Ravished

by Keaton, Julia

  Alex could not obey him, not in this. Hurt noises whimpered from her throat. She rubbed her legs against his, her calves to his thighs, stimulating her senses, awakening sensation in her lower half. Her entire body seemed sensitized to the slightest touch. She moaned, breathing heavily, rubbing her legs, locking them around his buttocks as she stroked her palms up his back.

  A loud, mournful cry tore from him. He bit her neck, stifling it, shaking, breathing hard and fast through his nose. His muscles flexed, tensed as if to hold him back, but he’d lost his mind, all control. He thrust, ramming the broad length of himself inside her, tearing, rending flesh. Alex screamed as he tore through her maidenhead and sank to the hilt in her sheath.

  He shuddered, and she felt hot tears against her neck, knew not if they were his or her own. His cock twitched against her breached inner muscles. The breath had stolen from her lungs at the force of his invasion—she couldn’t breathe for the weight of him, the wound he’d struck inside her.

  Slowly, drawing out her agony, he pulled his shaft from her core, rubbing that impossibly hard, huge knob through her tender insides until his cock was nearly free, and then he plunged deep once more.

  Alex cried at his gentle push, clenching him, aching as he withdrew, aching as he entered. With each stroke, she thought surely now she would die, but slowly, as he continued subjecting her to the movement she’d craved so much before, tremors built inside her. The fire in her muscles ceased to burn with pain, searing instead with an increasing pleasure. It felt like his tongue but harder, more demanding. He was so huge, he filled her near to overflowing. He stretched her sheath so tightly, she could feel the engorged veins roughing his length, bumping through her muscles.

  Her legs tightened involuntarily, hooking beneath his buttocks, urging him deeper, harder. Pleasure scored her, erupting along her nerves. Alex moaned as he increased his tempo, gliding through the arousal soaking her folds, searing her from the inside out.

  He sucked her neck hard, branding her with his mouth. Alex arched against him, clawing his back, tilting her head deep in the pillows. The bed shook with his movement, quaking around them, echoing their groans of pleasure and pain.

  Pleasure mounted, amplifying from its fragile beginnings into a force that threatened to explode within her, destroy her sanity if she could not reach it.

  He blistered her with his molten rod, stroking, ramming, grinding against the swollen bud with each push until all her senses focused on the one place, screaming for release. Her blood boiled. Her flesh scalded with his touch.

  It overwhelmed her, erupted through her muscles, dissolving flesh and bone. Alex screamed, jerking against him as the orgasm rippled through her in a wave that melted her, molded her to his body. She clung to him, desperate to hold on to the pleasure, tightening her hold until she could no longer feel her arms or legs—only the ecstasy, swirling inside her. He groaned, arching his back, throwing his head back as he raised on his arms, thrusting into again, his movements disjointed, hurried. His cock throbbed inside her, seed erupting from its tip deep in her womb.

  He collapsed on her, crushing her, but she did not mind. Their heavy breath mingled, their sweaty bodies clung to one another.

  Slowly, sight and sound returned as the bliss ebbed. Bronson rolled, dragging his flaccid cock free of her body with a loud smack, pulling her on top of him to cuddle her on his chest. Her hair cascaded around them in a fine tangle, and he ran his hands through her tresses, dislodging the snarls with gentle thoroughness.

  Alex lay there, enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair, the sound of his heart near her ear. Her body was sore and tired, close to exhaustion, but it was exhilarated as well, a contradiction that astounded her. She could not help the madness he’d slipped over her, coaxed her into with forceful gentleness.

  Having him like this wounded her, for she knew it could not last. She’d lain there long enough, reveled overlong in the feel of his arms and the warmth of his body. Touching him dissolved the strength of her will, and she could not survive without it.

  Alex lifted her head, looking up at him. His eyes were closed as he toyed with her hair. His brow was unmarred by worry, lighter, some of that darkness that had so terrified and beguiled her was diminished.

