“Ohh,” he groaned when one hand gripped his shaft. She stroked up and down twice then yanked his head back with her other hand. Her grip was tight and he could feel the cords in his neck stretched taut. Was this what it felt like when he pulled on her dark locks?
“Please,” he whispered.
She leaned up on her knees, which he could feel against his hips, and tilted his head further back to claim his mouth. Her hot tongue made his cock ache. He wanted to fuck her, to spread her cunt open and slip into her warmth. He wanted to pierce her body the way she’d pierced his heart and drive them both hard over the cliff.
“You are mine,” she said, releasing his cock and pinching his nipple tightly. “Any lewd and lascivious thing I demand, you will do.”
He wished the tables were turned and he could tie her to the bed with her legs and arms tied up behind her and spread her legs open enough for him to mercilessly coerce her in and out of orgasm.
But tonight, he was her prey and she the lioness. He would take her pain and her pleasure. He was bound to her will.
Her hands resumed fingering his cock. She slid a finger on either side of his length and stroked, from base to tip. Pulling at his bonds did nothing to lessen the onslaught of her leisurely perusal.
When the tip of her nails skimmed over his shaft, Kit hissed. “Buggery.”
His ears tingled when she whispered, “Is that something you would like to try?” The low, seductive hum of her voice would’ve made a lesser man agree to anything.
He intentionally misinterpreted her words. “Are you offering up your derrière for my delectation? I can think of quite a few things I should like to do to it.”
She scraped her teeth along the edge of his ear. “I meant the other way around.” Her hand slid down to his bottom and massaged it.
“Caress it or kiss it all you want. But if you poke my nether hole, I will punish you so hard you will not be able to walk for a week.”
Gentle kisses teased his neck. Then she spoke into his other ear. “Perhaps another time. Do not worry, there are plenty of other ways to make my warrior submit.”
What did she have in mind? She’d tortured him for a week, letting his mind race with depraved visions of her raping him and stealing his seed like some ancient pagan goddess.
Her breasts brushed his shoulder as she moved. The next thing he knew, she straddled him. Having her sex slide over his was more than heaven. He gripped his bindings. Smooth, pliant thighs squeezed his hips and settled over him. The linen of her dress draped his knees and caressed his belly.
He wished he could see her, watch her lips fall open when she lost herself in arousal. He wanted to watch when she swallowed his cock, to see the parting folds of her pussy as she impaled him.
“Hmmmm.” She gripped his shoulders and gyrated her hips. “This will not do.”
“Bloody hell, it will do just fine.”
“Language.” She nipped a tender spot along his neck.
“I like your body where it is.”
Her lips were so close that he could feel her breath on his nose and mouth. “Do not worry, I will still take good care of you,” she whispered. Giving a kiss to his nose, she lifted up and climbed over his legs.
The soft strands of her hair tickled his belly and thighs and he thought she would take him into her mouth. His hips rolled toward her.
“Someone is impatient.”
“Aroused,” he corrected.
Her hair stroked his shaft and he moaned. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “I enjoy the sound of your enthusiasm.” The tips of her hair teased the head and he rotated his hips again.
“That was something soft. Shall we try something hard?”
What could she—? The answer was her teeth sinking into the head of his erection. Damnation. His whole body jerked from the pain. She gentled the bite, teething and licking him.
The muscles in his arms were sore from pulling so tightly on his bonds. However, her knot held secure and he could only revel in the torture of her teeth on his cock.
“You are killing me.”
A beam of cool air hit the head. Did she blow on it? His thighs clenched.
She swirled her finger on the tip and whispered, “You seem very much alive to me.” Then she sucked, rolling her tongue over him.
“Fuck.”
She pinched his thigh. “I told you to mind your language.” He bit back a retort when her fingers circled his girth and squeezed up from the base. “We will get there.”
“Soon.”
“When I decide to.”
Devil woman. He couldn’t see, couldn’t touch her, could not even kiss her. This was not how he wanted this to go.
“I fully intend to recompense you for this torture.”
Little wet kisses made their way up his abdomen. “It is I who have yet to repay you for all that you have done to me.”
“You wanted it.”
“Just as you do right now.” She kissed his chin, his mouth, and he responded with fervor, licking and sucking her lips like he’d suck an orange for the juice. But she eased back enough that he couldn’t claim her mouth the way that he wanted.
“Be still,” she whispered.
A moment later, she was gone. The heat of her body dissipated and he shivered. He heard rustling sounds and then something circled his ankle and slid up his thigh. He squirmed, but she merely dug her nails into his other leg. The sharp sensation contrasted with the soft tingle of the object gliding over his skin.
She brushed it across his thigh, then up his belly to his chest. When she swirled it over his nipple, his cock jerked and he could feel a drop of semen pearl over the head.
The light object circled his other nipple, rounding it over and over until his mind numbed with pleasure. But then he felt the sting of her teeth biting his nipple and squeezing it hard. She tortured both nipples at the same time. Biting and pinching one and tickling the other with…a feather?
The vane of the feather swept across the tip, sending tiny tickles through his nipple. He moaned and she rewarded him by pumping his shaft again.
