The Countess Takes a Lover

by Bonnie Dee

  Still he wasn’t finished with his game. He brought the rose back up to her face. Her own scent was now mingled with the heady floral aroma. The flower teased back and forth across her lips until they opened as though for a lover’s kiss. A moment later, Chris’s mouth fastened on hers once more. He kissed her breathless before pulling away. “You can’t imagine how beautiful you look like this.”

  Meredith felt something featherlight land on her chest, her breasts and belly, and settle gently on her pulsing sex. The sweet scent of roses grew even stronger, filling her until she felt she was part of the essence of the rose itself. He had showered her with petals, sprinkled them over her body. Imagining how she must look to him, spread open like a full bloom herself, she felt as beautiful as he’d told her she was—and in much more than a superficial sense. Meredith was well aware she was an attractive woman, but the beauty she felt now was deeper than appearance. With his soft caresses and baptism of petals, Chris made her feel a deep sense of her inner beauty and worth, which, despite her bold talk and confident manner, had been lacking in her for a very long time.

  “You are a goddess,” he whispered.

  She felt his weight lift from the bed beside her, heard his footsteps and a rustle of clothing. At last he was undressing. Her slightly numb fingers gripped the cords holding her arms over her head. Her toes flexed and her ankles pulled against the bindings on them. She eagerly awaited his body settling between her legs. Surely he wouldn’t keep her in suspense any longer. Her pussy clenched and released in steady beats, yawning wide and begging for fulfillment.

  He climbed onto the foot of the bed. Once more his hands stroked her legs from ankle to thighs. His thumbs traced her labia, and his mouth lowered to kiss her there again.

  “Are you ready for me, Meredith?” he teased after he’d licked her until she was writhing against her restraints and moaning loudly.

  “Yesss,” she hissed. “Please…fuck me.” The harsh gutter term always made Chris even more eager. She knew this about him, having seen his increased response when she used it, the shocked widening of his eyes and intake of breath. She might be tied down, but it didn’t mean all the power was in his hands. Meredith knew how to rouse his lust with just her words.

  “I want you inside me right now. I need to feel you filling me with your big, thick cock. Fuck me, sir. Fuck me deep and hard.” She smiled smugly as she listened to the telltale quickening of his breath.

  There was a long pause before he murmured in a strangled voice, “Not yet. I’ll see to your pleasure first, my sweet prisoner.” And then his tongue was back at her clit, relentlessly stroking the quivering nubbin of flesh until waves of shimmering pleasure burst through her.

  Meredith cried out and arched her back, lifting impossibly high as though she would fly off the bed and only the four bonds held her down. Her muscles ached with the torturous acrobatics, but she barely felt them since her entire being was suffused with sparkling shards of bliss raining down like the rose petals. Such intense delight and emotion from the simple touch of his tongue. What shaped men and made them so very different that one would revel in giving her satisfaction and joy while another withheld even the barest scrap of pleasure from her and delighted in causing pain?

  When her body had stopped bucking and came to rest at last on the rumpled sheets, Chris kissed her inner thighs and crawled over her, covering her body with his. His erection nudged at her dripping quim, but he paused before pushing inside.

  “Do your arms and legs hurt? Do you want me to loosen them now?” His breath touched her cheek, and she smelled herself on the whiff of air.

  “No. I’m fine,” she assured him. She wanted to add how very grateful she was that he’d bothered to ask, but kept the thought in her heart instead.

  “All right, then.” The weight of his torso on hers forced her body deeper into the mattress and added strain to her limbs, but she didn’t mind the bit of pain along with her pleasure. The discomfort was erotically fulfilling and she welcomed it. He kept most of his weight off her, braced on his arms. They dug into the pillow on either side of her head. He brushed his lips across her perspiring forehead and then, in a sudden thrust, he entered her body.

  Her channel was slick and ready for him. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock, pulling him inside. He thrust balls deep into her with a satisfied grunt.

  “You feel so good in me,” she murmured, encouraging him with her voice since she couldn’t clutch his ass and pull him into her as she normally would. “Your cock is so wide. It fills me completely.”

  Every man loved to hear his cock praised, and Chris was no exception. Her continued murmuring about his length and girth and her explicit description of his cock’s appearance when she held it in her hands were enough to whip him to a frenzy. Very quickly Chris’s careful, measured strokes became erratic. He thrust faster, and as hard and deep as she commanded.

  The wonderful sensation of being filled coupled with the sensual sounds of his desperate groans. Oh how she loved the reverberation of masculine need growled low in his throat. It made her skin prickle and her pussy clench even harder. Deep inside he struck a chord, like one note on a piano played over and over again. Meredith felt a new wave of pleasure gathering in her, but before it could crash against the shore of her consciousness, Chris thrust once more, then froze, shuddering. She wanted to throw her arms around his back and hold him while he came, but could only lie there helpless as he trembled against her.

  One last nudge of his cock and her body abruptly peaked, too. The single note deep inside turned into a symphony with blaring brass, sensuous strings and seductive woodwinds. A full-blown orchestra erupted within her and she thrashed and wailed along with the music. When the last note had died away, she exhaled a long, unsteady breath.

