Succumb to Me

by Julia Keaton

  She didn’t care. Nothing mattered now but this. She didn’t want to leave him—ever. He caught one breast in his hand, pinching her nipple between his fingers, kneading her flesh as he caressed the other with his mouth, tongue rolling over her achingly hard nipple.

  Winter gasped and dug her nails in his back without conscious volition, urging him on. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking her hard as he played with her other breast, then switched his attention to the other begging for his touch. Winter shook her head, trembling. He was driving her crazy. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her, just one more time.

  Winter opened her legs wide and wrapped them around his hips. Logan groaned and thrust mindlessly against her, the fabric of his breeches sliding roughly against her slick sex, grinding against the sensitive nub nestled in her core.

  “Please, Logan. I need you inside me,” she begged, pulling him toward her with her legs. He thrust against her again and she moaned. It felt so good ... but it wasn’t enough. She needed her tight passage filled, filled until she burst with sensation.

  Winter reached up and tugged at the fastening of his breeches until she’d freed his thick erection. He groaned when she put her hands around it, squeezing and pumping his swollen flesh. She leaned back on the desk, offering herself to him, spreading her legs as far as she could to allow him entrance.

  He looked like a pirate standing above her—her pirate, his dark hair wild and free flowing. He was everything she’d ever dared to want, and she wanted every piece of him while she could.

  Logan stood still, tension evident in his body. He looked down on her, at her tousled hair that had slipped its binding pins, caressing her breasts with his gaze, then moving down lower to her weeping sex. His look grew hooded, smoldering. A change had come over him, and he looked wilder than she’d ever seen him, as if the least push would propel him over the edge.

  It was what she’d wanted, what she had always wanted and never admitted to herself in her darkest dreams. She pulled him forward with her legs, urging him to complete her, needing him.

  “Please,” she whispered, “I need you inside me.”

  He closed his eyes, warring within himself. He grasped her ankles, forcing her to lie back as he rested her legs over his shoulders. She was no longer spread wide open, and he held her still with his arms so that she couldn’t move. He controlled her movement now, controlled what she would feel. Bending, he kissed the inside of her knee as he ran one hand between her thighs to her wet cleft. He pushed past her swollen lips to her aching nub. Pinching it between his fingers, he toyed with her, moving his fingers over her clit in a tight, rough circle.

  Winter gasped and struggled to move against his hand, but he held her trapped. She could do nothing but feel. She grasped the edges of the desk for support, digging her nails into the wood as sensations jarred her, lighting through her body in pleasurable wave upon wave. He smiled, taking delight in tormenting her with his fingers, and she groaned at his wicked look.

  “More,” she demanded, arching her head back. “I want your cock,” she demanded.

  He grabbed her thighs in a firm grip and moved his hips, sliding his erection against her soaked cleft, parting her aching, saturated folds with his cockhead.

  He rocked against her, sliding the hard ridge of his shaft across her center, deliciously, slowly torturing her. Winter jerked her hips in response, gasping ragged breaths at the pleasure of it. Her sex quivered, blood throbbing in her clit, pounding through her veins. She tossed back and forth uncontrollably, wanting to do more, to make him take her, but she could do nothing. He had the power now, and he was enjoying his hold over her.

  He slid, back and forth again and again, harder each time, kneading her thighs with each stroke, building her slowly up to that pleasurable state she so longed for. Winter whimpered, trembling under his touch. He groaned, and the sliding stopped, becoming something different. She felt the first prod of his shaft, forcing into her tight passage, felt his hands shake to keep control. He was so big and thick, stretched her impossibly tight ... but she wanted it too much to care about the pain.

  “Yes, Logan. Logan....” she urged, her back arching as he worked with agonizing slowness into her tightness until he’d sunk to the hilt inside her and bumped the mouth of her womb.

  He stopped then, breathing raggedly, gasping for breath as his body shook, arms shaking under the strain.

  Logan growled in anguish and pulled his hard member out of her passage. Winter screamed and wrapped her legs around his waist, refusing to let him go.

  “We should not do this. Not here,” he gritted out, looking pained.

  “I care not. I need you to complete me,” she said on a groan, thrusting herself against him, willing him to love her as she wanted and needed.

  He groaned and pushed inside her, obviously tormented and tempted beyond reason. “You’ve turned me into a madman. This is folly.”

