Eternally Seduced: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set

by Marian Tee

  They would know that the duke was bent on seducing her, and she was letting him.

  Professor Byron frowned. “Are you all right?” He reached out to touch her forehead for Mary suddenly appeared flushed.

  Rathe’s face became cold when he saw the other man about to touch Mary. He swiftly deflected the other man's hand by cupping Mary’s chin, his arm presenting a physical barrier. He made Mary look at her, and he pretended not to notice the stormy emotions in her gaze. It was clear that she desired him, hated him, and wanted to kill him at the same time.

  “You do look a bit feverish, Mary,” he drawled.

  She glared at him, getting ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could do so, Mary felt Rathe’s fingers moving again, this time pushing her lace panties to the side so he could touch her actual flesh. The slickness of his touch, the wetness of her folds, and oh God, the beauty and heat of that simple contact shocked her into silence.

  “Are you sick, Mary?” he pressed.

  Mary bit her lip hard. The darn man wanted her to speak now? Conscious of how the professor was still frowning, she choked out, “No. Just…”

  “Overly hot?” Rathe inquired innocently as he played with her folds while moving his thumb up so he could reach her tiny nub of pleasure.

  She answered with a gasp, “Yes.”

  Looking at her flushed face, there was only one way to describe the expression on it and Professor Byron finally understood why she looked like she was looking now. He had the strongest desire to look under the table and see with his own eyes that what he suspected was happening. But he could not because he was the damn professor, and he would not because it would mean that he knew he had been defeated.

  “You do look unwell,” he said tightly. “I believe I must take you back to the dorm---”

  “No need,” Rathe interrupted coolly. If the man thought Rathe was going to allow Mary to be in his company at this point, the man was bloody insane. “I can take her home.” He slowly withdrew his fingers and her panties moved back in place, its gartered edges making a loud snap.

  The professor stiffened. Mary bit back a whimper. Rathe didn’t move or say anything, but the gleam in his eyes spoke volumes.

  He took his time wiping his fingers dry with his handkerchief, Mary wanting to cry in embarrassment and need as he did while the professor could not take his gaze away from the sight even though his whole being was filled with absolute rage.

  His lamb was being led away from the slaughter – the slaughter he, Professor Byron, had intended to lovingly and magnanimously instruct Mary Ashton about – but it wasn’t into safety she was being taken to. Rather, it was worse, a move that was the same as leaping from the frying pan and into the fire.

  “Are you absolutely sure you will be safe with this man, Ms. Ashton?” He couldn’t help trying one last time, the way his dick was protesting inside his pants making him say the words as Rathe helped her out of the seat.

  Mary got to her feet, her legs still shaking under her. She looked at the professor and he wasn’t as gentle as he used to look anymore. Now, he simply looked pissed off, like a devious hunter cheated of his prey.

  Rathe wrapped his arm around her waist, both an anchor and a chain. It kept her grounded, but it kept her locked to his side, too. She didn’t want to be this close to him, but right now she couldn’t figure out how to get away, with the way her body was trembling so badly just because of his proximity.

  “Answer him, little pearl.”

  Her head went up, the words of endearment shocking her. When their eyes met, she was even more surprised at the look on his face, like he was stunned by his own words, too. She heard herself saying, “I’m safe.”

  Rathe did not let her or the professor speak any more after that. With a curt nod at the other man, he turned around to leave, taking Mary with him. They didn’t speak as Rathe led the way out. It was obvious he was itching to leave but was forcing himself to accommodate her slower pace as she hobbled with her crutches.

  “W-why are you in a hurry?” His obvious impatience was getting to her, making Mary stammer. Was she being a nuisance to him? Her twisted ankle, according to the school nurse, would take three more days to heal.

  “Be thankful I’m hurrying,” he bit out without looking at her. “It means I’m still managing to control myself and not take you in the nearest corner I can hide you in.”