  Chris’s full weight now pinned her to the bed and the pressure on her arms and legs had become excruciating. She shifted beneath him.

  He lifted his head from her shoulder, raised his body off hers and peeled the blindfold back from her eyes. “All right?”

  She nodded.

  Rising from the bed, he untied her wrists and ankles, then rubbed them briskly, bringing the blood coursing back into her hands and feet. The prickling reminded her of when she used to come in from playing in the snow as a child and her skin had burned from the warmth indoors. Her long-ago husband had never bothered to aid her when he’d finally released her. Usually he’d tossed her weakened body from his bed, sending her staggering back to her own room on leaden legs, finished with her—until the next time.

  “What’s the matter?” Chris stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing her ankles and the arches and heels of her feet. A frown creased his forehead as he put her foot down and climbed onto the bed to lie beside her. “You didn’t like it?”

  She smiled. “No. It was good. Very powerful. But it brought back some memories I’d done my best to dispel.” She turned and nestled back against his body, pulling his arm around her.

  He hugged her and kissed the back of her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy.”

  Meredith reached over her shoulder to touch his cheek. “I’m not, really. Maybe these were memories I needed to acknowledge in order to get rid of them forever.” She realized her words were true. She felt unfettered and free in a way she never had before. All of her years of pursuing financial success and sexual pleasure hadn’t brought the peace that filled her at this moment. What was this warm glow in her center that seemed to spread to every part of her being?

  “I love you,” Chris murmured as he smoothed a hand over her shoulder.

  Meredith’s heart plummeted. That was the warm glow she felt. That word she swore she didn’t believe in had seized hold of her and held her fast. Love? Impossible! This wasn’t what she’d agreed to. It was supposed to be a simple exchange of favors; she’d deflower the virginal Whitby and teach him to be more socially adept and in return Lord Whitby would ensure the bill she needed was passed. It was ba
d enough that Chris was developing feelings for her she’d have to crush. Now, it appeared, she had some very strong emotions for him, and that would never do.

  “Excuse me.” She slid from under his protective arm and out of bed.

  He grasped her hand before she could escape. “Is everything all right?”

  Forcing a smile, she turned toward him. “I simply need a few moments alone to refresh myself.” His frown smoothed after she blew him a kiss from her fingertips.

  She removed the chamber pot from beneath the bed and retreated into the privacy of her dressing room. With the door safely closed behind her, she leaned against the wall, her head in her hands. The elated afterglow of sex evaporated, leaving her anxious and upset.

  She assured herself that the warm, safe feeling of completion she’d experienced just now was not love, but merely residual passion from an exceptionally intense bout of lovemaking. Sometimes the body was tricky like that. Her brain had misread the feeling. That was all. Because love, as she well knew, did not exist, and it was a dreadful mistake to place one’s hope, faith, and trust in a man—even a man as seemingly kind and thoughtful as Christopher Whitby.

  No. The amorous game she was playing had suddenly gotten far too complicated. It was time to end this affair, to return to London and release her little fish back into the stream. With his new sexual confidence and the air of authority he now wore like a mantle, Chris would be sure to attract the right fisherwoman, who’d land him and his title for her daughter. That was as it should be. There was no future for him with Meredith. A long-term affair wasn’t possible, and a marriage? Out of the question. Not only had she forsworn to ever again enter that estate, but a widow with a tarnished reputation was not an appropriate match for a young man of good family. It would be far better for Christopher to settle down with a proper young lady, who could run his household and bear him children while he pursued his botanical studies.

  Her heart clenched at the familial picture she’d painted. What kind of father would Chris be? Perhaps a little distracted by academia, but patient, loving and eager to teach his children. Meredith hated the woman in her vision for having what she could not.

  She imagined her own future: shallow dalliances and coolly planned business deals. Neither prospect amused or interested her any longer.

  “Meredith? Are you coming back?” Chris’s voice floated from the other room, half teasing and half concerned.

  “I’ll be right there.” She quickly relieved herself and washed up. She paused to face her reflection in the mirror before returning to the bedroom. Her hair tumbled wildly around her face and her eyes were huge and dark.

  “You will not be selfish and use this man any longer,” she said. “You will do what’s right and set him free just as he has done for you tonight.”

  Pushing her hair back, she turned and strode into the bedroom. She paused in the dressing room doorway and smiled at the man lying in her bed. “Darling, let’s talk about London. I think it’s really past time we returned home, don’t you?”

  Chapter Ten

  Chris held the pot of Oenothera in the crook of one arm, sheltering the pink blossoms from the jostling crowd. He should’ve taken a cab after leaving Aunt Alberta’s house.

  His mother had been aghast when he’d handed her into the carriage, then explained he had an errand to run and would see her at home later. “But you didn’t mention anything before. What’s so important that you can’t accompany me home first?”

  “Goodbye, Mother.” It had felt good to close the door on her never-ending complaints. He’d accompanied her on a social call to his great-aunt as requested, but now he was finished with family obligations and had more important things to do.

  Although he’d only been home for a few days, he already missed Meredith unbearably. He’d missed her from the moment they’d kissed goodbye and he’d climbed into the carriage heading back to the city, much against his will.

