Lord Savage (22 page)

“Eve,” he said behind me. “Look at me.”

I shook my head. Even in the moonlight, he’d be able to see my tears, and I was too
ashamed to let that happen.

“Eve,” he said, his voice low and rough and faintly puzzled. “Please.”

That was not the command of a master but a simple request from a man. It was also
more than enough to make my eyes fill in earnest, and I buried my face against my
folded arms.

He didn’t try again. Instead, he reached out and swept the tangled mass of my hair
to one side and over my shoulder, baring my back. I felt the mattress sink as he came
to sit behind me and stretched his long legs on either side of my hips. Instantly
I felt better; it had taken no more than the heat of his skin against mine, the rough
hair on his legs against the soft skin of my hips.

I started when he put his hands on my shoulders, not expecting it.

“Be easy,” he whispered, his breath warm on my cheek. “Close your eyes. Empty your
head, and think of nothing.”

How could I think of nothing with him so close? He began to massage my back, digging
his strong fingers into my muscles. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d become, my back
as taut as an arched bow, yet the circling pressure of his thumbs was breaking it
down, freeing me. I raised my head, letting it fall back toward my spine, and let
my arms drop limply to my sides.

“There, there,” he said quietly, calming me. “Be easy, and trust me.”

I was unable to keep back my little moans of pleasure, for his hands felt that good
as they kneaded my flesh. He worked all along my spine, up and down and back again,
clear to the twin dimples at the top of my bottom. When at last he was done, I sank
back against his chest, limp and blissfully at ease.

“You will be pleased to know I’ve had words with Lady Carleigh,” he said, over the
top of my head. “We’ve reached an understanding.”

At once the pleasant feeling began to recede as I imagined him spending the time he’d
been gone frolicking in the Carleighs’ infamous bed.

“You have?” I asked.

“I have,” he said, “or rather, Lady Carleigh and I have together. To avoid any further
disturbances with Blackledge, you and I are excused from dining downstairs. Unless,
of course, you wish it, Eve.”

“No—ah, whatever pleases you, Master,” I said. I was pleased, too; I couldn’t deny
it. “What of Mr. Henery?”

“He is of no consequence,” he said, clearly believing exactly that. “It’s Blackledge
that wants you, and I won’t put you in that danger again.”

I smiled with tremulous relief. “Thank you, Master.”

“You needn’t thank me, Eve,” he said. “I’ve told you before that as your Protector,
I am responsible for your welfare as well as your education.”

I nodded, and linked my fingers into his, grateful even if he wouldn’t let me say
it aloud. He slipped in and out of the Game so seamlessly that it was often difficult
for me to tell when he was playing and when he wasn’t, and whether it was the master’s
cock that was fucking me or Savage’s.

“Did Lady Carleigh say anything else, Master?” I asked.

He sighed with resignation. “No questions, Eve, no questions. But no, she said nothing
to me. Our exchange this evening was entirely written.”

“You—you didn’t go to her rooms?”

“No,” he said, a single, glorious word to my ears. “My first concern was you, and
after what occurred in the dining room, I would never leave you alone, not even here.
I was in the front room while you slept.”

Once again I was perilously close to tears.

I couldn’t stay away.…

My first concern was you.…

I would never leave you alone
.…

“What is this?” he said, gently turning my shoulder toward the moonlight. Lightly
he touched his fingertips to the place where he’d bitten me in passion, leaving my
pale skin bruised and swollen.

“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, even as I winced at his touch.

“I’ve marked you,” he said evenly, an observation without any apology or sympathy.
“Does it hurt?”

“Only a little,” I lied. I bruised easily, and though I was sure in the morning the
mark would be quite noticeable, I didn’t care. It excited me to remember the circumstances
of the bruise’s origin, and I’d gladly suffer another like it if it came with the
same pleasure.

He bent and kissed the bruise. “Don’t leave me, Eve. That’s all I ask. Don’t leave
me.”

“I won’t, Master,” I whispered, twisting around to kiss him. “Never.”

NINE

The voices were what woke me.

