Fascinated

by Bertrice Small

  Leaning over, he dropped a kiss on the slender bridge of her nose. "Better?"

  Gazing up from her warm cocoon, she wrinkled her tingly nose. "It would be if you were here."

  He raked his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it back in sleek waves. "You're going to wear me out. Although," he added, grinning, "I'm not complaining."

  "I feel terrible for hounding you." Her voice was small-girl apologetic, but her smile was the flamboyantly seductive one he had come to adore. "And also horribly sexy."

  Surely there was a god, he thought. "In that case, I'll hurry." He began moving toward the sitting room.

  She felt instantly bereft. "What are you doing?"

  "Getting you something you'll like."

  "Oh." Her expression brightened. "For me?"

  "For you." He winked, and she was flooded with jealousy for all the women who had been the recipients of that roguish glance.

  But even in her pink-clouded bliss she knew better than to take issue with his past or future. His entire persona was distinctly profligate, and such men never stayed long. But she had him now, and she had every intention of enjoying the pleasure. And with him, pleasure was guaranteed. She snuggled deeper into the downy comfort of the enormous bed, intent on ignoring the cold reality of tomorrow. Today he was with her, and all was warm enchantment.

  When the duke returned, he was carrying a tray with a coffee service. "I had selfish motives for this," he explained. "I didn't want to fall asleep. Not that it's possible with you," he teased. "And before you ask," he added, interpreting her puzzled look, "I ordered this last night."

  She glanced at the tray he set on the bed. "How sweet. Two cups."

  "I had no intention of letting you leave."

  "How flattering. Even last night?"

  "Directly after I saw you enter the casino. You've changed my plans."

  "Plans?"

  "I intended to leave Monte Carlo today, but if you're not busy, Miss Greenwood," he declared, his faint bow exquisite, "I'd prefer entertaining you for a time."

  After all the trials and tribulations of her life, she didn't question the equivocal designation "time." When one was offered paradise, one didn't quibble over details. "I'd like that very much, indeed."

  "Thank you, Miss Greenwood," he said with punctilious good breeding and a teasing smile. "And this is for you," he offered, lifting a small package from the tray and handing it to her before he sat down.

  She couldn't remember when she had last received a gift; she felt like a child at Christmas. Coming to a seated position with a helpful hand from the duke, she carefully eased off the beautiful magenta silk ribbon, set it aside and opened the indigo-colored wrapping. The embossed gold box was from a well-known confectioner. A smile lit up her face. "Chocolates!"

  "Look inside." He began pouring coffee.

  "I adore any kind of chocolate." Lifting the cover, she opened the crisp parchment and went utterly still. A diamond bracelet glistened from the midst of the chocolates.

  "I thought it might go with your gown," he casually said.

  Or any gown or a royal diadem, the array of large diamonds was so dazzling. Her gaze came up, her eyes bright with tears. "I don't know what to say. No one's ever given me anything… like this…" Her voice faltered for a moment. "Diamonds… my goodness… they're magnificent, but- that is… I'm not sure I can keep it." A tremulous uncertainty quivered in her words. "It would make me-"

  "No, it would not." Quickly setting his cup aside, he leaned over and took her hands. "It's a gift between friends. It doesn't make you anything; it doesn't make me anything. I've plenty of money, and I wanted to give you a gift." He almost said, "Women don't refuse these," but knew better. She was already uncomfortable with the role of paramour.

  "I've never done this before… I mean… coming here with you-"

  "I know." He gently stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "Look." His tone was conciliatory. "I had no intention of making you uncomfortable. If anyone should ask, tell them it's Aunt Gillian's."

  "I don't actually know anyone who would ask."

  "There. You see?"

  "But I'd know," she murmured.

  "Please…" His voice was soft and low, his gaze tender. "Do you know how fortunate I feel for having been in the casino last night?"

  "Not as fortunate as I," she quietly said. "You saved my life."

  He traced a lingering path down her middle finger. "Repay me by keeping the bracelet."

