by Lacy Danes
That was the reason she shunned him in past years. She wanted nothing to do with men who mildly resembled Dranger. Well, he was not like him. Never would be. Dranger had always been a bit queer in the attic when it came to what he thought he was entitled to.
Cora ran down the sidewalk, her cloak billowing out behind her as her bare feet hit the ground in thuds.
He was three strides behind, heart pounding in his throat. “Where are you going? Damn it, woman, halt.”
She threw him a look that screamed of pain and anger. He stopped still.
“All right, lovely. Take your anger out on me. Let out the hurt and frustration you have harbored for the last decade. But don’t run from me.”
She flung around, her eyes narrowed and her spine stiff.
“How dare you presume to understand me?” Her eyes flashed and her breath puffed out in visible smoke.
“Cora, I’m not like Dranger. I would never consider doing what he did to you.” He stepped toward her, his arms aching to embrace her and take her home.
“What?” Her cheek twitched and she waved her hands wildly in the air. “You would never think of controlling me? Of locking me away so no one could see me? Or you wouldn’t force poison down my throat to kill your child?” Tears slid down her face.
Bloody devil. His gut twisted. What had Dranger done with her? “Cora.” He glanced around, and two groups of passersby stopped to gawk at them. “I won’t discuss this here.” He paced forward, wrapped his arms about her waist, and lifted her. She pounded on his chest, her fists hitting with loud thuds he barely felt. She stilled, then sobbed, a heart-twisting sound, and buried her face into the folds of his greatcoat.
“Shh, shh, lovely.” The weight of her in his arms, the smell, he couldn’t seem to get enough of it. He would be damned if he let her slip away, not when she finally gave him a chance.
His carriage stood in front of the club when he approached. He deposited her on the rust-colored seat. “Home,” he called to the driver as he climbed up behind her. The door closed, extinguishing all light.
“I…I will not be anyone’s property!”
“Shh.” He leaned in and kissed her with all the desperation pulsing through him. Hard and unyielding, her lips did not return the caress. Damn it. His tongue traced the crease, and she moaned, opening her lips to his. He thrust in and his pulse soared. Her teeth caught his lips, biting hard, then softened to tangle and stroke his tongue with hers. Their lips danced across each other’s, eliciting moan after moan. His head spun and he couldn’t tell whose breath was whose.
The skin of his cock strained to bursting. He needed to be in her, to mark her, his. Waiting to spend in her fiery cunt all night pushed hell on him; his sack ached, wanting nothing more than her sweet cunny, but he needed to speak. He couldn’t lose her. Pulling back, he stared down into her dimly lit face.
“Cora. I will never force you. Well, not unless we agree upon my domination previously. You do desire me?” He kissed his way to her ear, then pushed back and sat across from her, chest tight. If she said yes, nothing else would matter.
“Oh, Rupert. I…I…” She did. But could she trust her judgment this time to be different than the past? She stared at him across the carriage, his dark black hair and emerald eyes invisible in the dark box. Somehow, his body expressed the concern, the want and desire that went bone deep, so much more than mere lust.
“Don’t answer with you mind. Feel your soul. Do you desire me?”
His voice sounded strained by emotion. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t lie to him. Her soul wouldn’t allow that. The want for him and him alone pulsed though her veins. Reaching out, she grabbed the lapels of his superfine coat and pulled him back to her side of the carriage. “Yes, I’m such a fool.”
His breath came out in a whoosh, warming the air between them. “Now, lovely. You are no half-wit.” He leaned in, inhaling her scent. The warm puffs of breath heated her skin, and she arched her neck to allow him better access above the collar of her cloak. He groaned, steamy flicks tracing the bend in her column of flesh.
She had wanted this for years. Tears swelled in her eyes and her body shuddered.
“My sweet woman.” He pushed her hair behind her shoulder, and the moist touch skimmed along her jaw.
