A Measured Risk (20 page)

She moaned in frustration at the brevity of the contact. “I didn’t… Heavens, I didn’t think of you like that…” He licked her nub again and she gasped. “Certainly not like
this
, back then.”

“Little liar. You can lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me. Before all is said and done, we’re going to have some truth between us.”

“What truth do you imagine that to be?”

“That you wanted me to claim you”—he cupped her mons and lips—“this part of you, as my own.”

Her heart raced beneath her breast. God, she could never admit such thing. Even if it were true. Which it wasn’t—surely it wasn’t. She’d been attracted to him for the strength of his character. That innate raw power and vitality that emanated from him. She’d wanted to learn how she could acquire such strength for herself.

It had been only her treacherous body, reacting to his
,
out of natural drives. She, Anne—the person aside from the weakness of her flesh—did
not
want to be owned.

His lips touched her stomach and she quivered all over. “Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon—very soon—you’re going to cede ownership of this precious part of yourself to me. You’re going to tell me exactly what I want to hear and you’re going to do it of your own free will.”

She began to fear that the stakes here were higher than mere temporary games between lovers. Her throat went dry and her heart gave a little string of erratic beats. But his mouth touched her again, closing over her aching, intimate flesh
,
alternately sucking and flicking and circling with his tongue. And every other thought fled from her mind except the pleasure he gave her. Good lord, he was a virtuoso. He brought her right up to the edge of golden, shimmering orgasmic perfection.

Then he stopped.

“Jon
.
” She moaned his name and twisted in the bonds.

His mouth closed on her again, slowly building her back up, pushing her higher this time. And when he stopped, the crash was all the more devastating.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked in panting tones.

“Because it’s my will. My whim. I told you I’d treat you like a plaything.”

Pure desire pulsed through her cunt at his words. Logically, she still didn’t understand her own reactions
,
but that didn’t seem to matter. She was helpless to do anything but feel.

He inserted two fingers into her depths and her hips danced furiously. She had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out.

“See, already your cunt recognises its owner. It remains only for you to admit it.”

He moved up level with her, the fine hairs on his body brushing along her stomach. He kissed her deeply, slowly, forcing her to taste herself on his lips and tongue. The intimacy shocked her, seared her.

He ran his hand over her breast, slowing as he grazed her hardened nipple.

“Your skin glows like amber in the firelight
.
You must surely know I am quite taken with it.” He pressed a trail of kisses over her breasts. “But not half as taken with that as I am with the idea that every inch should belong to me.”

He took her hand and wrapped it around something—a soft braid.

“This is silk rope, the most expensive I could find in Paris.”

She caught her breath and her heart beat a fierce tattoo. Cunt clenching, savage hunger set her trembling.

“I have been saving it for someone worthy.” He looped the rope loosely around her arm several times and slid it up and down on her skin. The texture was velvety, refined, like a caress.

“What colour is it?” she asked, needing to know for some reason she didn’t even understand.

“I had it dyed into your favourite colour.” Something serpentine dropped on the soft curve of her tummy. The thick coil of rope. There was so much. His hand gripped her hip. “I am going to wrap you in it.”

Fear shivered through her—the most delectable kind. She forced herself to think of something safer to her self-protection. “What is my favourite colour?”

“Deep, dark crimson.”

She could picture it now. God. She swallowed hard, her breath hitching with exhilaration. She tried to ignore it. “You really think you know me that well from merely observing me a few times?”

“I don’t know all about you, no. But I know that’s your favourite colour.” He lifted her, his hands caressing her as tenderly as if she’d been spun from glass. Slowly, deliberately, he wound the rope beneath her breasts, his hands brushing her now and then. He traced his finger along where her skin and the rope met, sliding in between as if testing the tightness. “And I know that the colour suits you best.”

He wrapped the rope twice above her breasts. The silk cord caressed the sides of her neck and he pulled her arms high over her head and looped them together much as he’d done earlier.