I opened my eyes, listening. It was morning, and the sun was already bright over the
trees. Savage lay beside me, still soundly asleep, his large, glorious body sprawled
beneath the sheets, exactly as it should be. For the last two days and nights, we
hadn’t left his rooms, and had scarcely left this bed, exactly as it should be, too.

But there—there it was again, coming from the lawn outside the window. A man’s voice,
curt, even angry, shouting at a woman who was pleading with him. Although their words
weren’t distinct, the tone of them was, and it was chilling. At so early an hour,
the voices most likely belonged to servants engaged in some unhappy lovers’ quarrel—such
things were often overheard in great houses with large staffs—but the woman’s distress
still unsettled me.

Taking care not to disturb Savage, I slipped from the bed and wrapped the extra coverlet
around myself. Swiftly I padded across the room to the open window to see if I could
spy the pair.

I didn’t have to look far.

There on the front lawn before the house were the man and woman. They weren’t servants
but guests: Mrs. Anson in her Innocent’s costume with her long, dark hair trailing
over her shoulders, and Lord Standage as her master dressed in ordinary clothing,
a white shirt and light-colored trousers without a coat.

As I watched, he embraced her, kissing her hard, while she tried to break away. At
last she did, and began to run from him, gathering the hem of her trailing costume
in her hands to free her legs. Angrily Lord Standage shouted at her to stop, and still
Mrs. Anson fled like some wild wood nymph with her hair flying behind her.

But the grass was wet with morning dew, and her bare feet slipped and slid, making
it easy for Lord Standage to grab her by her hair and pull her back. Mrs. Anson wailed
and struggled against him, while he held her fast with one hand and opened the buttons
on his trousers with the other. Brutishly he shoved her down to the grass on her hands
and knees, and tossed her costume back over hips, exposing her bottom and quim.

She begged with him to let her go, her voice shrill and filled with panic. He pulled
out his cock and gave it a few quick shakes of his hand up and down the shaft to make
it hard before he dropped to his knees behind her.

But once again she wriggled free and escaped, running from him with desperate, stumbling
speed as he shouted after her to stop. That desperation, plus the panic in her begging,
were finally too much for me.

I ran back to the bed and shook Savage by the shoulder.

“You must wake up, Savage, I beg you!” I exclaimed anxiously. “Lord Standage is attacking
Mrs. Anson, and we must stop him!”

He rolled over, blinking and grouchy, his jaw shadowed with a night’s worth of beard
and his hair rough and unruly. “What in blazes are you talking about?”

“I told you,” I said breathlessly. “Mrs. Anson is being attacked by Lord Standage,
and she needs our help!”

I hurried back to the window, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the sill. Nothing
had changed: the lady was still eluding her pursuer, but only barely. From the way
she was panting, I judged it was only a matter of time before he’d finally catch her.

Savage joined me at the window, yawning as he came to stand behind me.

“Now what’s all this great bother?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder.

“Down there,” I said, pointing. “It’s Mrs. Anson and Lord Standage. I know she’s his
Innocent, but he’s being very rough with her, and it’s clear she doesn’t wish to be
caught and—and raped. Oh, we must stop him, Savage!”

He watched for a leisurely moment, more interested in running his hand along my back
than in what was happening outside.

“Oh, those two,” he said, yawning again. “There’s nothing new there. She leaves her
husband behind in Northumberland, and meets Standage here, and in London as well.
It’s the way they choose to play the Game.”

“
That’s
part of the Game?” I asked uncertainly. It was hard for me to believe that Mrs. Anson
would choose this, from the way she was trying so hard to escape. From a distance,
her panic and fear seemed thoroughly genuine. “She wants him to chase her like that?”

“She’s working rather hard at it, isn’t she?” He slid his hand beneath the coverlet
wrapped around me, and gently began rubbing and squeezing my upturned bottom as I
leaned on the windowsill. “All that shrieking and running about is merely her way
of catching his attention and rousing a cockstand out of the old fellow.”

This, I thought, was clearly not a problem with Savage. Already I could feel the hot,
steely length of his cock pressing against my bottom, ready to ease into me with the
slightest encouragement. I was still swollen from last night’s encounters, still half
aroused as well. Having a man like Savage standing naked while he gently kneaded my
hip would have that effect on most women.

