A Riding Crop for Two (4 page)

After dropping the
sponge in the water, she soaped his hair. Her fingers massaged his scalp in a
way he wanted her to massage his cock. He leaned his head back and sighed. No
one had ever done this for him before, besides servants. The intimacy was
entirely new and welcome. The fact she handed her trust to him—humbled him. Trust
did travel both ways. He brought a strange woman to his residence. He never
brought anyone to his private place. She could have robbed him blind and lit
out in the night like a sneak thief or could have murdered him in his bed.
Liv
was none of those things. He never trusted anyone, but
he trusted her. With everything he had.

She stood and brought
back the pitcher from the counter. Dipping it in the water, she filled it, and
then rinsed his hair, running her fingers through it as she slowly cleaned the
soap away. The warmth of the water and her compelling touch relaxed him into
serene fulfillment.

Liv
set the empty pitcher on the floor, walked back to
the counter and busied herself. He watched her every move. She glided back
toward him carrying a tray. She pushed over the small tub-high table closer to
him with her foot.
Liv
smiled and set the tray down.
The peignoir fluttered to the floor. She stood, naked and dazzling. Her long,
wavy, golden-honey hair hung to her waist. Her hardened nipples poked through
her hair as if asking for attention. She stepped into the tub and straddled
him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. He silently thanked
providence for ordering the extra-large bathtub.

She reached for the
shaving brush and soap cup. Swishing the brush in the water, she began to
lather his face.

God, could his prick
harden any further? A dollop of soap dripped onto his lip.
Liv
reached out with her finger and swirled it away. Her finger lingered, roving
over his lips. His insides twisted in desire, and a husky moan poured from him.

She passed him the
straight razor, and then held a round mirror before him.

“You do not want to
shave me, then?”

“I do not know how. You
would trust me with a razor?” she teased.

He captured her gaze. “I
trust you with my very soul.”

Damned thing of it
was—he did.
Completely and fully.
Admitting this to
himself stunned him afresh.

Her face softened, her
plump lower lip trembled with emotion.
“Oh, Gideon.”

Silence filled the
bathroom. The scraping of the razor over his heavy whiskers and the occasional
splash of water were the only sounds in the room.

He laid the razor on the
tray and sponged off the excess soap. He reached for the mirror from her grip
and laid it next to the razor.

“Do you know how
astoundingly handsome you are?” she said, admiration in her tone.

She reached out and
caressed his freshly shaved cheek.

“Do you know how
intoxicating your touch is,
Liv
? Do you know how much
I want you—again?”

Liv
glanced downward. His prominent erection poked
upright through the water.

“I have an idea,” she
laughed softly.

“Sit here, ride me.”

“Truly?
What about the sheaths?”

“I need to feel all of
you, with no encumbrance. I promise I will not come inside you. I will lift you
off before I do. Here.”

She nodded and rose up
on her knees. Gideon clasped his cock and held it outward. Grasping his
shoulders, she lowered herself until all of him was enclosed in her swollen
wetness.

Laying his hands on her
hips, he moved her back and forth in a rocking motion. God, his heart banged
against his ribcage. A hot stab of emotion nearly cleaved him in two as neatly
as a sword slice.

“Oh! Oh, yes.”

“Yes,” he replied.

He moved her hips faster
while lifting his own, thrusting deep. He leaned in and suckled on her breast
while not hesitating in his movements.
Liv
cried out
her release, and her nails scored his shoulders, the slight pain exquisite. His
bollocks tightened, so he lifted her off his cock just as his climax slammed
him.
His cum shot across her stomach and into the bath water.
The emotions involved in what he shared with her threatened to drown him.

Liv
cupped his cheeks and kissed him fiercely as his body
jerked with his release. She pulled back.

“Tell me, what do you
want, right this minute?”

“You will think that I
live up to my reputation. I will shock you.”

“Please. I need to know.
Never hold back with me, Gideon,” she said.

“Very well.
On your hands and knees on the bed, your wrists bound
behind you, with me pounding into your wet, swollen
quim
.
I am holding the riding crop, slapping it across your luscious
arse
with each thrust of my cock.
Hard
enough to titillate, never to hurt you.
You must know I will never hurt
you. Tell me you know that.”

****

Olivia did know it.
Intuitively and instinctively.
She told him so. After they
had dried themselves off, she let Gideon lead her to the bed. His gentleness in
binding her wrists with a silk cord, explaining everything he would do, and
encouraging her to speak out if anything made her uncomfortable lessened her
slight trepidation for the unknown. She glanced behind her. There he was on his
knees, proudly erect and holding the crop. She could tell he did revel in
having control. So did
she
. The fact they were willing
to share this control touched her deeply.

His fingers trailed through
her slit. His husky moans sent shivers of lustful anticipation down the valley
of her spine. His hand caressed her rear. He plunged his sheathed cock into her
quim
, seizing the breath from her body. With one hand
gripping the silk cords, he thrust deep, slapping her ass with the crop with
every slide. The slight sting sent a sizzling thrill through her. Good heavens,
she liked this. The utter astonishment that she was willing to try anything
stunned her anew. Gideon unlocked something primitive deep inside. From the
first time she had observed him lying on the settee at The Riding Crop, his
shirt undone and his feet bare, propped up on one elbow, she had been intrigued
and utterly smitten.

