.

  Before he could stop her, she dropped to her knees and opened the placket on his trousers. Then, taking a handful of the delicious dessert, she smeared it all over his cock. It was warm and wet and sticky. The sensation scored him but not nearly as much as the fact that she had done it.

  When her mouth went to work, licking the sauce from his raging cock, he nearly lurched out of his seat. It took everything in him to hold still, to allow her to illustrate her diligence for this task.

  And God, was she diligent. Lapping and nipping and sucking until he thought he was going to come out of his skin.

  She became impatient after a bit of this and demanded he remove his trousers completely. They were ruined, stained with the apples that had slid down his cock and pooled around his balls, so he complied. He didn’t dare imagine what the servants would think when presented with their lord’s trousers caked with apple chunks.

  Right now, he hardly cared. As he kicked off his trousers, she grasped his cock in her fist—once again coated in sauce—and pumped him. He nearly came on her face, which would have been a pity because he had plans for that hard cock. As it was, he managed to restrain that ravaging urge, but just barely.

  He was very proud of himself.

  Ah, but pride goeth before the fall, as they say. For when Eloise took his cock deep into her velvet mou
th once more, he began to shiver. He tensed all his muscles to hold back the rain of glory fighting for release.

  “Eloise.” He fisted his fingers in her hair, ostensibly to pull her back, but then he didn’t. He held her there instead, guiding her motion. “Darling.” God. What had she just done? Some swirly thing with her tongue. Where had she learned that? “Don’t…” Ah. A nibble. A long hard suck. She tested the weight of his balls, gently cradling them and rolling them. And then her caress nudged farther back, over that sensitive strip of skin between his sac and his ass.

  His eyes rolled back as she toyed with him.

  He should pull away. As exquisite as this torture was, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to bury his cock in her cunt and plow into her until she begged for mercy, creamed in pleasure.

  And then everything went black. A roaring tide rushed through his head. Pleasure and discomfort and delirium whipped along every nerve.

  Because she found his asshole.

  And plunged a finger in.

  He couldn’t help himself. He gripped her head with both hands and emptied himself into her sweet sucking mouth. The agony was exquisite. The release sublime.

  She milked him of every drop.

  He fell to his knees, panting and groaning. Pulled her close and kissed her. He tasted his essence on her tongue, sucked it in. He wanted to crawl inside her and die. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to worship her.

  She held him as he struggled to rejoin the world, kissing away the tiny tears on his lashes, stroking his shoulders, his back.

  An odd little movement pushed its way through the fog. With surprise, he realized she was unbuttoning his shirt. He looked up at her, at her lovely face. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She grinned. “I think now we both need a bath.”

  They took one together in the tiny wooden tub, Eloise wedged between his legs and warm against his chest.

  To his astonishment, his desire rose again.

  By the time they finished, water was all over the floor.

  * * * * *

  James pulled Eloise closer, nestled her lovely bottom against his burgeoning crotch. He could hear the annoying birds chirping in the trees and shards of sunlight speared his lids. He hid his face and snuggled deeper beneath the blankets. He didn’t want to get up yet. He liked the feel of her in his arms far too much.

  He couldn’t imagine ever wanting this with another woman.

  For the hint of a moment he hated his betrothed, though it was hardly her fault they were bound together. As much as he wanted her stables, he deplored the thought of giving up Eloise to claim them.

  He could probably find some other stock with the same fine lines of the Trueglove Arabians. But he doubted it.

  They were superb.

  Eloise murmured in her sleep and pressed back into his cock. James swallowed a groan.

  She was superb as well.

  Hell. He could find other horses. He would never find a woman like her again. Not if he searched the world. She fit him like a glove.

  It delighted him that she had not only embraced his darker desires—he had commanded her to eat naked in front of him for Christ’s sake—she had stoked them. Of her own accord she’d added devious twists to his play. She might prove to be more inventive than he was himself.

  He still hadn’t paddled her bottom, not the way he ached to. That fantasy roiled, unfulfilled, in his gut. To see her draped over his lap, her buttocks bared, writhing at his attention. Or better yet, her cheeks bright red from the sting of his palm.

  He buried his face in her hair and drew in her scent and his cock stiffened like a pike. She smelled so wonderful with the sweat of last night’s exertions dried to her brow. She’d mounted him, her legs draped over the edge of the tub, and squirmed her way to heaven.

  He’d been too overcome to pull out.

  But that hardly mattered now. She was his woman. He would take care of her if there were any consequences from their passion.

  She rolled over and faced him. Her eyes opened.

  “Good morning.” Her breath was like nectar. He ached to taste it. And did.

  “Good morning.”

  She peeped over his shoulder at the room behind him and chuckled. “We made quite a mess.”

  He didn’t need to glance at the room to know it was a mess. Food and clothing were strewn everywhere. One of the chairs was overturned. The wine bottle had fallen and dribbled a stain onto the planks.

