As You Wish (24 page)

“Good girl,” Ryan murmured. He caught her hand, pulling it over her head and pressing it against his chest. “Just your mouth, Princess.”

Her own need slicked her thighs. He always made sure she got her pleasure, but would he this time, when he had a room full of women twenty feet away? Or would part of her punishment be to go back to bed unsatisfied? She moaned at the thought of being sent to her room with this unbearable need ruling her body.

He gasped, squeezing her hand, and exploded in her mouth with a shudder and a muffled moan.

Patricia leaned back on her heels, gazing up at him. He was so beautiful. Even with his clothes rumpled from her assault and his dark eyes closed in the aftermath of pleasure. Her heart ached with love. He always knew what she needed. He wouldn’t abandon her now. Slowly, he moved, pulling himself together and righting his clothes. He crouched in front of her, taking her chin in his hand.

“What were you thinking, Princess?” he hissed. “What if we’d been caught? Did you stop to think how that might embarrass me?”

“I’m sorry, Master.” She tried breathing through her mouth, because she couldn’t seem to get enough air through her nose, and heard herself panting with want. The grip of his hand on her chin seethed through her body, the tension of his fingers and roughness of his skin.

“You should be sorry.” He stared at her for a long time.

Patricia shifted. Fear that this once he might decide to punish her by withholding himself licked at her. He studied her too intensely and for too long. She shifted her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“I don’t want to punish you, but now I have to. You accosted me, and you risked my being embarrassed. I can’t let you think that’s acceptable.” He stood.

Patricia clenched her fists against her thighs. She shivered. The small, dim room felt cold. Twenty-two women of her mother’s and grandmother’s generation. All pillars of society who would be shocked to find the last Whitmer on her knees in front of the gardener.

“Go to your room, take off your clothes, and kneel on your bed with your back to the door. I’ll come up when I’m ready.” He brushed her hair back, tilting her face up to his. “Keep your eyes on the wall, Princess. No looking around.”

Relief caused her to shudder. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding herself so stiffly.

Ryan opened the door and peered out. “Go now.”

Patricia jumped up and staggered because her legs had begun to fall asleep. She hurried up the stairs. At the top, she paused to see Ryan watching her. He raised one eyebrow. Her breath caught in her throat. She ran down the hall to prepare.

She spent more time debating whether to make the bed than she did undressing. She’d gone hunting Ryan with no real plan in mind for what to do when she caught him. The lack of plan had worked out just fine. Throwing the blankets back over the bed, she crawled into the middle to wait. He was probably talking to the caterers about answering the door. What kind of excuse had he come up with for why he wasn’t able to do it himself?

He promised he would come.

The rain beat against the window, blurring the view outside. While she’d been sick, the oaks had turned color. The reds and golds had melted into the black and gray shadows under the trees. If she stretched her neck, she could see a swatch of green grass. By leaning left, the corner of the wall around the secret garden came into view. Had it already been two weeks since he took her in the secret garden?

How long could it take him to get away today?

The air felt too hot, as if someone had turned up the heat in her room. It shouldn’t feel so warm. She imagined the cold fingers of rain hitting her window. The house was old and had mysterious drafts. There should be one from the direction of the door behind her.

He wasn’t planning to wait until the end of the tea, was he? Until everyone was gone and her aunt was taking her afternoon nap? That could take hours.

The door to the hall was behind her. Anyone walking through that door would see her naked, kneeling on the bed. They would see the damp curls between her legs. Anyone could walk in the room, bend her over, and take her. She flexed her fingers and tried to dry her palms on her thighs.

He would be angry if she moved. If she wasn’t waiting as he told her to be.

The door snicked shut behind her.

Patricia bit her lip, fighting the impulse to turn around. She hadn’t heard him walk in. What if it wasn’t him? She clenched her hands, tightening her jaw against a moan.

The person in the room said nothing, but she heard the soft sounds of clothing being removed. She pictured the hard planes of his chest covered in a thick tangle of black hair leading down to his heavy length.