The point of the quill zigzagged down his chest and to his belly. His stomach clenched and she took the quill and ran it around his cock, in a long spiral. Holding the ties around his wrists, he tried to breathe and keep control. But Violet was merciless. She alternated between using the quill, the soft, thick vane of the feather and her mouth. When he got used to one sensation, she switched to something else.
A violent throbbing went from ear to ear, but he suppressed it. The pleasure was too great to beg her to stop because of a silly headache.
With the flat side of the feather, she flicked his thigh, his knee and when he thought she would pat his cock, he felt a smack against his bottom. First one, then two, then three. But the fourth blow wasn’t to his ass, it was the feather slapping against his cock.
He roared, nearly ready to come.
“I think you are ready now,” she said. He heard the scraping of something being dragged across the wood. Before he could ask her to explain herself, she sat atop him. Her warm derrière rubbed over his sex.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.” The raw, hoarse sound of his voice surprised him.
“I know,” she whispered. “I want you to.”
God that made him hot. He wished he could grab her and fuck her as hard and fast as he wanted. But she took her time, rubbing over him and gasping. She must be fingering herself as she teased him.
“Ride me,” he whispered. “Take my cock and use it so hard that I shall not be able to rise from the bed tomorrow.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He could hear the smile in her voice.
The sensuous feel of her hand around the base of his prick was too much. He needed to come, needed her to use him down to the quick until he was nothing but a melted puddle of desire.
* * * *
She could see herself in the mirror, wantonly sitting astride him, her legs open and loop
ed around his, her dress bunched up at the waist. She could see the root of his hard cock inside of her and it made Violet wetter.
Positioning the chair she’d dragged over so that she could use it for leverage, Violet tilted forward and thrust herself down on his shaft. Short grunts filled the room as they built a rhythm.
She reached behind her to pull off the blindfold. Their eyes met in the looking glass and she loved how he watched her body, how he watched her watch him. Even though he was bound, his fierce gaze could command her to his will.
Her beast was temporarily caged, but he was far from tame. She longed to loosen his bonds, to feel his hands on her breasts, on her belly, to watch him tease the folds of her sex through the mirror.
As she pumped her body over his, she felt intoxicated by the power, by the way he yielded to her. His strength and vitality pulsed through her and melded with her own.
“Angel,” he whispered, his breath a heavy whisper in her ear.
She reached below to fondle his sac. His hips jerked and she bore down hard on him. With each downward slide, she felt a bit of herself unraveling.
She gave into it, gave into the rough sounds of her body slapping his and the chair creaking under the pressure of her pounding on top of him. They were the sounds of his submission, the sounds of her strength over him.
He was her knight, her lover, her very own debauched rake who would see to her pleasure over and over again. For today, he belonged to her and she could have him in any and every way that she wanted.
He felt so good inside. He fit so right inside and out. As she took them to ecstasy, the rocking sounds increased, building to a crescendo.
Trembling from her release, Violet slumped forward, almost sliding off of him.
“Angel.”
“Hmmm?” Her head spun and it felt like cotton stuffed her ears.
It wasn’t until he spoke again that she realized that the knocking sound in the room wasn’t coming from the bed rocking. “Angel, there is someone at the door.”
Violet blinked and her heart stopped. Who would be coming to the door? The staff knew enough to know not to knock when she and Kit were in a room with the door closed. Their activities were far from secret at this point, though she still liked to maintain some semblance of decorum.
“What is it?” Kit called when she did not say a word.
Violet lifted up and felt his warmth slip out of her. Though she was still fully clothed, she shivered.
“Pardon, sir.” Violet turned red when she realized it was Avery. “But there is a call from the Duke and Duchess of Havenhurst. Her Grace insists on seeing the Marquess of Kittrick. I told her there was no such man, but her ladyship described you in great—” She could hear Avery cough. “—Detail.”
Who was the Duchess of Havenhurst? And exactly what kind of details did she know about Kit?
“Very well. Tell her Grace that we will be down shortly.”
She stared at him. The Marquess of Kittrick. That’s where the Kit had come from. It wasn’t short for Christopher.
The dark look on his face frightened her. Violet turned to climb out of bed, holding her arms around herself.
“I cannot go unless you untie me.” His tone was soft, but resigned. And then she knew. He’d lied to her about who he was, what he was.
She reached over to loosen his bonds, careful not to touch him any more than absolutely necessary.
“Why did you not tell me?”
“If I told you, what would you have done?”
She looked down at his face. “I would have been happy for you, Kit. I would have helped you contact your family and sent you away with my gratitude for what you’d done.”
“I wanted to stay a while.”
He did not say he wanted to stay with her. Perhaps it was a game to him. Everything was a game to him.
She untied his other arm.
“I did plan to tell you eventually. But we were getting so close and I did not want to ruin everything.”
Well, he’d ensured that things were ruined anyway.
“You mean you did not want to fess up before you’d gotten under my skirts.”
“It was not like that.” He slipped on his tunic and grabbed his shirt.
She crossed her arms. “What was it like then?”
