by London Casey
She screamed, the sound seeming to echo from far away as she plunged into the vortex of sensation.
Then he withdrew, his body shuddering against hers as his hands tightened almost unbearably on her hips. His own hips pumped furiously and he gave a harsh, lingering groan. Hot splashes of seed jetted against her stomach.
In the aftermath, she lay, trying to catch her breath.
He untied her, then wiped her clean, all in silence. She was grateful for his silence. She had half-feared he would insist on discussing matters.
He bent, put his arms around her, lifted her into his arms. She lay passively as he carried her to the bed. Under the covers, he pulled her close to his side.
She didn’t resist but she did close her eyes, feigning sleepiness. She was thrumming inside with every emotion possible. Every nerve ending she possessed seemed on edge. Oversensitized. The brush of his lips on her forehead threatened to unhinge her and her breath came in very quick, very shallow bursts.
But that was all. He stayed silent and his body relaxed against hers.
Oh heavens, she would never relax. Nothing would be the same after this night, she was certain of it. She’d lost a piece of herself to him, and that’s how it would be. Losing herself to him one piece at time until there was no more of her held safe. The gravity of that thought kept her awake and staring into the dying flames long after his breathing had become regular.
Jon watched Anne as she lifted her teacup to her lips. Silence from a woman was a novelty, at least in his experience. It wasn’t just that she was quiet this morning; she seemed to be specifically avoiding any interaction. Just as he had sensed her need for silence last night.
And did she look a degree or two paler than normal?
No wonder she was a little tired. They had slept little. She wouldn’t be used to that. Of all the women he’d been with, those who possessed a submissive nature and those who did not, she had the least carnal experience. For that matter, what experience had he with something like last night? Simply put, it had been the best sex of his life.
He didn’t expect it to be like that again. Nothing could be so perfect but once. It had simply been the culmination of his unaccustomed total fascination with her differences. And it was rare to have a woman who so completely matched his physical ideal. No, it couldn’t be that good again.
But he wanted her this morning. His blood burned and his cock was so hard it ached. Even his cods ached. Inexplicably, her chilly remoteness only seemed to increase his ardour. What thoughts consumed her mind so thoroughly? Women usually seemed to need to talk the next morning. And after the first time with a new lover, wouldn’t she need to talk all the more?
Finally, his impatience overtook his efforts to contain it. “Are you unwell?”
She glanced up, slowly, with a look of faint surprise, as though she’d forgotten his presence. “Unwell?”
“You are so quiet and pale.”
“I am well.” She sat her teacup upon the table. “Perhaps a bit tired.”
“Anne, is everything…as it should be?”
She coloured slightly and picked her teacup up once more. “Everything is fine.” She took a sip of tea, as though trying to hide in her cup.
“So you are simply shy once more this morning?”
She gazed at him over the brim of her cup, looking a bit at a loss.
“Tell me,” he said.
Immediately, she glanced down at her cup upon the table for many long moments. Then she spoke. “I have never spent so many hours in the constant company of anyone. It takes some accustoming.”
“Do you wish to return to bed for the morning? If you do, you must arise and help me with the horses in the afternoon.”
She wouldn’t look up but she gave him a smile. The soft tentativeness of that smile made his breath catch.
“I’ll tend the horses for now and then I’ll go for a ride. Why don’t you go on now and take some rest?” he urged, ignoring the pounding desire that yet throbbed in his cock.
She looked up. Her eyes smouldered, a lingering, sensual look that reminded him of that first time she’d given him a sideways glance. “Do you wish that I would? Are you so ready to be relieved of my company?”
“No.”
She lowered her eyes back to her cup then traced a fingertip around the cup’s delicate gilded edge. “What do you want?”
“You.”
“Do we have to talk about it?”
He drew his brows together sharply. “Talk about it? You asked me, Anne.”
“I mean during, if we-we…” She paused and cleared her throat. “Will we have to discuss every little thing? Every little feeling?”
“No, we won’t.”
She brought her head up and stared at him with those large, midnight-blue eyes, which glittered with desire. “Then I want you, too.”
His cock swelled larger, more erect. Shy one moment then bold the next, she fascinated him. Maddened him.
What the devil was he waiting for?
He stood, stripped off his banyan, dropped it into his chair and approached her. She lowered her gaze, a move of gratifying submission. He took her hand. She kept her eyes downcast as she arose. He took the belt to her flannel wrapper and untied it. Then he swept the garment off her shoulders. The newness of all of this to her still added piquancy to the moment. Her gorgeous breasts with their dark rose points rose and fell quickly. A faint blush coloured her face.
Lust burned in his blood and his pulse pounded within his shaft. He grasped her by the shoulders and propelled her backwards until they reached the wall. The tips of her breasts became tight little nubs and her body began to tremble. He loved that about her. How had such a sensual woman been able to bear the chaste life she had led?
He pushed her to the wall and pinned her arms on either side of her. Her pupils widened, making her eyes look darker, larger. She licked her full lips.