The bed lowered behind her as he, or someone, climbed on. A hand ran down her spine to the cleft at the top of her buttocks. The tip of a finger dipped into the cleft before beginning the journey back up her spine. She reached back to touch him, but her hands were pushed forward. A moment later, a body pressed her. His hands guided hers to the headboard. He closed her fingers over the wooden edge with the unmistakable unspoken command to leave them there. Then he parted her hair over her shoulders and started placing sweet kisses along her spine. Her skin sparked with the featherlight touch of his lips. Every inch of her felt so very alive. She clutched the headboard as he reached the top of her buttocks again, and his questing tongue dipped into the cleft. Spikes of divine agony pierced her. His tongue swirled up her spine to the sensitive spot at the top of her neck. She bent her head to give him greater access, but he moved back, not touching her.

She waited. He wasn’t moving. Moans caught in her throat, trapped by the overwrought tension of her body, leaking out in desperate gasps.

He touched the bottom of her foot, stroking it with the tip of his finger. She jumped. Her toes curled tight until she thought her foot would cramp. Then he leaned over and kissed her arch. She moaned.

“Shhhhh,” he said. His breath whispered across her skin. He kissed each one of her toes. Turning, he picked up her foot. He massaged it with his large, strong hands until she relaxed.

Then he thrust his tongue between her toes.

Blinded by the unendurable pleasure of it, Patricia bucked, pulling at the headboard. Whimpering escaped her.

His lips wrapped around one toe.

Patricia slumped forward as the strange, delicious feeling swamped her. Behind her closed eyelids, flares of bliss arced. She pressed her face into her pillow to soak up the sound of her cries.

His mouth left her foot as he placed it back on the bed. He guided her up again with gentle strokes. Then his hands left her.

Patricia stiffened her arms to keep herself upright. Her body sobbed for him. Her cheeks were wet, but she didn’t recall shedding any tears. Downstairs, the clink of teacups and the chatter of voices continued. She couldn’t understand how this could be happening over their heads and they didn’t know. Her pleasure was so great that it should be flooding the house.

But his hands didn’t return.

She whimpered. He was still on the bed, directly behind her, not touching her and not speaking. Chewing her lip, she tried to guess what to do. He’d told her not to look around. He’d as good as told her not to take her hands off the headboard, which she doubted she could do right now anyway. He’d told her to be quiet. The sounds of loud sex would disrupt the tea party downstairs.

He hadn’t told her to be silent.

“Please,” she murmured. “Please say something, Master. Tell me what to do.”

Silence answered her.

Patricia screwed her eyes closed. She could envision him sitting behind her, grinning at her plight. Her body howled for him. Her skin tingled for wanting his touch. “Please touch me, Master.”

He caressed up her calves and thighs to her waist. He rose to kneel behind her, fitting his body to hers. His large hands splayed across her belly, pulling her tight to him. His length slipped between her legs, nudging between her nether lips but not inside her. She made a high-pitched breathless whimper. Her head spun. Behind her, his hard chest pressed into her back, and his uneven breath feathered on her shoulder.

“Oh please,” she moaned. With her hands clutching the headboard and her elbows locked, she couldn’t move. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. “I want—please. Master, please.”

“Tell me, Princess,” he whispered. He kissed her shoulder. “You have to tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me.” She licked her dry lips with her dry tongue. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Dirty words, Princess.” He pressed his cool lips to her hot skin. “You know I like to hear the dirty words.”

Patricia mewled. Her heart pounded so hard her whole body shook with it. She opened her mouth, hoping the word would just come out. She could hear it in her mind. She could almost make her teeth and lips form it, but it wouldn’t come. She shifted her hips against him, rubbing his thick cock deeper between her lips.

“It kills you, doesn’t it?” he murmured, a detectable strain in his voice. “You can’t make your pretty upper-class mouth say what you need. Or do you not need it, Princess?”

“I do. I want you.” She sobbed.

“But if you don’t say it, I don’t know that.” He kissed the back of her neck. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, avoiding her hard nipples, which were almost crying out for his fingers. “You’ve already serviced me once today. I could just make you do it again, and I’d be perfectly happy.”

“No. Please, no.”

“Then say it, Princess,” he growled.

“Fuck me.” She tensed, expecting him to thrust into her hard. Instead, for an eternity, nothing happened. Then he pushed in slowly, filling her. He pulled out again just as slowly, working her with long, maddening strokes. “Ryan, please,” she moaned.

