by London Casey
It took every ounce of her will to remain there, kneeling before him.
He gave her a stern look. “Eyes down.”
She quickly lowered her gaze.
“I warned you I wouldn’t tolerate you closing yourself off to me.” His voice was cold and implacable.
Oh God, she’d do anything to please him. Anything to get back into his good graces. Anything. But what could she do now? An instinctive answer came to her. Her thinking mind screamed in protest as she dropped her forehead to his thigh, a gesture of supplication. “I am sorry, Jon.”
A part of her vital internal being was ripped from her with the words. She hated to apologise to anyone and she’d done so twice tonight.
Twice.
If that wasn’t the best reason to hate him, she’d never have one. However, her desire knew no shame or pride. “You said you would teach me to…to please you.”
“Are you just going to close me out again?”
His words, gently spoken, cut into her like glass shards. Tears seeped from her eyes, wetting his velveteen trousers under her face. Her chest went tight and felt ready to burst with the need to do anything he wanted—to be what he wanted.
He would reject her. Just like everyone else.
“I’ll try not to close you out.” She bit her lip. “But I-I don’t know what’s possible for me. I tried so hard with…” Her voice broke. “Before.”
An eternity seemed to pass. Then he lifted her off his lap. “Resume your position, Nan.”
She grasped his hand and brought it to her lips.
She pressed fervent kisses on his flesh, the fine hairs on the back of his hand tickling her. She was sobbing, her tears were flowing like a river now. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was gaining a second chance to please him.
Jon watched Anne’s display. Christ, she really was naturally submissive—far more so than he’d guessed. His erection pulsed, straining against his trousers. Oh, the pleasures they would share once he’d earned her full trust. And he hadn’t earned it yet. He wasn’t fooling himself. She was merely aroused to a peak and confused by feelings she’d never faced before.
Not to mention that she was starved for meaningful sexual release.
He pulled his watch out and glanced at the time. Not long until dawn. And not long for him to make such an impression on her that she would crave his dominance. Crave it enough that it would keep her from running away from him once she came to her senses after this night. But first things first. His cock throbbed as if it were about ready to burst. If he were to focus on her with any sort of clarity now, after this stunning performance, he would need release.
He withdrew his hand and grasped her shoulders. “Lean back, Nan, on your knees.” He waited until she had settled herself. “You may look at me now.”
She glanced up, hesitantly.
He stroked her glossy hair. “My lovely, lovely girl.”
“You’re unhappy with me.” Her voice rang with sorrow.
He stroked her hair again. “No, I am not, sweeting.”
“Yes, yes, you are and I can’t blame you for—”
“I am not unhappy with you, Nan. You must trust me to tell the truth. It is not your place to guess at my thoughts but to obey. Do you understand?”
She bit her lip.
“You can’t let yourself trust in what I say, can you?”
“I suppose I can’t.”
He reached into his pocket and drew out his handkerchief then gently wiped her cheeks. “You’ve given yourself over to my control for a month, correct?”
She sniffed and nodded.
“That’s a very precious gift, Nan. During the time you belong to me, I won’t give up on you.”
Her eyes seemed to search his, as though she wanted to believe him but didn’t quite dare. It would take time to earn her trust. But did he have enough time?
He laid the handkerchief on his leg. “Do you want to continue to play?”
She raised her brows. “Play?”
He heard the surprise in her voice.
“Yes, Nan, we’re playing. Don’t forget. And we may end it any time you wish, just say ‘sapphire’. Now tell me if you want to continue.”
“I’d like to continue.” Her voice sounded small.
“I would certainly like to continue as well.” He smiled at her.
A tentative smile tweaked the corners of her mouth.
“That’s my good girl.” He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. Her flesh was warm, moist and lavender-rose scented. He couldn’t stop himself from cupping her breast and giving it a gentle squeeze. She moaned softly. His erection surged into a more fully engorged state, throbbing with hunger. He unbuttoned his trousers, then pulled out his cock.
She dropped her gaze then her eyes went huge.
He suppressed a chuckle. Well, that was certainly flattering.
“It meets with your approval then?”
She nodded. “I think it’s very beautiful.”
Her breathily spoken words gave him pause. The trust inherent in such an artless confession made his chest tighten in a peculiar fashion. The weight of that trust bore upon him. He would have to be careful with her. She was so fragile, so like a barely-opened rose in her sensual expression with him. She wasn’t used to playing games of love and trust.
He could hurt her, so easily now. He wasn’t used to considering the deeper consequences of how he treated his lovers. He took her hand and wrapped it tightly about his cock and then he squeezed her fingers until they curled about the shaft. “Like that, Nan.”
He released his hand.
She squeezed him tentatively.
Pleasure jolted through his erection and it jerked in her grasp. She startled and her hand went slack. He put his hand back over hers and held it there firmly.
“Don’t let go,” he said, hoarsely. He moved her hand, demonstrated how the skin on the shaft beneath her hand glided up and down easily. He loosened his hold and she repeated the motion. Pleasure washed over him and he gritted his teeth.
“That’s it, firm and fast.” He removed his hand from hers. She stroked him tentatively. Her feather-soft stroke maddened him. “Harder, love.”