  She pushed at his chest, intent on standing and washing herself in the cooling water, relieving herself of his scent on her skin.

  He opened his eyes at her movement, giving her a dark, possessive look, aggression permeating the sudden tenseness of his muscles. With unmatched speed, he shifted his hands to her shoulders in a merciless grip.

  Alex stiffened, grasping his forearms but not attempting to break his hold.

  “I see the intent in your eyes,” he ground out, shaking her when she tried to look away, forcing her to meet his gaze.. “I will not give you up, Alex. You are mine, always,” he said, his voice tight and forceful.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bronson angrily thrust away from her, sickened at his actions. She weakened his will, destroyed his resolve to stave himself from her. He glanced back where she lay on the bed, naked, her thighs smeared with blood and his seed, saw that her maidenhead stained the bedcovers and felt like heaving his guts out for his trespass. He was caught between disgust for taking what did not belong to him, and desire to steal it again, to go back to the bed and ram her depths, mold her to his cock until she screamed his name and he knew she would never scream another.

  His cock hardened to see her as a woman, her fine hair tangled around her shoulders, curling around her breasts. He’d thought to assuage his hunger for her. Instead, he’d only increased his appetite.

  Bronson turned away, striding to the tub. The water was still warm. It seemed a lifetime had passed since he’d seen her touching herself, since he’d taken her innocence, but little time had, in truth, elapsed.

  He stepped into the tub, enjoying the warmth that eased over his skin. He watched her across the room, gathering her hair onto the crown of her head, trying to shield herself from his gaze by turning her back to him.

  “Come, the water is still warm, and you needs must bathe the ruin of your maidenhead from your thighs.”

  A small, hurt sound escaped her, but she stood and walked to him, eyes downcast, feet dragging. He felt her torn sound in his gut, felt it clench his heart. He angrily thrust it away, remembering who she was, what she’d done. He should not care if he hurt her—he would not care.

  She stopped before him, turning her back to him to step into the tub. “Nay,” he said, halting her. “I would have you face me. I want to watch you bathe.”

  A shiver ran visibly up her spine, but she turned, stepping into the tub. It was a small vessel, not near large enough for two people. She was forced to sit on his extended legs, her knees on each side of him. Gooseflesh dimpled her skin as she dipped a cloth in the water and ran it up her arms, across her chest. Her hair trailed in the water, clinging to her skin in places, and floating on the surface in others.

  He watched her slip the cloth over her breasts, darting a glance to her face, saw her bite her lip as if pained. His cock throbbed to life, standing from his belly.

  He could not bear it, to watch her but not touch. With a hoarse groan, he reached across the short distance and wrapped his hands around the small of her back, hauling her against him. He startled a gasp from her, her eyes shot daggers at him, but her lids dipped with lust. Her thighs slipped around his hips and he gripped her cheeks, spreading her as wide as he could as he lifted her and impaled her on his staff.

  She cried out, arching her head back, gripping his shoulders, her sheath tight on his cock. He pumped up, into her, groaning, grunting at the vice of her body, the pain she inflicted on him with her sex.

  He kissed the front of her arched neck, holding her closer, tightening his strokes. It was easier now, the pleasure before ripe for the plucking. Her womb trembled around him, she panted, gasped, bloodied his back as her orgasm quivered inside. The rhythmic convulsion of her muscles w
as his undoing. He came inside her, thrusting until he was certain she must tear above the pounding of his cock. Silk gripped his cockhead, sucking the seed from his body.

  He groaned against her neck, gasping, breathing raggedly as the mind numbing pleasure roared through his veins and out through his cock. He rammed inside her until there was nothing left, until she’d taken every measure he had to give, and still, he wanted her to have more.

  Never, never could he have enough of her. The thought rent his mind, turning him to madness.

  * * * *

  Bronson held Alex captive in the bed the remainder of the day. His father’s hunt was delayed until the morrow—he’d seen to that after he’d had the bath taken away and she’d hid beneath new, unstained covers he’d pulled from the chest. She hadn’t dared try to bar the door against him while he was gone, for he was in a mood that allowed no resistance, and God save her, she was of little mind to fight him.

