The Irish Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  “I wasn’t brave,” Viola denied. “He couldn’t harm me with you and all your men around.”

  “He could have shot you with a hidden gun.”

  “He wouldn’t do that, not when he wants to marry me,” she shrugged. “I was safe. And very, very glad you were there.” She burrowed closer.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Your courage deserves a reward, sweetheart. You can tell me what you want after we eat.”

  “Reward?”

  “Reward. Make a request and I’ll honor it, as best I can. Now I’ll leave you with Sarah to prepare for dinner.”

  Viola nodded, dumbfounded. She could name something she wanted and he’d do it. She considered the possibilities as she undressed and slipped into the hot bath, one of William’s more surprising quirks. The gossip at Mrs. Smith’s hadn’t mentioned his liking for a very clean companion.

  What could she request? New clothes would be silly, since he already had provided so many. Food? No, she had more than enough now and Sarah did tend to hover over her. Obtaining sheet music would require days of travel.

  Something enjoyable. Something carnal perhaps? Ask William Donovan to do something for her amorous pleasure? What a turnaround that would be. Still, it should be something enjoyable for both of them. Carnal delights were so much better when shared.

  Warmth budded deep inside her, far from the hot water lapping at her skin. Viola purred and slid down, running ideas through her mind.

  “Some cheese and crackers, Mrs. Ross? Or a glass of milk?”

  Viola blinked and opened her eyes reluctantly. Sarah, with still more food. She was always offering Viola something to eat. “You’re very kind, Sarah, but I think I should wait until dinner.”

  “Perhaps just a nibble. The smoked cheese is particularly delicious,” Sarah coaxed, offering a plate at eye level.

  They did look tempting. “Well, just one.”

  Sarah immediately fed one to Viola, looking as pleased as if her child was taking its first steps. Viola waved a second cracker away.

  “Sarah, why are you always trying to feed me?”

  Sarah hesitated for a moment before answering. “So you can gain weight.”

  “You think I’m skinny.”

  “Too thin to conceive a child, yes.”

  “What?!” Viola all but erupted from the bath, splashing water across the plate and into the glass. When they finally settled down from cleaning up the mess, Viola was ensconced in a heavy silk robe in the bedroom and Sarah sat on the chair facing her.

  “Sarah, please explain. Do you mean that if I was heavier, I could become pregnant?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Ross. Women’s wisdom in China teaches that just as a duck must be well fed, so a woman must have curves if she is to produce babies. You are thin and very strong, like one of our gymnasts. I believe that if you weighed just a little more, you could conceive a child. Not much, Mrs. Ross, perhaps five or six pounds.”

  Viola’s hand flew to her mouth. “Dear Lord, could this be true?”

  “I have seen it work before, Mrs. Ross. Such a little change, not enough to disturb the shape Mr. Donovan delights in. But so much joy afterwards.”

  A child. She could have a child, if she just gained a little weight. It seemed logical since she was thinner and stronger than almost any woman she knew. The only ones she’d met who were skinnier also had few children.

  She, too, could be a woman with her child on her hip.

  Viola wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth on the bed. Her eyes blurred and she choked back tears of joy. Sarah hugged her and Viola cried in earnest, while the other woman comforted her.

  William studied Viola in the sitting room’s lamplight. She seemed calmer than before, more secure, if that was possible. Perhaps facing Lennox had settled her nerves, although she was a gallant little filly at any time.

  Bloody hell, Lennox deserved death. But it was almost worth letting him live, just for the look on his face when Viola refused him. He’d be twice as dangerous now that she’d humiliated him so publicly. Still, there were men who’d travel thousands of miles to see Lennox look the fool.

  “Have you thought about your reward, sweetheart?” William asked quietly, letting his voice flow into the lamplit room. To his delight, Viola immediately blushed and sat up straighter.

  “Yes, I have, William.” She studied her hands before looking up at him again.

  “What do you want?” he prompted, enjoying her anticipation. His blood began a slow drumbeat of interest.