She took hold of him and stroked firmly, three times in quick succession. He caught his breath, the sound a sharp, inward hiss. She dropped his cock, her eyes huge and uncertain.
He laughed, low and husky. “You’re so skittish, love.”
He took her hand and wrapped it about his throbbing length again. “Stroke me hard and fast, and I don’t care if the whole fucking manor is on fire, don’t you dare let go.”
Her body shook again, the little sensualist. He reached behind her, grasped her lovely, enticing mass of glossy black ringlets. Moaning, she writhed within the circle of his legs, her full, heavy breasts bouncing, her thighs clamped tightly together. The sensation and sight was about to drive him insane and his balls drew up tight.
“Christ, you excite me, Nan,” he growled, then repositioned the handkerchief over his lap. He grasped her hand and increased the speed and pressure. “Open your eyes, love.”
She complied instantly. Her eyes looked almost black with passion. “Watch my cock.”
She dropped her gaze to his lap. He inhaled sharply and dropped his hand away from hers as the wild surging took over. His seed erupted in violent jets of pure pleasure, landing on her hand, her arm and the handkerchief. Everywhere. The explosions left him gasping for breath.
It had been fucking fantastic. And he hadn’t even been anywhere near her lovely mouth or cunt.
He cupped her face, tipping it up and kissing her deeply until she struggled for breath. He stroked his hand down over her silken back, down to her arse. He laid several healthy smacks on her plump, round buttocks.
She startled and looked up at him.
“Good girl—my beautiful little good girl.”
“I did it the proper way?”
He chuckled softly. “Isn’t the
answer obvious?”
“Yes, but did I really please you?”
He nodded.
“You’re not just shamming it?”
He couldn’t help a smile. To hear such modish talk from this sheltered young widow. But then he remembered where she would have picked up such language, from her young, fashionable late husband. Dislike rankled through him. Cranfield’s ghost stood between them like a thorn in Jon’s side.
Time to lay the boy to rest. He kissed the tip of her nose. “You did just fine.” He wiped her free of his seed. “Off your knees, love.” Then he stood and held his hands out. She took them and allowed him to help her up. “Lie in the centre of the bed.”
Heart pounding and shaking with desire, Anne went to the bed and lay upon the crimson velvet spread. Her own mattress seemed somehow unfamiliar, even exotic, as she settled in the middle on her back. Her ears seemed especially sensitive to his breathing and his footfalls as she waited.
What would he expect?
Would she be able to please him?
The bed shook and she startled. Oh heavens, he was climbing onto the bed next to her. Her throat went dry.
Don’t be afraid, Anne, it is just like with the horses.
Oh God! Her wedding night. Why did William have to say that? Why? Her pelvis tensed at the memory of the awkwardness, the embarrassment. The pushing and panting—
No, don’t think about that. Not now.
She swallowed, hard.
Jon sat beside her on the coverlet. “Have you gone so far away?”
He caressed her cheek with the backs of two fingers. He smiled.
Warmth flooded into her heart, her belly, and into her loins. The sudden tension melted away. The past and all its unpleasantness vanished. Only this moment remained. Only Jon remained. She dared to return his smile.
His expression grew suddenly stern. His gaze burned into her and caused her heart to trip over its next beat. Her stomach tumbled in delightful dismay. He looked so fierce.
He mounted her, his powerful thighs gripping hers. He held the sash to her wrapper in his hands.
Her throat went even drier than it had a moment ago and her heart seemed to stop. He had meant what he’d said last night—he actually meant to bind her. A thrill shot through her, pulsing deep into her centre. Her heart began to pound again, a delicious sort of apprehension. Arousal thrummed in her blood.
He took her hands and caressed her joints with the pad of his thumb. “Your bones are fine, very delicate. I shall have to take careful care with you.”
She never heard anyone say ‘careful care’ before, and part of her wanted to laugh. However, the deliberate way he’d said it sent luscious heat slamming her low in the pelvis; her sex was swollen, her nub throbbing and throbbing, growing erect. Wetness slid down her thighs.
Her heart leapt, pounding so fast that it made her dizzy. She shifted against the pillows. He slipped the soft velvet of the belt to her wrapper about one wrist, then the other. She swallowed hard. He lifted her arms higher. She glanced above her head and watched as he lashed her wrists to the glossy mahogany headboard spikes. It didn’t seem real. Nothing tonight had. It all seemed like a dream.
He looked down, his expression sharp and stern, his eyes like blue fire. “Doing all right?”
Throat tight, she could only nod.
“Pull, hard,” he ordered.
She pulled.
“Harder.”
She pulled and now she couldn’t move her hands. The skin tightened over his cheekbones and he fixed his gaze on her. There was no mistaking the emotion flaring in his eyes. He was enjoying this.
“You are mine now, there’s no turning back. You know it too, don’t you?” he said.
Delicious helplessness sent wave after wave of dark pleasure through her.
Almost lazily, he hooked a finger into his cravat and jerked until it came undone. He folded it over several times.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“I am going to blindfold you.” He lifted her head.