His woman. Her chest tightened. “I…I’m not—”
“You are. I will not own you, lovely, but you are mine. There is a vast difference.”
He possessed her. She wanted this, a connection to a powerful man. Her life would never be the same. Could she do this?
His hand slid inside her cloak to cup her breast, and steaming pleasure washed through her.
“You will not work for anyone. I will give you anything you have ever wanted, Cora, including a houseful of children. Are you willing? Willing to accept my plight?”
Children. Her teeth snagged her lip. Could she bear a child? She was so old. But children. Having a babe was a dream she carefully denied with lemon halves for years. A dream she had but never thought she could make reality.
She raised her eyebrows. “Am I to understand you would not want me to pleasure others? That I don’t believe. You enjoy watching.”
He laughed. “Of course I will watch you. I am who I am, but in the end I alone will sleep in your bed.” He pinched and twisted the rigid peak of her breast between thumb and finger. A gasp rushed up her throat as pain turned to delicious delight. Heat speared through her body, flooding her sex with moisture.
To be with one man again. Waking in his arms each morning. It was all the dreams Dranger had burnt to dust.
Deep down in her heart she wanted what Rupert said…and only him. There was a kind and gentle aspect to all of his moves. No one could fake that bone-deep grace, and the HellKnights respected him too. She was reckless to desire a commitment so monumental when they had just met. But she did.
The carriage rolled to a halt. Rupert stopped caressing her breast and opened the door in advance of his footman. Alighting from the box, he turned and scooped her off the seat in haste. She snuggled into his strong arms as he strode up the steps.
The grand house evoked a warm comforting emotion. The main hall shocked her as his butler closed the door behind them. The walls were painted a burnt orange and cream, and rich Oriental rugs covered the floors. This oasis opposed the typical bachelor home. The furnishings were chosen with care to accent the space and create a desired feel. Did he decorate this house?
“Edward, send up hot water for the bath.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cora snuggled into his coat and inhaled his smoky honeyed scent. She belonged here, smelling him. Where did the delicious aroma come from? She wanted to lick every part of him and find out. Her nipples hardened into tight buds.
“A bath?” Her fingers massaged into the hairs of his chest beneath his coat in a quest for his nubs.
“Yea—to wash the old memories away.”
8
Bloody hell, he had turned into a milksop. His father had always said he possessed too many of his mother’s qualities. Painting is effeminate. You will fence or box, boy. Quite. He rolled his eyes.
She snuggled closer into him as he strode up the stairs. Her hair, smooth against his face, tickled his hands about her body. He needed to convince her to stay. But how?
Turning the corner, he walked into his bedchamber and shut the door with a kick from his boot. He strode across the blue and gold carpet and deposited her on his large bed, wanting nothing more than to see her blushing body against the deep blue silk and linen each night. He inhaled a steadying breath.
She inspected the room lit by the candles his valet left burning for him. “This is beautiful.”
“Indeed.” If she only knew he referred to her presence here. He shouldered out of his coat and tossed the dark gray wool on the chair by the fire.
“And the paintings.” She stood and walked to the gold frame above the fireplace. “I wish I could see them better.”
H
is heart constricted. The painting was of a young woman sitting beneath a spring flowered fruit tree while a kitten played with the ties to her bonnet. He had painted the scene when he was twelve. “In the morning you can search the house until your desire to do so wanes.”
She smiled but said nothing. She still hadn’t agreed to stay the night or to stay for longer. One step at a time, chap.
“You will stay the night, lovely?”
“As you wish, sir.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me sir. You sound like one of my bloody servants, and I would never bed one of them.”
Her lips curved up into a mocking smile. “So you do have principles?”
He chuckled. “None where you are concerned. Please call me anything but sir.”
“My Ape, then.”
A laugh burst from his chest. “Your ape; well, ape is better than sir. And at least you used my.” He winked.
A light knock came on the door to his dressing chamber, and his valet slid his head inside the room, staring at the floor. “The water is here, sir.”