  She hesitated.

  “Speak up, sweetheart, else you’ll lose your reward.”

  His heart stopped at her wistful look. It’d be damned hard if he ever needed to discipline her, given the way his body responded to her slightest distress.

  “I tried to think of something you’d enjoy,” she said softly.

  Blessed Virgin, she’d thought of his pleasure when considering her treat. For that alone, he’d give her the stars. Still, he managed to keep his voice fairly stern.

  “What is it?”

  She gulped but spoke. “I enjoyed it yesterday when you held my wrists in your hands while we, we”—she blushed but continued bravely—“had carnal relations. I’d like you to do something like that, confine me in some fashion, the next time.”

  William stared at her, his blood boiling through his veins and his cock. She met his gaze, hot color in her cheeks. “Can you tell me why you fancy that, sweetheart?”

  “I’ve always dreamed of being the princess tied to a stake, until freed by a knight. I suppose this is as close as I can ever come to that.”

  William smiled slowly. He didn’t care if he looked like a lion surveying a gazelle. Joseph, Mary, and all the saints, she truly wanted a bit of bondage. He’d give her that and more if she had a true partiality.

  His cock was full and hard behind his fly, yet he’d never been calmer. He would give his faerie maiden a very sweet reward that evening.

  Viola’s tongue swept nervously over her lips. What if he thought she was insane or a hussy for asking him this? She started to speak again, to take her words back, but stopped. She would be gone in three months, so how much did it truly matter what he thought of her desires? She had survived more than five years with Edward; three months with anyone else seemed no more than a passing fling.

  Then William smiled and her heart skipped a beat. She knew that look after four days in his bed. It promised carnal delights that could make a woman’s head spin.

  “But it’s such a simple reward. Don’t you want something more?” he purred. “Something sensual or exotic or lavish, perhaps?”

  Viola swallowed hard and shook her head. How could she think when he sounded like that, all black velvet and lamplight? “Just that, if you please.”

  “Very well then.” He rose to his feet and glided toward her. Viola shivered, her pulse thudding in her veins as her breasts firmed and ached under the gleaming black silk.

  “Place your hands on the chair arms, sweetheart. Keep them there while I fetch a few items.”

  “Yes, sir,” Viola whispered, and obeyed. The carved walnut lions’ heads seemed made to hold her fingers comfortably. She worried only slightly about how he’d tie her. Hal had practiced tying her in knots when they were children and he’d still planned to follow their father into the Navy. She’d learned very early how to escape from any bonds he put on her. Surely she could be certain that William, who was so protective, wouldn’t tie her any more tightly than Hal had.

  She drummed her fingers and tried some different ways to position her feet. She was flushed and achy, and as fretful as if he were running his hands over her. She’d be more comfortable if she weren’t wearing one of his Chinese outfits. And of course, if her dew stopped heating and surging out of her.

  William returned to the sitting room with a bevy of red silk scarves draped over a small wooden box.

  Incredibly, a flash of fire burned from her breasts to her pussy at the sight.
Viola gulped.

  “Did you move your hands while I was gone, sweetheart?”

  “Of course not,” Viola snapped, offended by the suggestion she’d disobey an order.

  “Good girl. That was your first lesson: you were held as strongly in your chair by my command, and your obedience, as if I’d fastened iron manacles around your wrists.”

  Viola’s eyes widened as she considered the implications.

  “Questions?” William asked softly.

  “No, William.”

  “Now I will wrap these scarves around your wrists. You’ll be able to free yourself at any time, if you dislike what transpires.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Feed on your sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

  Viola choked at his matter-of-fact response. Dear heavens, her body thought his plan was excellent, given how hard her nipples were.

  William’s mouth twitched. “A warning, sweetheart. If you lift your hands at any time, I’ll understand it as a signal to stop immediately.”

  “What do you mean? Of course, I’ll keep my hands on the chair.”

