by Alyson Chase
“God, this isn’t right,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t”—he nibbled on the soft skin on the underside of her breast—“be doing this.” Thankfully, his words seemed to be hollow as he didn’t cease his attentions. But she gripped his shoulders and held him close to make sure he didn’t leave off. Digging her fingers into the fine wool of his coat, one thought became clear.
Julius wore entirely too many clothes.
She shoved at his lapels, pushing his coat over his shoulders. He shrugged out of it and whipped off his cravat. Thumbing the buttons of his waistcoat through their holes, he shed that garment in record time. His shirt easily slid over his head. Julius stood, the light matting of hair across his chest just visible in the dim light. She reached for the buttons on his pantaloons, but he moved to the end of the bed and tied back the bed’s curtains.
“No, leave them down.”
He hesitated. “You sleep enclosed?”
She nodded.
“Even though you were trapped in a five-by-ten cell for nearly a year?” Confusion laced his voice. Confusion and concern.
“It …” She didn’t know how to express the need she felt to be cocooned. The security she found when she was sealed off from the rest of the world. “It makes me feel safe.”
She grew chilled as she waited for his response and she tugged at the sheet, raising it higher.
Grabbing the other end of the sheet, he pulled it back down to her waist. “You can’t cover up what you’ve offered so prettily.” He sat beside her on the bed. “I want to understand. You like to be closed up?”
“I need it,” she whispered. And she did. If she was allowed into the great wide world, what would the consequences be? Would she control herself? Would she hurt someone, or get hurt herself? Just thinking about all the space that outside entailed made her short for breath.
He laid a comforting hand on her knee and stroked up and down the sheet covering her leg. “But …” He cleared his throat. “You were in the dark for so long. No fresh air. No freedom. Why?”
How could she explain to him what she didn’t understand herself? She’d made friends with the dark long ago. In her cell, she’d known that the outside world could no longer hurt her. And she wouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else. She’d been freer in prison than she had been the first twenty-three years of her life.
Staring at his hand on her leg, she lifted one shoulder. “I like to be enclosed. I can’t explain it.”
He squeezed her thigh. “All right. Explanations can come later.” Rising, he stepped to the end of the bed and released one of the curtains. “A compromise. We’ll leave the drapes facing the door closed, but I want to be able to look out the window.”
A small sound of distress escaped her lips. She wanted to be as comforted as possible her first time giving herself to a man. And this was a first. Nothing about her previous encounters could be considered giving.
He placed a finger on her lips. “If you like to feel confined, I can help you with that.” His fingers danced across her neck before he rested his palm at the base of her throat. He loosely circled his fingers around her neck, and Amanda released a breath. The weight was warm, comforting.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She almost laughed. The man had saved her from hanging. Treated her with respect even though she was disgraced. Whatever she had left of trust was his to possess.
“Yes.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I trust you.”
“Then don’t move.” Bending, he picked his cravat off the floor and folded it into a long strip. “Lift your head,” he told her. Placing the silk on her eyes, he tied it behind her, shutting out the world.
He brushed his lips over her ear. “Is it as dark as you like?”
She nodded. Being blindfolded did bring her a measure of comfort. Like she was a frightened horse, needing to be unseeing of danger. The comparison wasn’t a happy one, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
With clumsy fingers, she reached for him. Hot flesh met her touch. Hot and hard. She ran her hands over the ridges of his stomach and went higher, stroking his chest. His hair was soft and downy and reminded her of Reggie’s belly. Something she was sure was better left unspoken. She liked touching him, but was he enjoying her fumblings?
She frowned. Was she doing this right? He wasn’t making any noise. No happy sighs, no grunts of pleasure. She didn’t realize she’d have to plot each of her next moves. She’d expected to just spread her legs and let him have his way. Perhaps if she reached lower.
Julius encircled her wrists and lifted her hands. He placed a kiss on each palm. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
The mattress rose. She listened intently, but heard nothing. The door didn’t open. No soft footsteps.