  A playful light appeared in her eyes. "Now, there's a bargain."

  "I was the one who gained the most, darling." And for once in his life, he wasn't uttering a charming phrase to please a lady.

  "So you owe me."

  "Exactly."

  She wrinkled her nose in indecision.

  "Take it, darling, or I'll cry."

  Her laugh bubbled up. "When was the last time you cried?"

  "I was probably two." In truth, he had no memory of ever crying. Indulged by his mother, ignored by his father, his world had been perfection until his mother died when he was twelve. And by that time, he knew full well to never show emotion before his father.

  "So you feel that strongly."

  "It's only a bracelet, darling, not the crown jewels of England."

  "Scotland."

  He rolled his eyes.

  "If I decide to keep it, I need three things from you."

  "They're yours."

  "No caution?"

  "You can have whatever you want." A staggering statement from a man who habitually viewed intruders into his life with suspicion.

  She grinned. "That's the third thing."

  His brows flickered in amusement. "And my favorite, I warrant."

  "First, I'd like some café au kit."

  "I've never met a lady so easy to please." He poured her a cup, glanced up with a spoon poised over the sugar bowl, poured in two when she held up two fingers and added hot milk until she said, "Stop."

  "And the second?" he asked, handing her the cup.

  "Where did you get the bracelet in the dead of night or do you keep a supply in your luggage for the ladies you bed?"

  "I ordered it when Claude came up for your note."

  "The shops were closed."

  "The shops are always open if you want them to be."

  "Really. And how many times have you opened the shops?"

  "On several occasions. My cufflinks were from Carrier here."

  "Was this?"

  He nodded. "They know me."

  "I don't think I want to hear any more. You probably do this all the time, and-"

  "I don't do this all the time." It was the most honest statement he had ever uttered. He had never been obsessed before. And he had had numerous opportunities in the last twenty years to experience the phenomenon.

  "Then, we're both tyros," she quietly observed, "because I've never slept with a stranger or any man other than my husband. I've never enjoyed myself so. I've never been given chocolates for breakfast-or diamond bracelets-anytime at all. So thank you for-this rare glimpse of heaven."

  "You're very welcome, and once we-shall I say-engage in the response to question number three, you may thank me again."

  She cast him an assessing glance. "Such confidence."

  "In the not-too-distant future, I expect you can tell me if my confidence is warranted." He pointed at her cup. "Now, drink your coffee and eat some pastry," he softly commanded, "because you're going to need your strength."

  "There are times, although don't let it go to your head," she said with a provocative smile, "when I adore that voice of command."

  "How fortunate, since I have these inexplicable urges to possess you. Would you like to be mastered, darling?" His dark brows faintly rose in query. "I could tie you up."

  "No!" But a thrilling frisson fluttered up her spine.

  "Or I could initiate you into droits de seigneur."

  With anyone else she would have taken fierce offense; but his dark g
aze was scandalously wicked, and the thought of being dominated by his strength and power quickened her ready sexuality. "What exactly would that entail?" she hesitantly inquired.

  An iniquitous smile curved his mouth. "A good deal of pleasure for us both."

  "How exactly would that occur?"

  "Are you taking notes?"

  "The concept makes me marginally nervous, although not with you-I think…"

  "Trust me, darling," he assured her. "It's only for fun. Now eat something," he added, handing her an almond pastry. "I wouldn't want my dairy maid to be hungry when I lift up her skirts and put my stiff prick in her."

  His words ignited a flame deep inside her; she could almost feel the thrilling invasion. "You make certain aspects of a dairy maid's life sound tantalizing," she murmured, a heated tremor in her voice. "And perhaps the dairy maid could order her master about as well…"

  His gaze went shuttered. "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't allow it."

  "Because?"

  "You don't have enough time for the answer, nor do I care to discuss it. You had your husband, and I had"-his eyes went utterly cold for a moment-"other people in my life I prefer to forget."