  Babbage would be horrified. James smiled. He’d make it up to the old man.

  “Would you like to make another mess?” He rubbed his hardness against her soft belly.

  She chuckled. “You are insatiable.”

  “Only with you, my sweet.” He kissed her temple, licked her salty skin. “I can’t believe you wormed your finger into my ass last night.” Just saying the words aroused him.

  “You said people do that.” A frown crossed her brow. “People do…do that, don’t they?”

  He chuckled. “They do.”

  “Did you like it?”

  He reared back to look at her. “What do you think? Do you remember what happened when you did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had no intention of coming that early. I had plans for you last night, wench. You ruined them.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “I am so sorry.”

  He could tell she was not contrite in the least. “I should probably punish you.”

  She flicked him an uncertain glance. Her lips worked.

  He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “It’s the game, Eloise. Don’t look so frightened.”

  Comprehension dawned and relief flooded her face. Then her expression changed. It became something altogether different. Something naughty. “Please don’t punish me, Sir,” she said in a little girl voice that almost made his eyes cross. Seething desire slashed his gut.

  “You’ve…” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been very bad. Where did we put that hairbrush?”

  She leapt up on her knees and put her palms onto her bottom. The pose thrust her breasts forward. James’ mouth watered. “Please. I’ll be good.”

  He could tell she had no intention of being good at all.

  Or, perhaps, she would be exceptionally good.

  He bit back a grin and rolled out of bed, hunting for the brush. Luckily he found it quickly, on the floor in the corner. Though he would happily have substituted his palm. He sat back down and patted his bare thigh. His cock stood up like an angry warrior, helmeted and armed for battle.

  “Drape yourself over my knees,” he whispered.

  Covering her bottom, she complied.

  Dear God. She was beautiful. He ached—ached—for this.

  “Take your hands away.”

  “Please, Sir.” She wriggled, just so. His pulse slammed in his cock.

  “Come now. Take your hands away.”

  “No.”

  He leaned down so he could see her and hissed, “Do I need to tie them again?”

  She shook her head.

  Apparently he did need to tie them. Because she refused to move them away.

  Delightful.

  He lifted her from his lap and stood so he could hunt for his length of rope. Ah. How exquisite this would—

  He froze as a light scratch sounded at the door. His head snapped up and his mood plummeted. What the hell? He’d told his staff to leave him the fuck alone.

  He shot a look at Eloise. Her mouth was agape. A skirl of horror crossed her countenance.

  He wrapped her in one blanket and then grabbed another, which he twined around his hips. And he stomped to the door. He didn’t intend to open it with such force, but he must have. The entire cottage shook as it slammed against the wall.

  “What?”

  Poor Baxter stood there under the eaves, looking miserable. “I am so sorry to disturb you, my lord, but an emergency has arisen.”

  Damn it to hell, he had a risen emergency of his own.

 
“What?”

  Baxter’s gaze flicked over the interior of the cottage. He stiffened as he took in the wreckage of a once orderly abode. When his scrutiny fell on the bed, every muscle clenched. He forcibly returned his attention to his lord. Where it fucking belonged. “I…ah… My lord, an emergency has arisen.”

  Fury and impatience burned in James’ gut. “You said that. Can’t you take care of it?”

  “No, sir. You must come at once. You have a very insistent visitor. He’s been pacing the hall since dawn.” He leaned closer and murmured, “Something about your betrothed, my lord.”

  Fuck.

  James raked his fingers through his hair and glanced at Eloise. She was cocooned in the blanket, which she had tucked up to her nose. Only a tumble of disheveled curls and her eyes, wide and bright, peeped out. He could imagine what Baxter thought.

  And the butler would be correct in his assumptions.

  “All right. I’ll get dressed and come up to the house at once.”

  “Very good, sir.” Baxter bowed.

  James shut the door in his face.

  He spun back to Eloise, his mouth open, excuses and apologies piling up on his tongue. Damn, he hated to leave her. Especially right now. Just when he had been so close to—

  “Why did he call you my lord?” Her voice, cold and clear, sliced through the room. Also, through his soul. And his gut. And his conscience.

  Through all the fun, he’d never paused to tell her the truth about himself. In all honesty, he’d been afraid to. Afraid it would end things. He should have known better. Judging from the tension humming around her, he’d made a very bad decision.

  He could explain it now. Though he didn’t have much time. “Eloise—”

  She stood. Cast about for her dress. Found it. Yanked it on. Damn, he hated to see that alabaster skin disappear. “You’re not a gardener.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No.”

  “You are, in fact, a lord.”

  “Yes.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I misled you. But don’t you see, Eloise, how much better this is?” He dropped the blanket and crossed to her, taking her hands in his. “As a lord, and a very wealthy one at that, I can keep you.”

  “Keep me?”