There was still so much
to find out about this complicated man. The crop hit her buttocks with a
decided snap. She moaned, long and loud. She barked orders—demanding he fuck
her.
Faster, harder, deeper.
What woman was this? She
did not recognize herself. Gideon answered her in equally graphic words. His
hips pumped furiously. The room was rife with their grunts and groans, the snap
of the crop, and the musky scent of sex.

The orgasm nearly caused
her to black out it roared with such intensity. Purple and red colors mixed and
swam in her vision. Gideon’s release followed hers. After he finished quaking,
they both collapsed on the bed, exhausted and sated. He gently removed the silk
cord from her wrists.

They lay in each other
arms, naked, sweating, and breathing raggedly. Olivia felt as if she had been
reborn. Overstated no doubt, but Gideon had introduced her to such an erotic,
sensual and very private world where only the two of them resided. Nothing else
mattered. The past forgotten. Gideon stroked her arm.

“My sweet, I will have
to leave you again. I hope it is only for one night. I must travel southeast to
Canterbury
. I
must see my father at once.”

“Your father?
I just assumed, I mean, you are a viscount...”

“Ah. Viscount
Cravenbrook
is one of many titles my family possesses. My
father is alive and well. He is the Duke of
Whitstone
.
Our country seat is in
Whitstable
near the east
coast.
A rather imperious manor overlooking the
North Sea
.”

Dear God! He was an heir
to a dukedom? If he lingered beyond her reach before, now it seemed an
impossibly wide chasm opened up between them.

“You are the eldest
son?”

“I am the only son.
Only child, really.”

Olivia sat up. “This is
madness. You will be a duke one day.”

Gideon curved his arm
behind his head. “What of it?”

“You inform your father
of your mistresses? Should I check the bedpost for notches?” Her voice rose in
indignation, but she did not care.

He reached out with his
free arm and clutched her hand tight. “I have never taken a mistress. All my
assignations were whores and willing widows. One-night tumbles. I told you this.
I have never brought anyone back here to my private sanctuary. Not until you.”
Gideon raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I do not tell my father my
business, but I will be telling him about you. I am falling for you,
Liv
.
Quite hard, in fact.
You will
be in my life, and my father will be told about it.”

She lay back next to
him. Words would not come. What could she say? A duke! This whole situation
just became infinitely more difficult.

Chapter Four

Gideon settled into his
first class coach, his overnight bag placed at his feet by the porter. The
whistle blew, and the train lurched forward, expelling a burst of steam. The
trip to
Whitstone
Manor would take less than two
hours, enough time to gather his thoughts.

He had not faced his
father in some months. The prospect did not appeal. The man stood at nearly six
and half feet in height, and Gideon always felt small in his presence. The four
inches or so difference in stature did not constitute the whole reason. His
father was a cold, authoritative man, dismissive and indifferent, and had been
as far back as Gideon could remember. After all, he learned it from somewhere.
His father’s eyes could freeze you where you stood with their piercing ice-blue
gaze. He would look down his long, hawk nose and purse his thin lips and spew
his long list of the ways Gideon had disappointed him.

Why face him now? What
he did not mention to
Liv
—but he would to his
father—was he wanted to marry her. Right away or as soon as such arrangements
could be made. His father no longer frightened him. That ended when he turned
sixteen and stood up to him for the first time.

Until then, when home
visiting from school, he endured the verbal abuse and the occasional slap
across the face or caning when he dared to talk back. He had no mother to
protect him or show him what love would be. She had died when he was seven. So
he looked to his father for comfort and affection and found none. He would find
none today. What did it matter? He had
Liv
.

Gideon sat back in his
seat and closed his eyes. Last night exceeded his expectations. The experience
so deeply intimate it stilled his heart. Yes, he had not known her long, but he
knew enough. The woman had unlocked his heart and let warmth and affection
flood in for the first time in his lonely life. The fact they shared a healthy
passion and interest in sensual adventures made the prospect of marriage
satisfying indeed. If last night was any indication, there were many more
exciting explorations to be had. The memory of their carnal journey caused a
knowing smile to curve about his lips.

The impossible had
happened. He had fallen completely and profoundly in love.
In
one night.
In a brothel.
There was a certain
irony to be sure. Where else would the wicked, sinful Lord Craven fall headlong
into a smoldering cauldron of emotion?
Blissful, blinding
insanity.
He wondered if he were obsessed rather than in love. Entirely
possible, but seeing no one had ever stirred these feelings in him before, he
recognized the love and welcomed it.

He soon drifted off to a
peaceful sleep.

****

Gideon waited in the
library as if he were a guest. He paced about the room, and then took a seat in
the leather wingchair facing the large, oak desk. The room was stark and cold
with few furnishings or decorative items, a good fit for his father.

The door opened at last
and his father strode in, removing his gloves. Ah, he had been out riding, the
crop still tucked under his arm and his tall boots splashed with mud. The man
looked no older, a few more wrinkles perhaps. The severe lines carved around
his mouth were a little deeper. He still had the broad-shouldered but lithe
look of his younger years.

“What do I owe this
pleasure,
Cravenbrook
?”

Such a warm
greeting.
Gideon expected
no less. The duke walked to the sideboard, threw his gloves and crop down and
poured himself a brandy. He did not offer Gideon anything.