She smoothed her palms on the sheet. The waiting was killing her. Finally, a soft rustle met her ears, and she tried to decipher the sound. Fabric against fabric?
The sheet slid down her body to pool at her feet. Her heart pounded. Her mouth dried out. What was he doing? Not knowing whether she should lift the blindfold or not, she clutched the sheets instead. He’d asked for her trust. She would give it to him.
Something soft brushed her ankles, and her body jerked.
“Easy.” Julius’s voice was husky. The tension in her muscles loosened at the sound. She had a feeling Julius could talk her into most anything with that voice. He dragged something up her leg. It glided smooth as silk but had a weight to it. Her skin came alive wherever it touched.
“Give me your hands, sweetness.” His palm followed the path the other object had taken, running up and down her thigh. “I want to make you feel secure.”
Unsure, she held her hands up, not knowing what to expect.
She didn’t expect her wrists to be tied, a rope encircling her hands and tugging them together in one quick snap.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He rested his palm on her belly, the heat from it soothing the butterflies dancing in her stomach.
“I think so.”
“Are you certain? Having your hands bound doesn’t bring you any unpleasant memories?”
“I’m … I’m certain.” Her hands had rarely been bound in prison. Only when she was being transported to and from the Old Bailey. Or on her final trip, to the Tyburn Tree. That memory did send a shiver down her spine and she pushed it from her mind. Those recollections didn’t belong here in bed with Julius. She focused on what she was feeling. The pressure at her wrists was light, but sure, and there was no bite to the cord. Truly, with a feather mattress beneath her and Julius above her, holding her hands, she was quite comfortable.
She tried to imagine what Julius saw. Did the sight of her, naked and bound, rouse his desire? She hoped the firelight was kind to her form. But with her eyes blindfolded, her worry over whether her appearance was pleasing or not was greatly reduced. What she couldn’t see, she couldn’t worry about.
“Good.” He wound the cord tighter about her wrists, the pressure pulling her elbows close. The material felt like thick cuff bracelets. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good. If you ever want to stop.”
She nodded.
With a tug at her wrists, he raised her arms up over her head. The mattress dipped, and she sensed him leaning over her. She licked her lips. He was close. Close enough that if she raised her head—
“Pull at your wrists,” he ordered. She tried to lower her arms, but they didn’t leave their perch from the pillow behind her.
“What? Am I tied—”
“To the headboard.” He slid his fingertips around the edges of the bindings. “Not too tight?”
“No.” She tugged again, but her hands barely moved. She was well and truly stuck. Amanda stilled. The mattress beneath her was soft as a cloud, the chilled air above her as soothing to her flushed skin as a lemon ice on a hot day. Her mind whirled, trying to interpret what it was she was feeling.
Relief. It was relief flooding through her veins. Tears welled behin
d her eyelids. She didn’t understand why, but being tied to Julius’s bed felt right.
Placing his hands beneath her knees, he spread her legs wide. “Shh,” he soothed, his breath hot on her belly. “You trust me. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about. No decisions to make. Just lay back and enjoy.” He scooped his arms under her thighs and grabbed her hips. His shoulders pressed her legs wide.
The first swipe of his tongue shocked her senses. He was supposed to be rutting into her like a bull. That’s what men did. Not touching her with his mouth. Why would anyone even think to do that? Her hips jerked, a futile attempt to evade the sensory overload. His fingers dug into her skin. He licked her again, slowly, leisurely, from her core up to her nub.
“Julius!” Her voice was a strangled cry. His touch was soft, wet, and completely inappropriate. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt. Dear Lord in heaven, a mouth on her intimate parts. Whoever thought of this was a genius. It must have been a woman.
Julius alternated between nibbling at her lower lips and lapping at her opening. He blew a cool breath of air over her damp flesh. “You taste amazing. Like honey and spice. Eating you is going to be my favorite dessert.”