He bent and put his mouth to hers, pressing hard. She moaned in her throat. The sound vibrated into his body and he kissed her harder. He inserted his leg between hers and her arousal wetted his thigh. He took her by the shoulders again and whirled her so that she faced the wall.
“Put your palms flat to the wall, wench, and don’t move them.”
He positioned himself. She gave a little gasp.
He thrust into her, sliding all the way into her tight, hot, wet depths. She cried out, a sound of pure joy, and she arched her full, round arse backwards.
“Be silent, wench.” He placed his other hand about her throat. “Don’t make a sound.”
He grasped her hips and moved within her in a swift, savage, satisfying rhythm. Her breasts rose and fell quickly. He could feel the tension within her as she tried to remain quiet. He reached around her and touched her rigid little nub, helping her to peak.
Her whole body shuddered and she bucked her pelvis so eagerly, he had to grasp her hips with both hands to hold her steady enough so that he could remain embedded in her flesh. Her cunt squeezed his cock, a series of spasms. Harder and harder. Hugging him tighter as though trying to squeeze the very life out of him.
He withdrew just in time as the first jet of come came roiling through his shaft. Pleasure exploded in his loins. He came and came, anointing her thigh with his seed. The force of his ejaculation was astonishing. He fell against her back, panting, lightheaded for a moment.
Though his breath still came in short, harsh inhalations, he recovered enough to feel the limpness of her body. She was still leaning with her palms pressed to the wall. He pulled her into his embrace.
“Oh God…” Her words came out breathily and she paused to gasp for air. “Oh God, oh dear God.”
He kissed her sweat-moistened forehead. As the moments passed, strength returned to his body. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed and laid her on it. Then he sat beside her and smoothed the hair off her face.
“I dreamed of this,” she said breathily.
“Did you?”
>
“Yes, once I dreamed of a man who pressed my back to the wall but it wasn’t quite like that. But almost.”
“He forced you?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that…but it was rather a violent seduction.”
“Anne, you said that you didn’t want to talk this time.”
“I said I didn’t want to have to talk. But now that I know I don’t have to talk, I feel like talking.”
He chuckled softly. “I see.”
“You don’t mind talking, do you?”
“No, we can discuss anything you wish.” Normally, he might find the afterwards conversation a bit tedious. But with Anne, it was a pure pleasure to see her so open, so vibrant. He wanted to know all about her. Particularly those things that confirmed his suspicions that she was going to make an excellently matched playmate. He gave her an encouraging caress. “Tell me more about your dream.”
“Yes, I always had these dreams. Of a man, I couldn’t ever see his face. But he would seduce me and command me.”
“And he made you come?”
“Oh, he made me come so intensely.” She bit her lip a moment and then looked up at him, her eyes so open and full of emotion that it took his breath. “I didn’t believe you could do the same, do you know that?”
“Yes, I suspected as much.”
“But you did succeed. I came for you far more intensely than I ever did for the man in my dreams. How did you know that you could do it?”
“I simply gave you what you needed for your arousal, Anne. It is no great mystery.”
She rolled on her side, facing away from him and went quiet for a time.
He caressed her back in gentle, lingering sweeps. Perhaps he ought to give her time alone but he couldn’t stop touching her. His cock was actually half-hard again. She was that addictive. And the second time inside her tight, sweet little cunt had been just as good as the first. Maybe better.
No, definitely better.
“I have such shame over those dreams,” Anne said, after a time. “They always make me feel as though there is something…not quite right with me.”
That he could certainly understand. He had not thought of his own youthful carnal dreams in years. Now the memory of the secret longings, the furtive fantasies, the shame, the terrible, anxious self-questioning all created a curious, bittersweet nostalgia. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Anne.”
“But I always thought…feared, that my fascination with such things would attract something ominous to myself.”
“Ominous?”
“Yes, that it would bring some violent act upon myself.”
“Like punishment for the pleasure?”
“Perhaps.”
“It is just a fantasy, a dream. You don’t really want some strange, faceless man to force you. There’s no point in questioning yourself too deeply on such matters.”
“Now that we have—” she laughed softly, uneasily, “—‘played’, as you put it, I fear I shall worry all the more.”
His blood went cold. For there was a grain of truth in what she said. A man with an abusive nature might very well be attracted to a woman with a more submissive nature. “If any man ever threatens you, or God forbid, is abusive to you, you must tell me immediately.”
Her back muscles tensed under his touch. “Oh goodness, Jon, I shouldn’t like to be a burden to you or linger past my welcome. When our month together is over, we shall go our own ways.”
Her words stung. And it was the severity of the sting that shocked him. That made him wince, albeit inwardly. “We shall be friends, surely.”
“We shall be living two entirely opposite lives. You will have your wife and family and your earldom. I shall be occupied with my estate.”
He tapped his fingers upon her soft, warm flesh. “Anne,” he said, firmly. “If any man gives you cause for grief, you’ll tell me immediately. I shall take care of him directly.”
“What do mean, take care of him directly?”
“I shall call him out, of course. What else would I mean?” Agitation seethed within him and expressed itself as sudden restless energy. He arose from the bed and began pulling his clothes on.