  She gasped, unable to believe that he really did mean what he said. He was the Duke of Flanders. He wasn’t supposed to be this…this uncivilized. And how depraved she was, Mary thought with a sick feeling in her stomach. She should be aghast and disgusted by his primitive side, but instead she was even more sensitive and wetter now, her body reacting to his words.

  They reached his car, which stunned her somewhat because it was not a limousine but rather a conservative looking Rolls Royce. The chauffeur was also not like Bob, Staffan’s man, who was the only other billionaire’s chauffeur she knew. Although Rathe’s driver was just as imposing in his build, he was also more distinguished looking than the rock star’s right-hand man, with his silvery hair and crinkling eyes.

  He tipped his hat to her in greeting before looking at Rathe. “Where to, Your Grace?”

  Mary heard Rathe instructing the driver to take them to her university and then she was being ushered in, her crutches stowed away in the trunk. She shivered at the almost icy blast of the car’s air-conditioning, but the coldness was instantly swept away when Rathe pulled her towards him without warning the moment the door closed behind them.

  And then he was kissing her.

  It was a rough and sensual kiss, a no-holds-barred and take-no-prisoners kind of kiss. It left her breathless and panting for more, her hands moving up on his chest before settling on his shoulders so she could cling to him as her body fell against his hardness.

  His kiss was relentless in its passion and carnality, making Mary emit the most embarrassingly raw sounds. She couldn’t believe it really was her, panting so loudly, like a wordless plea for him to never stop kissing her.

  “You taste so beautifully sweet.” His voice was harsh and ragged at the same time, and then he was kissing her again, like he couldn’t help it.

  She wanted to answer him, wanted to tell him his mouth tasted like forbidden fruit. This was wrong. She couldn’t explain why right now – her mind had stopped working ages ago – but she just knew it was.

  Mary felt his hands moving, shaping her curves almost reverently, and the way he touched her made Mary writhe and move closer to him. She moaned against his lips when her body pressed fully against his, her breasts flattening against his chest even as her nipples puckered into life.

  He groaned. She moaned. They kissed.

  His hands moved again, this time inwards, towards her straining breasts. And then he was cupping them, and it felt so agonizingly right Mary let go of the last of her worries and inhibitions. Did the driver know what was happening behind his back? Could people outside see through the windows? The answers to the questions didn’t matter. All that was important was that she was able to have more of his kisses, of his touch, of his passion.

  When he finally let go of her mouth, it was to kiss his way down to her neck, sucking hungrily but stopping before he could leave a mark on her swan-like neck. “Mary,” he growled as he moved back up, licking her ear.

  She shuddered and clung to him harder. “Please, please.” She didn’t know what she was begging him for, the way his tongue was moving against her ear making Mary even more vulnerable to her own desires.

  “Say my name,” he urged her.

  “Rathe.”

  She had moaned it out so beautifully he nearly came at just the sound of it. His need for her was impossible and undeniable in its strength but he fought to conquer it, not wanting to let his desires control him because that wasn’t part of the bloody plan. Mary was going to be a part of his life. That was no longer in question. But he was damned if he was going to let Mary be h
is life.

  With an effort that nearly cost him, Rathe managed to rein in his desires and he refocused on giving Mary what she wanted, what she was silently and unconsciously begging him for.

  He pushed her down on the seat, knowing that his long-time driver, Arthur, would never deign to look at them. But even so, he sought to shield her from the other man’s gaze, arranging for her to lie on the side while he lay in front of her, making sure that all the driver would see was his back.

  Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him, and they widened even more, her lips parting in obvious surprise as she felt him pulling the high but loose neckline of her dress down until her lace-covered breasts popped free.

  Her underwear was simple but sexy. A shy and conservative girl Mary was, but her choice of lingerie revealed her true passionate nature. It was sexy as hell, knowing that he was likely the only man to be aware of her secret.

  And it was a secret he intended to keep to himself for as long as he needed.