  “But suppose you placed them on my head. Since you had removed your hands from the chair, I’d immediately stop licking you.”

  “That’s wicked,” Viola gasped. He’d set a pretty trap for her. He knew she enjoyed the feel of his thick black locks, especially when his mouth was busy on her.

  He shrugged. “Your choice, sweetheart, not mine.”

  “Do your worst, William. I will continue to grip the chair, no matter what,” Viola vowed.

  William bowed, his eyes glinting with laughter. He twisted a scarf around each of her wrists and the carved wood underneath, then draped the ends down to the floor.

  Viola flexed her hands cautiously. She could free herself with a single yank if she chose, but why would she want to? Her blood was pounding in her veins and her skin was as flushed as if he’d been kissing her for minutes.

  “Comfortable, sweetheart?”

  She smiled up at him. “Very, William. And I feel somehow freer than before.”

  “Excellent, sweet Viola. Now I intend to enjoy myself immensely.” He kissed her mouth, hot and sweet, until she moaned and arched toward him. Then he quickly unpinned her hair and combed it with his fingers until it fell loose over her shoulders.

  “Why did you do that?” she queried, perplexed by why he’d undo her hair if he meant to attend to her private parts.

  “Because I enjoy the look of you. No more questions, sweetheart. Just think about your reward.”

  He dropped to his knees before her.

  “Now slide your hips forward, sweetheart. A little farther until you’re balanced on the very edge.” His big hands guided her, warm and strong through the silk. “That’s my filly. Perfect.”

  He slipped a towel under her derrière then draped her knees over his shoulders.

  Viola stared at him, kneeling between her legs as if it was the most ordinary activity in the world. Her nipples promptly hardened in anticipation.

  “You have the most amazing breasts, sweetheart. They’re already eager for your reward,” he remarked, cupping her breasts with his hands.

  She shuddered when he fondled them, his touch burning through the silk and unhindered by any underthings. His fingers played with her nipples until she gasped at the pain and the pleasure lancing through her.

  Then he stroked her mound through the silk, playing with her until the fabric was no protection against the flood of dew he evoked. She wiggled, desperate to touch him. “Ah, William, how can I stay still?”

  “Just pay attention to my hands, sweetheart,” he crooned to her as his wicked fingers encouraged her. She tossed her head and twisted, following his hand’s movements. She tightened her grip on the carved lions with a silent prayer that she could hold on and not reach for the heavy silk of his hair.

  “Sweet filly, enjoy this.” His finger slipped through the trousers’ slit and played with her. Her breasts began to throb in the same rhythm as his fingers.

  “Lovely,” she moaned shamelessly at the familiar delight, and lifted her hips toward him.

  He rumbled something not in English and finally laid his mouth to her burning pussy.

  “Merciful heavens,” she moaned as her fingernails scraped desperately over the chair’s wood. Her breathing was harsh as she fought not to touch him.

  He savored her leisurely, tracing every fold with tongue and lips and fingers as if he’d never touched them before. Her body arched and lifted for him, until everything but her hands followed his touch.

  She moaned as she climaxed for the first time, simply from his tongue circling her pearl without touching it directly.

  But he didn’t permit her to relax, to calm down and reestablish her grip on the chair. His tongue continued to lave her in the same rhythm. Her hips arched upwards and she howled when his teeth gently scraped her folds.

  And she climaxed under long strokes of his tongue, laid on like a lash of fiery delight against her folds, as she sobbed his name.

  She climaxed a third time as his fingers pumped her while he suckled at her clit, her hands aching from their fierce grip on the lions’ heads.

  She floated back to sanity very slowly. Something was different inside her. Something quite pleasurable in an odd way, and in an unexpected place.

  “Do you sense the dildo, sweetheart?” he asked gently, still kneeling before her. “It’s inside your backside, where I’ve fondled you before. A small dildo, no larger than my finger.”

  Viola gave an experimental wiggle and gasped when the dildo moved. A throb of pleasure danced from her backside to her pussy at the changed pressure. “Oh,” she moaned without opening her eyes. She couldn’t find words to express how it made her feel.