  He’d tried to get her to postpone their return to the city, citing the fact that their greenhouse project was only partially finished, but she’d resisted his pleas. The day after that amazing night when she’d allowed him to tie her up, Meredith had practically thrown him out of her house. She’d had her servants pack his bags and load them on the waiting carriage.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’ve lingered in the country too long. I have business affairs to see to in London.” Her voice was breezy and her smile distant. “I can’t play house with you any longer. It’s time we both returned to our real lives.”

  Her words had cut like knife blades, but Chris knew she didn’t really mean them. The brittle façade she presented to the world wasn’t the real Meredith. He knew her better than that now.

  And he knew she loved him, whether she would admit to it or not.

  She must. No one could put on such an act. He’d felt her love in every caress and kiss. He’d seen it shining in her eyes and in the small smile that trembled at the corners of her mouth. Women having casual affairs didn’t behave the way she had with him. Did they?

  • • •

  Meredith’s London home was only a few streets away from his parents’ house. Knowing she was there made it nearly impossible to keep away. But he’d taken what she’d said to heart and given her a week to see her friends and catch up on her business affairs. He didn’t want to be smothering, especially when he felt his hold on her was so fragile. He couldn’t force her to want him as much as he wanted her, but he believed if he was careful and patient with her he could get her to trust him. She was rather like a wild bird that must be cajoled into alighting on an outstretched hand.

  However, today he’d decided he couldn’t stay apart from her any longer. Memories of her soft, raven hair, her misty gray eyes and delicate, pale skin sliding over his own had him in a state of perpetual arousal. He missed her voice, her laugh, her caustic remarks. And, oh God, how he missed her mouth, the petal smooth lips and warm wetness as she kissed him or engulfed his shaft. Damn it! He held the potted plant lower to hide the burgeoning erection filling the front of his breeches.

  A gust of wind blew down the street, swirling dust, soot and trash in a small whirlwind that buffeted the passers-by. Chris turned his body to shield the delicate plant from the cold breeze. He really should’ve taken a cab after stopping at the florist shop, for the plant’s sake if not his own, but he’d felt so buoyant and energized he’d wanted to walk the five blocks to Meredith’s home on St. Augustine.

  The crowd of people thinned as he turned a corner and entered a residential neighborhood of tall white homes protected by ornate wrought-iron fences. The streets were as impeccable as the homes. No grit or trash here where street sweepers were employed to keep the wealthy from being subjected to the city’s filth.

  At last Chris found the address for which he’d been searching. Her house looked like every other in the row of imposing buildings. There was none of the character of her country estate, and for a moment he froze with his hand on the doorbell, wondering if he’d made a mistake. The woman he’d come to know and love in the country might be a different person from the woman who lived in this stately home. It seemed impossible that she’d be the same. Maybe he should have sent a note first to announce his visit.

  Another errant breeze blew past, nearly lifting his hat from his head. He glanced at the flowering plant in his arms, chosen for the color, which so reminded him of Meredith. The blossoms were the same rosy-peach as her delectable labia and with a similar plumpness. He thought she would see the symbolism and be amused by it.

  Chris smiled. Of course she would welcome him! She hadn’t completely ended their relationship when they parted, merely told him she wanted time alone to think and he should do the same. Well, he had thought. A lot. Always of her. And he knew she was exactly what he wanted—who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with in whatever capacity that might be, as a wife or a lover.

  He was prepared to tell her that today, to proclaim his love again but expla
in that he wouldn’t demand she marry him since her individuality was so important to her. Of course, it would be wonderful if she trusted him with the gift of herself, as she’d done the night she’d allowed him to tie her to the bed. But if she could only accept him as a long-term lover, he’d be content with that.

  Twisting the doorbell, he listened to the ring sound inside the house. A few moments later, a black-coated butler with a stiff white collar opened the front door. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Hello. I’m here to see la Comtesse de Chevalier.”

  “Madame is with another guest at the moment.” The man’s face was impassive.

  “I’ll wait. She’ll want to see me. Tell her Christopher Whitby has come to call.”

  There was a flicker of expression across the butler’s face before he stepped back to let him inside. “Very well, sir. If you would wait in the parlor, I’ll announce you to madame when there is an opportunity.”

  The plant in his arms was unwieldy. Chris wished he’d purchased something smaller and more standard like a bouquet, but he’d imagined this evening primrose planted near the bench in the conservatory where it would fill the shaded area under the trees. It had looked so perfect there in his imagination that he just had to have it. He hoped Meredith would love it, too.

  The butler took his hat and topcoat and showed him to the parlor, which was as stiff and formal as that in any other London town house. It didn’t seem to reflect Meredith at all. Chris set the plant on the floor and sat on the edge of the hard, horsehair sofa to wait. He glanced around at the numerous paintings on the damask-covered walls, the gilt trim around the ornate mirror over the fireplace mantel, the objects d’art lining the mantel, the little tables also scattered with trinkets and the furniture built for decoration more than comfort. This room was definitely not the product of “his” informal and relaxed Meredith. Perhaps this was the mask she put on for society, keeping her true nature hidden.