  Let her have this one day of ecstasy—it would end soon enough. He could not keep her locked away forever.

  He brought a platter of food for them when he returned, as well as wine. He fed her the choicest morsels, pampered her, brushed her hair and soothed the aches of her body with his hands. With the aches of her femininity, he soothed with his lips and tongue, delving deep to the twinges of pain in her core, until he drove her to arch against him in mindless wanting.

  She felt bruised from his loving, and each touch brought pleasure crashing down around her. Finally, she fell asleep in his arms to the feel of him brushing her hair back from her forehead and kisses upon her temples.

  She awoke an indeterminate time later to his lips on her cheeks and jaw, his hands on her back, cupping her against his hardness. She moaned, responding already, her sex awash with arousal. He coaxed a thigh around his hip, urging her to touch him. She stretched her arm between their bodies, gripping his engorged staff, fascinated by its silky strength and heat. She loved the soft groan in his throat as she brushed her thumb over the tip, wondered at the tensing of his muscles, the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard on the passion.

  She lifted her thigh, and he squeezed the cheek of it, cuddling her closer as she guided his cock into her tight entrance. Pain ebbed along her nerves, but it was good, so delicious as he slid deep inside her. She rubbed her bud, slipping in her creamy arousal, smearing it on his cock to ease his passage.

  He moaned, kissing her forehead, thrusting his hips against her, trapping her hand to her bud. She rubbed it, clenching on his cock, gasping as he plunged with short, vivid strokes in her depths.

  He made slow, gentle love to her, gliding through her wetness. Her sheath seemed formed for him already, and she was unable to imagine anyone else ever touching her so deeply.

  Bliss crashed from the frantic move of her fingers, the pulse of him in her depths. She moaned, freeing her hand to clutch his arm and widen, take him deeper. He sank as far as the position allowed, spewing seed inside her, giving her achy release and then holding her to the feel of him as he drained his life into her womb.

  He gave her no time to wonder at his possession, no time to worry on the future. There was only now—this.

  She wanted to question his motives, but each time she opened her mouth to speak, his kissed her and stole the words from her mouth, sucked the speech from her tongue.

  Exhausted, sated, they slept through the night.

  When the sun broke through the darkness, Alex knew the wonder she found in his arms was lost to her.

  * * * *

  Bleary-eyed, Alex stared at Bronson’s back with a mixture of irritation and a curious sort of admiration. She would not have been particularly thrilled at the idea of being dragged out on a hunt at any time. After the night she had just spent in Bronson’s arms, straddling a horse was the last thing she had any interest in doing.

  There was no part of her privates that didn’t throb with a combination of fond reminiscence and pure unremitting pain. Realizing some of it was caused in part by the heavy, oaken leg laying across her thighs and the meaty arm around her waist, she sighed, easing herself out from under him.

  Her slow, cautious movements alerted him. He shifted until he’d turned his head toward her. A familiar light gleamed in his eyes, and his hand tightened at her waist. “Where do you go, wildcat?”

  She stilled, tamping down the beat of her heart. “’Tis the morn. My belly is empty and craves sustenance.”

  He pulled her closer, arching a brow. “I have just the thing to fill your insides.”

  “Nay,” she cried, half laughing, half shrieking in horror. She planted her palms on his chest, holding him at bay. He would have none of it. He dragged her to his length, holding her to him with leg and arm, kissing her breathless.

  Her stomach growled.

  Bronson broke from her mouth with a chuckle. “It seems I’m remiss in my duties,” he murmured.

  Alex flushed with embarrassment, ducking her head as he tried to kiss her again. He growled softly as he connected with her cheek. “Do you not remember what day this is? Have not you promised your father the hunt?” She regretted reminding him, but truthfully, now that she thought on it, she could at least handle her horse. There was no controlling the wild, bucking beast that was Bronson.