  Mary squirmed, biting her lip again to prevent herself from crying out with pleasure when she felt his fingers pulling the cups of her bra down. Her breasts spilled out and she could feel herself blushing all over. “They’re too big,” she whispered in shameful apology.

  “I know,” he growled as he cupped them again, possessively. “And I’m bloody thankful for it.” He suited actions to words right after, bending down to plump one breast and feed its tip to his mouth. Her rosy nipple tasted as good as it looked, and the way she shuddered and clung to him made it even sweeter. He sucked harder and harder, and soon she was straining against him, pushing her nipple further into his mouth.

  Just a few more minutes and they would reach her place, and knowing this, he was unable to prolong his foreplay like he wanted to. Rathe needed her to experience the pleasure he could give her now, needed to make sure she understood completely that kind of pleasure was only something she could feel with him.

  As he moved to suckle her other breast, he used his other hand to caress its way down her folds, his palm skimming her skin before his fingers pulled her panties away from her skin and tore it apart.

  She gasped and then she gasped again, her head falling back as he bit her nipple the same time he drove one finger inside her.

  “Rathe!”

  He responded by sucking on her nipple again, moving his finger inside her with strokes chosen to tantalize her and bring Mary closer to her orgasm.

  “Rathe.” She was sobbing the word out.

  She was close, so bloody close, and it was making him feel like he was about to bloody come in his pants as well. He thrust his finger into her faster and harder, and she sobbed out his name again, chanting it over and over.

  It was the poem coming true, and when he ground his thumb against her clit the same time he thrust his finger back inside her, she shattered all around him, his name still a sobbed out chant coming from her lips.

  Mary couldn’t even open her eyes as she felt Rathe wiping her dry and, after, arranging her clothes before settling her on his lap. His heart beat hard against her chest, but its rhythm to her ears was mysterious, its lyrics unfathomable for now.

  She couldn’t believe she had given herself just like that to him. She should even be thankful that he had not cared to take her virginity in the backseat of his car and turn her into a cliché. Because if he had wanted to do so, she would have let him.

  She wanted it – him – that much and it was terrifying, like her stepfather’s words about her wanton soul becoming true.

  Mary closed her eyes, fingers curling against his shirt.

  “What is it, little pearl?” Again, the words came out unbidden but this time he decided to let it be. He didn’t know where the words came from. All he knew that in his eyes, she was his little pearl, one to be nurtured and cherished.

  Mary shook her head.

  He stroked her back. “Tell me.”

  Again, it was a command and an invitation that she couldn’t resist. “Why,” she whispered shakily, “are you everywhere?”

  The silence that followed was so long and deep Mary was startled when he answered her just as the car slowed down in front of the entrance of her dorm.

  His voice grim, Rathe answered, “Because right now, I find myself nowhere without you.”

  She jerked in his lap at his words, and she looked up at him quickly, her gaze both troubled and questioning as she sought his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  He did not hesitate to respond, answering in a quiet hard voice, “I want you to be my mistress.”

  Chapter Five

  A mistress is not a wife. And thank fuck she is not, for we would not enjoy our lover’s faithfulness and wickedness in bed if she was so.

  A mistress is the source of evil as spoken in the sixth commandment as well as being the result of the ninth.

  Mary frowned hard at the research she had so far come up with about mistresses. Half of the Internet seemed to think of it as a glamorous job while the other half considered those guilty of it deserving the death penalty.

  A knock sounded on the door, followed by the rattling of her doorknob outside. She shook her head, knowing that Camille was going to sleep over again, too drunk to find the keys to her room.

  She grabbed her crutches and limped her way to the door. As Mary unlocked it, a powerful shove thrust the door wide open, and the force of it threw her back, causing her to fall down. She heard the door slam close, and a second later, the telltale clicking sound of the door being locked reached her ears.

  Mary looked up.