  Winter scratched his jacket arms, grinding up to meet his hard thrust. “You’ve done this to us both,” she breathed raggedly, arching her back as pleasure rode her core.

  Someone knocked at the library door, and Winter jumped in surprise, desire replaced with horror.

  Logan pushed himself off of her and tried to contain his erection, but it was too late to hide what they’d been doing.

  Winter hurriedly pulled her gown up to cover her breasts just as the doors flew open and light flooded the room from the hallway. Her mother stepped inside, immediately spotting Winter sitting upon the desk, and she gasped when she saw her daughter: her gown torn and hanging from her shoulders, her hair unbound, her skin flushed with the heat of desire.

  She turned with a murderous gleam in her eyes to Logan. “Did he attack you?”

  Winter had never seen her mother this way, and her anger frightened her. “No, Mama, it’s not what you think.”

  Her mother looked Logan over, took in his own torn clothing, their kiss swollen lips, and came up with the logical conclusion.

  She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “I knew it. I knew you were in trouble. When the gifts began arriving, I should have done something then, protected you from yourself. I blame myself for not putting a stop to it long ago. I just never thought it would come to this.” Uncovering her face, she looked at Logan and pointed a finger at him. “You have ruined my daughter. She will be ostracized now because of this. I cannot possibly get her out of here without everyone knowing something happened.”

  “Mama, the fault is mine, not Logan’s.”

  “Don’t lie for him, Winter. I can see for myself what has happened.” Her mother cried harder, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know what we shall do.”

  Logan looked from Mrs. Stevens to her daughter, a faint smile curling his lips.

  “There is only one recourse in this situation,” he said. “I must marry your daughter.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Winter stared at him in shocked dismay. She had never meant to force his hand this way, to entrap him into matrimony, but he must think that was why she had done this. What else could he think? He would never believe her if she told him she had only wanted a chance to keep something for herself. She shook her head. “No. I will never agree to it.”

  Logan’s face hardened at her refusal, and his eyes grew dead again. “You have no choice in this matter. Would you have your mother brought down with you?”

  “Winter, please, listen to him. He has chosen an honorable course, one that will salvage this situation.”

  Winter felt the tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to show her emotion. She had not wanted him to be forced into marrying her—he would hate her now. He probably believed she’d arranged this entire debacle to ensnare him. It was no way to begin a marriage. Marriage was built on trust and love—which would never come now.

  Her mother looked at her, pleading, and she quite suddenly she knew she had no alternative but to accept. She’d created this mess. I
f it killed her soul, she would clean it up and protect her mother.

  “I accept,” she said in a resigned voice, dropping her face into her palms with shame. Her dreams lay crumbled on the ground, and she had no hope of restoring them. She wondered if he would keep his promise or leave her standing at the altar, and knew those doubts would eat away her sanity if she allowed herself to believe them.

  “I will make the arrangements. The banns must be posted. We will marry by the end of the week.”

  * * * *

  The wedding was the most scandalous event of the season. Everyone was sure Winter was enceinte with Lord Remington’s child. Why else would a peer of the realm stoop to marry a dowerless girl so thoroughly on the shelf?

  Winter ignored their talk, remained peaceable during their frequent visits she and her mother endured. All the while, she fretted over the engagement, knowing it was a mistake to chain herself to a man who didn’t love her, even if she did love him. One partner’s love wasn’t strong enough to forge the bonds of marriage into a whole.

  The day arrived, and they were to be married that morning. Her stomach was clenched in painful knots hours before the event as her mother cried over her and helped her dress. She wore one of her best gowns of pink and gold with gold brocade across the skirt.

  She was as ready as she could be, given the situation.

  Logan sent his carriage to them, and they rode in silence to the church. Upon her arrival, she was shown into a small ante chamber for final preparations.

  The ceremony was to be only a small gathering, and yet masses had arrived, none wanting to miss this audacious occasion. She knew they only awaited her to begin, awaited to see her fall, as she’d fallen from grace. It hit her suddenly that she couldn’t go through with marrying him. And no one could force her to.

  Her mother shook her shoulder gently to gain her attention. “They’re waiting, Winter. Darling?”

  “Mama, I cannot do this. It is wrong.”

  Abigail Stevens looked at her daughter, horror etched on her face. “You can’t change your mind now—”

  “I already have.”

  “And there will be no changing it back?”

  Winter shook her head. “Not in the foreseeable future.”