  “Enjoyed it when the dildo shifted, did you?” He stroked her thighs lightly.

  “Yes. Oh my, it’s delicious.” She circled her hips cautiously and moaned again. He chuckled softly.

  Air caressed her breasts and she looked down, blinking until she could focus. Her trousers were gone, banished to someplace she couldn’t see. Her tunic had been folded back until all of her body was uncovered except her shoulders and arms. Her chest was still flushed with passion, her nipples red as rubies. Her mound gleamed where his tongue had painted it.

  She tossed her head back, feeling her hair brush against the chair. “You have freed me of everything except the scarves.”

  He nodded, his eyes bright and fierce as he studied her. “Clever girl. Yes, I’ve done exactly as I wished.”

  The intensity of his gaze burned her like the sun in high summer. She knew she was the center of his world at this moment. She could see it so very clearly, without polite society’s veils of words and prescribed manners. He wasn’t the Donovan of Donovan & Sons. He was simply a man watching a woman. And in a moment, he’d act and they’d both reach rapture because of his deeds.

  Viola smiled, as full of anticipation as any cat watching a saucer of cream approach.

  “Questions?”

  “Just one. Where did you learn to kneel for so long?”

  William chuckled. “Ah, sweetheart, you are full of surprises when you ask questions like that. A friend taught me when I first learned my way around a woman’s body. Kneeling is a very useful posture and I still practice it.”

  “Clever friend,” Viola murmured. “I’d like to thank her.”

  He went still for a moment before answering. “Perhaps you will one day. Now,” he went on more briskly, “the dildo has some useful properties. It stretches you, which increases your sensitivity. It also limits your channel’s freedom to expand.”

  “You’re going to do something wicked. Inside my channel,” Viola added, feeling a rush of dew at the thought.

  “Not immediately, sweetheart. Perhaps in a minute or two.” He lifted her breasts and squeezed them. “Or perhaps another hour.”

  His callused fingers rubbed her nipples, making her gasp with pleasure
. Her head fell back helplessly as she arched up toward him.

  William was entirely correct about the dildo’s effect. She felt every touch of his hands against her folds as if it were the first time that evening. She moaned and sobbed his name when his tongue lapped at her. He laved her pussy and nipped her delicately until she begged for release. Her skin was so hot and tight, she thought she’d explode.

  Still he denied her. He slowed his touch, removed his intimate kiss, until she could breathe again. Then he returned to stoke her passion yet again.

  Viola’s language descended into the gutter as she implored him for an orgasm. He chuckled, he paused, then began again.

  She could hear his breathing, harsh and fast. But he kept to the pace he’d chosen and she clutched the chair desperately.

  Finally, when nothing existed for her except the climax hanging so tantalizingly close, and her words were incredibly vehement, he sprang to his feet and snatched the scarves away from her wrists. He yanked her out of the chair and tumbled her to the floor, rolling to cushion her from the fall, then pin her under him.

  “Now,” he growled. “Now, dammit.”

  His fingers bit into her hips. He plunged himself into her, sheathing himself to the hilt with the first stroke. She was stuffed full of him, stretched beyond endurance between his cock and the toy in her backside.

  He twitched, and her clit throbbed hard at the slight change in pressure. Viola shuddered.

  He slid his hands under her and gripped her derrière, shifting the dildo inside her. She keened her pleasure and he repeated the movement again. She was completely under his command, from her nose, which breathed his scent, to her legs wrapped around him, yet she felt more alive than ever before.

  He pulled out and thrust hard, and thrust again. And again. Viola howled and climaxed, her body arching and shuddering as waves rippled up her spine.

  He bellowed his own rapture, his body shaking as he spent himself inside her.

  Viola was grateful when he simply took her to bed afterwards and she could fall asleep. Her reaction to this man, whether in the bedroom or elsewhere, was not something she wished to ponder.