She struggled against the bonds and found herself quite thoroughly tied. A thrill chased through her. “Why must you do this, tying me up?”

His mouth encompassed a straining nipple and his tongue ran lazy circles around it. “You seemed to like it before.”

“It seems rather silly now. I don’t understand why you want it so much.”

“Haven’t you guessed, love? I am binding you to me.”

His words and the possibility of their truth frightened her. She was unable to keep herself from struggling against the bonds. All she managed to do was reinforce the initial helplessness and each tug and strain of the rope sent new thrills racing through her. Soon she was panting and her nipples were so erect they hurt.

She became aware of the time that had passed. Other than the occasional popping logs in the hearth, it was silent. Sudden panic seized her. “Jon?”

“I am right here, love. I would not leave you alone like this.”

“But what are you doing?”

“I am watching you.” He caressed her stomach. “You are so beautiful in your excitement.”

He touched her cunt, his fingers tracing through the wetness. All the pounding, painful arousal of earlier re-surged. Her hips arched upwards before she could stop them and she bit her lip to keep from pleading for him.

“Don’t be embarrassed by your reactions, they are beautiful. We shall be very honest with each other about our sexual feelings.” His thighs brushed the insides of hers and his hands slipped under her buttocks and lifted her hips.

He impaled her, suddenly, driving all the way inside. Discomfort flashed like lightning from her core up to her throat and down her legs to her feet
,
quickly followed by a stronger, longer
-
lasting blast of pleasure.

Oh God, Oh God.

She hadn’t expected him to—to…not without some kind of warning.

But it had been so exciting and now her heart pounded in the wake. His hands tightened on her hips and he held himself still for a moment. His breathing sounded heavy and hard in the quiet. He filled her, stretched her and consumed her
,
and her cunt clenched around him frantically, as if for fear he’d withdraw.

He did.

She cried out at the loss, fighting the bindings on her arms, wanting to pull him back. Her hips tried to lift, seeking him. He held them with ruthless firmness, forcing her to be still.

He drove in again, harder, faster this time. But there was no discomfort
,
only a brilliant starburst of sensation. His harsh groan sent sparks like gooseflesh over her skin and heated her blood.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said.

She moved to obey and he lifted her buttocks as she did. His cock sank even deeper, touching the very mouth of her womb. She gasped.

He touched her head. The silk blindfold fell away. Firelight and shadow accentuated the hard planes of his face and his bright blue eyes were like flames, piercing hers. Holding her transfixed. He moved slowly within her
,
pulling almost all the way out then inching all the way back in. Each jarring thrust against her depths filled her with the most delicious pleasure. Each time he withdrew, she couldn’t wait for him to plunge back in.
She heard her own voice, the tone pleading, the words incomprehensible above the rush of her heartbeat in her ears.

He said something, the sound harsh, like a groan. He began hammering in and out of her like a piston. His sweat poured onto her, his scent filled her senses. Her insides felt stretched to their very limits by his hugeness, his width, his length. There was soreness, yes, but such blissful soreness.

There was nothing for her but him.

It was too much and she closed her eyes
,
but it offered little protection. The fine hair on his body rasped hers as he moved on her, thrusting with increasing speed. His fingers touched her nub and she came undone, sensation pounding through her, mind-searing pleasure that blotted everything else out.

Except for him.

His cock still pounded into her, his pelvis grinding against her erect, straining nub. He buried his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her. Shocking her
,
then stilling her. A second, vicious release tore through her, her cunt rippling around his cock.

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.

In the aftermath, she lay, trying to catch her breath. Nothing was going to be the same after this, she was certain of it. She’d lost a piece of herself to him, and that’s how it would be. 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.

* * * *

The vehicle was placed behind the cottage. It had been waiting for her, waiting to terrorise her today. She hadn’t seen it when she’d arrived.

It was Anne’s 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 tones 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.