A smile tugged the corner of his lip. “See, no sir.”
She laughed, a girlish sound that broadened his smile.
“You have a pretty laugh,” he said as he walked to the dressing chamber door and stepped inside. She would follow without a doubt.
“You may leave, Jimmy. Have a good night’s rest and don’t wake me in the morning. Not for anything.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cora’s laughter bubbled up from behind him.
“Every time I hear your servants say sir, I will no doubt giggle.”
He turned around and her lips settled on his, sucking his breath from his lungs ever so sweetly. “Mmm.” His hands wrapped about her naked waist, and he kissed her back, taking his time to appreciate her. He would not rush this.
He ran the backs of his fingers along both her cheeks, then slid them into her hair. Their tongues coiled about each other. His muscles shook and his head spun. He needed her.
Scooping her up in his arms, he twisted his waist and dropped her into the steaming tub with a splash.
“Oh…It’s hot.” She scrambled to get out.
“Indeed.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Now sit back down so I can wash you.”
She did so, sucking her breath in between clenched teeth. He drew his shirt out of his pants, showing her a hint of his flesh, then pulled at his cuffs. He slowly removed his arms from the sleeves and pulled the linen over his head.
She giggled. “You seem to be having difficulties. Would you like my help?”
Her voice was deep, and as he turned toward her, his breath caught. She lay stretched out in the tub, the water reaching the peaks of her nipples. A warm red flush graced her body.
“Indeed.” He strode to the tub.
Her wet hands rose from the water and butted his knees, then trailed up his thighs. The touch lingered, caressing the hardness of his ridged arousal. His blood hammered through him. Her fingers grazed his stomach as she deftly undid the buttons of his flap. He tried not to jump, but his muscles sprung, awaiting the tug of her fingers across the sensitive skin of his cock.
Cinching the top band, she pulled his trousers down, popping his sex free. She leaned forward and wrapped the length in her hand. Sliding the skin forward and back, a drop of seed expended from the swollen tip. She stared at the pearl of dew, then stuck her tongue out and touched the hot tip, lapping the honey off him.
His eyes widened. “The devil.”
Her tongue circled the head, and then his length disappeared, sunk into the hilt in molten heat. His hips jerked as she pulled back to the tip and swirled the ridge with her moisture.
“Mmm. You are as sweet as I imagined.” Her eyes half closed, she licked her lips.
“Sweet, eh? Never heard that before. If you—”
He sucked in through clenched teeth as she swallowed him back into the sultry haven all the way into her throat. She was good. His sack pulled close to his body, spending more arousal into her mouth. If she kept larking him, he would choke her with an explosion of seed that had built up throughout this night.
He laced his fingers into her hair, and when she pulled back to the tip, he stepped back, popping his penis from her mouth. He stood, cock bobbling as he stared at her amazing red tongue as she sensuously licked her lips. She smiled like the skilled woman she was.
The devil, he was going to regret not allowing her to finish, but he needed to wash all the other touches from her body. To start anew. An ache settled in his sack. He would fuck her soon.
“I wish to wash you, Cora.” He picked up the pitcher from the nearby stand. “Close your eyes.” He poured a third of the warm water over her head. The water ran down her mane in streams into the tub.
He poured soap from a bottle into his hands. Starting at her scalp, he massaged the bubbly slickness into her hair and worked his way down the length to the ends. She moaned, sloshed back into the tub, and closed her eyes. The process took a while, but the time was worth it. The look of contentedness, of utter relaxation on her face, was worth delaying a fuck. He rolled his eyes. What happened to him? Milksop.
He shifted to the side of the tub and worked the lather down her neck, stopping to feel her beating pulse. The slow rhythm slid through him like a homecoming. Her muscles were fluid relaxation, and her eyes remained shut.