“What would Lady Ruel think of that?”
“Lady Ruel will not care. I have told you, my marriage will be one of convenience for us both.”
“You criticized my marriage to William for being one of convenience.”
“No, I criticized Cranfield for neglecting you. You were a young bride and you’re not a woman who would ever be happy in a loveless marriage. He should have had the perception to know.”
“Why do you believe I would never be happy in a marriage of convenience?”
“Because you’re too much of an idealist.”
She stared at him and blinked several times. “Why do you believe I am an idealist?”
“Because you base your life on the opinions of dead men.”
“I assure you I was not idealistic about my marriage.”
“You remained faithful to Cranfield whilst he neglected you. And you wore that locket he gave you, long after he died.” He turned back to buttoning his waistcoat and she fell silent for a time.
“Really, Jon, I do not expect you to inopportune yourself on my account once we are parted.”
He paused in the act of trying his cravat into a simple knot. Another woman might have phrased those words as an opening for him to assure her that he would not be inopportuned. That he felt some special feeling for her.
But Anne’s tone rang with a closed note, as though she were trying to put things in the most polite terms possible. But her meaning was clear. Come October, she would dismiss him from her life. Completely.
He picked up his coat and jerked it on.
What nonsense.
Of course they would remain friends after their month together had come to an end. Of course she would call on him if she were in distress. He would be of service to any woman he knew, if she truly required help. What lady would deny a gentleman the chance to aid her?
He turned back to her, approached the bed and touched her cheek. She pressed into his touch and that was gratifying. Yet the echo of her coolly spoken words still seethed inside him.
What he needed now was a long, hard horse ride. He forced a smile. “Rest now.”
The vehicle was placed behind the cottage. It had been waiting for her, waiting to terrorise her today. Anne hadn’t seen it when she’d arrived.
It was their fifth day at the cottage. Cool morning showers had given way to a warmer late afternoon with more ominous looking clouds looming on the horizon. The interior was too humid, too hot. It was also dark. Jon said it must be that way. Her knuckles were numb from gripping the edge of seat.
Which was ridiculous. There were no horses attached to this carriage. It wasn’t going anywhere. But it didn’t matter. Just being inside it made her feel as though she would soon cast up her accounts.
Her stomach kept lurching, each lurch increasing the urge to give in to the nausea.
“Oh, I feel ill. I shall be ill,” she said.
“No, you won’t. Just breathe slowly and deeply. Concentrate only on your breathing.”
She did as he bade and the edge of illness did ebb. But not nearly enough. “Can we leave now?”
“We’ve been here but barely five minutes. Another five.” He touched her hand, somehow, in the darkness. “Give me your hands.”
Was he going to bind her again? She jerked them back and held them to herself.
“Anne, give me your hands.”
“I don’t want to be bound.”
His shocked exhalation sounded unnaturally loud. “I am not going to bind you. Not here.”
Relief washed over her.
“Give them to me.” His deep, firm tone comforted her.
She let go of the seat’s edge and let him take her hands.
He pulled her across the seat. She came up against his solid, strong body. He was drawing her arms around himself. He
placed his hand on the small of her back.
The rocking motion of being pulled to him seemed to continue. It made her feel groundless there in the dark, floating free with the carriage as it had turned over…
“I’ve got you.” He pressed her closer. “You’re completely safe here with me.”
His scent filled her nostrils, his strength surrounded her. Of course she was safe. How silly he must think her to be.
He ran a caressing hand up and down her back.
“Tell me about your Season,” he said.
“My Season?” Her stomach churned but with less intensity.
“Yes, your first Season. Were you excited about meeting the queen?”
“I was terrified by every moment of my first Season. I was only sixteen.”
“And a very sheltered sixteen at that.” His voice was so understanding. Just the way it could be sometimes…it melted the last of her resistance to open up to him.
“Yes.” Her stomach lurched but with less intensity. “As I have told you, I had been secluded my entire childhood in Ireland in the countryside. The shock of coming to London was traumatic.”
“But you had your abigail and your mother, correct?”
“Oh, Mama. Goodness. She had never had time to notice me before, but she suddenly dictated my every move. She declared me plump as a plum pudding and then they starved me as well. When I met the queen, I was about ready to faint from hunger. Oh, and those hoop skirts are a terrible invention. Whoever designed them should be guillotined.”
He slid his hand down the curve of her waist and pinched her side. It tickled. She jumped and laughed softly with a catch in her voice.
“You were plump then?” he asked, as if she were not currently plump despite her curvy waist.
“I was positively fat as a goose. She made Nellie tie me into these ungodly corsets and bind my breasts.”
“I think I am a better judge of what is pleasing in a woman than your Mama and I think your breasts are perfect just the way they are.”
“That’s generous of you to say but everyone—well, all the young ladies—teased me about my dark skin whenever they had the chance to do so unobserved.”
“You must realise that they were jealous of your wealth.” He trailed his hand over her hip and down to the swell of her bottom. “You are a duke’s daughter and an earl’s widow. You could return to Society and cut them.”