  "Except you can't forget everything, can you?"

  "It depends what you're doing," he softly said.

  "Is that why you travel the world?"

  "I don't want to talk about this."

  "And that's also why you're so good in bed."

  "That's why," he brusquely said. "Are we done?"

  "Certainly. I know how to be polite."

  "I'm not interested in politeness."

  "Actually, I'm not either."

  His gaze held hers for a potent moment, and then they both laughed.

  "I'm interested in sex with you," she said in well-bred accents.

  "I'm interested in protracted sex with you." His boyish smile lit up his eyes.

  "That's pretty simple."

  "It can be."

  "If I don't grill you on your feelings."

  "You're intelligent in addition to being one of the world's most beautiful women."

  "And you should know."

  "And I should know. Are you warm now?" he gently inquired.

  The discussion was over

  "Very warm. It must be these quilts." Her glance was playful.

  "I'm sure," he softly drawled, pulling away the fold of quilt that covered her breasts. "Although your nipples look like they're cold." They were hard, peaked, provocatively long.

  "Your reference to prolonged sex took their fancy."

  "And they became hard for me?" Reaching out, he slid his fingertips around the taut crests, the imprint of his silken touch instantly registering in the pit of her stomach, a delicious heat streaking downward like molten pleasure.

  "We've been so busy seeing to your orgasms, I've been derelict in my attentions to these large, lovely breasts." Softly gripping her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he tugged them, pulling them one way and then the other, her plump breasts swinging, quivering, the fleshy contours compressing and swelling-the coffee in their cups on the tray rippling with the gentle movement of the bed.

  "Do you like that? Do you like me to squeeze these?" His fingers tightened their grip.

  A convulsive heat liquefied between her thighs, and she softly moaned at the carnal pleasure.

  "I can't hear you. Should I squeeze them harder?" The pink tissue compressed between his fingers, and bending his head, he licked one constricted tip.

  She could feel the touch of his tongue in every taut nerve in her body, and shuddering, she wondered if she would ever get enough of him.

  Relaxing his grip, he slid his palms over the outside flare of her breasts, slipping his hands under their delectable weight, lifting the quivering flesh upward until her breasts were mounded high, until her tingling nipples were conveniently at mouth level. "If you want me to suck on you," he whispered, lightly bouncing the pink globes, "just let me know…"

  "Please, Flynn," she breathed, anticipation strumming through her body, her need for him overwhelming.

  "Who?" he softly queried, gently shaking his head. Releasing her breasts, he leaned back slightly. "Remember you're the maid and I'm…?"

  "The master," she whispered, the throbbing between her thighs quickening at the salacious thought.

  "And I'll be putting my hard cock in you."

  She squirmed against the fine linen sheet, her soft whimper a distinct plea.

  "But you have to please me," he softly warned. "Sit up straighter so I can suck on your big breasts more easily."

  She instantly responded, her breasts thrusting upward.

  "Make your nipples longer for me. Rub them." And he watched as she massaged her nipples, lightly stretched them, diligently obeying. "Look at what that does to my hard-on," he murmured, and when her gaze focused on his upthrust erection, he wondered if she would come before he touched her. She was flushed, panting, gently rocking on the bed, her eyes hot with desire.

  "Do you want this?" Lightly grasping his penis, he slid his hand downward, the movement increasing the length, the gleaming crest arching higher.

  "Yes…," she breathed, a heated tremor in her voice.

  "You have to let me suck on you first."

  "Of course… please-whatever you want." With her eyes trained on his pulsing erection, submission resonated in her words.

  "Lean forward," he ordered. "And hold your breasts up for me."

  She instantly complied, the fleshy abundance spilling over her palms, her carnal hunger so intense she was shaking.

  "If your nipples are to my taste," he whispered, his breath warming one crest, "I may allow you to fuck me. What flavor are they?"

  She shook her head, unsure of anything but her throbbing need for fulfillment.

  "I prefer cherry. Do you think you can accommodate me?" He lightly licked the turgid tip.