She merely nodded, the knot at the back of her head tangling in her hair. She needed less talking out of him and more tonguing.
He didn’t disappoint. Slowly, he slid his tongue inside her core, and her nerve endings sang. His nose bumped against her clitoris, and she moaned.
Pressing a finger into her, Julius traced a circle around her sensitive nub with his tongue. Her inner muscles clamped down around his thick digit. A whisper of unease, a memory of a past intrusion, tried to invade her mind. She ruthlessly squashed it and concentrated on the here and now. She let her thighs fall wider, enjoying the feeling of being filled. And when he added a second finger, it was even better. She rocked her hips into his thrusts, excitement making her movements jerky.
He stilled his fingers and put firm pressure on her nub with his thumb. “You look beautiful tied to my bed, Amanda. Like a queen. I can see purple hemp knotted all around your sweet little body. You’ll be my canvas.” Sucking her clit into his mouth, he pumped his fingers hard.
She writhed beneath him. She wanted to call out, tell him how good it was, but her breath was locked in her throat. She panted for air. A vise closed about her body, squeezing her tighter and tighter. She pulled at her bindings, but she was still secure. Between her tied hands and her pinned hips, she could do little more than squirm.
It was the best kind of freedom.
Julius scraped his teeth over her inflamed flesh, and she was gone. Her neck arched, her mind blanked, and her body shattered. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
It felt an age before she could catch her breath. But while hers slowed, she realized Julius’s had only sped up. A low groan interrupted his heavy breathing.
“Julius?”
“You’re beautiful when you’re brought to crisis. I almost embarrassed myself just looking at you.” His chest brushed her breasts a moment before his lips whispered across her mouth. “I’m stroking myself while watching you. You’re so open for me. Just the sight of you brings me pleasure.” His teeth tugged on her earlobe before he whispered in her ear, “Do you like the idea of me watching you while I bring myself to completion? Does it make you feel wanton?”
The tips of her breasts tingled. The backs of his fingers drifted up and down her stomach, and she knew that the other side of his fingers were gripping his shaft. He was pleasuring himself mere inches away from her. She bit back a moan.
“You can … find your pleasure in me.” She spread her legs a couple inches wider. “It’s what I was expecting.”
The heat from his body disappeared, and the mattress dipped between her knees. “I know what you were expecting.”
He wasn’t touching her, and Amanda felt the full extent of her exposure. He was between her legs, so she couldn’t close them. Instead, she pulled them up, tucking her knees to her chest. “If you didn’t want to you needn’t have gone this far. I don’t need your pity.”
His laugh was harsh, pained. “The only person I pity right now is myself. Hard as a goddamn pike and too damn guilty to end my pain.”
“But I said—”
“I know, sweetness.” He pressed a kiss to her knee. “You are quite accommodating. And I am no saint. Another compromise, perhaps.”
Stroking his hands up and down her calves, he gripped her ankles and gently pulled her legs apart. Cool air caressed her hot flesh. She started, her arms jerking at their bindings, when his fingers brushed through her slit. He painted her thighs with her own moisture.
“What …?”
“You wish to bring me pleasure?”
She nodded.
He brought her thighs back together, his hot length trapped in between. Keeping her legs immobile, Julius slowly slid his shaft between her slickened flesh. “This will bring me pleasure.” He groaned. “Damn, you feel so good.”
Amanda wiggled her bottom, thinking to take a more active part in his gratification. She’d seduced him, after all. It surely should be her responsibility. But his fingers dug into the skin above her knees, his grip firm, unyielding. Her legs were tucked to her abdomen and as confined as her arms. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, and a man she trusted was enjoying her body. Her center flooded with warmth. She had no power, no duty. And no fear. It was an intoxicating combination.
The pressure at her knees slackened, and Julius took advantage of the widening of her legs. His next stroke was lower, the ridge of his shaft running right through her folds. A whimper escaped her lips.