“I’d wager she’s been leading him around for a good hour or so,” Savage continued.
“Look at the grass stains on his knees! Likely she’s let him almost catch her a half-dozen
times or more. If she’s not careful, he’ll— Ah, he’s caught her fairly this time.”

“She’s—she’s giving up,” I said, chagrined at having believed the pantomime was real.
“She’s surrendered.”

Mrs. Anson had done exactly that. This time when Lord Standage had pulled her down
to the grass, she’d stayed there on her knees. She’d stopped wailing and protesting,
too, and had in fact spread her knees farther apart to welcome her master, wiggling
a bit to entice him further.

“One can never judge another’s tastes when it comes to sex,” Savage said philosophically,
as if his hand had moved to cover my quim completely of its own volition. “Personally
I wouldn’t care for so much hysteria, culminating in a public rutting on the front
lawn, but those two are entirely welcome to do whatever pleases them. You’re wet,
Eve.”

“I—I cannot help it, Master,” I said. I let the coverlet slip to the floor, shamelessly
arching my back to push against his hand. Yet, it wasn’t entirely because of how he
was caressing me. Watching the pair on the lawn was arousing, too.

Lord Standage’s cock was a short, thick affair, and even with Mrs. Anson positioned
to accommodate him, he still needed several forceful thrusts to bury himself. Grimacing,
he held her tightly by her full hips, while she bent forward, pillowing her head on
her folded arms to improve his penetration and pushing upward to meet his thrusts.
With each thrust, she gave out joyful little yips of pleasure that echoed across the
lawn.

There was now no doubt that Mrs. Anson was a willing participant, and no doubt, either,
that the earlier game of elusive pursuit that Mrs. Anson had played with Lord Standage
had served to increase their ardor.

Now, too, I understood what Savage had said about not judging others’ pleasures. Before
I’d left New York, I certainly wouldn’t have believed I would find my current position
so exciting. I never would have expected to enjoy leaning naked in front of the open
window of a peer’s country house while my quim was being fingered open by an equally
naked gentleman, both of us watching another couple fuck on the lawn.

“I like how you can’t help it,” Savage said, lowering his voice to the special, slightly
gruff but seductive level that made me shiver. “It means that you’re already willing,
already aroused, the way that a proper Innocent should be.”

“I—I am a proper Innocent, Master,” I stammered, just as he slipped one of his thick
fingers inside me. He rotated his finger, pressing inside my channel’s walls, and
I gasped with the pleasure of it. “Oh, Master!”

“Stand steady, Eve,” he warned, sliding his finger in and out. “Keep your eyes open.
I don’t want you to miss the excellent performance that Mrs. Anson and Standage are
giving for you.”

“Nooo, Master,” I whispered, clinging tightly to the windowsill. I was slippery around
his finger, inflamed by his maddening strokes. I needed the support of the sill, for
my knees were shaking beneath me.

“I doubt we’re the only ones watching, either,” Savage continued. “That’s what they
wanted, you know, an audience, or else they would have kept to their own room. I expect
these windows on the west front of the house must resemble the boxes at Covent Garden
at present. Don’t you agree, Eve?”

“Yesss, Master,” I somehow managed to answer. He’d added a second finger to the first,
the growing pressure delicious, and yet not even close to how his cock would feel
inside me. And of course I’d soon feel his cock. It was only a matter of when Savage
would do it.

“You’re so wet around my fingers, Eve,” he said. “I can’t begin to tell you how beautiful
you are like this, rosy and open and dripping for my cock. I like seeing you so inspired.
But then, you’ve always liked watching from above, haven’t you?”

I knew exactly what he was going to say next, how he’d remind me of that first night
in London. I knew it, and I was right.

“That was when I first saw you,” he continued, stroking me still. “You were leaning
over that balustrade to watch me. Your face was rapt, your lips parted, and I knew
you were as wet as you are now. Having you watch me fuck another woman was the best
part of that night, knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you. As much as you
want me now.”

I was breathing hard, close to coming—but not so close that I hadn’t heard what he’d
said. I was flattered and touched that he’d called me the best part of that first
night we met, and I loved learning that he’d instantly desired me as much as I had
him.