  She moaned, all her senses alert to the merest touch, the grazing imprint of his tongue vibrating throughout her body.

  "You have to answer or I won't let you come. There's cherry creams in your chocolate box." He gently nibbled on the pink nipple she held up for him. "Should we flavor these to make me happy?"

  "If you wish…" She could barely respond, her desire so ravenous.

  "Don't you wish?" His voice was brusque. "Tell me or I won't ram my cock in you."

  "Yes, yes…," she whispered.

  "Are you wet enough?" he murmured and waited for her answer.

  It took her a moment to recall the question, and even then she was unsure. "I think so."

  "You seem to have your mind elsewhere." His tone turned severe. "I'm not sure you'll do for a dairy maid if you can't concentrate on your duties."

  "I'm sorry, sir."

  "I may not fuck you if you don't better apply yourself."

  "I will, sir," she quickly replied. "Forgive me, sir."

  "Well…" His tone was considering. "Maybe this once I'll forgive you. You're new and don't understand what's required of you. But you understand, you're on probation."

  "I understand. I shall listen-truly I shall."

  He scrutinized her for a moment as though questioning her sincerity. "Very well," he finally said. "Now then." He lifted her chin so their eyes met. "The question was whether you're wet enough to have sex with me. Do you think you are?"

  She took a small breath, forcing herself to concentrate on answering correctly. "I'm sure I am, sir."

  "Why don't we see." Easing her thighs apart, he slid two fingers inside her, slowly, delicately, gliding upward, the slick, hot tissue pulsing around his strong fingers. He avoided contact with the most sensitive areas of arousal. She was teetering on the brink, and he wanted to delay her orgasm-or at least try, he thought with a faint smile. Smoothly withdrawing his fingers awash with pearly liquid, he lightly traced a path down the deep valley between her breasts, leaving a glistening trail. "Your sweet cunt is a veritable river of desire," he
murmured, holding his scented fingers up for her to see. "Such enthusiasm. Would I be right in saying you're suitably prepared for intercourse?"

  It took enormous effort to respond when her entire nervous system was obsessed with voluptuous sensation. "Yes, sir," she whispered in the merest wisp of a voice, near delirious with wanting him, the throbbing ache between her legs so intense she would do anything to have him inside her.

  "Soon we'll test your readiness," he promised, sliding his fingers over one plump breast. "But first I want some cherry-flavored nipples." He rested his fingertip on the turgid crest of one breast as though clarifying his statement. "You may service me after that, provided I'm satisfied with the taste. Keep those breasts up nice and high," he added, adjusting her hands under her breasts before forcing them upward. "I don't want to have to bend down too far." As she quickly complied, pushing the ripe weight of her breasts into great, high mounds, he lifted the cover from the chocolate box, took out the bracelet and snapped it around her wrist. "There's no more debate about keeping this, is there?" His voice was silken.

  She shook her head.

  "You're sure?" He gently stroked one nipple, and the jarring pleasure racked her body.

  She nodded, unable to gather breath to speak.

  "How amenable you've become," he murmured. "You'll find it more rewarding. Obedient dairy maids are allowed to serve me in a great number of ways. Would you like to serve as a receptacle for my sperm?"

  She softly moaned, imagining the sensation as his monstrous erection entered her, stretched her, filled her.

  "You seem like a particularly hot-blooded little piece," he whispered, watching her gently sway against the rush of heat flowing into her vagina. "Have the grooms been fucking you in my absence? Are you suitably primed for sex? Or have you been waiting just for me?" Picking up a chocolate, he held it to her mouth. "Take a bite," he quietly commanded, "and then we'll see whether you've been trained or not."

  Her gaze came up and met his for a potent moment, umbrage beneath the smoldering heat. "I wouldn't do this for any other reason, you know."

  "I know." His voice was like velvet or more aptly like rich chocolate cream. "Take a bite, darling… yield to me and I'll forgive you for fucking the groom."