Blindfold her?
She should be panicked. She should be trying to resist. But the way he handled her, gently but with determination, made her feel weak. Lulled. And, oddly enough, safe.
“Close your eyes, lovely girl.”
She closed them.
He slid the folded cravat over her lids and the chamber went dark. She felt him tying it at the back. And then he lay down her head.
To be blindfolded, to allow him to do it, that was a daunting thing. Yet to have him do it with such a personal object, part of his clothing, still warm from his body, gave the experience an almost painful intimacy.
It was too intense. Definitely too intense.
Then his weight lifted from her, leaving her feeling too light. As if she might float away. In the ensuing quiet, there was nothing but his breathing and her own pounding heartbeat.
Without him handling her, she grew restive and couldn’t help struggling against the bonds. The linen sheets seemed to rasp against her skin. Wetness gushed from between her thighs. Apprehension tingled through her. What did he intend to do?
Finally, she could bear it no longer. “What are you doing?”
“I am admiring you, love.” He caressed her arms, lingering at her wrists, adjusting them in the bonds. “Something is troubling you—tell me.”
“I thought we would just…uh, that you would just bed me.”
“You’re not ready for that.”
Not ready? Wasn’t she lying here, wetter than she’d ever been in her life, ready to accept him? She drew her brows together. “But I am ready.”
“It’s not your decision. For now, I want to explore what’s mine.” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Sudden anxiety quivered through her. Fear that he wouldn’t be satisfied with her. “But I can please you. If you’ll just let me.”
“Stop thinking so much. Accept my will.”
He touched her here and there. His fingertips traced over her throat, followed by his lips, his tongue, moving over her breasts, her belly. Every caress sent fiery sparks dancing along her flesh, exhilarating her whole body with exquisite anticipation. She writhed beneath his attentions, pulling against her bonds.
But when he kissed the arch of her foot, she gasped. Someone kissing her feet was simply too odd.
He responded by kissing the other. “Shh. Every inch of your body belongs to me now and I shall do with it as I please.”
He licked the hollow in her ankle, then, slowly kissing and tonguing his way along, he moved up the inside of her left leg.
When he put his head between her legs, she had a stunned inkling of what he intended. Oh, dear God, he could see her, every minute detail of her, up close. Her wetness—the scent would be overwhelming. She tried close her legs but he held them apart.
“No, Jon, no.”
“Shh.”
The feel of his breath blowing gently over her mons was far too intimate. Painfully so. She tossed her head upon the pillow. “No, no.”
“Shh, be silent, accept my will.”
“But Jon—”
“This is how a gentleman makes love to a lady.”
He kissed her outer lips, circumnavigating them at his leisure with soft, barely-there brushes of his mouth. His large hands still held her thighs open with merciless strength.
Her body went limp with surrender and she sank into the pillow and mattress and she gave a little sigh.
Gentlemen really did this? It was shocking. It was unthinkable. It was—
His tongue touched the entrance to her channel. The barest touch. Barely a flicker. But her nub came alive, tingling like fire, erecting, straining and yearning for attention. He drew her tender inner lips into his mouth, laving them with his tongue.
“Your cunt is so absolutely lovely.”
Cunt.
The crude word echoed in her head with raw carnality. On his lips, in his voice, speaking of her, it sounded like
the most divine compliment or endearment or both.
“And you taste like brandy and cinnamon and fire.”
A moment ago, if he had spoken of her taste, it would have mortified her to death, she was sure of it. But now, oh God, now it made her feel like pure brandy and cinnamon and fire were flowing in her blood.
He cupped her buttocks, lifting her up as his tongue plunged inside her channel, thrusting in and out until her nub was swollen and desperate. He withdrew his tongue from her depths and encircled his mouth on her straining bud, sucking lightly then releasing it completely. Then repeating. The alternating sensations of warm, wet suction and cool air made her cry out with pained pleasure.
She longed to be able to clutch at his head, to twine her fingers in his fair tresses. However, her struggles against the ties on her wrists proved futile.
“Please, please,” she begged, thrashing against the pillow.
He took her nub into his mouth and drew on it for long, satisfying moments, alternately flicking his tongue around it with deft, determined motions. She’d never even dreamed of anything like this. It was like being consumed by him. Totally.
The world drew up tight, centred in that small, sensitive bud, and came spiralling back on her in wave after wave of pleasure and release.
She returned to herself and lay catching her breath as her body still ticked and pulsed at its core. She had never before realised how alone she had been. It was as if he now filled some empty, hollow place within her with his powerful presence.
Everything was Jon. Everything.
He thrust two fingers into her slippery channel, pressing along her forward wall repeatedly and, from nowhere it seemed, all the sensations came back on her, stronger this time, sweeping her away. She heard herself crying his name over and over like a mindless litany. Then darkness swallowed her up.
She awoke to the warmth of his lips on hers.
“It’s getting rather early. I should return to my chamber,” he said.
He hadn’t made love to her yet. Not fully. Why? With her mind still fogged by sleep and satiation, she couldn’t help asking, “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.” He uttered a shushing sound against her hair. “You are a good girl, Nan.”