He chuckled low in his throat. “See what happens when you take the edge off me? Is it driving you crazy, Princess? Does it make you want to scream? Do you know how hot you are?” He pried one of her hands off the headboard and guided it between her legs. With his fingers behind hers, he worked across the hard knot of her desire as he moved in and out of her. A cascade of rapture spilled through her.

“Ryan!”

He fumbled, trying to clap his hand over her mouth, but missed.

Patricia collapsed on the bed, awash with contentment. Distantly, she heard someone else shouting Ryan’s name.

Chapter Sixteen

She heard Ryan in the hall. “I’m checking on Miss Patricia, Miss Beatrice.”

Patricia opened her eyes to see Ryan pulling on his clothes. “You’re leaving?” she whimpered. She wanted to be held. She felt cold and alone now.

“I’ll be back. I have to come up with a story for why you were screaming my name when you were supposed to be sleeping.” He tucked his shirt into his pants.

“I screamed your name?”

“Yes you did, Princ—er, Patricia. Miss Patricia.” He leaned into her small bathroom and washed his hands. “I’ll tell them you had a nightmare. That’s more likely than you having sex with the gardener anyway.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll be back in a minute. Climb under the covers if you’re cold.”

Patricia worked her way under the comforter. Rain still pelted the windows, and the tea was still in full swing downstairs. She and Ryan must have been up here for hours, but they couldn’t have been, or someone would have noticed. She squinted at the clock. Three fifteen. The tea was supposed to start at two and break up about four. Everyone had been here when she’d woken up, with the last straggler arriving in time to make her realize Ryan was in the house. Everything had happened in just over an hour. So why did she feel like they’d been making love for hours, and why did she feel more relaxed than she ever had after a day at a spa with a sauna and a massage? What had she been so worried about before?

David, the masquerade ball, David, the hospital Christmas party, David, Ryan, David, Ryan, her patients, and David and Ryan. That was all.

The door opened, and Patricia sat up, clutching the comforter to her neck. Ryan smiled and closed the door behind him.

“Lucky for us the truth is so unimaginable that everyone thinks you just had a really bad night at the hospital and had a nightmare.” He swaggered to the side of the bed and sat down, grinning. “They all now think I’m very dear for being so devoted to my mistress that she would call my name in a nightmare.”

Patricia sighed. He reached out and stroked her cheek, so she closed her eyes to savor the touch.

“Are you okay, Princess?”

She smiled at the way he used the endearment. She wasn’t used to a man addressing her like that. When Ryan called her Princess, it shifted from sarcastic to sweet depending on his mood and his need. She welcomed it no matter how it was delivered. “Better now.”

“I just wondered. It’s not every day a woman traps me in a closet and demands that I punish her.” His dark eyes searched her face. “Was last night rough?”

“It was Saturday. I ended up in ER for a while, and I’m hosting the hospital Christmas party. And Rita and Bruce are getting married. He’s debating asking her, and she’s going to ask him, but I’m not allowed to tell. And David still thinks we’re getting married.”

“David,” Ryan said.

“He’s a good man,” Patricia protested. David’s heart was in the right place, at least where the rest of the country was concerned. “He would make a very good governor and a good president.”

“Probably a dandy husband too, but I’m not the best judge. I’m just the guy who’s screwing you.”

Patricia flinched. He must mean it as more of an accusation of David than of her, but his tone pierced her. “Why do you care?” she demanded. “You’ve got women all over town, I bet. What do you need me for? Or is this just too good? It’s too much fun to be screwing The Whitmer.”

Ryan grabbed her shoulders and pressed her back on the bed. “Yes, Princess, it’s marvelous fun to be screwing The Whitmer.” He pinned her legs down with his, weighing her with his body. “I get to work the gardens, mow the grass, answer the door, and come every time my mistress calls. Sometimes she calls to make me come, and sometimes she calls me to make her come. I’m a full-service servant.” He jumped off the bed and stalked to the door. “I have to get back to my duties before the other servants get mad. And just so you know, I don’t have any women all over town. It’s just you, sweetheart. Just you.” He started to yank the door behind him but stopped before it slammed.