Small moans came from her lips as his hands washed her arms, stopping to rub each finger, her breasts. He watched as they pebbled anew under his soapy touch, and her stomach muscles jumped. Beautiful. Her body, her reactions to his touch, all perfection.
His hands dove deeper into the water and extracted her foot. The tiny toes so perfectly proportioned, the skin the softest he’d ever touched.
He rubbed every inch of her, letting his touch know her. Feel her. His fingers traveled up her thighs to her cunt and parted the folds. Her legs opened wide to him, knees braced against the edge of the tub; he thrust his finger into her opening and pushed deep. Surely she used something. A sponge or herbed cloth. No women in her profession would have attended the Hell Knights without. His fingers grazed a hard surface—a lemon half, cupped to the entrance of her womb.
His breath wavered in and out. “Cora.” He wanted to remove the barrier and fuck her, damned the consequences, but he wouldn’t without her permission. She needed to want to take this risk with him.
“Mmm.” Her hips shimmied back and forth, riding his fingers.
“May I, Cora? May I remove the lemon?” He stared at her face, an expression of tranquility changed not one whit because of his question.
A smile tugged her lip. “Yes.”
His heart beat in his throat as he pushed his fingers back into her sheath hard, pressing to the entrance of her womb. Finding the edge, he slid a finger beneath the lemon and popped the barrier from the opening.
His cock swelled. He would thoroughly coat her with his seed. One finger pushed the crescent down through her sheath. The lemon half peaked her opening and she grimaced; then she sighed as the fruit popped out and floated to the tub bottom. He thrust his finger back into her and rubbed the walls of her cunny, washing the last of the lemon from her body.
When he finished, her eyes stayed closed and her breathing remained deep. She slept or was damn near close. He reached into the tub, wrapped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her from the tub. Water fell in streams from her body and she shivered.
“I’ll have you warm in a moment.” He strode back to his bedchamber and deposited her on his bed.
Her eyes opened sleepily.
“Thank you, my ape. No one has ever washed me. It was heavenly.”
He smiled at her endearment. Her ape. Where did she get that name from? If anyone else called him a monkey, he would have taken offense, but the way she said it—with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows, a curved lip, and a spark in her eye—heated him from the core.
He stared down at her on t
he bed. “Up on your hands and knees.”
She instantly obeyed him. His tongue slid across his dry lips. Her beauty left him spinning. All he wanted was to sink into her from behind. The kneeling posture displayed the female form perfectly for futter. His hands could access her breasts, her clit, all while he watched his cock spread her lips and penetrate her pear-shaped swells. He wouldn’t last long, not after this night.
Gripping her hips, he caressed her shape as he pulled her toward him. The bed he had custom-made for his height, for this act, so his phallus stood at the correct height to enter her. His hands ran up her back, over her shoulders, fingers trailing farther up her neck to brush her cheek.
“Rupert. Can I kiss you once before…before we start?”
“Indeed.”
He leaned forward and she turned, flipping onto her back. His arms braced the sides of her and shook from the desire in her eyes.
“You’re beyond words, Cora.”
Her hands rubbed his shoulders up to his neck and framed his face as her head pressed up for a kiss. “And you, my ape, call out to me.” Her warm breath mixed with his as their lips raked across each other. Nipping and gasping, they drank each other in. Cora…He would finally have her.
Pulling him down on top of her, she spread her legs about his hips. Her moist petals dampened the hairs of his sex, and she arched her hips as their tongues thrust in and out. Damn, she tasted heady. His body caught fire as, like a sinking ship, he lost himself in her storm.
His hands ran down her sides, needing to caress every bit of her soft form. They twisted, jerked, and urgently rubbed every bit of each other. To slow their fever, he braced his hands on the bed and pushed away from her body, but damn it, she held firm to him, drinking in every caress and wantonly demanding more.
He had no control. He didn’t care. Fucking her would be nothing like all the others. They would come together as one. Not him taking his pleasure, but giving and receiving.