  She started to scream, but it was too late. Bartholomew was on top of her in a second, making her gasp in pain as his full weight crushed her body under his. She tried to struggle and get away, but he had always been fast and underhanded and now, he reacted calmly to her struggles, pressing his wet hand tighter against her mouth the same time he moved his leg.

  He grinned down at her just before kicking her injured ankle.

  She screamed against his hand.

  “Shut up, girl, or I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  The look in his bloodshot eyes was different. That he was drunk wasn’t new to her, but there was something unusual – something more terrifyingly crazy about him right now that Mary knew her only way to survive this was to keep quiet and figure out a way to outsmart him.

  “I can feel you thinking, you slut. You won’t escape me now,” he snarled. “Did you think you’ll get away with your wantonly desires? Did you really think I would let you sin and dirty your body before marriage?” Bartholomew laughed at the confusion in his stepdaughter’s eyes.

  “I know you have a man who wants to fuck you, and I know you want him to fuck you, too.” He laughed maniacally. “Rathe Wellesley. That’s his name, right?”

  She shook her head frantically.

  He slapped her hard, enough for her face to hit the floor. “Your body is not to be violated by your filthy mind and hands.” His eyes glittered with repugnant desire as they roamed her body, Bartholomew licking his lips as he did.

  It sickened her, every second she laid helpless under him. Her childhood fears came back like a torrid, lava-hot flood, the memories of the many beatings she had suffered to keep herself and her mom safe suffocating her.

  Once she had managed to report him to the authorities, and Bartholomew had used his job as a man of God to turn their heads around and made it seem that as a former prostitute’s daughter, she was only rebelling and making up stories as a cry of attention.

  When they had come home that night, he had not beaten her. Instead, he had raped Mary’s mother in front of her. Next time she said the wrong thing, Bartholomew had warned her, it would be murder.

  “If you scream, I’ll find a way to stop you from attending college. You know I can do it, don’t you?”

  She nodded, once, sick to her stomach because she really did know it was true.

  He let go of her mouth.

  She tried not to let her voice shak
e as she whispered, “W-why are you here?”

  His smile was kind, and that scared her more. “To do you a favor.”

  Somehow, she had a feeling she would rather be punished than be favored by her stepfather. “W-what do you mean?”

  Bartholomew shoved his fingers into her hair, gripping it tightly. “I know you’re thinking of letting that other man take your virginity.”

  “No, I---”

  He used her hair to control her head and bang it against the floor, hard enough to knock the breath out of her and make the room spin.

  “It’s not going to happen. I’m your beloved stepfather and I will not let you sin like that. If it must come to this, and I fear it has, then I shall sin for you.”

  Dazed and in pain, it took her more than a few moments to understand what he was planning.

  He would sin for her.

  He would take her virginity for her sake.

  Bartholomew laughed the moment the realization hit her. And then he began punching her, again and again and again so that she would not have the strength to fight back once his penis made its way to her sinful pussy and clean its taint with his pure come.

  ****

  “Turn the car around, Arthur,” Rathe said not five minutes after he had walked Mary to her room, giving the resident head a hundred-dollar bribe to have her look the other way. It was way past curfew for visitors, but he was not the kind of man to simply leave a girl on her front door and not make sure she had gotten in safely.

  Attuned to his master’s moods, having looked after him since he was a babe, Arthur asked, “Is something amiss, Your Grace?” But he was already turning the car around, knowing Rathe was unlikely to change his mind.

  It took moments before Rathe answered. “Get Slater on standby.”

  Arthur’s face took on a somber cast at the name Rathe gave him. He made the call even as he thought furiously of what could be so terribly wrong that his master needed the urgent aid of the ex-Marine. Perhaps it was the man lurking in the shadows outside the young girl’s dorm? He had thought it strange and had scared the man away by playing with the car’s lights, training it on his location. Perhaps it had worked too well, forcing the man to enter the dorm.