  Her mother studied her for several moments. “I see. I will notify everyone of your decision. I will be back momentarily.”

  Her mother left then, and Winter heaved a sigh, collapsing into a hard back chair in relief. She chewed her bottom lip with worry. The hardest part was over, and she’d survived without her heart crumbling to dust. She’d managed to save them both from her mistake. In time, the pain of leaving him would lessen, and she could go on with her life. At least, she prayed the agony she felt would eventually lessen—without leaving her a dried husk of her former self.

  No, she couldn’t allow herself to think that way. She would talk herself out of her decision. As it was, she hovered dangerously close to running into the church and throwing herself into Logan’s arms and begging for forgiveness for being so blind.

  Minutes passed, and she began to worry that her mother had not returned. She needed to leave, now, before she could change her mind.

  A knock sounded, and the door opened before she could answer. She turned in her chair, expecting her mother.

  Logan walked into the room, his stride determined, his gaze intense as he met hers.

  Winter’s heart started thudding in her throat, blood rushed to her head. She couldn’t think straight, could only think of how sorry she was that this was the end.

  “Why have you refused to marry me?” he demanded, his voice low, vibrating with intensity.

  She swallowed audibly, gathering strength, then said, “I have saved you—”

  He laughed and shook his head, cutting her off. “Can you not see I don’t want to be saved? All I have ever wanted was your love. Can you not give me your heart?”

  Winter froze, unable to believe what he’d said was true. “You ... you love me?”

  His expression grew completely still. He closed the gap that separated them. “With every breath I take.” He bent and scooped her into his arms, ignoring her half-hearted struggle before she submitted to him and flung an arm around his neck. “And I will be damned if I let you ruin this. I have no intentions of being jilted at the altar.”

  Winter laughed, every last doubt fleeing her in the comfort of his embrace. She cupped his cheek and kissed him tenderly, looking deep into his eyes. “I love you, Logan. I always have,” she whispered, love swelling her heart to near bursting.

  “Then let us give society something to talk about.” He grinned devilishly and strode out of the room, carrying her up the aisle amid a chorus of gasps to the altar ... and into the beginning of her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It is fitting our first time together as man and wife, we will be making love and not stealing kisses or pretending revenge,” Logan said as he watched her from his position near the bed.

  “I know it is strange. I admit I enjoyed your illicit pursuits. You have quite the imagination, husband. But ... I am not sure how to begin now.” Winter stood awkwardly in the middle of the room—his bedroom. As many encounters as they had had, she’d never been in here without having any sense of guilt that she should not be, without being forced into the position, and the bed looming so large and prominently made her stomach flutter with nervousness.

  He smiled and offered her another half glass of wine. She drained it, feeling the alcohol calm her raging fears into a pleasant numbness.

  “That is enough of that.” He placed the bottle back on the bedside table and sat on the bed to watch her. “Come here so that I may remove your gown,” he said huskily.

  Slowly, she approached him and turned to present him her back, lifting the mass of her hair over one shoulder. He languorously pulled each tiny button from its hole, and the dress sagged down her shoulders as he freed her. It dropped to the floor as he released the last button. With easy movement, he pulled her chemise and petticoats over the top of her head, until she stood nearly bare before him, clothed only in her hair and her stockings.

  He moved behind her, urging her forward, and she could feel him kneel on the floor, felt the touch of his mouth on the crease beneath her buttocks. She bit her bottom lip to keep from gasping at the new sensation in a place never before touched by a man.

  Placing nibbling, sucking kisses on her flesh, he worked his way south until he met her garters, inching them down her legs before the silk stockings followed. His kisses cooled in the air, contrasting sharply with the heat of his mouth. He nipped the back of her knee as he reached it, and she did gasp then, clenching her hands into fists, the tease of his mouth torturing her.

  Logan stood again, and she could sense his movement, knew he removed his clothes as the soft rustle of cloth striking the floor greeted her ears. He stepped up to her, and his hard erection nestled against the small of her back. He pushed her hair aside and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, cupping her breasts from behind, flicking his thumbs over her nipples until they pebbled under his touch.

  “Turn around,” he whispered hotly against her ear, and she shivered, goosebumps trailing over her skin.

  She closed her eyes, fearing to see his reaction to her nakedness, and turned, sensing that he stepped back from her by the loss of his heat.

  “You are everything I ever imagined and more,” he said, his voice hoarse with longing.