  He sighed, rolling off of her. “You are right. I will leave you to dress,” he said, slipping his hose and cod piece on as he gathered the remainder of his garments. “They will be breaking their fast by now. You’d do well to hurry if you want to quiet your belly’s gnawing.”

  Alex scowled at him, clutching her stomach to muffle its noise. He ducked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She would find it hard to maintain her guise of young lord before the others. Bronson had not spoken a word of it, but for her own comfort, she must try.

  Alex washed her face in the basin and wiped the residue from her thighs and folds with a damp cloth before donning her wig and mustache once more. Her hair seemed to have grown exponentially during the night, and she struggled to wind it tight enough to fit ‘neath the wig.

  Bronson had destroyed her binding, so she wore her long tunic and a thick, padded jerkin, hoping the decorative slashing and padding would disguise her chest. Truth be told, she did not have much to hide, and with her cape on, hooked under one arm and across her chest, there was no telling she was any different from before.

  Save for inside.

  Alex shook it off, determined to go on as she had before and ignore soft feelings for Bronson. Frowning, she left and wandered down the stairs to the dining hall. Only the family remained inside at the late hour, obviously eager to begin their hunt, but lingering until the hunting party had gathered.

  Lord Derwin laughed and clapped Bronson on the back, giving Alex a glance as she came inside and sat to eat.

  “Glad to see you yet live, boy. I’d worried, it’s been so many hours since last I saw you,” Lord Derwin said, grinning as he turned back to Bronson. “I thought mayhap we’d travel the Northern wood. The bucks will be traveling with the weather, and I thought perhaps we’d bag one as a prize for your betrothed this day. Mayhap some ermine—their coats should soon be turned for winter.”

  Alex sucked in a sharp breath. Blood roared in her ears, drowning out the voices around her. She felt dizzy, as though she would faint. She gripped the arms of her chair, willing Bronson to lift his head and meet her eyes, to tell her it was a lie, a farce.

  Bronson looked up at her sound of surprise, his face hard, angry. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened. She saw the truth there, in his rigid pose and silence.

  Something tore inside her, bled, leaving her cold and lifeless, yet still she lived. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she’d hoped for a future with him—she realized that now, knew she’d denied her tender feelings almost to the point of blindness. All for naught! He was to marry another. He’d taken her innocence, claimed her as his own, possessed her soul with the fire of madness, the fury of passion. Never would he truly be hers.

 
; He’d betrayed her.

  He cast his eyes down, unable to face her. He stood up from the table suddenly, shoving his chair back, angrily striding away and slamming out of the hall.

  “I see Bronson is in one of his terrors today,” Gray said as he came in, rubbing his arm as if he’d struck something and injured it. No doubt Bronson had plowed through him on his way out. “Are we ready to ride, then?”

  “Aye,” Alex said, standing on weakened knees. “I’m ready to be gone.” She’d lost her appetite. Her tongue felt wooden in her mouth. Her belly clenched in a miserable knot.

  It had come to this, as she’d known it would. She was sick with it. She wanted free of this household, and she meant to escape this day. There would be no stopping her, even if she had to kill someone.

  The horses were saddled and ready for their departure. Bronson took the lead with his father, leaving Alex to ride alongside Gray as Rafael took up the rear. Her rapier had been returned to her, and she’d been given a short bow and quiver.

  Lord Derwin enjoyed the challenge of finding his quarry and giving chase without aid of hounds, nor did he make use of the common practice of frightening the wild creatures out of their burrows and homes with use of bells and men clacking sticks. The effect was pure adventure. She was against killing for sport, but she could not help the thrill of excitement that infected her as they urged their horses through the woods and caught sight of their first buck.

  She enjoyed the freedom of the run, and for once, Firedancer was behaving himself, no doubt chagrined from spending over a week confined to the stables and little else.

  Lord Derwin took aim but missed, laughing as he kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and gave chase. Alex thought him a madman for his strangeness, and wondered how any Blackmore had ever caught any living creature.