“I spent every day with you. I got to know you. When I finally remembered, I did not want to say goodbye yet. Christmastide was not yet here. I knew there was still time before I had to leave.”
He might as well have sliced her chest open. “You let me make all of those plans. We were designing your clothes for Epiphany this morning.” She hastily tied her hair into a bun. “How could you encourage me to initiate arrangements for Twelfth Night knowing you wouldn’t even be here?”
“I could still come back,” he said, buttoning his trousers. “I have to spend Christmas with my sister, but I could come back here for Epiphany.”
There was a knocking at the door.
“One moment.”
“I am sorry, my lord. I wanted to warn you and my lady that the duchess is trying to come up the stairs!” Sally called through the door.
“Damnation,” he said. “Bella has the patience of wild boar, at least when it comes to me.”
That was another question. “Who is this duchess to you?”
He sloppily tied his cravat and slipped on his jacket. “Isabella Montagne, Duchess of Havenhurst, is my sister.”
That, at least, was a relief. She wasn’t sure what to expect given Kit’s initial reactions. Though she doubted his lover would bring her husband along to chase him, she’d seen some strange things during her time in the war.
“We do not have time to finish this discussion now, but I expect a better explanation later.”
Violet exited the room to go down and greet her guest.
When she got to the top of the staircase, she paused. A beautiful woman in a black fur cape and hat stood on the landing with Avery and Miriam. She had Kit’s full lips and high cheekbones. But her eyes were the color of emeralds. The woman could have been Miriam’s sister, though her carriage was distinctly different.
Beside her was a lean, handsome blond man with a mustache. He held a top hat and cane and looked as if he were dressed for an elegant dinner party.
“My lady,” Avery interrupted. “Let me present Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Havenhurst.”
“What a lovely home you have in Welbury Park, madam,” the duke said with a half-bow.
“Where is the Marquess of Kittrick? I want to see Daniel.”
“He wi—”
“—is right here.” She could feel Kit’s presence behind her, but did not glance back to look at him.
“You look a mess,” the duchess said, walking over to him. “But you appear to be fine. How were you injured? Why did you not write to me sooner? And how dare you tell Freddy not to give me the letter?” The words spewed out of her so fast that it took Violet a moment to absorb it all. “I am your sibling, not Freddy.”
“May we have this discussion in the drawing room like civilized people rather than on the staircase?” Kit walked past them all, leading the way.
She could see it now. The tone of voice, the way he walked. She’d suspected he might be an aristocrat, but she’d talked herself out of believing he could be so far out of her class.
Violet was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer. She’d married a man of some means, though her two thousand a year would never be enough for someone of Kit’s station.
As the others followed Kit, Violet loitered behind, moving at a turtle’s pace. Miriam smiled at her and squeezed her hand. The poor girl still had hope for a happy ending.
She’d certainly pegged him for nobility. However, her fanciful hopes of a fairy tale were as unlikely as a cow jumping over the moon.
When she stepped into the drawing room, the duke and duchess were sitting, though the duke and Kit stood upon her entering the room. The man’s eyes were warm and his smile frie
ndly. Kit’s face looked as fierce as a storm at sea.
“Why did you not send for me, Daniel?”
Daniel? Was that Kit’s actual name? She tried to envision addressing him as such, but it soured in her mouth. Kit was her errant knight, the lost soul who had rescued her and made her feel alive again. Daniel was a selfish liar.
“I am fine, Bella. I took a blow, but I am quite well, as you can see. There was no need for you to come. Why trouble you and Freddy?”
The duchess had no cape now. She wore a fine navy wool dress with a silk cravat. On her finger was a sapphire as big as a grape. It glittered in the light, casting a reflection on the wall.
“You are here now and as you can see, I am fine. Freddy, I told you to leave her out of this.”
The blond man chuckled. “The letter slipped out of my coat and a footman brought it in.”
“Do not make him feel wronged. It was you who told him to lie.”
Even his own sister thought him deceitful. “Bella,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, “I merely intended to save you the trouble of coming out here. I fully intended to be home on Christmas.”
Violet watched the interplay between the two and felt entirely out of place. She felt dwarfed by their commanding presence, almost a stranger in her own home.
“You look fit for travel. Why not come home with us? We can leave on the morrow. That is, if your acquaintance will be so kind as to invite us for the night.”
Acquaintance. He’d gone from being her sensual captive to being her lover to being her lying friend. Now he was her acquaintance.
Now that the duchess had acknowledged that there was another person in the room and given her leave to speak, Violet felt the full brunt of the woman’s stare. Isabella’s hawk-like gaze eyed her up and down.
“You are, of course, welcome to stay, Your Grace.”
Kit frowned. “Bella, can you at least have the decency to greet our hostess properly? We are not at home and you are here by the kindness and grace of Mrs. Laurens.”
Bella removed her gloves and stood. She offered her slender hand and Violet realized how tall she was. They were standing on the same level now and while Violet was considered statuesque for a woman, she was not nearly as tall as Isabella, who was almost the same height as Daniel.
A Marquess for Christmas Page 15