He gripped her thighs so tightly she knew she’d bruise. “You’re so damn soft. Softer than the finest silk.” He pulled back and drove inexorably forward.
And he was so hard. She felt every excruciating inch of his length slip through her lower lips, rub against that hard bundle of nerves. Her core begged to be filled. Her clitoris clamored for equal attention. She didn’t know which sensation pleased her more, where she wanted his focus. She arched her back as much as possible. “Please.”
“Patience,” he said. There was a smile in his voice, a smile she didn’t appreciate. If he was going to kill her with wanting, the least the man could do was not laugh at her in the process. She squeezed her thighs together, anything to alleviate the pressure, and was rewarded with a low growl. She clamped down harder.
“Vixen.” He thrust faster, and Amanda almost cried with relief. His bollocks slapped against her bottom, and her desire climbed higher. Wrapping one arm around her knees, Julius slid his free hand up her side and cupped her breast. He pinched the tip, hard, and the sharp nip of pain transformed into a craving so intense it stole her breath.
His thrusts became shallow, frenzied. The plush crown of his shaft nudged her clitoris, over and over, and Amanda could climb no higher. She broke for the second time that night, tremors wracking her body.
A long groan tore from Julius’s throat, and something hot and wet splashed across her stomach.
They breathed together, their pants the only sound in the room.
A low, “Fuck”, broke the silence. The mattress shifted, raised, and Amanda was alone. She was starting to wonder whether she should call out when a damp cloth scraped across her belly. She flinched.
“My apologies.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of the blindfold as he cleaned her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” The towel disappeared, and he gripped her hands, lowering them to her stomach. His fingers tangled with the knots at her wrists.
“Are you all right? Are you sore?” His voice was harsh, almost angry.
When her hands were free, she pushed at the blindfold, confused. The light from the fire, so dim before, made her squint. “I’m fine. Shouldn’t I be?”
He reached for her face but dropped his hand before touching her. “The bindings. If you’re
not accustomed to them, sometimes it can hurt.”
“Oh.” She rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers. “No, no pain.” Only amazing pleasure. A startling freedom. And now awkwardness. He’d given her what she wanted, in a fashion, and he had enjoyed himself, as well. So why did they both avert their gazes?
She rolled off the bed and plucked her night rail from the floor, slipping into it. She shrugged into her wrapper and cinched the belt. “I’d better go. Reggie will be missing me.”
“Of course.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the russet locks. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, but that was the only sign on him of what they’d just done. His pantaloons had been quickly reassembled, making her believe he must have only shoved them down his hips in order to free himself. He even still wore his boots.
She’d been completely bare and spread before him, and he hadn’t even removed his boots. Her cheeks heated, and she grabbed the collar of her night rail. She sidled around Julius. He made no move to stop her.
She opened his door and heard him mutter, “I’m going to burn in hell.”
Him and her both.
She fled to her room.
Chapter Six
The shot to the jaw ripped his head back. Julius’s vision darkened around the edges, and he fought to stay conscious. Movement came at him from the left, and he threw his hands up in time to block the next roundhouse. The boxing ring disappeared, and Julius had only one thought. Survival. Stepping close, he threw body shot after body shot into his enemy’s gut until the man dropped to one knee.
He grabbed his opponent’s ears, preparing to introduce the man’s nose to his knee. A shout from the sidelines stopped him.
“Julius!”
Turning his head, Julius blinked through the sweat in his eyes. Maximillian Atwood, Baron of Sutton raised a hand in greeting from the outskirts of the ring. A tall, burly man with an unruly black beard, Sutton was a far cry from the refined elegance of his fellow aristocrats. Next to him, and as different as the sun to the moon, their friend, John Chaucer, Earl of Summerset, sniffed the air and frowned. Whereas Sutton’s clothes were made of a dark rough wool, Summerset adorned himself in brightly colored silks and satins. His blond hair was neatly trimmed with the locks artfully coiled about his brow. Both men, however, were unswerving in their loyalty.